It's Not Me, It's Both of Us

Among the most aggravating maxims in modern political discourse is the South Park-esque "the truth is always somewhere in the middle."  This is true much of the time, just as there are almost always two (or three or four) sides to every story.  However, this line of thinking also tends to lead one to believe that the truth must be in the dead center between two poles, leaves people blind to genuine extremism, and generally makes pedantic asses out of all of us.  It ranks with the "I act like an irredeemable asshole because I'm 'passionate'" defense among arguments that abuse the English language and undermine human decency in the public forum.  And it's this kind of thinking that has allowed the Republican Party to push the boundaries of acceptable behavior and basic logic to staggering extremes. 

The Overton window is a poly sci concept establishing the range of policy discussions and ideas within a framework of public reactions, that is, what the public will accept.  With the appropriate manipulation of the window, a person or (more frequently) a party can shift the course of acceptable public debate to any extreme it desires.  It simply has to stand someplace much further than it intends or expects to wind up; start negotiations from the furthest extreme possible.  This is how, by arguing for making the Bush tax cuts permanent and even expanding on them, Republicans got the cuts to stick around for a few more years, despite public opposition.  It's how, by moving away from a healthcare proposal they themselves advocated just twenty years ago, they could poison the debate--and the resulting law--so much that it amounts to a giveaway to the insurance industries that were part of the problem and now might be ruled unconstitutional.  And it's why former Republican presidential candidate Jon Hunstman recently said that this party wouldn't nominate Ronald Reagan today.  They've Overton'd their past selves out of the conversation, or at least into socialist territory.

And the news media, the ostensible moderators, play along.  Afraid of either protests by perspective-deficient right-wingers or, worse still, loss of access, they bow to the new political correctness, reporting the He Said-He Said.  When the Senate minority leader can say on camera that his party's top priority is denying the president a second term and the media continued to treat him as a legitimate balance to his opposite number in the Senate--treating his differences with the Democratic majority and president as a matter of ideological difference rather than an insane, destructive vendetta--why do they still have jobs? 

This is the best recent analysis I've seen on the matter.  In it, Thomas Mann--from Brookings--and Norman Orenstein--from the American Enterprise Institute--lay out how the Republican Party, in its post-Reagan crusade for ideological purity, has moved so far to the right that cooperation in Washington is truly impossible:

The GOP has become an insurgent outlier in American politics. It is ideologically extreme; scornful of compromise; unmoved by conventional understanding of facts, evidence and science; and dismissive of the legitimacy of its political opposition.

When one party moves this far from the mainstream, it makes it nearly impossible for the political system to deal constructively with the country’s challenges.

“Both sides do it” or “There is plenty of blame to go around” are the traditional refuges for an American news media intent on proving its lack of bias, while political scientists prefer generality and neutrality when discussing partisan polarization. Many self-styled bipartisan groups, in their search for common ground, propose solutions that move both sides to the center, a strategy that is simply untenable when one side is so far out of reach.

Mann and Orenstein also tip their hat to last year's must-read resignation of a longtime GOP operative, who noted that this extremism is, in many ways, part of the game; Starve the Beast taken to its logical conclusion.  The fact that we can even use that word--game--is a pretty good indication of where the current Republican madness has taken us.  It's part of that Republican thing: it's all a game to be won or lost.  It doesn't matter that there are millions of government employees--including military personnel--who rely on elected officials to make the best, most practical decisions they can; that the things people do and say in Washington have real consequences here and around the globe; that there might be something to be gained from sitting down like adults and hashing out the possible terms of compromise and accord.  No.  Because the concept of responsible governance cannot be comprehended, let alone countenanced, when the concept of government itself is anathema.  So they act in ways that would mortify any person with a modicum of shame in order to draw down the prestige of government and in turn damage the legitimacy of that government (Joe McCarthy's circus was shut down by Joseph Welch's famous "Have you no sense of decency" line--do you think that same question, applied today to Rep. Allan West's claims of communists among House Democrats, would be met by anything other than taunts of "cry-baby?").  Where ideas are absent, tactics take center stage. 

