Thugocracy

My brain has been a little foggy for the past few weeks, but one thing I've been following carefully is the news about the riots in the suburbs of Paris. After a police car collided with a motorcycle and killed two French teenagers of Moroccan and Senegalese origin last month, major riots broke out and residents used hunting rifles, Molotov cocktails, and rocks to attack police. At least 100 police personnel were injured. Maybe I just haven't been looking or listening in the right places,but there's been seemingly little nuanced discussion about this in the American media. Among people who are talking about it, there appear to be two main reactions: 1. Angry protest is to be expected in situations where large groups of people live in sub-standard conditions, or 2. France should learn its lesson and keep those Muslim immigrants out of the country because they're causing trouble again.

While the first statement is viable, neither gets to the root of the violence, verging on warfare, that occurred in 2005 and again last month. France's President Nicolas Sarkozy has called for a crackdown on the drug culture and "thugocracy" that has overtaken the suburbs. Sarkozy has repeatedly insulted "thugs," suggesting that the main causes are recklessness and stupidity. In an Al Jazeera article he is quoted as saying, "I reject the kind of naive wishful thinking that makes every deliquent a victim of society, and every riot a social problem. What happened in Villiers-le-Bel has nothing to do with a social crisis and everything to do with thugocracy."

What is thugocracy? And how could there ever be a violent uprising without a cause? Some observers assume that wherever there are Muslims, there will be violence. They argue that if you allow Muslim immigrants to enter the country they will spread dangerous anti-Western sentiment, and little by little take control. This article from the Sunday Times in London has accumulated a series of provocative and alarmist comments about the riots. A reader from Flint, Michigan writes, "Deportation. Expulsion. Muslims are unfit to live in any historically Christian nation. Give them one year to get out, and then start sterilizing. Deport, deport, deport." This chilling xenophobic rhetoric echoes Nazi arguments about moving Jews out of Germany, as well as discussions about the perils of Latinos moving across the border into the U.S. I find it appalling to read such disgustingly blatant racist statements anywhere, much less on a news-related website. Haven't we learned anything from the wars and genocides of the past century?

Religion simply does not explain the riots; here's a great explanation of why. Juan Cole also wrote an insightful blog on this subject back in 2005. I've heard a claim that American gang culture has been exported to France in the form of hip hop, creating harsh, violent new masculine ideals. Digging deeper, though, it becomes clear that American culture has little to do with the real problem. France has a long history of colonialism in Africa, and what happened during those years of occupation is profoundly connected to the current situation.

Torture was routinely used as a tool of control by the French Army, and one particularly important example of this was during the Algerian War for Independence from 1954 to 1962. The resistance army, also known as the FLN, employed bloody guerilla warfare as a means of bringing down the French occupation. Since the 1950s, Algerians have moved to France in large numbers seeking jobs and better lives. Poor immigrants are generally limited to housing projects and shantytowns on the margins of French society. A new generation has been born and raised in these circumstances with few financial prospects, and treated as second-class citizens. Colonialism remains central to the problems surrounding French identity and to this day, discrimination has a monumental impact on the lives of first, second and third-generation immigrants. In this culture of hopelessness, violent resistance is likely viewed as the only way to claim power and get noticed by the government.

Mark Patinkin, a columnist for a paper in Providence, RI, claims that the Paris riots say almost as much about America as they do about France. Highlighting the "mostly Muslim underclass" around Paris, he says that the 21st century U.S. is a model of peaceful coexistence. Here's the reason: American minorities have political representation, and minorities in France don't. Does anyone believe we can safely say the United States is a model of ethnic and religious coexistence? Maybe there aren't riots in the streets these days, but there's a lot of underground anger. Consider the case of the Jena 6. There's still a lot of misunderstanding and hatred to overcome.

Being Bad

How to be Good isn't Nick Hornby's most famous novel, and I don't think it's his best. But what the book lacks in persuasive storytelling it makes up with necessary and uncomfortable questions. The plot centers on marriage and family; Katie is a doctor with a curmudgeonly husband who spends his life complaining and writing a weekly column called "the angriest man in Holloway." Katie wants to be good, but it doesn't come naturally. She finds she has to force herself to be nice to her patients, and she jumps into an extramarital affair with little regret. Meanwhile her husband David encounters DJ Goodnews, a sort of 21st century shaman, who transforms his worldview. David is overcome with goodness and decides to actually live out his beliefs. He gives $80 to a man he has never seen before, takes his daughter's laptop to a women's shelter, and convinces three neighbors to allow homeless people to move into their spare bedrooms. Katie is so disconcerted by David's new saintly lifestyle, she sneaks out at night to sleep in a friend's empty apartment.

