Eric The Blue

Regarding Suicide Alexander's bank book, etc.

It's the last season for the local nine in the Metrodome, and a local sportswriter, Tom Powers, has an enjoyable column about the most eccentric Twins ever to play under the fluttery roof.  Perhaps Luis Castillo, the current Mets 2nd baseman who is sporting a batting average north of .300, has the highest profile of the honorees.  According to Powers, Castillo once sent a clubhouse attendant to an ATM to withdraw some cash for him.  The fellow returned with the money and a statement showing a remaining balance well into seven figures. 

This reminds me of Suicide Alexander's World Series bank book.  Alexander figures prominently in Mark Harris's It Looked Like Forever, the last installment of the Henry Wiggen tetralogy.  After his team won the World Series in 1950, Alexander deposited $500,000 in what we then called a passbook savings account.  He never touched the money and enjoyed displaying the book to friends and acquaintances.  After the initial deposit, the only entries were for interest accruals.  By 1971, the present time of the novel, his balance stood at $1,095,561.60.  I think those who are good at math will tell you that over those twenty years he was getting about a 3.5% return.

It is not just ballplayers, fictional and otherwise, who exhibit odd financial habits.  In Home Before Dark, Susan Cheever reveals that her father John barely eked out a living during the years that he was publishing in The New Yorker some of the best short fiction ever written by an American.  Then, in the mid-1960s, he had a windfall.  Back then, the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation insured deposits in a single bank up to $10,000.  According to his daughter, Cheever had about $9500 in every bank in Westchester County.

By the way, if you are interested in Cheever, Home Before Dark is an interesting book that can be read in perhaps two long coffee-shop sessions.  And It Looked Like Forever is less familiar than it ought to be.  I think it is the most enjoyable novel in the Wiggen tetralogy, though of course The Southpaw and Bang the Drum Slowly are more well known. In the first chapter, at a funeral, Wiggen observes a ballplayer paying a lot of attention to a wealthy older woman, and

it occurred to me now and again that she might of took him to bed with her.  Why not?  He was only 30 years younger than her, and the older I grew the more I become aware of things that would of formerly surprised me. 

It's only one of many enjoyable moments.  The education of Henry Wiggen is over and now he's teaching us.  Harris was a Boswell scholar, and I've always thought of the mature Wiggen as a kind of subliterate Dr. Johnson, a genius of common sense. 

Gatesgate

I don't know what happened at the professor's house.  Since the president admitted before rendering judgment on the police that he too did not know what happened, he would have been well-advised to refrain from rendering judgment.  He might have said, for example: "Professor Gates is a friend of mine, but I know from experience that sometimes friends of mine can rub you the wrong way.  And cops are subject to human failings, too.  Possibly black guys are more acutely aware of that than the general population.  Anyway I know as much about what happened as the next guy with a newspaper subscription, and I came here tonight to talk about health care for millions of uninsured and underinsured Americans, not about Professor Gates, who is a good friend and a wonderful scholar."

The thing about hindsight and acuity of vision.

Now, the president is not the only one with an opinion but not all the facts.  Can we say something about the others, too?  On this matter, the facts are known.  So well known that, when an event such as this one occurs, watching cable news shows is like being married to someone whose every speech act is known to you, in every detail, down to the prepositional phrases, as they inhale in preparation to speak.  The respective acts of the grievance mongers on both sides are wearing thin.  As a white guy, I guess I feel more qualified to speak of all the white guys I know.  Their grievance is not so weighty in comparison to what black guys have suffered.  But they feel like things have gotten away from them somewhat, and they do not like it.  Their boss is a woman and even the Boston Celtics are all black.  For whom are they to cheer, Roger Federer?  They feel like less of a man.  In a case like this one, the black Harvard professor and the white cop, it is impossible to imagine them not being with the cop.  What if the professor was famous and white and the cop black?  The cop would be out of line.  Depend upon it.  Probably they'd have less interest in the story but the cop would be out of line.  Arresting Dr. Bigshot Caucasion for disorderly conduct when he's in his own house?  Probably got his job on account of affirmative action and now he has an attitude, too.

