Safe Spaces Indeed

Can we now please dispense with the notion that conservatives lamenting the end of free speech are principled Philosopher-Kings?

In fact, they're privileged assholes who want to ensure they are never criticized or mocked by people less famous and wealthy than they are?

Or that the Oberlin Student Council carries the same weight as Fox News?

The Boys -- What I Thunk Of It, With Spoilers

I liked it fine enough, but not nearly as much as a lot of critics and most of my nerdy friends did.  The set-up, via Heroes-As-Narcissistic-Politically-Motivated-Assholes?  Actually not that original, but still a cool idea!  The performances?  Mostly good, except for Karl Urban's inexplicable, terrible attempt at a cockney accent.  (Which I assumed a New Zealander wouldn't struggle with, but then again his dialogue was obviously written by an American high on bad Guy Ritchie movies.  That is, all of them.)

Things I did like?  Starlight's performance as the country-girl who quickly loses all illusions as to what's really going on.  (Apparently the source material is even more brutally rape-y.)  Homelander coming off not just as an arrogant jerk, but a truly psychopathic asshole.  A generally believable scenario where the interests of humanity are co-opted by corporate and government greed.

Things beyond Butcher's terrible lines that I didn't like?  I mean, I didn't hate The Deep's fish-out-of-water stuff (see what I did there?) but tonally, and even acknowledging a need for some comic relief, it felt like a different show.  And while the first half of the seasons sets up some interesting arcs, the second half seemed to want to generate ten new ones as bait for a second season.  (Something a lot of shows do these days, granted.)  And what about that terrorist super, The Captain?  Homelander flies all the way to Syria but doesn't confront the most pressing threat?  And the whole existential crisis of heroes being made, not "touched by God" or what have you?  Very under-cooked, especially with a sympathetic Christian character like Starlight.  And finally, why did Homelander kill the woman he's obviously, deeply, and creepily attached to as a Freudian mother-figure?

At the end of the day sure, I'll watch a second season.  But I'm not exactly dying for more.  I think people got swept up in the obvious excitement of the first few episodes and kind of let their critical guards down for some poor writing in the second half.

I Like America And America Likes Me

My nephew, with a freakin' hot-air balloon in the background, which apparently is a thing in my sister's lovely northern Maryland neighborhood.  Also, the behind of Periwinkle the dog (named after the snail, not the color, duh.)

In lovely Maryland we don't have sno-cones, we have "snoballs" and they're delicious and yummy.

My nephew is very into horses, both riding and taking care of them.  I know nothing about horses myself, except that they're huge and gorgeous.

And finally, it's become a family tradition for my sister to take me to an O's game every summer.  The Astros scraped out a win here, 23-2.  I'm the one who actually wanted to leave early, but my nephew was a trooper and had us stay for the whole thing.  (My god, am I going to curse him for life with being an Orioles fan?)

"Ten thousand afternoons ago / All my happiness just overflowed"

Purple Mountains, "All My Happiness Is Gone"

I like to think we all end up in a better place of our own choosing, eventually.

Blog activity is still light, despite the fact that I got back to South Korea last weekend.  I've worked out a few times and done two loads of laundry, so call that progress if you will.

America was a mixed bag, as always.  My dad is 90 now, and for obvious reasons it's getting more and more difficult to maintain healthy lines of communication, let alone a quality father-son relationship, with him.  I don't tend to get too personal on this here blog, but I'll be blunt -- a complicating factor is his live-in relationship with a highly toxic woman (nearly his age).

I mean, we're all assholes sometimes.  Lord knows I have my moments.  But I mean toxic in the fullest sense of the word -- poisonous, life-draining, harmful.  I'm guessing she's got some PTSD going on (she's a refugee from post World War II Germany) along with some serious narcissism and a very questionable relationship to telling the truth.

There's a lot more to say and nothing much at all, really.

Anyhow, for the second summer in a row, I cut short my visit and stayed in a hotel for my last two nights in Bellingham.  I knew I shouldn't let her get to me, but I did.  (In my defense, she threw a phone book at me.)  And here's the thing -- as long as my dad lives I'll never sleep in that house again.  (A house that me and my sister will have to deal with when the inevitable happens, and that I kind of want nothing to do with.)