Of course, the Democrats are not saints (unless your church really sucks).  At best, they're marginally more deserving of due credit and fair consideration than are the Republicans.  In a very sick way, refusing to bend to culture wars and on-point messaging in order to maintain some semblance of a soul is what dooms them.   Their unwillingness to call out GOP bullshit makes Democrats look weak, leaving them in no position to actually counter the bilious state of affairs that the Republicans revel in.  What is it they say about not being a part of the solution?  You'd think they might learn something from the fact that the only prominent one of them to call the GOP out is now president, but: Democrats.

The Republicans count on the fact that there are two ways to respond to their antics: constant accommodation (we'll call this the Reid method) and consistent umbrage, ensuring that the offended parties lower themselves to the level of the mob (the Pelosi method).  One insures that the ever-hungry trolls will remain ever-fed and growing ever-fatter.  The other lowers the tone of the public discourse so dramatically that no one engaging in it can be a legitimate candidate to overcome it.  Either way, Republicans win their petty little game.  And when either or both partners in a marriage are being this lousy, it's extremely tempting for the kids to throw up their hands and give up on the whole sham.  Indeed, a common, agitated reaction to this state of affairs is to say "blow it up and start over."  I understand that position and occasionally share it, but there are two problems:

1. It would effectively prove that we are no longer worthy of the Constitution's framers' experiment. 

2. Start over from where?  Have you seen our elections?  Imagine how fraught a constitutional convention would be.  How much more shrill Fox News would become.  What we might end up with.  With actual shit to fight over, the Overton window would shatter.  And then there'd be no reason for anyone to hold back.  Except that Democrats still would because: Democrats.  And Republicans wouldn't because they'd finally have what they seem to really want: a second civil war.

Women in Comics: This is Why Women Don't Talk To Us (Possibly NSFW)

When DC Comics launched their "New 52" series last fall, the idea was to create a safe space for new and casual fans to come into the books without the headaches that come with the confusing and convoluted back stories of seventy-year old characters.  And DC had reason to believe that new demographics would be interested in giving these books a look, if box office returns for the summer superhero movies are anything to go by.  Among these demographics were women, long a difficult market for the comics industry.  But DC was game to try and so for the cover of the first issue of Catwoman, arguably the most recognizable female superhero in comics, they gave us this:

And in case that didn't get the blood flowing appropriately, here's page 1:

This, gentlemen, is why women don't talk to us.  Or, put another way, it's why we're not perceived as being able to talk to women.  After all, how do you talk to a person when this is the way you picture them?  More of an immediate problem for the comics medium: how do you write them? 

Writing female characters can be hard for many male writers.  Outside of any hangups they may have with women, it's daunting to write for someone from a different background.  Be it gender or race or creed, writing for someone else presents pitfalls and challenges that can drive a lesser writer mad.  But it's what all writers sometimes have to do.  Not being able to empathize with your subject is a one way ticket to shitty writing.  And it will show through.  You could try and write only from perspectives similar to your own, but that quickly limits your storytelling possibilities.  And people start to notice.

People notice a lot quicker in visual mediums, like comics.  The eye will catch and process artwork a lot quicker than it might with large chunks of prose, which have to be parsed and balanced against concepts like irony and satire.  A book set in the 19th Century will have a very different context for the lives and attitudes of female characters than will a book set in the early 21st Century.  In a visual medium, however, the context is out in the open and, usually, unmistakable.  Someone with no familiarity with the book in question, or any of the work of the writer or the artist (if they're separate people), or the characters, or even the medium as a whole, can pick up that book and and experience the purest visceral experience that those images--or even a single image--instills in them. 

Some argue that male characters are often drawn to the same absurd, impossible proportions that women are.  This is true.  Larger than life fantasy characters tend to be envisioned as, well, larger than life fantasy characters.  But this is also not the point.  When male superheros are posing something like this:

...we'll have an egalitarian industry.  And a more consistently stupid one.  Some brilliant person drew this chart, featuring the male members of the Justice League in the exact same pose as Wonder Woman had been depicted in one of the promo sheets for the New 52:

That last image, if you're wondering, is of the Wonder Woman redesign, her relatively-recently added pants exchanged for the "classic" or "canon" panties she'd long worn.  This change followed an uproar on the part of the fanboys.  If you're not beginning to see the problem, maybe Namor (the Sub-Mariner!) can convince you?