What does it mean to be "liberal" in today's world? If you buy produce from the farmer's market, drive a hybrid car, and have an anti-war bumper sticker, is that "good" enough? What does it mean to truly live in a selfless manner? I think Hornby is right to point out the hypocrisy of white middle-class liberalism. I'm reminded of this every time I walk into Whole Foods, where the wealthy customers are buying their fancy organic this-and-that from mostly African American and Latino low-wage employees. There's something wrong with this picture.

Intro to Disaster

This is a worthwhile video from avaaz.org. A nice two-minute summary of the political mess we find ourselves in; the "clash of civilizations" where it's "us" against "those terrorists." Thanks to the amazing Raj at Green Parenting for the link. I read his blog and I'm not even a parent. Check out his post on immigration reform for some very honest and rousing words, and also this one about life in India and looking at stars.

Outsiders

On the road between Amman and the old Nabataean city of Petra in Southern Jordan, there are dots of color scattered across the flatness. From antiquated depictions like the one above, I knew they were Bedouin tents without having to ask. It's hard to avoid romanticized notions about the free-roaming lifestyle of Bedouins; the simplicity, the rootlessness. But times are changing. 90% have settled permanently and switched to farming, and 10% continue to travel as nomads with flocks of goats or sheep, inhabiting woven tents. Someone asked our 18-year-old volunteer guide what the Bedouins own and how they survive. He said "They own this land, as far as you can see. It has been passed down by families for hundreds of years." I tried to imagine what it would be like to belong to a stretch of desert without ever claiming one particular plot as home.

In Israel, there is a fierce struggle between the government and indigenous Bedouins in the Negev Desert. Since the 1970s, the Israeli government has been demolishing Bedouin villages and attempting to move the residents to small recognized government townships. This campaign still continues, with 'unrecognized' settlements being bulldozed and people being forced to leave. The Bedouin population is understandably infuriated and some are refusing to go. I'm sad that this story is following the same course as so many others - the indigenous minority group fights for rights and recognition, but ends up mistreated and impoverished.

I went to the Dead Sea on the Jordanian side, where you can look across and see the banks of Israel. A new crop of luxury hotels has sprung up there and each one charges a fee for visitors to use the beach below. At the Dead Sea Spa Hotel, there was a metal detector at the entrance and a guard who checked our bags. Across from the first of two swimming pools leading down to the sea, I saw a replication of a Bedouin tent. It was made from fine materials and had an opening on the side for people to see in. There were beautiful textiles and cushions lining the walls and floor and small benches to sit on. In the midday heat beside a pool and hotel bar, it looked absurd. A chance for tourists to experience fantasies of Bedouin life without leaving the safe bubble of their luxury hotel.

However unsettling this may be, at least in Jordan there seems to be a general acknowledgment of the importance of Bedouins in the history and culture of the region. If I had to choose, I'd prefer that the Bedouin lifestyle be used as a tourist gimmick rather than being scorned or wiped out altogether.

Kitsch Matters

Danger is always exciting. In The Sheik, a 1921 silent film with Agnes Ayres and Rudolph Valentino, Algerian "Sheik Ahmed" abducts a strong, independent British lady and takes her to his camp. She resists his forceful advances until she's kidnapped by a rival sheik. When Sheik Ahmed rescues her, she decides he isn't so bad after all and they fall in love. The film was based on a popular romance novel by Edith Hull, which apparently sparked an extended trend in sheik (or sheikh) fantasies. Elvis incorporated the theme into his farcically campy film Harum Scarum about a singer who is kidnapped and trapped in an imaginary Middle East. The sheikh, the infamous 'bad boy,' still runs rampant in the world of romance novels. Bitch Magazine recently published an article about the subject (thanks to my sister for this), pointing out that the Arab men in these stories are perceived as menacing yet desirable. The website Sheikhs and Desert Love lists all the books published in this genre to date. Some of my favorites titles are Beauty and the Sheikh, Cobra and the Concubine, Bed of Sand, and Arabian Love-Child. Who knew suspected terrorists could be so sexy?

