From the Wikipedia article on guitarist Robert Fripp:
He returned to musical work as a studio guitarist on Peter Gabriel's first self-titled album in 1976, released the following year. Fripp toured with Gabriel to support the album, but remained out of sight (either in the wings or behind a curtain) and used the pseudonym "Dusty Rhodes."
Heh. Here's a little classic Fripp, with the equally amazing Adrian Belew in King Crimson.
Monday, 28 February 2011
The Worst Thing In The World
Excerpt from Lawyers, Guns and Money:
No place in Blainesville was too far from any other in terms of mileage. But driving to the house where Chloe Gibson had lived and died was like taking a mine-car ride down through the strata of Blaine County society. I drove past the shady downtown streets I’d walked not long before. They were lined with large comfortable homes built during the early part of the 20th century. There was a church on every other block, usually brick with tall but dignified steeples. Then came the old downtown where the mom and pop stores were slowly eroding away, thanks to the big box stores out on the by-pass. After the downtown came the railroad tracks where no trains ran and the weeds grew up between the rails. Across the tracks stood the crumbling textile mill that once provided Blainesville’s wages before the industry crumbled before the brutal reality that there was more profit in paying an Indonesian child a dollar a day than in paying an otherwise unskilled North Carolinian a few dollars an hour. On the other side of the great empty factory were the rows of old mill houses, shabby when they were built and nearly unlivable now. Just past the city-limit sign, I passed the football-field-sized gravel lot and sprawling cinderblock structure that was Voit Fairgreen’s nightclub, the Rancho Deluxe. By the roadside, cheap moveable plastic letters on a lighted sign promised LIVE ROCK & ROLL FRI-SAT COLDEST BEER IN TOWN LADIES NIGHT TUES. It was one of the few businesses in town that was still thriving. Just beyond, separated by a chain link fence and a narrow wooded strip, was the sad little cinderblock house where Chloe Gibson lived. The place where she had taken Danny’s car, because they were both too wasted to walk. The place where someone had killed her.
I drove down the corrugated dirt driveway until I was stopped by a ribbon of yellow crime scene tape. As I sat there and stared at it, a Blainesville police cruiser pulled in behind me. He hit his lights as he pulled to a stop. I started to get out of the car.
“STAY IN YOUR VEHICLE, SIR!” a tinny loudspeaker squawked at me.
“What the hell…” I muttered, but I settled back down into the seat and waited for the cop to come to me. And waited. And waited some more. I turned around and looked back. I couldn’t make out the face of the cop behind the wheel, but he was just sitting there. The crime scene tape in front kept me from going forward and the cop car behind held me in place. I pulled out my cell phone and started dialing. As I did, I saw another car pull in behind the cop car. I saw someone get out and I shut off the cell. I spotted Marty Ellis walking past the patrol car towards me and rolled down the window. He was a short guy, broad, his graying hair in a military-looking brush cut. He looked pissed about something.
“Hey, Marty,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here, Cole?”
“I’m representing Danny Fairgreen,” I said.
“So I heard.”
“So you know what I’m doing here, then,” I said. I started to get out of the car again. He put his hand against the door, almost slamming it shut.
“What the fuck, Marty?” I said.
“Crime scene’s sealed,” he said.
“What, the lab guys aren’t done yet?”
“They’re done.”
“Okay,” I said. “So I guess I need to set up a time…”
“You’re not getting in there.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said. “It’s sealed.”
“Look, Marty,” I said, “Quit screwing around. This is a murder case.”
“No shit,” he said. “I saw the body.”
“So you know,” I said, speaking slowly and carefully, “That in order to properly defend my client, I or my investigator’s going to need to…”
“You go in there,” Ellis said, “Or if any officer even sees you on this property, you’ll be arrested.”
I was having a harder time controlling my voice. “Arrested for what, exactly?”
“Interfering with an ongoing police investigation. And contempt of court.”
“Contempt?”
“We’ve got a court order, Cole. No one goes in there except law enforcement.”
“And what idiot issued an unconstitutional order like that?”
He actually chuckled. “Judge Atkins.”
“Ah, shit,” I said disgustedly.
“Yep,” Ellis said, and he was smiling this time. “Your old pal.”
The Honorable S. Kenneth Atkins, who I privately called Judge Smirk, was a political appointee through and through, and he knew it. It caused him a considerable amount of professional insecurity, which he overcompensated for by constantly trying to prove he was the smartest guy in the room. If the prosecutor argued for one thing, and the defense attorney argued for another, Smirk would usually give the condescending little smile that earned him his nickname and come up with a third thing, which nine times out of ten made no damn sense at all.
There was this to be said in Smirk’s defense: he didn’t play favorites. He was a complete asshole to everyone: prosecutors, defense attorneys, law enforcement officers, even courtroom clerks. The only reason someone so universally despised stayed in an elected position was that the straight-ticket-voting public rarely paid any attention to judicial elections, and this was a county that would elect Bozo the Clown if he ran on the Republican ticket. A couple of people had tried to mount challenges for Smirk’s seat. One had abruptly withdrawn for “personal reasons” a month before election day, and the other had been buried at the polls. No one had tried since. So there he stayed, a thorn eternally looking for a side.