Then there was Baltimore with my sister and nephew, and that was great as always.  We did stuff.  I did cannonballs onto said nephew in the swimming pool.  I walked a tiny but scarily energetic black dog around her neighborhood every morning for an hour or so.  We ate crabs and drank beer.  We watched the Orioles lose a ballgame 23-2 and stayed for the whole damn thing.  I watched my nephew ride and take care of great big horses.  My sister is dating a really nice guy and it might to lead to something more.

It was all good.

But this might be the time, when my contract ends in February, to head home.  It's way too much of a burden on my sister to deal with my Dad with only one visit from me every year.  If something terrible happens she'd be the "first responder," so to speak, and that's not fair to her and her quality of life and mind.  She's also devoted to a really great kid.

So what's my excuse?

We'll see.

Life is hard and complicated.  Our bodies and brains will break down no matter how hard we wish they wouldn't.

I mean, I should be grateful for my dad to be 90, when my mom left due to cancer at 50, right?

"You got Tennessee tendencies / And chemical dependencies"

Silver Jews, "Suffering Jukebox"

It's impossible to pick just one Dave Berman tune, but damn if the entire lyrics for this one are just pure and amazing.

I'm back from America.  The visit to Baltimore to see my sister and nephew was amazing, as usual.  My visit to see Dad in Bellingham was, just like last year, very rough and depressing.  I think I'll have more to say once I recover from the jet-lag and decompress a bit.

Jesus Christ, I can't believe we lost Dave Berman.  He lived a bit too honestly for comfort, I take it.

RIP Rutger Hauer

sure, sure, we all remember "attack ships off the shoulder of Orion" but the _real_ clincher is how he delivers "you people" (an android addressing a "real" human" that makes the scene iconic)

— Winterfell Barista James (@wetcasements) July 25, 2019

Gratuitous Summer Update Post Featuring Awesome Classic Korean Hip-Hop

CB Mass, "CB Mass Is My Friend"

I'd argue this is peak old-school Korean hip-hop.  And as Jay-Z taught us, using a children's choir as your hook will always make for a great banger.

This is my last week of adult classes, and my last week in Korea before summer vacation fully starts up.  Next Tuesday I'll fly to Seattle and visit my Dad for a few days, then fly to Baltimore to visit my sister for a little less than two weeks.  I'm looking forward to seeing my family of course, but visiting my Dad is a bit of a chore -- he lives in the middle of nowhere (about 90 minutes north of Seattle, in fact) and he doesn't have internet.  And while I'm fine with knocking out a few actual dead-tree books while I visit him every summer, his Luddite ways have gone from charming to annoying over the past few years.  The fact that he has FOX News on full-blast for the entirety of my visits means I basically sit on the front porch and read.  Not the worst thing ever, but not exactly ideal for father-son bonding either.

Baltimore will be a lot more fun, if only because my awesome sister and nephew actually look forward to my visits, and they actually plan fun stuff like trying new brew-pubs or restaurants, watching my nephew ride horses competitively, and probably an Orioles game.  (Hey, they're still my US-based team no matter how awful they are and always have been since 1983).

So all is well.  It's hot and humid as hell here in lurvely Daegu, and if you aren't running an AC at full blast everything in your office or apartment gets a slightly damp, clammy feel that's perfectly disgusting.

Also, as per usual, I'm getting about three or four free lunches and dinners this week with my adult students.  I'm all for great-big greasy Korean barbecue extravaganzas but, as mentioned, it's damn hot so we're going down more of the cold-soup and vegetarian bibimbab road.

Anyhow, blogging will be light to non-existent until mid-August when I come back.  Have a great summer!

Life's Rich Pageant

Source.

"One of the things that does disturb me is that some documentary photography is now being presented as art.  Although I am hugely honoured to have been one of the first photographers to have their work bought and exhibited by the Tate gallery, I feel ambiguous about my photographs being treated as art.  I really can't talk of the people in my war photographs as the subjects of art.  They are real.  They are not arranging themselves for the purposes of display.  They are people whose suffering I have inhaled and that I've felt bound to record.  But it's the record of the witness that is important, not the artistic impression.  I have been greatly influenced by art, that is true, but I don't see this kind of photography itself as being art."