Hitting the Wall

I've wanted to see this film since it came out, but after it left the theater it was tough to get ahold of. Tonight I finally watched the much-acclaimed Head On, or "Gegen die Wand" by Turkish German director Fatih Akin. Having not known much about the premise other than that it was about a Turkish immigrant community in Germany, I was unprepared for the movie's full impact. Watching it was like standing on the sidewalk and being grabbed by someone reaching out the window of a passing bus, hanging by the wrists and watching the ground moving below, waiting to hit the pavement. The first part takes place in the dark underworld of Hamburg, where the two main characters are living grimy and tragic lives. Sibel, the rebellious daughter of a strict Muslim family, and Cahit, a washed-up alcoholic with violent tendencies, have both hit rock bottom. They meet in a mental ward after they've both attempted suicide, and are thrown together by Sibel's determination to marry a Turkish man in a last-ditch effort to appease her stubborn and abusive family. What follows is an unpredictable love story.

The topic of a cultural "homeland" pops up throughout the film. Sibel and and Cahit speak only in German to each other, and when Sibel's family comments on Cahit's poor grasp on the Turkish language, he says he "threw it away." More than anything though, the sense of being caught between cultures comes out in the claustrophobic mood of the film. Stephanie Zacharek wrote in Salon, "Head On isn't strictly a culture-clash movie, possibly because for Akin (who was born in Germany of Turkish parents), the issues of displacement for any Middle Easterner living in Europe are a given -- they're almost too basic to be the subject of a movie." Turkey isn't really in the Middle East, but I agree with the rest of this statement. Akin is telling his story from the inside-out, not the outside-in. And instead of being the focus of the plot, Sibel and Cahit's displacement is more like a cloud of doom that hangs over their self-destructive lives. But it somehow also leads them forward, and after a dramatic turn of events, Sibel finds herself in Istanbul cleaning hotel rooms.

Akin manages to communicate addiction, poverty, and the struggle for female autonomy in a bald, visceral way. I don't think I've ever watched a movie that made me writhe with the same kind of discomfort. Watching Head On forces its viewers to understand what it's like to die violently and then try to live again.

Silverlake-ification

On the fourth of July I sat on a hill overlooking Northeast Los Angeles. The air was warm and hazy with smoke from illegal fireworks, which continued to pound across the valley. The lights shot up from narrow residential streets while my boyfriend and I stared in bemusement. As fairly new residents, we wondered how this madness could ensue without someone being seriously injured or starting a fire. We were joined by a Spanish-speaking family with two young girls who were apparently unfazed by the bursts of light below. The girls sat on cinder blocks and began to squabble, and one of the women told them to keep their hands to themselves. When the youngest began to cry and complain, the family headed back up the road. The booms went late into the night, but as far as I know no major fires broke out. Most of the residue was removed by street cleaners the next day, when I was left wondering why such massive patriotic displays aren't taken as evidence of U.S. loyalty in immigrant communities.

As a young white resident of a mostly Latino neighborhood, I am participating in a gentrifying trend that I'd rather not be implicated in. The "yuppified" areas of L.A. are spreading further and further east. First it was Silverlake and Echo Park, now it's Hollywood, Downtown LA, Eagle Rock, and Highland Park. Gentrification is a delicate phenomenon; crime rates go down, but rent prices go up and long-time residents are forced to leave. Here's an LA Weekly article from last summer. Since moving to the Northeast, I've been trying to figure out how to break out of the "gentrifying white girl" mold. I started learning Spanish. I tried to interact. After seeing the film Quinceañera, I became determined not to be one of the stereotypical people who move in without appreciating what they're pushing out. But sometimes I wonder - does it matter that I care? Even if I'm more culturally sensitive than most, I still have a gay athletic-wear designing neighbor with a pair of brindle boxers that I take to the dog park everyday. Did my landlord do a service by beautifully restoring our 1910 duplex even though his hard work probably alienated the working class neighbors? These questions gnaw at the back of my mind. What I do know is that the cost of housing in Los Angeles County is dangerously high. People are moving east because the closer to the ocean you are, the more you pay.

