inappropriate

Michael Jackson is dead. There is no getting around this. Everyone is upset. MTV spent most of the day today playing MJ videos with a “crawl” on the bottom of the screen that announced his passing over and over. It is a sad day for the Jackson family, and for pop music fans of the 80s. I was one of these fans.

But his passing raises a few questions.

1) So what?  –ok, ok, I should clarify. How about this: for the last ten to twelve years, Michael Jackson has only been relevant as a defendant in criminal and civil court, jokes by second rate comedians (and Dave Chappelle), and the only reason Finesse Williams was on Saturday Night Live for a few years. (Who is Finesse Williams, you ask? Exactly). But everything I am seeing on television is a retrospective on how great he was. What about the kids? What about his weirdness? What about the Elephant Man’s bones, for crissakes? I’m just sayin’, even if you take away the whole, you know, “touching pre-teens” thing, you still have a weird dude.

This is less a knock on MJ himself as it is on the ways in which the media tends to glorify people in death. I understand that no one wants to speak ill of the dead, but come on. I was in my early twenties the last time the guy was in the MTV studios (and that was a long time ago). He has had multiple cosmetic surgeries that made him look not-so-human. He kissed Lisa Marie Presley on television (you can decide which of the last two is grosser). Geez, the guy sang a song about loving a hamster when he was a teenager! He was a talented guy, but he was a weird guy. Acknowledge it. Do not make him into a God when you were just as guilty as everyone else in telling the famous joke about him shopping at Kmart because there was a sale and little boys pants were half off.

Which brings me to my most important question:

2) when can the inappropriate jokes start? I must admit, I am hoping this comes sooner rather than later. Will it take a week before I can safely suggest that they found cotton candy, Children’s Tylenol, and a lost seven-year-old during his autopsy? (still too soon? Sorry.) Or what about his nose getting pulled off when the paramedics tried CPR? Truly, the possibilities are endless here–  and I’m not even that funny.

It is tragic that we have lost one of the best entertainers in the history of the world. He was a really talented guy. We will not be sad for long, though, because in his death, we are now able to focus less on the man, and more on the myth.

This is how history works: you tell the best story you can in order to get people to remember the past in a way that is not only easy to remember, but paints an unproblematic past that positions us for a better future. This is storytelling; narrative. It is easy to remember, and ultimately it is convincing. It also makes all of us out to be better than we are. This is by design. History is not about telling about what happened in the past, it is about narrating a story that often makes all of us feel better about who we are, and to make other people believe it, too.* Michael Jackson was a talented entertainer. He also was a weird man with a dark side (not his face, clearly) that people preferred to either ignore or deride while he was alive.  He is a legend in popular music who chose to buy the bones of the Elephant Man. And build his own amusement park. And openly admit to not wanting to grow up. And hold his newborn baby over a balcony. And wear masks. And get plastic surgery. And sing songs that people the world-over loved and sang out loud. Oh, and allegedly(?) sexually abuse children.

We can afford to have one less hero in Michael Jackson; it makes his life and his art that much more important. It also makes him a real person, with real flaws. In the end, I think that kind of humanity gives people more hope than nostalgia and hagiography does.

*And it works both ways in the field of history. Sure, I believe that counter-narratives are good– such as the social history and cultural history movement in the field of history– but they run the same risk of trying to tell a story that, while attempting to destroy a popular narrative (meaning one that is selective about the gender, race, and class position of the protagonists [see: white male]), is designed to produce the same effect as the original narrative. And by assuming the same narrative devices as those who produced the “master-narrative”, you end up trying to tell the same story with different actors, while the reality is often much more complex than simple (or even nuanced) narrative will allow. Most historians, with the exception of Hayden White, accept this. A few are even honest about it. Anyway.

another essay on the battle for the soul of the American blah blah blah.

the blessing and the curse of not having a television in my room is that I cannot watch it. It is a blessing because I no longer spend hours watching shows I am not at all interested in, but it is a curse because I no longer have access to the mainstream media. I have the internet, sure, but despite being a superhighway of information, like many others I restrict my reading to a few select news outlets– HuffPost, Salon, maybe Slate– and shun the rest. I’m sure most of the other two readers are just like me, but would probably tack on the New York Times to that list, and maybe Alternet.org, Indymedia, or Z-Mag. I read those occasionally, I guess. I generally stay away from the NYT, but only because I know that good graduate students are supposed to read it (because of its reputation of being a liberal newspaper, though I think it shed that skin long ago), and I have a stubborn streak when it comes to things I do that totally don’t matter to anyone.