Recommended reading

With the health care debate roiling in the Congress, and the president making his pitch in a prime-time presser, this piece by Malcolm Gladwell deserves yet another read.  Money quote: "One of the great mysteries of political life in the United States is why Americans are so devoted to their health-care system."  The article amply amplifies on this mystery. 

Compared to Canada and the democracies of western Europe, all of which have universal health insurance sponsored by the national government, we pay (a lot) more, leave a considerable proportion of the population uninsured (and many others with such poor plans that they would almost have to be stricken with a fatal disease before their insurance would do them any good), and get poorer outcomes (as measured by such basic health statistics as life expectancy and rates of infant mortality).  What is there to like?   

We need something bigger and more radical than what is likely to be enacted, if anything is enacted, when this season's fight comes to an end.  But at least they are talking about how to deliver health care to more Americans.  Beats hell out of invading Iraq.  

Just say anything

Paul Mirengoff, one of the Power Line philosohers, the least crazy one, actually, writes:

Not long ago, President Obama demanded an end to all construction in and around Israeli settlements on the West Bank, including "natural growth" construction. Prime Minister Netanyahu, taking a position that Israelis overwhelmingly support, rejected this demand.

Needless to say, Mirengoff is with Netanyahoo, not our president.

It isn't clear to me what Israelis overwhelmingly support.  West Bank settlements?  So-called "natural growth" construction?  In any case, the claim about the overwhelming support of the Israeli public is itself unsupported, and in an effort to find out what Mirengoff might be talking about I typed into Google "Israel public opinion settlements." Return number one.  Return number two.

That qualifies as yet another power outage.

Happily sunk in Bleak House

I've progressed in Bleak House to the episode in which Allan Woodcourt, back in England after his trip with the navy to India, ministers to Jo, the homeless steet-sweeper. 

"It surely is a strange fact," [Allan] considers, "that in the heart of a civilized world this creature in human form should be more difficult to dispose of than an unowned dog."

You would not call Dickens a master of realism.  Most of the leading characters in Bleak House are either perfectly good (John Jarndyce, Esther, Allan) or perfectly wicked (Tulkinghorn, Vholes, the Smallweeds).  Lady Dedlock and Richard Carstone are exceptions but they do not seem to me particularly memorable.  The novel is memorable despite seeming finally remote from the experience of most of us.  The scene with Allan and Jo is memorable in a way that may put you in mind of Edgar's ministrations to his father in the fourth act of King Lear--touching, tender, pitiable, and unlike anything I've come across in my life. 

Netflix: "Doubt"

It's 1964, in the Bronx, and Meryl Streep, the principal of a Catholic school, is determined to show us outsiders what our little Catholic friends were talking about.  Meanwhile, her boss, Father Flynn, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, is coming on strong to the school's only African-American student, a boy named Donald.  The principal stalks the guilty priest and finally drives him out of the parish, but instead of being prosecuted, ostracized, and ruined, he is appointed to a higher position at another church.  So you can't say the film is sensational or implausible. 

In the last scene, the principal, who is strongly opposed to Frosty the Snowman and ballpoint pens, tearfully allows that she too has "doubt."  Let us hope it is about her vocation.

Peculiar

The death on July 10 of historian Kenneth Stampp, whose 1956 book The Peculiar Institution put to rest the prevailing "moonlight-and-magnolias" mythology of the Old South, reminded me of an incident in my life from a few years back.  A colleague at work had asked me a question about something, and we had open before us on a table a map as I tried to answer.  One of the few African-Americans in the office approached and stood to the side, behind the other fellow but where I could see her.  When we came to a conclusion, the guy said, "Thanks, Eric, that was mighty white of you" and, turning, stood face-to-face with this woman.  Before anyone had a chance to feel nervous about what would happen now, she said to him, "That's a peculiar expression."  She then turned to me and started talking about work as the guy walked away.