Last month the LA Times published this story about L.A.'s "ethnic enclaves" as untapped tourist gems. The accompanying photo shows the mural on a corner near my house, and the article describes Highland Park's blossoming Latino art scene. Visitors bring in much-needed income, but as Highland Park's hip and artsy reputation spreads, I understand why some fear it will be the new Silverlake.

Freegan Economics

We've all heard of "dumpster diving" - searching through garbage for useful items - but few people know there is a growing social movement associated with this practice. Freegans (playing on 'vegan') boycott consumer goods to demonstrate the vast and unnecessary waste generated by corporate capitalism. Steven Kurutz profiles several freegans in today's NY Times. While there is fear and stigma attached to consuming things from a dumpster (especially food), freegans argue that supermarkets and restaurants regularly throw away items that are safe and should be used. A manifesto entitled "Why Freegan?" calls for the public to "tread lightly on the Earth" by not purchasing food, driving, or working meaningless jobs in order to buy useless things.

It's an extreme stance, but freegans are headed in the right direction. Look at any impoverished country or region and you'll realize that Americans take the (seemingly) endless amounts of stuff around them for granted. Take 15 seconds to think about the waste you're creating and how you can put it to better use.

Outing the Introverts

Today I found an article that I should have read long ago. It's "Caring for Your Introvert" by Jonathan Rauch. It explains everything I've always felt but never put into words. Yes world, I am an introvert. I don't fear public speaking or expressing my opinions, but I despise socializing in large groups. I find small talk exhausting. I'm often labeled "the quiet girl," which is code for "the boring girl," "the snobby girl," or "the mysterious alien-like girl who seems to have nothing to offer." I'm not snobby and I'm not boring (and I believe I was born on Earth), I just don't process things by talking out loud.

To all of you extroverts out there, please be open to the idea that there is nothing "wrong" with us introverted types. We like doing the same things you do, just in smaller doses. Be patient with us, and we'll be patient with you.

Borat goes political

Last night Mr. Sacha Baron Cohen won "Best Comedic Performance" at the MTV Movie Awards (and in a characteristic move, caused a scene by making out with Will Ferrell on stage). Now that the Borat movie mania has mostly died down, I've been thinking about how complex this film actually is. Baron Cohen set out to break all the rules, so it's not surprising that there were all sorts of reactions. But what makes the character of Borat important is that he has actually managed to strike right in the center of the "culture wars" that everyone says are being waged in this country. Sacha Baron Cohen took on the hottest political debates of the moment. Some people say that the film is just blatantly un-PC, and that those who take offense to it are overly sensitive and taking comedy too seriously. I understand this position, but I also know that comedy is one way we approach the big issues we don't know how to handle. American comedy is and has always been all about racial and sexual identity. And whether or not they take it seriously, millions of people have seen Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan and each person takes his/her own ideas and impressions away from it.

Borat is a movie about American prejudice, but Borat's anti-Jewish sentiment makes me uneasy (aside: anti-Semitism is a troubled term because Arabs are also Semites). Anyway, Baron Cohen is Jewish and therefore does have license to portray anti-Semitism, at least more than a non-Jew would. But there's been a lot of discussion about anti-Semitism as it relates to Israel in recent months, and it's a touchy subject. It's too much for me to go into now, but basically some people - Abe Foxman, president of the Anti-Defamation League for one - have argued that criticism of the Israeli government amounts to anti-Semitism. And there's an often brutal dispute between professors Norman Finkelstein and Alan Dershowitz, who are both Jews but are on opposing ends of the spectrum on the issue.

So what does Borat have to do with all this? I don't know exactly. But it makes me nervous to think that aspects like the bar scene with the "Throw the Jew down the well" song could be interpreted as evidence of present large-scale anti-Semitism. If we think about the fears and biases that come up most consistently in the U.S. of late, they don't relate to Jews; the hostility is directed toward Muslims and Arabs. Part of me wonders if through Borat's bigotry, Baron Cohen was actually alluding to the widespread anti-Muslim sentiment in the West, but this is never clear. And though some have said that the Borat character himself is an insulting Muslim sterotype (about half the population of Khazakstan is Muslim), in the film Borat is asked if he's "Islamic," and he says no, he "follows the hawk." So it's ambiguous. But I can't help agreeing with some critics who've said that if Sacha Baron Cohen were actually Muslim and he dressed up as a Jew who hated Muslims, the film would never had made it into the mainstream. The scenario wouldn't have made sense because the truth is, American audiences are accustomed to sympathizing with Jews, not Muslims. My (somewhat simplistic) belief is that international relations would improve considerably if everyone: Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists, Mormons, Pagans, Secularists, Atheists, Agnostics, and even Scientologists would go read a book about the history of Islam or talk to a Muslim.