I'm going to give some rare props to Marvel Comics: that is some fantastic egalitarianism.  However, this particular image did not appear in any of the comics but in a one-off Marvel swimsuit calendar (yes, that happened).  So it's probably not fair to consider it on the same level.  Still, you can imagine the state of the industry today if more of the male superheroes looked more like Namor (the Sub-Mariner!) does here.  And you'd of course have to imagine a near total reversal of the real world gender relations of the last century in order to allow for this sort of thing.

And as women in the real world have assumed more high profile public and private roles outside the home and generally become less, you know, second class citizens, women in comic books have responded by becoming ninja-like ass-kickers of the same semi-decent character development as their male counterparts, albeit with considerably more sex appeal.  Many are still the damsel in distress (Lois Lane, even with less focus on her need to marry Superman, remains, all too often, fodder for villain capture--a hack adventure writer's best tool even outside of the sexism).  Still others exist solely to exhibit that particular style of pseudo-feminism known as waif-fu.  And all of them, all of them, eventually establish a relationship with a major male character because any time you have a never-ending series, constantly demanding new story material, you run the risk of slipping into soap opera territory.  And of DC's New 52 books, less than a dozen star female characters or feature female characters as a central part of a group, ala Wonder Woman in Justice League. 

There is another argument for this sexual depiction of woman that I feel I must address.  It goes something like this: in these universes of thousands of characters, some women are naturally going to be more sexual.  After all, it makes sense that Emma Frost would walk around in her underwear most of the day: if you're focused on her body, you're less likely to notice her rifling through your head with her telepathy (though it begs the question: are gay men and straight women immune?).  On the more consistently villainous side of things, Poison Ivy dresses like this to enhance her hypnotic appeal, earning her yet more male slaves to do her bidding.  In her own way, Ivy is a reflection of the comics industry's hold on men for illicit gains and I've long wanted to see a more aware and ambitious writer tackle that head on.  This apparent need for sexualization, however, does not seem to hold for the male characters.  Well, aside from Namor (the Sub-Mariner!) up there.

And how do you explain this significant tilt toward the extreme end of the sexual spectrum?  Why don't comic book women run the gamut, from hyper-sexual, to casually sexual, to sometimes sexual, to asexual as real women do and good characters would?  There's lazy writing and derivative artistry, yes.  There's also the economic need to sell monthly books to the same people who've always bought them, a group of people usually perceived as being sex-starved teenagers.  That group doesn't help itself when it continues to buy the books month after month, even after they may have long lost interest in whatever the writers are doing; it's habit more than anything.  And the nail is pummeled into the coffin when the less imaginative of that group go on to write the characters, mostlyyearning  to recreate and revisit the stories and characterizations of their youth.  And the only evolution the medium sees is that of one-upsmanship, where every month demands new extremes of over-the-top sex and gritty violence until we get something like the 1990's. 

It's not merely the comic book geek image I wish to throw off.  I'm more or less at peace with that.  It's the fact that a medium that could be one of the most sophisticated and effective in all storytelling is so saddled with sexual iconography that it can't mature beyond early adolescence.  When the talent pool will remain permanently shallow, no one from outside will have reason to take it seriously enough to elevate it to the level of art that it can be and the medium can stagnate.  The depiction of women is just the most glaring example of where these comics go wrong. 

This has gotten a little better.  Part of it is that some people--among them prominent female writers--have started getting louder about it.  And as more women--like Amanda Conner--become very big names in the industry, we can hope for a sea change.  But it's going to require a more concerted effort, treating all of its characters with the same seriousness that we expect of some of the better books and movies and television shows.  It can be done.  It has been done.  It just requires some more serious attempts at solid and interesting writing, the way Scott Snyder is in his current run on Batman and, to a lesser extent, as Brian Azzarello is on Wonder Woman.  The world needs more comics with the depth and maturity of Watchmen, not Watchmen prequels.  Thirty years after the early breakthrough works of Alan Moore and Frank Miller, it's time to move past the Rob Liefeld's and latter day-Frank Miller's and make good on all those old promises. 