I remain loyal to the anti-Catholic cause, as its critics do not cease to be insipid

Our local newspaper pays one Katherine Kersten, a local nut, to put into words the wingnut case for its Sunday edition, and on the Sunday past she took a swing at Tony Kushner, "one of the nation's foremost peddlers of such vitriol"--"such vitriol" being "incivility and bigotry," Kushner's "stock in trade."  A Catholic, Kersten is upset by Kushner's "anti-Catholic rants," which, judging by her scare quotes, direct attention to the Church's teachings on homosexuality as well as the absurd garb of its high officials.  Now, I think the Church is bonkers on homosexuality, also on other matters sexual, most especially the proscription of contraception, a piece of nonsense ignored even by those usually inclined to "take on faith" the pronouncements of superannuated coped virgins.  So, thinking I'd enjoy reading the article that is the source of Kersten's outrage, I set out to find it and landed here instead.

Ah, yes, The Nation, that "Stalinist journal of opinion"--it's the culprit that printed Kushner's screed.  More than that epithet I love the last paragraph:

The kinds of statements restated here suggest that there is something worse than anti-Catholicism going on. When people’s heads and hearts are full of hate, there is literally no rational rebuttal that will sway them. That’s all the more reason why the Catholic League will dig in its heels and continue to fight the good fight.

The Catholic League author's distaste for Kushner, "an avowed homosexual" (as opposed to the less repulsive closeted ones), does not deter him from concluding that those unswayed by his brand of rationality are plainly afflicted with heads and hearts full of hate.  I am myself an anti-Catholic, so it is a relief to learn that "there is something worse than anti-Catholicism."  If Kushner "hates" the Catholic Church, I can understand why, as it offers up a surplus of deserving objects for that emotion.  I, however, am Norwegian, and will admit only to having no time for the medieval view of things, the contempt for science and progress, the mindless invocations of authority, the incense and robes and staffs and funny hats to go along with the solemn debates on such topics as whether unbaptized babies can make it to heaven, as the pederasts are bumped down the road to the next parish. 

Netflix: "Frost/Nixon"

The movie includes historical footage and on-camera interviews with principals, thereby suggesting that the made-up parts also really happened.  And, yes, Frost interviewed Nixon.  The movie, however, tells something like a redemption story.  Frost, the frivolous playboy and pop culture Brit TV host, is going to be used by Nixon to line his pockets and effect his historical rehabilitation.  The plan appears to be working, but then, at the last moment, when all appears lost, a drunk Nixon places a  phone call to Frost, who gains a sudden insight and, now engaged, pulls a few consecutive all-night work sessions and then "gets Nixon" in the last interview. 

Sure.

Sarah Palin on Facebook

She's back!--and her Facebook page is being subjected to close textual analysis by those hoping to find a clue to her unsteady behavior.  Let's have a look ourselves at what she has to say.

On this Independence Day, I am so very proud of all those who have chosen to serve our great nation and I honor their selflessness and the sacrifices of their families, too.

If I may, I would like to take a moment to reflect on the last 24 hours and share my thoughts with you.

Not as intersting as a cliche or a platitude, but on to her "thoughts."

First, I want to thank you for your support and hard work on the values we share. Those values led me to the decision my family and I made. Yesterday, my family and I announced a decision that is in Alaska’s best interest and it always feels good to do what is right. We have accomplished more during this one term than most governors do in two – and I am proud of the great team that helped to build these wonderful successes. Energy independence and national security, fiscal restraint, smaller government, and local control have been my priorities and will remain my priorities.

You shouldn't say "first" unless there is a "second."  Is it her goal to say "family" as many times as possible?  She made the decision, not her family.  She made the announcement, not her family.  The logical connection between sentences is weak: was it her "values," or her "family," or doing right by Alaska that caused her to quit with more than a year left in her term?  The fatuous claim that "national security" has been a high priority of the governor of Alaska reminds us of one of her "greatest hits" from the campaign--namely, that from where she sits, you can see Russia.  I like how she says she's accomplished more in one term than most governors do in two.  It would be more accurate, but not more truthful, to claim that she had accomplished more in two-thirds of one term than most governors do in one.  She continues:

For months now, I have consulted with friends and family, and with the Lieutenant Governor, about what is best for our wonderful state. I even made a few administrative changes over that course in time in preparation for yesterday. We have accomplished so much and there’s much more to do, but my family and I determined after prayerful consideration that sacrificing my title helps Alaska most. And once I decided not to run for re-election, my decision was that much easier – I’ve never been one to waste time or resources. Those who know me know this is the right decision and obvious decision at that, including Senator John McCain. I thank him for his kind, insightful comments.

