Category Archives: Politics and Culture

Is Dumb Contagious? Bruni now Competing with Friedman and Douthat for Worst NY Times Column

In a column that manages to be sensationalistic, disjointed and incoherent, Frank Bruni discovers the shocking information that there seems to be a double-standard for women and men when it comes to sexual activity.

He writes about the Amanda Knox case and how her perceived licentiousness led to worldwide fascination and a murder conviction. Not like anyone hasn’t written about this before, but whatever. However, Bruni doesn’t have much to say about details of Knox’s case, such as Knox’s “confession” made after hours of coercion. In that statement, she named a popular club owner as a co-conspirator, even though it turned out he couldn’t possibly have been involved. It should have been obvious the confession was false because it didn’t fit the the facts, but as with many such cases – the Central Park Five, and Marty Tankleff, to name two, once someone admits to something, that’s very powerful. We are only now beginning to understand that false confession is a real thing, and that young people who have little experience with the criminal justice system are the most vulnerable.

In Knox’s case, the police made an early assumption of guilt, and they stuck to their guns even when it became more and more obvious that the murderer, Rudy Guede, had acted alone, raping and killing the victim after breaking in when no one else was home. Knox’s sexuality and foreignness  might have set things in motion, but ultimately the case was what typically happens when cops rush to judgement and a vulnerable suspect confesses.

Bruni doesn’t write about that. Instead he quotes from a 2011 article in a British tabloid about where Knox stored her vibrator, and then states: “We’ll never know what happened on the night … Meredith Kercher was killed.”

No, Frank, the reality is we have a pretty good idea of what happened based on  DNA,  timelines, witness statements, etc.  Knox and her boyfriend were not there. Knox came back the next day and it took her a while to figure out something was wrong. When she did, she called her boyfriend, and he called his sister a police officer before finally calling the police.

Bruni ignores Knox’s exoneration because it’s not the point he’s trying to make, even though it actually is. It was her behavior that led to the rush to judgement, and her sexuality became part of the theory of the crime. The “evidence” was made to fit the theory.

He goes on to write about the Jody Arias case. But other than “sex sells”, the two cases have nothing in common. Knox was absolved on appeal because the court found no credible evidence against her and the theory that she, Guede and her boyfriend had conspired was not probable.  Now they’re going after her again, based on nothing. In contrast, Arias really killed someone. She tried to cover it up, was caught, and made a convoluted claim of self-defense, which defies both common sense and the EVIDENCE. A jury is currently deliberating. Arias’ attractiveness and the salacious details of the case may sell papers, but they are not why she was arrested, or why she is likely to be convicted. She’s likely to be convicted because there’s a plethora of evidence that she’s guilty.

But instead of writing about any of that Bruni draws a false comparison between Knox and Arias and states,  “Similar questions can be asked…” Really?

Bruni then moves from murder to scandal and politics, writing, “I’ve heard quite a bit lately about David Petraeus’ road to redemption, less about Paula Broadwell’s.” Well, yeah. Petraeus was the director of the CIA, and Broadwell an unemployed graduate student. If there was more attention being paid to her, wouldn’t that strengthen Bruni’s point? If he has one?

He then goes on to make the claim that if Anthony Weiner had been “Antonia” she couldn’t possibly make a political come back, and he also wonders about the political fates of “Marcia Sanford,” “Newtina Gingrich,” and “Wilhelmina Clinton.”

I get it. he wants to write a column about the existing double-standard for politicians and other public figures, and because it’s so obvious and dull,  he needs to come up with an angle, so he sexes it up with Amanda Knox and Jody Arias.

He’s writing about how Knox’s sexuality was exploited by the media and then he exploits Knox’s sexuality to write his column.  Maybe he’s not so dumb after all.

(If you liked this post, feel free to look around, or check out my fiction.)

The End of the World — On The Beach

Most post-apocalyptic movies explore how life goes on after it is all but destroyed. Perhaps we devolve, while the apes get smarter and take over. Could they do worse? Maybe the bonds between a boy and his dog will still be the greatest love of all? Or between a father and a son? We might be dining on each other or living in silos, but at least a few of us will be alive.

In these films, there’s always an after, even if it’s so bleak you’d rather not live to see it. On The Beach is different. The premise simple: A nuclear war started, possibly by accident, has led to worldwide radioactive fallout destroying life on the planet, except for Australia where the radioactive winds haven’t reached yet – but they’re coming in about five months or so and when they do – lights out for all. Meantime, life seems strangely normal. There are horse-drawn carts on the streets of Melbourne, but also cars, and the trains still run. Perhaps, humanity is in denial, or maybe this is a more likely scenario than the mayhem we see in most end-of-the-world is coming films. After all, most humans when given a terminal diagnosis go on pretty much as they were.

Lt. Peter Holmes (Anthony Perkins) of the Royal Australian Navy, still makes sure the bottle is warm when he feeds his infant daughter, and still follows orders. His wife, Mary, would rather not even speak about what’s to come, though in this she doesn’t seem different than most. Peter is assigned to be a liaison officer on a mission being carried out by a US submarine that was at sea when the blast hit. Under the command of Dwight Towers (Gregory Peck), the USS Sawfish will head north and check on air and water samples to see if just maybe the radiation might be Continue reading The End of the World — On The Beach

Letter From America: Most of us are not insane.