-- Don McCullin, Unreasonable Behavior

I really enjoyed this book, a surprisingly unsentimental journey through pretty much some of the worst places, events, and outright slaughters of the 20th century, even into Syria in 2006.  My only complaint is that the selection of photos, while stunning, is smaller than it should have been.

"no defense of the volk is a betrayal"

Adam Serwer has been indispensable of late:

"The argument that Omar’s criticisms of her adopted country for failing to live up to its stated ideals justify revoking her citizenship substantiates the very criticism she lodged. Trump has said, “If you hate our country, or if you are not happy here, you can leave!” but his entire 2016 campaign was premised on the idea that many Americans not only are deeply unhappy, but also have every right to demand that things be better. That Trump’s supporters believe Omar’s sins justify her banishment, and Trump’s similar transgressions justify his presence in the White House, helps illustrate exactly what is going on here. Under Trumpism, no defense of the volk is a betrayal, even if it undermines the republic, and no attack on the volk’s hegemony can be legitimate, even if it is a defense of democracy.

Faced with the president’s baldly expressed bigotry toward four women of color in Congress, Republicans turned to reporters to argue that his attacks are part of a clever political strategy, elevating four left-wing women of color into the faces of his opposition. I suspect these Republicans, and some political reporters, believe that this somehow exonerates Trump from the charge of bigotry, as though prejudice ceases to be prejudice if it becomes instrumental. In fact, the admission that fomenting racism and division is central to Trump’s strategy is a stunning rebuke to those political reporters and pundits who, for four years, have insisted that the rise of Trump is about anything else. Trump and his most ardent liberal critics are in full agreement about the nature of his appeal, even as they differ on its morality. Only the Trumpists, and those who wish to earn their respect, fail to see it."

The willful denial of Republican racism over the past few years by the American media has been as mystifying as it has been dangerous.

So Much Economic Anxiety At The Klan Rallies...

The only thing more ridiculous than Trump and his Republican Party's obvious racism is the media's inability to fucking call out Trump and obvious Republican racism.

Dungeons And Dragons And Prisons

Dungeons and Dragons is, surprisingly to me, very popular within U.S. prisons (but banned in Idaho, because fuck Idaho).  However, dice are almost always banned as gambling utensils.  So what's a con wanting to get his elf on to do?  Improvise!  To wit:

"During his time behind bars, Gabriel made dice using one of the most common resources of all: toilet paper. 'You don't even need glue, just toilet paper,' he says, 'The way I did it is just by folding it into very thick square, wetting it, and then shoving it into a square corner, say a window sill. You do this over and over again, applying water when it starts to dry out, alternating corners. Eventually you have nicely shaped square. You have to continue shaping it as it dries with your makeshift corner jig. It shrinks a bit and gets quite hard.'

Where May was housed, 'No one ever got in trouble (that I know of) just for making them. If someone pissed off a C.O [corrections officer]. they could theoretically get written up for making dice (gambling paraphernalia) but mostly the cops didn't actively harass us in closed custody. If a person lost their dice it would more likely be during a one of the big shakedowns, where the cops go cell to cell and throw almost everything out on the tier. As in the real world, folks in prison hoard random stuff. They'd go through and throw it all away once a month, once every few months, or whenever someone OD'd on meth or something. When I got to medium and then minimum custody they really stopped throwing dice away, and in fact those kind of tier wide cell tosses were much rarer.'"

Other means of randomization include playing cards, spinners, and perhaps most simply a cup filled with numbered chits.

This is all interesting to me as I slowly make my way through Jon Peterson's Playing At The World.  While six-sided dice quickly became a modern board game convention, early war-gamers grew frustrated with having to rely on limited variations of 1/6 (roughly 16%).  In fact, the first incarnation of Dungeons and Dragons solely used variations of one or two six-sided dice.  Eventually, savvy war-gamers in the 1970s became aware of an obscure Japanese mathematics company that would, for a princely sum of two or three bucks, send you some amazing creations -- both the 10 and 20 sided dice.