“You got a problem with this,” Ellis said, “Take it up with Judge Atkins.”
“Thanks,” I said, defeated. “I’ll do that.”
“Any time,” he said. He turned to walk away.
“What the hell’s going on here, Marty?” I called after him. “This isn’t the way things are done, and you know it.”
He turned back. “What I know is that your client gutted that girl. From the position of the body and the preliminary blood spatter reports, he slashed her open in the kitchen. Then he went over and sat down in the chair while she crawled across the floor. She died at his feet while he sat there and watched.
Jesus. If that was the story they were spinning around this one, it really was going to get ugly. “What was the weapon?”
“Some kind of large bladed knife.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Some kind of…you mean you don’t have the weapon?”
He realized he’d said too much. He shut his mouth so fast I’m surprised I didn’t hear a snap. “Marty,” I went on, “My client was too wasted to remember what he was doing. I’m not even sure how he got to the house.”
“If you’re trying for some kind of intoxication defense, counselor,” Ellis said, “well...good luck with that.”
“Intoxication, hell,” I said. “Are you telling me the State is going to try to argue that a guy as fried as Danny Fairgreen not only managed to kill the girl, but that he hid the weapon so well a police search couldn’t find it before he passed out?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Ellis said, his face darkening with blood, “other than to get the hell out of here.” He turned and strode angrily back to his car. I sat and watched as he backed out and drove away. The patrolman sat there for a minute, watching me behind his shades, then backed out slowly. He waited on the road, his lights still flashing, as I backed out. He killed his lights, but followed me all the way back into town. Only when I pulled up outside the office did he drive away.
Back at the office, I stopped and knocked softly on Chuck’s door.
“Come in,” he said.
The office was mostly dark except for the desk lamp, illuminating the binder open on his desk. The rest of the desk was cluttered with files and papers and a laptop computer. Chuck’s tie was half undone and his hair was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. His face fell as he saw me. He probably thought I was coming to lay another load of work on him.
“You asked if Danny actually did it," I said. "I'm beginning to think he may not have."
He looked baffled. “Isn't that a good thing?”
"No," I said, "It's a terrible thing.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Look, Chuck,” I said. “If you have a client you know is guilty, you do your job by making the State prove it. You make sure the cops and the prosecutors do their job right, because if you don't, sure as hell, they will start getting sloppy about it and cutting corners, and then we're all fucked. But when a guy you know did it goes off to jail, and most of them do, all you have to ask is 'did I do my job and make everyone else do theirs?' If the answer is 'yes', then you can sleep easy. But a guy you know is innocent but who might get convicted anyway...that's not a good thing, Chuck. An innocent client is the worst fucking thing in the world. When you say your prayers tonight, be sure to thank God that it doesn't happen often." I closed the door before he could answer.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
The Only Jobs They Really Care About
Latest Newspaper Column: The Pilot
One quote that's pretty much helped form the way I look at politics is this one from conservative humorist P.J. O'Rourke:
"The Democrats are the party that says government will make you smarter, taller, richer, and remove the crabgrass on your lawn. The Republicans are the party that says government doesn't work and then get elected and prove it."
And boy, have they proven it lately.
See, the Republicans sort of painted themselves into a corner. Their electoral strategy for taking back Congress was built around hammering President Obama and the Democrats for the high unemployment rate and promising that if they got in, there'd be jobs, jobs and more jobs.
What they momentarily forgot is that another pillar they claim as part of their philosophy is that "government can't do anything, especially create jobs."
For a while they've managed to obscure that contradiction by spinning everything they want to get rid of as being about jobs. They cast the Affordable Care Act as "the job-killing health care bill" - which, after the tragic shootings in Tucson they amended to "job-crushing" or "job-destroying" health care bill.
Whatever the name, they vowed to repeal it, in the name of Almighty Jobs, even though the Congressional Budget Office predicted a small effect on employment - a half a percent - with most of that coming from people voluntarily working less because, for instance, they could retire earlier or take less demanding work due to the availability of insurance outside their jobs.
But as always, who needs facts when fear-mongering will do? If jobs are all people are thinking about, the GOP decided, then everything we don't like will be "job-crushing" or "job-destroying." And there's nothing they hated more than the health care bill.
Problem was, they knew going in that they weren't going to repeal the health care bill. They didn't have the votes in the Senate, and they knew they didn't have enough votes anywhere to override the inevitable presidential veto.
So the House Republicans huffed and strutted and voted on a repeal bill - and it died in the Senate, just as everyone knew it would. Total jobs created: zero.
Meanwhile, former car thief Darrell Issa (R-Gone in 60 Seconds), chairman of the Congressional Oversight Committee, sent letters to more than 150 corporations and trade organizations, asking them to tell him which regulations they didn't like - oh, sorry, which regulations are, in their sole opinion, "harming job growth."