(Being stubborn about things people don’t care about cuts down on conflict, and makes me feel manly).

Thus, my homogenous left-leaning reading list ultimately comes back to haunt me when I start writing posts: since I rarely read things that outrage me anymore (not counting the vicarious outrage I feel when reading Salon or HuffPost), my writing here has suffered somewhat. Also affecting me is the fact that lately, I have done absolutely nothing of interest. Sucks.

That being said, I have been thinking about the President lately. He’s black, you know. Anyway, listening to NPR, watching a bit of television, and reading the self-righteous outrage of liberal bloggers (who I happen to agree with most of the time) got me thinking about the ways in which our president is post-racial. Here is what I think:

He is not post-racial. His politics of Hope™ and Change™ were nice for a campaign, but the real reason many people voted for him in the first place is because they thought that an electoral victory for a black man to the highest office in the country (if not the world) would essentially solve all of our racial problems. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it is dumb luck that he just happens to be probably the most intelligent and qualified president that we have had in at least a generation, maybe two– but I doubt much of the voting populace seriously scrutinized his voting record, or even his past (beyond the journalists sensationalistic “vetting”, which we can agree has in recent years become a joke). He is a smart, smart man. He is probably a dick, too, but I won’t hold that against him. Most politicians are, at least when the cameras are off.

My point is this: the post-racial thing got him elected, but what will it do for him now that he is in office? Well, I think it gives the administration an air of uncertainty. It is almost like race has become something that we just don’t want to talk about anymore. During the campaign, Obama was praised for a speech in which he talked about how politics must set aside issues of race and gender (spoken in the context of a couple of campaign gaffes from both Obama and Clinton) for the sake of unity and country, but such campaign rhetoric sounds a lot less poetic when there have been at least 9 high profile racially motivated killings in the last month.

A wise man (Aaron Sorkin, creator and head writer for The West Wing) once said, “you campaign in poetry, and govern in prose.” I believe that. But when it comes to the issue of race, how does one govern in prose when the candidate himself has thrown the book away? I think the biggest drawback to setting aside the issue of race is that it gives people license (particularly political pundits) to de-racialize the president, and I’m not sure that is a good thing. I mean, sure, on paper it sounds great, but in reality? In reality, the de-racialization of the President of the United States just might have the effect of de-racializing the African American community.

Nah, I’m crazy. Because the black community is too strong for that. For instance, Reverend Jeremiah Wright would never apologize for– what? He did? Oh. I guess I am just saying that this is no time to be high-minded, Mr. President. It’s no time to be above the fray. Racial politics is more than arguing over terms, name-calling, and brow-beating– it is okay to be above all that. But what we need is someone who is committed to who he is, does not back off from it, and understands how to help people who are suffering, no matter who they are. As much as I hate to say this, it is not always just a class thing.

my summer vacation

I played disc golf yesterday.

Work starts tomorrow at 11am, and my second job starts on Monday. I’m still unclear as to whether or not I will have a third job, but it will begin a few days after my second job ends. All while I am doing the first job.

Will there be a fourth job? I hope not. I still have to do my main job, which is getting ready for my qualifying exams, do some research, and write two syllabi. And if I am lucky enough to meet with my advisor, I will endure his/her total and complete lack of understanding as to why I couldn’t do more research when I had all summer to complete it with no distractions.

The good news is, I found a book that will help me with my research. I also purchased Hayden White’s book, so that is pretty exciting.

In the meantime, I think I would like to start a vicadin habit. Any suggestions as to where I can score some?

what makes us so special?

Over the past few days, the 24-hour news channels, the internet, and NPR all explode with the latest developments in Tehran. For all of the complaining and fear-mongering that we hear about Iran from most of the media, our problem with Iran should not be because it is anti-democratic. Yes, they are a theocracy, but they are a theocracy with elections. Yet, when talking about Iran, we hear words like “authoritarian,” defying international law,” and “fundamentalist.”

But I’m not so sure.

(Of course, my stance on this issue would have considerably more weight if there weren’t violence in the streets of Tehran as I write this.)

Still, as one blogger notes, does the United States have much room to talk? In 2000, the Supreme Court “hastily short-circuited” the recount process in Florida, keeping us from ever knowing who was truly elected president just nine years ago. This is a good point, and it got me thinking: what makes us so special? Why was there not rioting in the streets of New York, Charleston, or Boston when the democratic process got undermined?

There are two ways to go with this. We can either talk about American exceptionalism, or think about it in terms of the postmodernization of American society.

Since I know virtually nothing about the former, and an reflections on the latter require no real textual knowledge at all, let’s explore that one.

