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People don’t want to talk about inequality, injustice, or prejudice in terms of class. Race is a sexier topic. America has a sensational history of racial discrimination and worse; and there is no easier way to sell your agenda than by calling the other side racist. It evokes images of lunch counter sit-ins and black protesters being blasted with a fire hose. Turning the political debate to race also contributes to a logical fallacy that the Obama administration is masterfully promoting. The tea party is made up of white conservatives. The tea party is racist. The tea party disagrees with Obama. Therefore, dissent is racist.
Janet Napolitano can say that veterans and Midwesterners are a threat to national security. David Axelrod can say that the Tea Party is “unhealthy”. They get a free pass because they are talking about middle class (mostly white) people. It is all posturing. Glen Beck clamors for an investigation into Obama’s birth certificate. Rush Limbaugh equates liberal policy with reparations. Both sides do a disservice to their respective causes. The difference is that Napolitano and Axelrod are making major policy decisions while Beck and Limbaugh are simply entertainers. Still, both sides have a significant impact on the politics of the day and each is fueling the divide in their own way.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Jr. v. JJ
Jimmie Johnson has won four consecutive NASCAR Sprint Cup Championships. Dale Earnhardt Jr. has won a single race in the past two years. Each driver’s car was on display in the fan zone at Daytona International Speedway for the Coke Zero 400 on Saturday, July 3. Dale’s car had a line of people three deep wanting to take a picture with the machine while Jimmie’s enjoyed the affections of about three casual fans, me included.
The scene was a stark illustration of the relative draw of these two men. The junior Earnhardt is by far the most popular driver in NASCAR. Johnson has his followers but does not even sniff the love of his royally monikered teammate. Why is it that one of the most successful drivers in the history of the sport is a relative failure in the battle for the hearts of the NASCAR nation?
Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s pedigree is second to none. His father, Dale Sr., is arguably the greatest driver in the history of the sport, a status that (along with his general demeanor) earned him legions of fans. This seems like an easy explanation. Jr. inherited his father’s fans. But Kyle Petty – the offspring of the winningest driver in the history of the sport – never enjoyed this kind of love. The same can be said of Ned Jarrett’s son Dale Jarrett. Something different sets Jr. apart. Dale Jr. seems like a guy you would work with on a construction site. You can imagine sharing a peanut butter and jelly and complaining about your wife with him. He cusses profusely on the radio and sometimes on camera. He is not afraid to criticize his fellow drivers. He says things like, “we run good today.”
Jimmie Johnson on the other hand grew up in a trailer park in California. If ever there were a story of hard work and perseverance - the kind NASCAR fans tend to appreciate - it’s JJ’s. Yet most race fans do not know this because Johnson has chosen not to play up his past. He rarely cusses, rarely raises his voice, and rarely says anything critical of his team or fellow drivers. He is a PR dream. Johnson is always professional, signs every autograph with a smile, and dominates a sport that just does not get dominated. He says things like, “the car handled well today.”
Still, there is something magnetic about Earnhardt and something equally repulsive about the four time champ Johnson. It comes down to sincerity and authenticity. NASCAR fans appreciate authenticity. I think that is one of the many things that attract us to the sport, the characters. Race fans expect more than championships. We want to genuinely like our driver. Junior seems like a real person. Jimmie’s act seems forced. It feels like he is burying his roots, almost as if he is ashamed of where he comes from. Race fans see through that kind of thing. It may not be fair. Jimmie Johnson probably has a perfectly good reason for creating his public persona. But NASCAR, like life, is not always fair.
The scene was a stark illustration of the relative draw of these two men. The junior Earnhardt is by far the most popular driver in NASCAR. Johnson has his followers but does not even sniff the love of his royally monikered teammate. Why is it that one of the most successful drivers in the history of the sport is a relative failure in the battle for the hearts of the NASCAR nation?
Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s pedigree is second to none. His father, Dale Sr., is arguably the greatest driver in the history of the sport, a status that (along with his general demeanor) earned him legions of fans. This seems like an easy explanation. Jr. inherited his father’s fans. But Kyle Petty – the offspring of the winningest driver in the history of the sport – never enjoyed this kind of love. The same can be said of Ned Jarrett’s son Dale Jarrett. Something different sets Jr. apart. Dale Jr. seems like a guy you would work with on a construction site. You can imagine sharing a peanut butter and jelly and complaining about your wife with him. He cusses profusely on the radio and sometimes on camera. He is not afraid to criticize his fellow drivers. He says things like, “we run good today.”