Republicans have also opposed greater regulation of food safety, mining and deep-water drilling.
I suppose you could make a case that that kind of deregulation is aimed at creating jobs. After all, the more miners or oil rig workers who die in preventable accidents, the more job openings there'll be. And those who don't qualify for the jobs can help clean up the dead wildlife after spills.
Another "job-creating" measure the Republicans want to undertake is cutting $100 billion of government spending, which will somehow create jobs by throwing an estimated 994,000 government employees out of work, to say nothing of the independent contractors who hire people to work on government-sponsored projects.
Speaker Boehner's response? "So be it." After all, government workers or people on government contracts aren't actually real people with real jobs to Boehner and the GOP. As far as they're concerned, the only people who have real jobs are the corporate CEOs who employ the lobbyists. You know, the people who have paid for 180 golf junkets and other corporate-sponsored trips for Boehner over the past six years.
I guess as long as he's in power, caddies, waitresses and bartenders in his vicinity can rest easy at night knowing their jobs are secure. The rest of you can go whistle.
Meanwhile, back on the House floor, the Republicans seem less concerned with job creation than they are with using the budget battles to push a radical anti-abortion agenda.
They introduced a bill that would redefine "rape" in such a way that it excludes statutory rape or date rape, and threw in a provision that would allow hospitals to let a woman die rather than perform an emergency abortion that might save her life.
Both measures failed. Total jobs created: again, zero.
Looks like the only jobs these mooks really care about are their own. Whoever they're working for, it sure ain't us.
One quote that's pretty much helped form the way I look at politics is this one from conservative humorist P.J. O'Rourke:
"The Democrats are the party that says government will make you smarter, taller, richer, and remove the crabgrass on your lawn. The Republicans are the party that says government doesn't work and then get elected and prove it."
And boy, have they proven it lately.
See, the Republicans sort of painted themselves into a corner. Their electoral strategy for taking back Congress was built around hammering President Obama and the Democrats for the high unemployment rate and promising that if they got in, there'd be jobs, jobs and more jobs.
What they momentarily forgot is that another pillar they claim as part of their philosophy is that "government can't do anything, especially create jobs."
For a while they've managed to obscure that contradiction by spinning everything they want to get rid of as being about jobs. They cast the Affordable Care Act as "the job-killing health care bill" - which, after the tragic shootings in Tucson they amended to "job-crushing" or "job-destroying" health care bill.
Whatever the name, they vowed to repeal it, in the name of Almighty Jobs, even though the Congressional Budget Office predicted a small effect on employment - a half a percent - with most of that coming from people voluntarily working less because, for instance, they could retire earlier or take less demanding work due to the availability of insurance outside their jobs.
But as always, who needs facts when fear-mongering will do? If jobs are all people are thinking about, the GOP decided, then everything we don't like will be "job-crushing" or "job-destroying." And there's nothing they hated more than the health care bill.
Problem was, they knew going in that they weren't going to repeal the health care bill. They didn't have the votes in the Senate, and they knew they didn't have enough votes anywhere to override the inevitable presidential veto.
So the House Republicans huffed and strutted and voted on a repeal bill - and it died in the Senate, just as everyone knew it would. Total jobs created: zero.
Meanwhile, former car thief Darrell Issa (R-Gone in 60 Seconds), chairman of the Congressional Oversight Committee, sent letters to more than 150 corporations and trade organizations, asking them to tell him which regulations they didn't like - oh, sorry, which regulations are, in their sole opinion, "harming job growth."
Republicans have also opposed greater regulation of food safety, mining and deep-water drilling.
I suppose you could make a case that that kind of deregulation is aimed at creating jobs. After all, the more miners or oil rig workers who die in preventable accidents, the more job openings there'll be. And those who don't qualify for the jobs can help clean up the dead wildlife after spills.
Another "job-creating" measure the Republicans want to undertake is cutting $100 billion of government spending, which will somehow create jobs by throwing an estimated 994,000 government employees out of work, to say nothing of the independent contractors who hire people to work on government-sponsored projects.
Speaker Boehner's response? "So be it." After all, government workers or people on government contracts aren't actually real people with real jobs to Boehner and the GOP. As far as they're concerned, the only people who have real jobs are the corporate CEOs who employ the lobbyists. You know, the people who have paid for 180 golf junkets and other corporate-sponsored trips for Boehner over the past six years.
I guess as long as he's in power, caddies, waitresses and bartenders in his vicinity can rest easy at night knowing their jobs are secure. The rest of you can go whistle.
Meanwhile, back on the House floor, the Republicans seem less concerned with job creation than they are with using the budget battles to push a radical anti-abortion agenda.
They introduced a bill that would redefine "rape" in such a way that it excludes statutory rape or date rape, and threw in a provision that would allow hospitals to let a woman die rather than perform an emergency abortion that might save her life.
Both measures failed. Total jobs created: again, zero.
Looks like the only jobs these mooks really care about are their own. Whoever they're working for, it sure ain't us.