Her family is now joined by friends and the lieutenant governor in her elevated ruminations.  We don't know which family members or friends she has been consulting with for lo these many months.  The lieutenant governor, however, is Sean Parnell, and in news reports he is said to be "among the people stunned by her move," which he learned about 48 hours before the official announcement.  Maybe the amount of "prayerful consideration" she gave to the decision is exaggerated, too.  Are we to be impressed by unspecified "administrative changes"?  And doesn't she mean to say these changes were  to prepare not for "yesterday" but for the transition period ahead?  Notice the phrase "sacrificing my title," quite a lofty way to pronounce "quit."  Some might even suggest that the word, "sacrifice," should not be applied both to the burdens borne by military families and to this heavy one she has imposed upon herself by quitting her job.  The penultimate sentence seems to be missing at least one word but who really cares?  When she says exactly what she means, it doesn't make sense anyway.  McCain has made no statement asserting that her resignation is a good or obvious move.  She hurdles ahead:

The response in the main stream media has been most predictable, ironic, and as always, detached from the lives of ordinary Americans who are sick of the “politics of personal destruction”. How sad that Washington and the media will never understand; it’s about country. And though it's honorable for countless others to leave their positions for a higher calling and without finishing a term, of course we know by now, for some reason a different standard applies for the decisions I make. But every American understands what it takes to make a decision because it’s right for all, including your family.

"Mainstream" is one word but, alack, this is not a mistake spell check can catch.  The puffed-up "it's about country" recalls the theme of the McCain campaign, which his choice of her for running mate proved a lie.  I think these "others" she refers to are "countless" not because there are so many of them but  because there is not a single one.  It's a Republican trope that all the whining claimers of victim status should shut up and get to work, so why not her?  Whose complaints have ever had less merit?  Katie Couric does her homework but the dog always eats Palin's.  Regarding the last sentence: it occurred to her that she hadn't mentioned her family for awhile.  The ringing conclusion:

I shared with you yesterday my heartfelt and candid reasons for this change; I’ve never thought I needed a title before one’s name to forge progress in America. I am now looking ahead and how we can advance this country together with our values of less government intervention, greater energy independence, stronger national security, and much-needed fiscal restraint. I hope you will join me. Now is the time to rebuild and help our nation achieve greatness!

No, if it had been "candid" everyone would have an idea what it meant, what motivated her, and what her intentions might be.  If she's going to say I needed, then she should say my name, not one's name.  And what is this business about a "title" again?  It's almost as prevalent as "family."  Did you notice how she said applies for instead of applies to?  Now she says and when (I think) she means to:  the smallest words confuse her. 

I know, I know, these criticisms are "elitist."  You can't judge Republicans by standards that apply in Freshman Composition.  But does anyone seriously believe that the person behind this Facebook communication is a candidate for leading a nation to greatness?  She can't lead herself to mediocrity.

 

In this corner

Amanda sits in her corner, her torso at seventy degrees to the bottom of her chair, the laptop open before her on the ottoman. I'm over here in my corner with Bleak House, just finishing the chapter wherein Elizabeth recovers from her illness and notices that Charlotte Neckett ("Charley"), who has nursed her, has removed from the room the mirror: her looks are gone.  That will be enough for tonight.  We have a built-in bookshelf in my corner and I reach in at eye-level and pull out a pristine paperback, Richard Feynman's Six Easy Pieces, the six easiest chapters from his Lectures on Physics, of which his biographer, James Gleick, says that not since Newton had a scientist given such a comprehensive account of reality.  I begin skimming and come, on page 4, to this:

If, in some cataclysm, all of scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence passed on to the next generations of creatures, what statement would contain the most information in the fewest words?  I believe it is the atomic hypothesis (or the atomic fact, or whatever you wish to call it) that all things are made of atoms--little particles that move around in perpetual motion, attracting each other when they are a little distance apart, but repelling upon being squeezed into one another.  In that one sentence, you will see, there is an enormous amount of information about the world. . . .