Lion the Girl Says No

photo ©2006 adam pw smith - www.adampwsmith.com

If there's one word to describe Gena Olivier's voice, it's haunting. Her band Midnight Movies has a new album called Lion the Girl, which is an exploration of smooth delirium. I normally approach new bands in the indie scene with a degree of skepticism; many turn out to be more about image and less about music. Not so with Midnight Movies. I saw them perform with Autolux earlier this month at the Glass House in Pomona, and was swept up in their shadowy layers of sound. Velvet Underground comparisons are warranted, but there is something straight - almost choir girl-ish about Gena's voice that makes for a gripping dynamic. This band is very musical.

I'm always intrigued by female drummers, and Midnight Movies has two. Gena was originally vocalist/drummer, until Sandra Vu became a member of the band. Sandra is a highly trained musician - she studied piano and flute, and must have had a later love affair with drums. While playing, she generates power in a way that I've seen women Taiko drummers do. She's precise and fluid, yet commanding. And there's something immensely satisfying about seeing a petite Vietnamese woman pounding her heart out on a drum set. Not something I'm used to seeing in a rock band. Later on, Sandra switched places with Gena to play a seamless flute solo. Her tone was deep and raw.

The most important thing about Midnight Movies is their emotional depth. Their dark synth and reverb contribute to an overall languid, pensive mood. The term "psychedelic pop" suddenly makes a lot of sense.

Metal War

I'm beginning to think that the most important type of music in the U.S. right now is Christian metal. Those who disagree should watch the film Jesus Camp to see what I'm talking about. This genre has become a real phenomenon; doing for Christian youth what hip hop has done for so many other young demographics. Coming out of suburban America, bands like Demon Hunter, As I Lay Dying, and War of Ages have become wildly popular. The music is ferociously loud-mouthed and abrasively masculine, and it preaches (or sends messages about) the word of God. War of Ages is from Erie, Pennsylvania, and they look like a fairly run-of-the-mill rock band. And at first listen, they sound like your average screaming metal band. But then there are the lyrics: "We clench our fists and bare our arms/Only to cry out in Your presence/oh God to all who try to end my life/I stand firm and now I've been set free saved by Him/Whom I call king." The warlike cover art for the album "Pride of the Wicked" and band's name are apparently drawn from the idea that humans must fight their own weaknesses such as pride and greed to be closer to God.

But references to militancy appear in much of the Christian metal I've heard, and I have to wonder how much of this is sentiment is aimed at the "Islamic enemy." The term jihad does not refer to "holy war," as so many have said, but for most Muslims it means to struggle to improve oneself in the eyes of God. So - maybe there are more parallels between the two religions than we've been led to think. Anyway, for me there's still something disconcerting about the metaphor of war that is used so often in Christian metal bands' lyrics. Demon Hunter's latest album The Triptych includes a track called "Soldier's Song," which says, "Turn over the tables and watch them run/You’ll be the weapon they can’t outgun" (referring to Jesus, I assume). As Jesus Camp points out, most Evangelical Cristians believe that Jesus will soon return to judge all of humanity, and those who are not saved will burn in hell. I guess the violence of the impending apocalypse is impossible to avoid.

The inverse of beauty

Last night I finished Zadie Smith's third novel, On Beauty. My reaction is that she brilliantly explored a million different topics but never quite grabbed hold of any of them. But maybe that's the point. The book tells the story of the Belseys, a biracial middle class family living in a college town in Massachusetts, and their conservative British counterparts, the Kippses. Howard Belsey (who is white and originally from London) is an art history professor struggling with a mid-life crisis and a failing marriage to Kiki, his African American wife. Zadie Smith paints a dreary portrait of academia, middle-class life, and marriage - and she eloquently explains her thoughts about these topics in this interview. In a Salon review, Laura Miller said that On Beauty is "full of love." I can't quite see it this way; I know that it's a comic novel and was modeled after E.M. Forster's Howard's End, but the themes are too close to home to make me laugh. Though Zadie certainly shows empathy in her descriptions, her satirical jabs are dead-on.