Saturday, 26 February 2011
Recommendations Don't Come Much Higher Than This
Okay, I swear 'm not going to post every reader review. But I do have to share this one, from Steve Malley in earthquake ravaged New Zealand:
I'm writing this review from the aftermath of the Christchurch earthquake. Long days of shoveling silt and shifting rubble are tiring as hell, but Lawyers Guns and Money still kept me up late, reading first by electric headlamp until the power was restored. I was so engrossed, I barely noticed the aftershocks!
Now THAT is a damn REVIEW.
God bless you, Steve, and good luck to you and all the folks down your way. I'm sending all the positive energy I can along with my thanks (and a copy of BREAKING COVER).
I'm writing this review from the aftermath of the Christchurch earthquake. Long days of shoveling silt and shifting rubble are tiring as hell, but Lawyers Guns and Money still kept me up late, reading first by electric headlamp until the power was restored. I was so engrossed, I barely noticed the aftershocks!
Now THAT is a damn REVIEW.
God bless you, Steve, and good luck to you and all the folks down your way. I'm sending all the positive energy I can along with my thanks (and a copy of BREAKING COVER).
Who Are You, First Reviewer?
First customer review for LAWYERS GUNS AND MONEY is from the mysterious "redsoxfanworcester" at B & N:
Posted February 25, 2011, 11:44 PM EST: JD Rhoades has a real gift for creating characters with such depth that they seem to live in your parish, and this book is no exception. This gift is particularly powerful because he also has an ability to evoke palpable tension and ethical crises that are based in real life. If you like your thrillers not only well written, but also not straining your suspension of disbelief, I urge you to check out JD Rhoades and "Lawyers, Guns, and Money."
As promised, send me your snail-mail address to dustyr@nc.rr.com and I'll send you a hardcover of BREAKING COVER.
And thanks!
Still got a prize available for the first Amazon review...
Friday, 25 February 2011
Tell You What, Let's Make a Deal....
First person to post a review of LAWYERS, GUNS AND MONEY on Amazon or B & N gets a free hardcover copy of my last print novel, BREAKING COVER. Doesn't even have to be a good review, although I assume if you don't like LG& M you won't want BC. Be sure to message or e-mail me your snail mail address....
Thursday, 24 February 2011
Lawyers, Guns and Money NOW FOR THE NOOK!
Lawyers, Guns and Money is now live at BN.com for all you Nookies. (Nookites? Nookers?) Coming soon for the iPad!
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
Get LAWYERS GUNS AND MONEY Now!
Lawyers, Guns and Money for Kindle
And for other formats (new ones being added)
Andy Cole, small town criminal lawyer and general go-along guy, has built a successful practice defending criminal offenders - and making sure he is paid in advance. But this easy, lucrative professional life changes forever when Danny Fairgreen, the white sheep of the notorious Fairgreen clan, is arrested for murdering a barmaid, and Andy agrees to represent him--for a price.
But an unknown someone wants Danny convicted -- bad -- and starts putting the screws to Andy. At first, the pressure is subtle, but it grows ever more ever more intense until Andy is faced with an unspeakable choice: Go along once again and send an innocent man to death row, or step up to the plate and risk losing everything--including his own life and the life of the woman he loves.
And for other formats (new ones being added)
Andy Cole, small town criminal lawyer and general go-along guy, has built a successful practice defending criminal offenders - and making sure he is paid in advance. But this easy, lucrative professional life changes forever when Danny Fairgreen, the white sheep of the notorious Fairgreen clan, is arrested for murdering a barmaid, and Andy agrees to represent him--for a price.
But an unknown someone wants Danny convicted -- bad -- and starts putting the screws to Andy. At first, the pressure is subtle, but it grows ever more ever more intense until Andy is faced with an unspeakable choice: Go along once again and send an innocent man to death row, or step up to the plate and risk losing everything--including his own life and the life of the woman he loves.
Monday, 21 February 2011
BEHOLD!
The new cover for my upcoming e-book, LAWYERS GUNS AND MONEY!
Thanks to Jeroen ten Berge for his patience as we worked this one up. The book itself should be live in a couple of days on Amazon (for Kindle) and Smashwords (for other e-readers)
Sunday, 20 February 2011
'Beverage of the Friends of God'
Latest Newspaper Column: The Pilot
So there's this drink called "5 Hour Energy." It comes in a little bitty bottle you can buy almost everywhere, and it purports to have "zero sugar," thus avoiding the sugar crash you can suffer if you eat candy or guzzle soft drinks to try to pep yourself up. One shot, the ads promise, and you'll be over that mid-afternoon slump with which we are all familiar.
So far, so good. I've been tempted to try the stuff myself, since the legal profession frowns on the sanest and most logical way to get oneself over the mid-afternoon slump, which is a quick nap. Or sleeping till noon.
Then the folks who make "5 Hour Energy" started running ads promoting the use of their concoction in the mornings as a substitute for coffee. According to the ads, coffee is just too expensive to buy, takes too long, and is just generally too much trouble. Why not just gulp down our magic elixir, the ads suggest, and do away with all the hassle?