For whatever reasons, this blog tends to get around 50% of its “hits” from outside the US. A large number of these are within the UK, so I sometimes feel obliged to “explain” the US to others, especially when it looks to the world like we must be a nation of idiots or lunatics.

Two big things have been big news here – one is the bombing at the Boston Marathon. Not much to explain here. Most people acted heroically, rushing towards the danger to help others, reaching out to families of victims, vowing to train and run in next year’s marathon (although realistically that’s unlikely as Boston has qualifying time and a rule that you have to have another marathon within the previous 18 months.) Yet, some idiots have already started saying the government did it. The “false-flag” nonsense originates with a professional conspiracy mongerer I won’t name here, as the bastard doesn’t need more hits, and Continue reading Letter From America: Most of us are not insane.

Your Saturday Book Review: Breakfast of Champions

Since I committed to writing a weekly book review, or at least mini-review, I have not been reading a book a week. I’m currently slogging through Wool – First Shift, Legacy. It’s much slower than the silo stories, but I can’t quite abandon it. There are other things in my Kindle that I’m looking at, but they haven’t grabbed me. It’s not like I’m not reading. Getting through more than 50% of The New Yorker each week is an accomplishment in and of itself.

The book reviews I’ve been writing are for books I’ve read, but maybe not recently. There are a books I love that I probably should re-read, so I could review them properly, Breakfast of Champions fits that category, but since I’m not going to re-read it, I’ll just review it anyway because this is my blog and one of advantage of not being paid is I can do whatever I want.

Breakfast of Champions was the first Vonnegut book I read. My father and sister had both read it and were talking about how fantastic it was. I was a child, or maybe a precocious tween or teen (do the math yourself damn it). In any case, it was a glimpse into the adult world that scared and fascinated me more than any Updike-adultery, or Cheeverian angst. Here was an indication that maybe it doesn’t get better, that ultimately adults were just as powerless as children. Yet, it wasn’t depressing. Why not? Because it was funny, but more than funny, it was funny because it was true.

I learned things. First and foremost, I learned a whole new way of telling a story. Not only could you play with words and language, but you could play with the idea of playing with words and language. There were also many new words and associations. Never before had I heard anything about beavers looking like vaginas. Certainly I had never read the phrase “wide-open beavers.” And here was an author admitting that in America there were “bad chemicals” in our brains, that America was racist – always had been, that there were places in this country where until recently black people hadn’t been allowed to spend the night. This may seem like common knowledge, but when I was 13 it was more stuff I only suspected. What I didn’t suspect or understand was the whole mortality thing. Sure as a neurotic young Jewess I got that death happens, and knew it would happen to me one day, unless I got abducted by the good aliens first or turned into a vampire or they found a cure. But here was a book that made me begin to ponder what it might be like to be 50 and know that youth was over and there was nothing left to look forward to except further decay.

After that I devoured the Vonnegut cannon in a matter of months. I don’t think I could re-read Breakfast of Champions now. Vonnegut’s dead and I’m older than he was when he wrote it. The last line, which I still remember, and won’t repeat as a spoiler here, would kill me. But if you are young, read it. Consider it a cautionary tale.

Binge Watching – Now Officially Sanctioned: House of Cards

Of course once everything started to be streamed and put on DVD, people began to binge-watch television series, but it wasn’t how those episodic episodes were designed. You were supposed to be subscribing to HBO, and spending every Sunday with the Sopranos, and then once they went on hiatus, waiting patiently (or impatiently) for the next season to start.

These days many folks don’t bother with the premium channels and simply rent entire seasons on DVD a year or so later. Some shows like those on AMC are available for instant download the day after they are shown, and almost everything can be found illegally somewhere on the Internet – not that I’m advocating that.

I somehow didn’t get around to watching Breaking Bad for years, but began a Netflix-binge that brought me up to date in three lost days. Lost was a series I’d watched on and off for a season or two. Then I heard it had gotten better. Time travel was involved. The whole thing was up on Hulu, and I was off. I watched four seasons of Dexter over a weekend once. It’s nothing to be proud of. It is no more boast-worthy than a weekend of compulsive masturbation or cookie-eating.

Netflix has upped the ante by releasing all 13 episodes of the first season of House of Cards at once. It’s an all you can watch buffet.  I just spent the last two days watching the totality, which comes out to probably just under eleven hours that no doubt could have been better spent.

It certainly wasn’t the worst thing to watch. I’m now curious about the British series on which it was based – which is also available on Netflix. But it wasn’t riveting either. The pace seemed somehow “British” a lot of talking, less on the action. Still it’s not the worst accompaniment to online mahjong or scrabble.

Kevin Spacey’s portrayal of Francis Underwood is undermined by the device of having his character often speak directly to the audience, revealing his true intentions. We should have been able to work out for ourselves when he is lying. Like the old joke about lawyers, it would be whenever his lips his are moving.

Continue reading Binge Watching – Now Officially Sanctioned: House of Cards