Howard talks about art with murky language to obscure the fact that he has no tangible grasp on what he's discussing. Academia comes across as incestuous and miserably pretentious. And it is. As a former graduate student and aspiring scholar, I wish I could say this weren't true. Zadie is right to point out the bitter unfairness of the university system, as well as the often lopsided sexual dynamics between male professors and female students (Howard sleeps with a student who is 40 years younger). She also touches on the painful distance that can creep into a marriage and expand until there is nothing left. Zadie's depiction of Howard and Kiki's dying marriage reflects the fear of divorce many of us seem to have these days. On Beauty is impressive and confusing. Zadie Smith generates importantly unsettling feelings about race, class, and politics in academia. She doesn't answer the questions she poses because they are unanswerable.

Warped Vines

Painting by Pablo Amaringo


I've always been wary of tourism. From the time I took the trolley across the border from San Diego to Tijuana at the age of seven, I knew there was something fundamentally wrong with traveling in order to gawk at another culture. And after spending four months in the deep dark continent of Africa, I feel the same way. It's the stark 'us and them' contrast, the economic divide, and the ignorance of other tourists that are most troublesome. It's also the fact that locals often have to put on a show to give tourists what they want to see - a world that is foreign and authentic. But tourism is an industry, and on the other hand I'm sure it's essential to developing countries' economies.

I've been learning about more dangerous and/or deviant forms, i.e. sex tourism, medical tourism, and drug tourism. Medical tourism is an odd concept. I understand the demand for cheap medical treatment, but especially with cosmetic surgery, how could you put your body (and your life) in the hands of someone you don't know and may not be able to communicate with? And how much sightseeing can you do while recovering from surgery? It's beyond me. Anyway, I've become fascinated with drug tourism. Last summer I read Fierce Invalids from Hot Climates by Tom Robbins, where the main character Switters visits a Peruvian shaman and after having an overwhelming 8 hour psychedelic experience, is told he will drop dead if his feet ever touch the ground again. Meanwhile, I came upon this article from Rolling Stone about ayahuasca and the latest psychedelic movement. Supposedly, this potent concoction made from an Amazonian root is the new LSD. Not only do people travel to Peru, Brazil, and other countries for week-long "retreats" like this this one led by psychologist Silvia Polivoy in Brazil, but hipsters and other aficionados in the U.S. eagerly import supplies to make their own brews.

I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon. Apparently drug tourism has been going on for several decades - in this 1994 article, Marlene Dobkin de Rios takes a fierce stand against Amazonian drug tourists, saying that the trend is a "contemporary weapon to hasten the demise of native cultures..." as tourists indulge in dangerous fantasies about shamanism and the "exotic, erotic primitive, or happy savage" living in the jungle. Rachel Proctor makes a similar argument, saying that traditional healing is being treatened by the allure of money involved with leading ceremonies for tourists. In my opinion, it's pretty presumptuous for white affluent people to visit Amazonian countries for a week and believe that they will somehow grasp not only the underlying mythologies of the society, but also wisdom and healing practices that have been passed down through generations. The drug tourists seem to think a lot about their own spiritual enlightenment, and not so much about the effects they're having on the people they're hoping to learn from. I suppose it's like most forms of tourism in this way; the visitors are interested in seeing exactly what they expect to see, not necessarily the reality of the situation.

Dreamgirls II

In this case, life imitates art. Dreamgirls was all about the power of image, and so is American Idol, it seems. Melinda was voted off tonight. What a disappointment. Truly, my favorite was LaKisha, but I knew from the start that should would fall victim to a Dreamgirls-esque image bias. That woman has soul. She's fantastic. But it was amazing to watch Melinda come out of her shell and gain confidence. She's admittedly an old-school "motown girl," which must be partly why she didn't make it to the top. The public can only take so much of that old-time flavor. Now it's two young, fresh faces that will go on to the final. I don't know if I'll watch. Jordin is great, but she lacks the life force of the other two... almost reminiscent of Beyoncé in the film. Anyway, what I really want to see is what LaKisha and Melinda will go on to do. They are strong and righteous women.