Boy, these people really do not understand the point of coffee.
Oh, sure, the energy boost is a big part of it. While I am not one of those surly types like the guy in the McDonald's ad I wrote about a couple of weeks ago (the jerk who says "don't even talk to me before I've had my coffee"), I do greatly appreciate the caffeinated jump-start a cup of coffee provides. As someone once wrote, "There may be life before coffee, but it is not necessarily intelligent life."
But there's so much more to a good cup of coffee than that. There's the aroma, for one thing. Is there any more pleasant smell to wake up to than the rich bouquet of a pot of coffee wafting its way from the kitchen? It just draws you out of bed and down the hall, and it's particularly nice when it's all hot and ready because someone's already made a fresh pot. (Thanks, honey.)
Then there's the flavor. Ah, the flavor.
Coffee comes in a number of varieties, from all over the world, and caffeine-iacs can get as pretentious and annoying as some wine buffs, discussing the relative merits of Jamaican Blue Mountain over Kona over Sulawesi, and on and on. Some get all excited over their gear - grinders, presses, mills, etc.
All of that foolishness becomes just so much background noise to me once I take that first, hot, richly flavored sip of good, black coffee. Yes, I take mine black, or maybe with just a little sugar.
I confess, I used to be a bit of a reverse snob about it. I used to sneer, "If you want a cup of cream and sugar, why'd you ask for coffee?" I've mellowed a bit with age and experience (and lots of coffee), so I tend to be tolerant these days of those who take theirs with a bit of cream, a shot of frothy milk, even fancy coffee-shop additives like vanilla or nutmeg or caramel.
But as for me, I just love the unadulterated taste of well-made coffee, that complexity of taste, that hint of bite, the feel of it going down and warming me up from the inside out. Ambrosia.
As for its effects, while I have no actual empirical evidence or studies that prove coffee makes you smarter - well, let's just say it's one of those things that coffee drinkers just know. And we know it because we drink coffee and are therefore smarter. See how it works?
An anonymous Arab poet once wrote about coffee: "This is the beverage of the friends of God; it gives health to those in its service who strive after wisdom." French novelist and playwright Honore de Balzac wrote, "When we drink coffee, ideas march in like the army ... things remembered arrive at full gallop ... the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink."
Let's see your tiny little bottle full of fancy-schmancy energy drink duplicate that.
So there's this drink called "5 Hour Energy." It comes in a little bitty bottle you can buy almost everywhere, and it purports to have "zero sugar," thus avoiding the sugar crash you can suffer if you eat candy or guzzle soft drinks to try to pep yourself up. One shot, the ads promise, and you'll be over that mid-afternoon slump with which we are all familiar.
So far, so good. I've been tempted to try the stuff myself, since the legal profession frowns on the sanest and most logical way to get oneself over the mid-afternoon slump, which is a quick nap. Or sleeping till noon.
Then the folks who make "5 Hour Energy" started running ads promoting the use of their concoction in the mornings as a substitute for coffee. According to the ads, coffee is just too expensive to buy, takes too long, and is just generally too much trouble. Why not just gulp down our magic elixir, the ads suggest, and do away with all the hassle?
Boy, these people really do not understand the point of coffee.
Oh, sure, the energy boost is a big part of it. While I am not one of those surly types like the guy in the McDonald's ad I wrote about a couple of weeks ago (the jerk who says "don't even talk to me before I've had my coffee"), I do greatly appreciate the caffeinated jump-start a cup of coffee provides. As someone once wrote, "There may be life before coffee, but it is not necessarily intelligent life."
But there's so much more to a good cup of coffee than that. There's the aroma, for one thing. Is there any more pleasant smell to wake up to than the rich bouquet of a pot of coffee wafting its way from the kitchen? It just draws you out of bed and down the hall, and it's particularly nice when it's all hot and ready because someone's already made a fresh pot. (Thanks, honey.)
Then there's the flavor. Ah, the flavor.
Coffee comes in a number of varieties, from all over the world, and caffeine-iacs can get as pretentious and annoying as some wine buffs, discussing the relative merits of Jamaican Blue Mountain over Kona over Sulawesi, and on and on. Some get all excited over their gear - grinders, presses, mills, etc.
All of that foolishness becomes just so much background noise to me once I take that first, hot, richly flavored sip of good, black coffee. Yes, I take mine black, or maybe with just a little sugar.
I confess, I used to be a bit of a reverse snob about it. I used to sneer, "If you want a cup of cream and sugar, why'd you ask for coffee?" I've mellowed a bit with age and experience (and lots of coffee), so I tend to be tolerant these days of those who take theirs with a bit of cream, a shot of frothy milk, even fancy coffee-shop additives like vanilla or nutmeg or caramel.
But as for me, I just love the unadulterated taste of well-made coffee, that complexity of taste, that hint of bite, the feel of it going down and warming me up from the inside out. Ambrosia.