I replace it and pull out the fat one next to it, The 9/11 Commission Report, which begins: "Tuesday, September 11, 2001, dawned temperate and nearly cloudless in the eastern United States." I've read sections of it before but would like to read the whole thing.  I turn some pages and read, regarding the hijacking of United 175, the report of Lee Hanson, whose son, Peter, a passenger on the flight, placed a cell phone call to his father at 9:00:

It's getting bad, Dad--A stewardess was stabbed--They seem to have knives and Mace--They said they have a bomb--Passengers are throwing up and getting sick--The plane is making jerky movements--I don't think the pilot is flying the plane--I think we are going down--I think they intend to go to Chicago or someplace and fly into a building--Don't worry, Dad--If it happens, it'll be very fast--My God, my God.

The call cut off.  The elder Hanson turned on his television set and watched as, at 9:03:11, the airplane from which his son had just called crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.

I replace that book next to The Heart of the Matter, by Graham Greene, the "Catholic novelist."  I've never read anything he wrote but would like to.  It's next to Word Freak, about the Scrabble subculture, another one I'd like to read.  Next to that is Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried.  I take that off the shelf and begin reading.

First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross carried letters from a girl named Martha, a junior at Mount Sebastian College in New Jersey.  They were not love letters, but Lieutenant Cross was hoping, so he kept them folded in plastic at the bottom of the rucksack.  In the late afternoon, after a day's march, he would dig his foxhole, wash his hands under a canteen, unwrap the letters, hold them with the tips of his fingers, and spend the last hour of light pretending.  He would imagine romantic camping trips into the White Mountains in New Hampshire.  He would sometimes taste the envelope flaps, knowing her tongue had been there.  More than anything, he wanted Martha to love him as he loved her, but the letters were mostly chatty, elusive on the matter of love.  She was a virgin, he was almost sure.  She was an English major at Mount Sebastian, and she wrote beautifully about her professors and roommates and midterm exams, about her respect for Chaucer and her great affection for Virginia Woolf.  She often quoted lines of poetry; she never mentioned the war, except to say, Jimmy, take care of yourself. The letters weighed ten ounces.

I want to read the whole shelf and think of Stingo, the narrator of Sophie's Choice, who says that the prospect of spending some time alone with the Manhattan white pages stirs up in him a longing almost erotic in its intensity.  I"m not that far gone, but I know what he's talking about.

Franken! Finally!

In the end, Norm Coleman could not get his case before a single judge ready to ignore standing Minnesota law as it relates to voting by absentee ballot.  He was 0-for-3 with the three-judge panel hearing his election contest and, when he appealed their unanimous decision, he went 0-for-5 with the justices of the Minnesota Supreme Court, whose unanimous decision is here.

Power Line philosopher Scott Johnson doesn't care for it.  Oh, the various parties honorably discharged their duties under difficult circumstances, but he "strongly disagrees" with some of their decisions, and, further,

It should be noted, however, that the Minnesota Supreme Court decision gives no guidance to Minnesotans concerned about the prevention of the disparate treatment of absentee ballots in the future. While the decision is not wrong on its own terms, It is complacent in a way that is hard to understand.

Do you detect a certain straining to avoid the usual words?  We are told that "the decision is not wrong on its own terms" and, in elaboration of this cryptic assertion, that it "gives no guidance" and is "complacent."  Sounds to me like a call for an activist judiciary.  Johnson thinks we need guidance and he expects judges to supply it.  By "complacent" he means "content to apply the law," which is exactly what he thought judges should be before a Republican narrowly lost a race for US Senate.  

It's not that hard to understand.  Johnson is unable, or unwilling, to recognize his own creed.