Vogue

I find it sad that the United States seems to have convinced itself that it stands high above other countries in the area of women's rights. Just check out the latest about Katie Couric as the anchor of the CBS evening news. The big question: is there something wrong with Katie as a news anchor, or are people not ready to see her doing a job that men have done since the invention of television? In truth, Katie has at least 20 years of experience in journalism and she is smart and engaging. Gender simply has to be at the crux of the issue. The CBS producers have had all sorts of trouble figuring out how to "sell" Katie as a serious evening anchor after she left behind the supposedly lightweight genre of morning TV. Why is there this weirdly strict division between morning and evening news? And how can Katie be expected to succeed when people keep picking apart everything about her, from her clothes, makeup, and hair, to her parenting abilities, to her love life? Isn't this beginning to sound a whole lot like the story of a certain senator (whose first name starts with H-i-l-l and ends with a-r-y)?

In slightly more hopeful news, British singer Lily Allen has written several very honest blog postings on her myspace page. She describes feeling hopeless about her appearance, saying she's "fallen victim to the evil machine" of the media, and that she has been researching "gastric bypass surgery, and laser lipo suction." Since Saturday, 1,642 people have left comments on Lily's blog encouraging her to change her image of herself. I think this is a powerful sign that a) celebrities can make an impact by speaking out, and b) something seriously needs to change. Yes, some percentage of women in this country do have a problem with their weight, but I can guarantee that at some point in their lives, 100% of women feel insecure about themeslves because of the thinness shown all around them. There should a massive public forum to talk about the psychological damage that is being done everyday.

Unlawful bodies

I heard something recently that I think everyone in the U.S. should listen to. And no, I'm not talking about the duet between Celine Dion and Elvis last week on American Idol. It's a broadcast from This American Life about the right of Habeus Corpus and the fate of prisoners in Guantánamo Bay. Prepare to be enlightened.

These are trying times. You have to wonder how much lying, torture, deportation, bombing, machismo, wall-building, and corruption this world can handle.

Slick sand

There are no flowers in the desert this year because there wasn't enough rain. But at night, you don't notice. You just see the outlines of tall wind turbines and lights from forlorn houses. Driving alone in the desert at night is lonely. And when you see a gigantic casino with colored lights that flash over the flat ground like moving water, it doesn't make you feel less alone. The Morongo Casino is outside Palm Springs, but for all of its creepy extravagance, it may as well be in Vegas. It is the tallest building in the Inland Empire. I paid a visit to the place on a windy night in March - it was packed. Thick with cigarette smoke and every type of person you can imagine. Every type, that is, except white and middle class.

I've always been torn on the whole Indian gaming industry issue, and after seeing Morongo, my God - it is bizarre. There is so much money going through these places, and as Marc Cooper reports in today's LA Weekly, the industry is only getting bigger. Stephen Pizzo argues that Indian gaming is, and always has been, totally corrupt. The whole production is eerily political. I can't help but think that what these casinos are really doing is slowly (or quickly) draining the pockets of the other disadvantaged minorities in the surrounding areas. There should be a better answer.

Stay fresh!

Pop culture feasts on the Here and Now. It's almost Buddhist in a way - and yet utterly not. Ever since I was allowed to see the interior of a monstrous estate in Bel Air, I've been plagued by a fascination with celebrity gossip websites. Perez Hilton for one. Any news predating the 5th page of Perez's blog - 2, maybe 3 days old - is ancient history. Week-old news is so ancient, it's not even listed on the website anymore. The past is a different universe.

Speaking of the past, I've been brushing up on the history of cellulite. For those who don't know, the term was coined as a marketing ploy for European spas in the 1960s. Women in the U.S. didn't even know there was anything wrong with them until a French salon owner living in New York published a cellulite book in 1973. Though there were many skeptics at the time, we women discovered that we'd better shape up our dimpled fatty selves, and quick! Unfortunately, though women can reduce overall body fat through diet and exercise, fat distribution is almost entirely genetic. If you have a few dimples here and there (as 90% of the female population do), it is your fate. No amount of herbal creams, dietary supplements, injections, or other snake oils will change this. Women have been shamelessly scammed into feeling disfigured.
Too bad every time someone raises this point, it is promptly forgotten.