As for its effects, while I have no actual empirical evidence or studies that prove coffee makes you smarter - well, let's just say it's one of those things that coffee drinkers just know. And we know it because we drink coffee and are therefore smarter. See how it works?
An anonymous Arab poet once wrote about coffee: "This is the beverage of the friends of God; it gives health to those in its service who strive after wisdom." French novelist and playwright Honore de Balzac wrote, "When we drink coffee, ideas march in like the army ... things remembered arrive at full gallop ... the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink."
Let's see your tiny little bottle full of fancy-schmancy energy drink duplicate that.
Sunday, 13 February 2011
Egypt and The Underpants Gnomes
Latest Newspaper Column- The Pilot
Several people have asked me, with varying degrees of courtesy, "So when are you going to write something about Egypt?"
Problem is, every time I sit down to write about the situation there, something new happens. That's always the challenge with a story like this: The stuff I turn in by my deadline may be as obsolete as an eight-track tape by Sunday when you read it.
I had, for example, already written and e-mailed a column wondering whether Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak was going to resign. Then he did it. Which leads us to the inevitable question: What now?
On one of the more surreal episodes of the TV Show "South Park," there were these creatures called the Underpants Gnomes, whom one of the minor characters blamed for sneaking into his room and stealing his underwear.
All of the other kids thought he was nuts, until it turned out that there actually were gnomes stealing underwear, and, being gnomes, they hoped to make money off it. Unfortunately, the gnomes' business plan was more than a little vague, in that it consisted of three steps. Step One: Collect underpants. Step Two: ??? Step Three: Profit!
A lot of the pontificating about Egypt during this uprising has reminded me of the Underpants Gnomes. The "plans" I've been hearing seem to be, basically - Step One: Mubarak leaves and takes his corrupt cronies with him. Step Two: ??? Step Three: Democracy!
I wish it was that easy. Now that Mubarak seems to have seen the light and headed for the beach, probably with his suitcases full of bullion, I sincerely hope we see free and fair elections, leading to an open, transparent, and democratic government that's benevolent to its people, as well as peaceful towards its neighbors and toward the U.S.
I also hope that John Grisham will read one of my books and tell his publisher, "Hey, this Rhoades guy's the true and honest voice that American fiction has been looking for. Give him a seven-figure contract or I walk." I'm not, however, making all my plans on the assumption that either one is going to happen.
Don't get me wrong, I'm no Mubarak fan. I didn't shed a tear when he announced that he didn't intend to run again in one of the rigged elections that have kept him in power all these years. The guy's a thug who imprisons and tortures political opponents. The people who were advocating that we prop up Mubarak on the grounds that "he may be an s.o.b, but he's our s.o.b." seem to have forgotten that history has not been particularly kind to that doctrine.
But the people insisting that the American president needs to "manage" this situation, while armchair-quarterbacking every decision, are just as blind to the lessons of history. The situation is complicated further by the lack of a clear opposition leader. Every time someone seems to be rising to that position, like Nobel laureate Mohammad El-Baradei or former Google exec Wael Ghonim, I read a dozen interviews with protesters claiming, "He doesn't speak for us; this is a popular uprising."
Well, that's fine. I'm all for people taking to the streets to demand their rights. But then, who do they plan to run in these open elections we all hope for? With no clear opponent, and the looming specter of a nation of 80 million-plus people with no one at the helm, Mubarak appears to have delegated authority to the military.
Lovely. I'm just hoping we haven't seen the fall of one strongman who'll just be replaced by another. Toppling a dictator is great, but revolutions can quickly turn messy and unpredictable, and they don't always lead to a free society. Ask the French. Or the Russians.
Mubarak is gone, and that's unquestionably good for the people of Egypt. But now they, and we, need to move carefully and thoughtfully. The path between dictatorship and democracy isn't a paved road. It's a tightrope, especially in the Middle East, a place where so many of the West's good intentions (and a fair amount of our bad ones) have gone badly awry.
Frustrating as it may be, there may be little that we, or anyone outside Egypt, can do to influence what happens, other than encourage the forces of reform and wish them luck.
Several people have asked me, with varying degrees of courtesy, "So when are you going to write something about Egypt?"
Problem is, every time I sit down to write about the situation there, something new happens. That's always the challenge with a story like this: The stuff I turn in by my deadline may be as obsolete as an eight-track tape by Sunday when you read it.
I had, for example, already written and e-mailed a column wondering whether Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak was going to resign. Then he did it. Which leads us to the inevitable question: What now?
On one of the more surreal episodes of the TV Show "South Park," there were these creatures called the Underpants Gnomes, whom one of the minor characters blamed for sneaking into his room and stealing his underwear.
All of the other kids thought he was nuts, until it turned out that there actually were gnomes stealing underwear, and, being gnomes, they hoped to make money off it. Unfortunately, the gnomes' business plan was more than a little vague, in that it consisted of three steps. Step One: Collect underpants. Step Two: ??? Step Three: Profit!
