That makes it easier

I have been on the fence about Judith Miller's jail time-- from a free speech perspective, it's appalling to see a journalist imprisoned (Hugo Chavez pointed this out when a Post interviewer asked him about freedom of the press in Venezuela). On the other hand, I want the vast right-wing conspiracy of the administration exposed. Now, though, it looks like there may be more self-made martyrdom than journalistic crusading going on. Seems like the Times just can't get a break-- the newspaper of wreckard.

Mexicanos...

¡Que viva Hidalgo!

¡Que viva Mexico!

9-11 or New Orleans?

Which was the greater disaster? I asked my students yesterday. My point is not to relativize trauma-- please don't. But I wanted to (a) check and see if students had been following the Katrina aftermath in the news, and (b) give them a little jolt if not. Then I got this from Betsy... Here are the conditions of possibility for an interesting dicussion (at best. Maybe more likely is me continuing to rant "Katrina was not a natural disaster!" to myself). Want to join in? Take the quiz.

Oh, goodie

Our president speaks:
"Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house," cracked Bush, "there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch."

I wish he were kidding. Might as well say "Let them eat MREs." The real Bush comes off even more out there than a satirized one.

Jebus, help us.

and in more heartening news, Napalm Death

... is still around, according to the New Yorker. OK, completely different lineup than my college days, but they're playing NYC and getting a preview writeup in the upper hair of the middle brow. Two things I learned from the piece: (1) that weird grindcore vocal style, which in my mind I always associated with lines like "My name is legion," is called "Cookie Monster." This is great to know, because it will enable me to tell a story that I love but so far have enjoyed only in memory. I was at a "death metal" show in Wichita with Johann, the punk rock conscience of my college days, and there was a grindcore opening act (incidental detail-- I was wearing a white shirt from the funk band Punkinhead, while everybody else in the place was in only black). The dance floor was empty but for two rather unthirsty (not anymore, anyways) and decidedly unpunk girls who I then considered "sorority" types, but in retrospect, I remember teased hair that definitely would not have survived a serious rush. After a couple of tunes, they called out to the singer "What's wrong with your voice?" He dropped the cookie monster (broke character? He had been using it for "Next song! Called! Ugga-bugga!" and the like) and said "No, nothing's wrong with it. That's just how we do it." Nice Kansas diction as you please.
(2) The review calls the ND wall of sound "gorgeous." That's the best descriptor since (but not better than) my college roomie Dave Wall's: "I like music like this... spunky!" I bet the reviewer also never heard Dave whistling the monotone tune of
Multi
National
Corpo
Rations
Genocide
Ofthe
Starving
Nations
Whuuuuuuuuuuu...

You want gorgeous.

New Orleans

Aw, man. I'm back to work for the fall semester, and starting to need this outlet again. And what's the first thing to write about but this... disaster. One of my colleagues, frustrated with his students' ignorance of the scale of the problem, saw a chance to shake them up with the question "Which was worse; 9/11 or Katrina?" It looks like this is becoming more and more a real question in terms of death toll. Somehow this one is shaking me harder than 9/11, though (Calvin's due date). I have more personal memory of New Orleans than New York: a 22nd birthday party by Jackson Square with some homeless guys, street musicians, and close college brothers. Hearing about the death of my best friend's father when I was in high school, while there on an adventure with my dad. A nostalgia-inducing night of anthropologists gone wild during the AAA meetings, making (I gather) a bit of a reputation for "the Texas crowd."
But I refuse to believe it's just me who is getting torn up by watching the news--it's not only personal. It is too painfully obvious how ready our society and the managers of our resources are to simply brush off the thousands of people who live on the edge of disaster every day. How many more times have New Orleanians been brushed off before there was a hurricane to put them on the front page? How often have we discounted these thousands ("people of the abyss" that racist socialist Jack London wrote about) just like the reporters did in the days following the hurricane, when the quick verdict was that NO had dodged the bullet? Or when the authorities say "Everybody out" and then dust off their hands while thousands, THOUSANDS have no car, or no gas, or no bus showing up at the depot?
In any case, this was not a natural disaster, though it involved nature. I was getting furious watching NBC the other night and their insistence on looping everything around to a narrative of hope. I still feel more anger and despair than hope. I know some people will hear of the "looters" and "hoodlums" and have a ready explanation of social pathology. I think I hear some dirty south rage, though, and I don't blame anybody who's feeling that.
Aw, man, and the big-selling tourist drink on Bourbon St. is the hurricane. That just ties up the tragedy of that grim joy you see in the Quarter. God, New Orleans.