Jimmie Johnson on the other hand grew up in a trailer park in California. If ever there were a story of hard work and perseverance - the kind NASCAR fans tend to appreciate - it’s JJ’s. Yet most race fans do not know this because Johnson has chosen not to play up his past. He rarely cusses, rarely raises his voice, and rarely says anything critical of his team or fellow drivers. He is a PR dream. Johnson is always professional, signs every autograph with a smile, and dominates a sport that just does not get dominated. He says things like, “the car handled well today.”
Still, there is something magnetic about Earnhardt and something equally repulsive about the four time champ Johnson. It comes down to sincerity and authenticity. NASCAR fans appreciate authenticity. I think that is one of the many things that attract us to the sport, the characters. Race fans expect more than championships. We want to genuinely like our driver. Junior seems like a real person. Jimmie’s act seems forced. It feels like he is burying his roots, almost as if he is ashamed of where he comes from. Race fans see through that kind of thing. It may not be fair. Jimmie Johnson probably has a perfectly good reason for creating his public persona. But NASCAR, like life, is not always fair.
Friday, April 30, 2010
I think I just vomited
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/04/29/national-id-card-included_n_557721.html
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Personally Responsible for Society
I heard two interesting arguments today. Both were proffered to rebut the assertion that illegal immigration is good for the country because illegal immigrants take the jobs that Americans refuse to work.
The first argument was that illegal immigrants occupy the jobs that people on welfare would be forced to take if the government did not pay their bills.
The second argument caught my attention not as an argument for more stringent (I would say fascist) immigration laws, but as a commentary on the state of American society.
The second argument goes like this. Teenagers no longer work menial jobs. Rather than spend their summers washing dishes or cars or working in a field, kids are finding other things to occupy their time. The down time formerly reserved for work is now spent on activities such as video games or drugs. And that time is increasingly spent on drugs. If kids were working menial jobs there would be none for illegal immigrants. Plus, kids would develop the kinds of habits that translate into a productive adult life.
I like the second argument. Not for what it offers to the immigration debate (nothing) but for what it says about our youth (my generation included) and the toll that unaware economic prosperity can have on a society. There has to be an awareness of the responsibility that comes with prosperity. It is incumbent on families to understand that kids need balance. There is always a temptation to shield your kids from the uncomfortable parts of your youth. This is a positive impulse when it regards a childhood of abuse or neglect or even a lack of sufficient affection; however, the same impulse can have a detrimental effect when it is employed to shield a child from the discomfort or annoyance of working a menial job.
The first argument was that illegal immigrants occupy the jobs that people on welfare would be forced to take if the government did not pay their bills.
The second argument caught my attention not as an argument for more stringent (I would say fascist) immigration laws, but as a commentary on the state of American society.
The second argument goes like this. Teenagers no longer work menial jobs. Rather than spend their summers washing dishes or cars or working in a field, kids are finding other things to occupy their time. The down time formerly reserved for work is now spent on activities such as video games or drugs. And that time is increasingly spent on drugs. If kids were working menial jobs there would be none for illegal immigrants. Plus, kids would develop the kinds of habits that translate into a productive adult life.
I like the second argument. Not for what it offers to the immigration debate (nothing) but for what it says about our youth (my generation included) and the toll that unaware economic prosperity can have on a society. There has to be an awareness of the responsibility that comes with prosperity. It is incumbent on families to understand that kids need balance. There is always a temptation to shield your kids from the uncomfortable parts of your youth. This is a positive impulse when it regards a childhood of abuse or neglect or even a lack of sufficient affection; however, the same impulse can have a detrimental effect when it is employed to shield a child from the discomfort or annoyance of working a menial job.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Carmelita
The road to Carmelita- our point of embarkation for the hike- is not paved. The scenery is poor, decrepit, full of squalor. But, the people seem happy. Everyone was laughing and waving. Kids were being kids. Our driver, Oscar, is also a tour guide and he provided a ton of commentary along the way. His English, the last we would hear for a couple of days, was pretty good.