A lot of the pontificating about Egypt during this uprising has reminded me of the Underpants Gnomes. The "plans" I've been hearing seem to be, basically - Step One: Mubarak leaves and takes his corrupt cronies with him. Step Two: ??? Step Three: Democracy!
I wish it was that easy. Now that Mubarak seems to have seen the light and headed for the beach, probably with his suitcases full of bullion, I sincerely hope we see free and fair elections, leading to an open, transparent, and democratic government that's benevolent to its people, as well as peaceful towards its neighbors and toward the U.S.
I also hope that John Grisham will read one of my books and tell his publisher, "Hey, this Rhoades guy's the true and honest voice that American fiction has been looking for. Give him a seven-figure contract or I walk." I'm not, however, making all my plans on the assumption that either one is going to happen.
Don't get me wrong, I'm no Mubarak fan. I didn't shed a tear when he announced that he didn't intend to run again in one of the rigged elections that have kept him in power all these years. The guy's a thug who imprisons and tortures political opponents. The people who were advocating that we prop up Mubarak on the grounds that "he may be an s.o.b, but he's our s.o.b." seem to have forgotten that history has not been particularly kind to that doctrine.
But the people insisting that the American president needs to "manage" this situation, while armchair-quarterbacking every decision, are just as blind to the lessons of history. The situation is complicated further by the lack of a clear opposition leader. Every time someone seems to be rising to that position, like Nobel laureate Mohammad El-Baradei or former Google exec Wael Ghonim, I read a dozen interviews with protesters claiming, "He doesn't speak for us; this is a popular uprising."
Well, that's fine. I'm all for people taking to the streets to demand their rights. But then, who do they plan to run in these open elections we all hope for? With no clear opponent, and the looming specter of a nation of 80 million-plus people with no one at the helm, Mubarak appears to have delegated authority to the military.
Lovely. I'm just hoping we haven't seen the fall of one strongman who'll just be replaced by another. Toppling a dictator is great, but revolutions can quickly turn messy and unpredictable, and they don't always lead to a free society. Ask the French. Or the Russians.
Mubarak is gone, and that's unquestionably good for the people of Egypt. But now they, and we, need to move carefully and thoughtfully. The path between dictatorship and democracy isn't a paved road. It's a tightrope, especially in the Middle East, a place where so many of the West's good intentions (and a fair amount of our bad ones) have gone badly awry.
Frustrating as it may be, there may be little that we, or anyone outside Egypt, can do to influence what happens, other than encourage the forces of reform and wish them luck.
Sunday, 6 February 2011
Commercials I Just Don't Get, Redux
Latest Newspaper Column: The Pilot
I've mentioned before how I just don't seem to be on the same wavelength as the people who make TV commercials. Maybe I'm just not hip enough, but there are some that leave me scratching my head and trying to figure out, "How or why is this -supposed to make me want this product?"
Take, for instance, the commercial for the cell phone company where the blank-faced woman stuffs her child into a pet carrier to get the child on a plane cheap, explaining to the audience with a creepy lack of emotion that she needs to save money to pay her cell phone charges.
She's then accosted by a pair of equally creepy baggage handlers who look and speak like aliens who are trying to pass as human and failing badly at it. They tell the woman she can get cheap phone service from their company, before further confirming their alienness by failing to realize that the person speaking from inside the tiny cage is a human child and not a talking dog.
The same company used to run an ad where two talking pigs were enjoying a large plate of ham in a restaurant, explaining that what they're doing isn't as wrong as -paying high cell phone bills. Apparently, there's an ad agency out there that thinks child abuse, cannibalism and creepy humanoids are a hilarious way to peddle cell phone service.
I do not want to meet these people. Ever.
On the subject of phones, I'm glad that Apple's iPhone is soon going to start working with Verizon's phone network. But that ad with all the ticking clocks and people watching them, tapping their fingers, anxiously awaiting the exact second when they can have a choice of which company drops their calls, does not make me want to get either an iPhone or Verizon's service. It makes me want to tell these people they really need to get a life.
Then there's the commercial for McDonald's coffee in which the young hipster-looking dude with the scruffy beard rudely and repeatedly tells everyone, including a passing dog, "Don't even talk to me before I've had my coffee."
Look, I like my cup of coffee in the morning. I like it more than just about anyone I know. And I have to say, Mickey D's makes a surprisingly good cup of Java. But I've got to tell you, this commercial does -nothing except make me want to smack that guy in his pretentious hipster face. Think you're too good to talk to people in the morning, you little douchebag? Well, have a little talk with the back of my hand.
Also, I'd like to say a word or two about those Hyundai commercials where everyone who's not driving a Hyundai is a sheep. Hey, Hyundai? Here's a news flash. You don't make me want to buy your car by being smug and condescending. Just the opposite, in fact.
Oh, and here's a message to the folks at Charmin: those commercials for toilet tissue with the bears in the woods? We got the joke a long time ago, guys. Bears. Bodily functions. Woods. Really, we get it. It's just tiresome now, when it's not gross. Let it go.