I believe that one of the reasons why there was no spontaneous uprising in the wake of the 2000 elections stems from the fact that we have become a nation of watchers. Information is simply too readily available for people these days. Why go outside of your room, office, class, or diner when you can log on and see the action in realtime on your laptop? Why hit the streets in protest when you can sign on to an online petition? I don’t think this is apathy we are talking about, but rather a generation of frustrated people who are still searching for the most effective means of communicating their dissatisfaction with the status quo.(Latin! I think.)

Ironically, while the means of communication are becoming more and more precise and concise (Twitter), its usefulness is still being mapped out. About a month ago, there was a flap about Amazon.com banning books with queer themes from its ranking list, and within hours (I think) there was a call on Twitter for it to “fail” (I think it was @amazonfail, or something like that. I am on Twitter, but I haven’t figured it out yet), which I think means boycott. It traveled far and wide on Twitter, eventually made it to the blogosphere (again, my vocabulary expands for the second time on this post with that word), and eventually to amazon.com, which quickly corrected the mistake, suggesting that this problem was the work of a hacker.

But the amazon.com issue is not the point so much as the means by which it was communicated in its earliest stages, through Twitter. Time will tell as to whether or not Twitter will become more useful than an arena where Shaquille O’Neal, Conan O’Brien, and the Wall Street Journal can write short punchlines or misleading headlines, I suppose. My guess? Not at all. Just like the 24 hour news cycle takes all of the effort out of staying informed (and thus our investment in it), the most popular means by which we discuss and debate our opinions and thoughts on the local and the global is being transmitted most vocally through methods that also require as little effort (and hence, thought) as possible.

Maybe Twitter is going to revolutionize activism; I don’t know. But in the meantime, as the world falls apart around us (and out from under us), it seems that too many people are willing for now to vent their frustrations and protests in witticisms of less than 140 characters.

victory

after getting about halfway through a Don Delillo novel, I now know what the word “pedantic” means, and how to use it in a sentence.

That is all.

my favorite movie quote

We cook your meals, we haul your trash, we connect your calls,                                                                                                                            we drive your ambulances. We guard you while you sleep. Do not… fuck with us.

That quote is from Fight Club, and although it was spoken in a slightly different context in the movie, I think about it whenever I start working in the service sector for the summer. The reason is because most people take service workers for granted. I call it the Jetsons Syndrome. In the old cartoon show, The Jetsons, the family was able to just go to a cubby hole, type in a number, and a meal would appear before them as if from thin air.

When you are out in the world, please remember that this is impossible.

I realize that it is not easy. The goal of most restaurants, hotels, and other companies that provide a service, they strive to make it look that way. If you ever have an interview at a hotel, the phrase, “anticipate guest needs” is something that you must say. Do you notice that the man coming through the door is wrenching his back? Tell him to leave his luggage and it will be brought to him. Did the woman checking in mention that she was hungry? Mention a few dining options nearby, and offer to make reservations. Going the extra mile for a guest is always the mantra of the hotel industry, but it is rarely something that is done without the initiative of the employee. And yet, when these things happen, it is rarely thought of as something special; not because it happens to people all the time, but rather because, well…when they walk through the door of the hotel, they think they are on the set of The Jetsons. Things just appear out of thin air.

One time I stayed on the phone with a guest that was six miles away and gave him street by street directions on how to get to the hotel. The conversation should have lasted about 7 minutes, but it took 30 minutes, because I got yelled at with every wrong turn he made. Near the end, he realized his mistake, hung up, and let me check him in without saying a word. Just gave me his name, took the keys, and went to his room.

And this is why people need to realize that this is not the set of The Jetsons: because that cute little cubby hole machine does not climb over the desk and punch you in the mouth, and I do. And I am one of the more mild-mannered ones.

This is also one of the reasons why I usually tip pretty well, even if the service is bad. It is also because they have control over the quality of my food, sure, but mostly it is because I know that they have one of the most thankless jobs out there (except for the guy that washes dishes. Man, that guy is fucked.), and they do this for a living. Even if they are only marginally nice to me, I usually get down with twenty percent. It’s not even the law of averages, because for every unexpected twenty percent tip, there are about seven or eight people who tip only three percent. One night I spent about two hours of my six hour shift on one table, a party of twelve. I had other people take my other tables (potential earnings) because I didn’t want to be distracted. The bill ended up being something like $120. My tip? Four dollars. As angry as that made me, I also knew that it was the norm, especially at diners.