Senora Rosa and her family prepared our food and loaded the donkeys for our trip. Usually, when travelling with a language barrier, both parties make an effort to be demonstrative and patient. Rosa and her family did not grasp this norm. They spoke quickly and in enormous sentences. My limited Spanish requires the native speaker to adhere to a word count. In a typical lost in translation moment, I thought Rosa's daughter was asking whether I spoke Italian. She was asking whether I liked pasta. An hour later, pasta in tow, we met Jose and followed him into the jungle.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Day 1, Part 2
Our ride to Guatemala was a mini van (collectivo) that cost about U.S. $12. Not a bad deal for five hours of travel. The only other guy in the van was a British Forces member who was stationed in Belize City. His next career move was to build a hostel in Guatemala near the El Salvador border. I pieced together through inference and admission that he saw no job opportunities in the U.K., had fallen in love with a Guatemalan girl, and preferred the climate of Central America to that of his homeland. His two years in Belize, friendly nature, and native language made him a valuable resource for us.
The trip to Flores took longer than we expected. A freaky Dutch tour group took about a year to get through the border. Other than that, my first border crossing on foot was uneventful. Or, so I thought. More on that in a later post.
The whole process took about an hour because the Dutch regaled the Belizeans with bad jokes and we had to wait on our bus driver to transact various business.
The booze from Herman's hut took its toll on me briefly just before we got to Flores. Fortunately I was still on vacation high because Travis got grumpy as soon as we rudely woke him from his nap. Dude can sleep ANYWHERE. He'll just put his head against a window or neighboring passenger and pass out. It's amazing and fills me with envy. While I endure hangovers and stinky seat mates, Travis recharges for the next adventure.
Our driver stopped to pick up his buddy and allow us to change our Belizean dollars for Guatemalan Quetzales. His buddy, like all driver's buddies, was a tour guide and all around nice fella. Despite being an expert on all things Flores, he would provide his services at absolutely no charge to us. He knew a guy who could do anything we wanted. Hiking? No problem. Lodging? That place you read about in your guidebook is no good but driver's friend knows just the place. We politely declined and found our way to the funkiest hostel I have ever seen. World music played as we entered the jungle canopied common area. No joke, jungle canopied, open air common area. It was beyond cool. The place is called, Los Amigos and is run by a Dutchman. The vibe was similar to Via Via, the Belgian run place we stayed at in Nicaragua in 2009. Dozens of people were drinking, talking, flirting, eating, and surfing the web.
It struck me that hostels in Europe are very different from those in Central America. The Central American variety is more charming. Also, European hostels usually offer just the basics (bed, food, internet, tv) while their Central American counterparts will set you up with adventure trips, tours, and a library.
Los Amigos did not have any beds available but the Dutchman set us up with a guide for El Mirador who also happened to have a bare bones room for rent for U.S. $5.50 per person. No hot water and the whole room flooded when you took a shower but we did not have far to go for breakfast and our departure in the morning.
The trip to Flores took longer than we expected. A freaky Dutch tour group took about a year to get through the border. Other than that, my first border crossing on foot was uneventful. Or, so I thought. More on that in a later post.
The whole process took about an hour because the Dutch regaled the Belizeans with bad jokes and we had to wait on our bus driver to transact various business.
The booze from Herman's hut took its toll on me briefly just before we got to Flores. Fortunately I was still on vacation high because Travis got grumpy as soon as we rudely woke him from his nap. Dude can sleep ANYWHERE. He'll just put his head against a window or neighboring passenger and pass out. It's amazing and fills me with envy. While I endure hangovers and stinky seat mates, Travis recharges for the next adventure.
Our driver stopped to pick up his buddy and allow us to change our Belizean dollars for Guatemalan Quetzales. His buddy, like all driver's buddies, was a tour guide and all around nice fella. Despite being an expert on all things Flores, he would provide his services at absolutely no charge to us. He knew a guy who could do anything we wanted. Hiking? No problem. Lodging? That place you read about in your guidebook is no good but driver's friend knows just the place. We politely declined and found our way to the funkiest hostel I have ever seen. World music played as we entered the jungle canopied common area. No joke, jungle canopied, open air common area. It was beyond cool. The place is called, Los Amigos and is run by a Dutchman. The vibe was similar to Via Via, the Belgian run place we stayed at in Nicaragua in 2009. Dozens of people were drinking, talking, flirting, eating, and surfing the web.
It struck me that hostels in Europe are very different from those in Central America. The Central American variety is more charming. Also, European hostels usually offer just the basics (bed, food, internet, tv) while their Central American counterparts will set you up with adventure trips, tours, and a library.
Los Amigos did not have any beds available but the Dutchman set us up with a guide for El Mirador who also happened to have a bare bones room for rent for U.S. $5.50 per person. No hot water and the whole room flooded when you took a shower but we did not have far to go for breakfast and our departure in the morning.
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