While we're at it, let's face facts: Chester the Cheetos Cheetah has jumped the shark. He was kind of amusing when he was inciting put-upon young women to exact revenge. But when he starts enticing grown men into forts made out of mattresses, it's more than a little disturbing.
And what's the deal with the commercial where Chester and a female music store employee are tormenting another employee - who is, it should be noted, actually eating Cheetos - by playing "Chopsticks" over and over? What message does this send? "Eat our product and we'll still be a jerk to you"? It's almost enough to make me want to boycott Cheetos. Almost.
Tonight is, of course, the Super Bowl, which, among many other things, is the time when advertisers roll out a whole bunch of new commercials.
I probably won't get most of them, either.
I've mentioned before how I just don't seem to be on the same wavelength as the people who make TV commercials. Maybe I'm just not hip enough, but there are some that leave me scratching my head and trying to figure out, "How or why is this -supposed to make me want this product?"
Take, for instance, the commercial for the cell phone company where the blank-faced woman stuffs her child into a pet carrier to get the child on a plane cheap, explaining to the audience with a creepy lack of emotion that she needs to save money to pay her cell phone charges.
She's then accosted by a pair of equally creepy baggage handlers who look and speak like aliens who are trying to pass as human and failing badly at it. They tell the woman she can get cheap phone service from their company, before further confirming their alienness by failing to realize that the person speaking from inside the tiny cage is a human child and not a talking dog.
The same company used to run an ad where two talking pigs were enjoying a large plate of ham in a restaurant, explaining that what they're doing isn't as wrong as -paying high cell phone bills. Apparently, there's an ad agency out there that thinks child abuse, cannibalism and creepy humanoids are a hilarious way to peddle cell phone service.
I do not want to meet these people. Ever.
On the subject of phones, I'm glad that Apple's iPhone is soon going to start working with Verizon's phone network. But that ad with all the ticking clocks and people watching them, tapping their fingers, anxiously awaiting the exact second when they can have a choice of which company drops their calls, does not make me want to get either an iPhone or Verizon's service. It makes me want to tell these people they really need to get a life.
Then there's the commercial for McDonald's coffee in which the young hipster-looking dude with the scruffy beard rudely and repeatedly tells everyone, including a passing dog, "Don't even talk to me before I've had my coffee."
Look, I like my cup of coffee in the morning. I like it more than just about anyone I know. And I have to say, Mickey D's makes a surprisingly good cup of Java. But I've got to tell you, this commercial does -nothing except make me want to smack that guy in his pretentious hipster face. Think you're too good to talk to people in the morning, you little douchebag? Well, have a little talk with the back of my hand.
Also, I'd like to say a word or two about those Hyundai commercials where everyone who's not driving a Hyundai is a sheep. Hey, Hyundai? Here's a news flash. You don't make me want to buy your car by being smug and condescending. Just the opposite, in fact.
Oh, and here's a message to the folks at Charmin: those commercials for toilet tissue with the bears in the woods? We got the joke a long time ago, guys. Bears. Bodily functions. Woods. Really, we get it. It's just tiresome now, when it's not gross. Let it go.
While we're at it, let's face facts: Chester the Cheetos Cheetah has jumped the shark. He was kind of amusing when he was inciting put-upon young women to exact revenge. But when he starts enticing grown men into forts made out of mattresses, it's more than a little disturbing.
And what's the deal with the commercial where Chester and a female music store employee are tormenting another employee - who is, it should be noted, actually eating Cheetos - by playing "Chopsticks" over and over? What message does this send? "Eat our product and we'll still be a jerk to you"? It's almost enough to make me want to boycott Cheetos. Almost.
Tonight is, of course, the Super Bowl, which, among many other things, is the time when advertisers roll out a whole bunch of new commercials.
I probably won't get most of them, either.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
How Can They Believe All That Crap?
Charles Johnson, in his blog post The New Tribalism at TPMCafe, explains how the teabaggers and other wingnuts continue to accept and embrace repeatedly discredited memes that are demonstrably untrue:
Within the tribe there's no need to be concerned with facts or accuracy; if the goal is to demonize a hated opponent, for example, anything and everything goes, including smears known to be false. That's because the objective is not to convince an impartial observer -- it's to reinforce the tribal bonds, the sense of belonging to something, with its own shared reality. That shared reality doesn't have to reflect actual reality; anybody who doesn't share it is by definition not part of the tribe, and therefore an enemy.
So, the next time you hear someone fuming about "death panels" or "Obamanation's Secret Muslim Agenda" or "Government takeover of health care/the financial industry/etc" remember: reason won't work. Reason just shows you're not one of the tribe, you're one of "them," and "they" must be resisted at all costs.
This isn't to say you shouldn't correct try to correct misinformation. People who haven't already made up their minds, the impartial observers Johnson mentions--in other words, people who aren't already part of the "tribe," need to hear it.
But forget trying to convince someone who's already in. To your hard core wingnut, it's not about the truth: it's about the tribe.
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