And people wonder why someone might want to get a bunch of people together, go to a basement, take their shirts off, and beat each other senseless until someone is unconscious? Some people call it a totally male-dominated movie, and they are right. It is all about masculinity, and how working class males are losing their identity in a sea of corporate blah blah blah….you get the point. But from what I know, the women that I work with are actually more jealous than horrified. Where is their space at the table/ring?

so, uh, yeah– tip well, and appreciate the people who try to make your life better. One day, your life will depend on it– because a lot of the people I work with are one bad day away from bringing a gun to work and shooting everybody. So if you don’t do it for yourself, then at least do it for me. I have to be there all summer.

blogging

I may be the last person to say this in the whole wide world, but blogging has become this huge informational network from which we get so much information. Regularly, bloggers from the HuffingtonPost, Salon, Slate, and others are constantly breaking stories that traditional medias are just too slow to report, or too clunky to uncover.

It is also a great forum for me to whine publicly.

But the real great thing about blogging, I think, is the instantaneous and in-depth critiques of politics, academia, and pop culture that come from intellectuals and academics. These come in all shapes and sizes; they range from the personal to the professional, and many that I have found recently have been useful and entertaining– a lot more than I expected, given that my experience with blogging, as I mentioned, has always been to whine about the little injustices that are visited upon me, like roommates stealing peanut butter and the lack of graduate funding in the humanities.

But this incarnation of blogs– let’s call them academic journalists– combine up-to-the-minute news with thoughtful commentary and critique. It is journalism the way I wish it were done; it is fair (too fair, if you ask me, but I don’t have an academic reputation to think about or lose), it has depth, and in some cases there are even citations.

Seriously, keeping current with a lot of these blogs ends up taking up more of my time than I would like to admit.

Check these out:

Savage Minds:    This group blog run by anthropologists. Like a lot of anthropologists, they tend to have a lot of discussions about ethics and positionality, but who cares? The analysis is great. Check out today’s post on “Human Terrain in Oaxaca.” It has a great discussion about the larger implications of government (see: military) funding for academic projects. 

Sociological Images: a great blog that points out the ways in which advertisers and society exploit prevailing notions of race, gender, sexuality, and even class.  I love this blog because it takes things I see every day and puts them in a new light. See the latest blog entry about mosquito repellent.

Tenured Radical: If you don’t know, you better ask somebody. 

University Diaries: Through her critiques of poorly written articles, UD helps me with my writing every day. She also does a great job chronicling corruption in higher education, corruption in college sports, and poetry. O, the beautiful poetry.

 

I read these everyday, and it takes up entirely too much of my time. But I’m ok with that.

work, my work, and working

Things to do today:

1) deposit pay check. I got travel funding to do research, but only under the condition that I actually spend the money first. I said I would be happy to do this if I could get reimbursed within two weeks(because by then I would run out of money). It has been three weeks, going on four. For their part, the administrators are trying their best to get this done. I got out of the month ok, but I might be a bit overdrawn.

2) meet with a student. There is a huge paper due tomorrow, and a student would like to meet with me. I am hoping that it is something more substantial than, “what should I write about?”, given the due date.

3) prep for section. I should be doing this now.

4) run two sections, back to back. It is a little tiring, but it isn’t like I am teaching and grading three or four courses a quarter, so I’m not complaining. Also, having all of my teaching in one day is kinda nice, since I have the rest of the week after that.

5) continue to look for state and county (and city!) documents pertaining to social welfare in Los Angeles from 1890-1920. This one will take me the better part of the summer, a few research trips, and a larger portion of my soul.

 

This week, I begin working full time at the hotel again, which is great for money, but not so great for…well, almost anything else.

keepin’ it real…

learning to count.

Went out last night and had three beers during trivia at Woodstocks. We ended with a tie for first place, and we lost the tie-breaker. All in all, it was pretty fun. N brought a few of her friends, as did another first-year, J. Good times.

The weird part is, somewhere along the line I seem to remember being on a crowded dance floor dancing to 80s pop tunes. 

I remember walking home, but mainly because for some reason, my bag was really heavy, even though I only had two books inside– to read while I waited for people to arrive at trivia.
Then I woke up this morning and found this in my bag:

 Not only did the events of last night become clearer to me, I realized that three beers is really six beers when it comes in thirty two ounce mugs. This explains the theft of the mug*, which in turn explains why my book bag was so heavy. It also explains my dancing at the Blue Lagoon last night to Cyndi Lauper, Ton Loc, and Guns ‘n’ Roses.

I think someone bought me a shot of tequila, too.

 

*Apparently I get a little klepto when I am “a bit too tipsy”– the mug was not the only item I found in my bag.