Shades of white

A few days ago I was walking in an upscale neighborhood on San Vicente Blvd. It was a classic LA day - sunny, about 72 degrees, and people were out in their convertibles and swanky shades. Maybe it was the brightness of the sun or the exclusiveness of the boutique shops around me, but my bare arms suddenly seemed pathetically pale and vulnerable. I understood, for once in my life, the appeal of being tan. Tanning isn't just a phenomenon; it's an institution. And the reality is that it only matters to people with white skin. Tanning is a symbol of leisure, but race lurks under its bronzed exterior. White people already have so much - why do they covet darker skin? Are all sun bathers putting on their own blackface performances? White culture is constantly grasping for some new hip (inevitably "non-white") thing.

I'd never really want to have a perfect golden tan, but sometimes I wish I could hide my white skin. The less I identify with all the baggage that comes with being white the more I expect to look in the mirror and see a completely different person.

Holiday sheep

People tend to shuffle along the same worn paths they've always followed. But why, I ask, must we trot around like blind sheep in the grocery store when a holiday approaches? Nevermind the fact that American holidays have lost most of their traditional religious meanings. The thing is, we don't even celebrate holidays. We just buy stuff.

I'm so tired of seeing the Easter candy lurking behind the Valentine's paraphernalia, which appears three days after Christmas. The yellow chick Peeps sit there innocently on the shelf waiting for the red heart-shaped Peeps to go out of style. Huge volumes of Marshmallow Peeps are manufactured and transported to stores everywhere... where they wait for months until Their Holiday arrives. As it says on the Just Born company website, Peeps are "always in season!"

Wouldn't it be nice to imagine a world where holiday traditions weren't dictated by the marketing of goods by vast industrial corporations?

Orientally hip

I'm not sure when it was that Asian chicken salad, sushi, and Zen first came into vogue, but the trend appears to have struck a new low. Case in point: Hollywood's "Geisha House," a pricy restaurant and nightclub that has vastly increased Hollywood Boulevard's hip factor.

Living in the neighborhood I wondered what went on behind those windowless neon-pink walls. Coming back from the parking garage one night, I slipped past the red curtain covering the doorway. The website told me that my experience would be "Sensuous... Ethereal... Mysterious."

Here is the full description: "A combination of five star sushi restaurant set in the atmosphere of a surreal high class brothel, the goal of Geisha House is to make the client climax. Geisha House provides the vibe, the music, and the intoxicating tones necessary to create sensuality through taste, touch, smell, and complete stimulation." It continues: "Geisha girls, seared albacore, Sake-Infused Martinis, Kamasutra...all lead to one thing...a happy ending. This is sex...This is Geisha House."

Sex sells, but a Japanese restaurant that blatantly advertises sex with geishas? A shameful case of lost-in-translation. It's not so out of place next to retailers with thigh-high plastic boots and other downright tawdry garments on Hollywood Blvd., but Geisha House represents the height of absurd consumption. The image above is from a box of matches I picked up. A girl's red lips market her vulnerable, exotic beauty.

In this twisted world she's just a thing. You light her like a match and toss her away.

Tunneling in MPLS

interface retention management methods
label control
stream merging
aggregation of flows multiple streams binding
traffic pools discovery protocol

independent ordered signaling mechanisms
operation binding to peers for neighboring messages
forward data travel
map input output dashed blue lines
packet
stream

stack failure recovery
dynamic routing protocols which converge rapidly to non-looping paths
buffer allocation
peer mitigation
hop count information and architecture datagram
minimal latency table

Gone in Memphis

With the long run of murders and chaotic state of life in New Orleans, it's sorely evident that Dr. Martin Luther King's struggle lives on. Many in this country have abandoned an invaluable site of cultural heritage.

My grandmother hailed from Henning, Tennessee (just outside of Memphis) and when I was eight I went on a trip there with her and my mom for Easter. Recently, I had a sudden memory that we'd gone to the motel in Memphis where MLK Jr. was shot in 1968. My clearest image is of a wreath on the door of the second-story room where he had been standing, and I remember my mother's stony face. How impossible it seemed.

Show me the angels

There is no such thing as Los Angeles.

At least 4 million different versions of this place are seething, bumping, and chattering through the streets -- how should we pick one? We might see L.A. if we could zip out of our skin and into ten thousand others' pulsing bodies. What would it feel like to duck in slowly, reaching up through the arms?

The divides are saw-toothed and the shallowness tastes like fat from all the liposuctions performed since 1993.