Isn't that right, Namor?

The Sub-Mariner!

Today in "This Happened"

There's a man in Russia named I.V. Pugach.  Here is a picture of Mr. Pugach:

The first thing you probably noticed about Pugach was his striking facial hair.  He'd be happy to hear that.  See, Pugach is very proud of that facial hair.  How proud?  So proud that he has apparently trademarked that particular style, the kind "with no sideburns that covers just the chin and the patch above the upper lip."  In America, we call that a "goatee," or a "van Dyke" or... well, there are a lot of names for it.  And a lot of individual styles fall within that larger goatee family; having the mouth to work around allows for a surprising amount of variety on a relatively small palate.  And it's gone in and out of style over the years--the nineties were really big for the goatee, and you still see them from time to time. 

But back to Pugach.  He's trademarked his goatee and anyone who wants one requires a license that costs in the neighborhood of $600/year for most people.  There's a higher rate for celebrities.  And in case you thought this guy was just having a bit of fun, he has a website, too.  I can't read Russian, but I understand that it's largely a series of rants (in big black and occasionally red font--red is how you know someone is serious) about people misappropriating the goatee.  Among the miscreants rank world leaders, foreign monarchs (including the Kings of France and Egypt... apparently), clergymen, actors, popular musicians (the nineties never really ended for a certain variety of pop star), and others.

He's even issued a "reprimand" to President Obama for not killing Muammar Gaddafi sooner (just go with it), as Gaddafi was among the most notorious pretenders to the throne within Mr. Pugach's Goatee Empire.  Closer to home, Pugach managed to get a prominent Russian mathematician barred from leaving the country until he paid up for his own goatee, upon a court's order.  Yes, Pugach's trademark has the full and complete backing of the law.  This despite the fact that the mathematician's facial hair isn't actually a goatee, demonstrating that not even Russian courts can agree on what constitutes a goatee. 

Now, I'm not a fan of the goatee.  My stance is a pretty firm "Nine-year-olds grow goatees.  Men grow beards."   But this kinda makes me want to shave off the sides of my ginger-beard and resurrect the embarrassing goatee of my early college days.  No, I'll go one better: I want to start a worldwide Free the Goatee Movement.  An International Growing of the Goat, if you will.  Just for the benefit of Mr. Pugach. 

One more thing: according to the blog's stats, I have some readers in Russia.  So, to those readers, I'd like to say, firstly: "Hi, Russia.  Thanks for reading."  Second: "What is this guy's deal?"  Third: "You want to join my movement?"

Light Beer, Part III: What's It All About?

**This is Part III of an ongoing series.  Make sure to read Part I and Part II.**

Having examined the light beer industry's disdain for it's market and the dubious health claims of the product, all that remains is the final question: why.  Why have the American people (already afflicted by onerous problems in a changing world, requiring adaptation) so embraced the pale man's rendition of the proud lager beer?  This is admittedly difficult for me to examine on my own. 

I'd love to hear from people who genuinely like light beer.  I really would--this whole thing has been about trying to understand the hold that the lights have on the beer industry as a whole.  In lieu of that, I've come up with some of the fairest, most honest reasons that I think light beer maintains that hold: 

-It's just what I drink
I covered this a bit more dismissively in the last post (the oh-so-classy urine analogy), but in all seriousness, I do understand being a creature of habit.  At the end of a lousy day, or at a party with friends, we default the familiar comforts.  We just want to drink and relax and not think about tasting notes or hop profiles or write down our thoughts about the beer (I actually do this and it sometimes baffles me).  And there's something to be said for retaining the simple pleasures.  However, to me, this is a better explanation for the slummy regular beers--Budweiser, Coors, etc; those have more taste than a light, even if that says very little.  But why tout the--previously explored--half-assed health benefits?  Is it a throwback to our high school drink of (lack of) choice?  And how many other high school habits do you retain? 

-It's what Dad drank
We all are at times, for better and worse, creatures of the traits bestowed on us by genetics and upbringing.  If there was a lot of light beer in your house when you were a kid, it makes sense that you'd be attached to it as an adult; that old "familiar comforts" thing.  And while I don't think that my dad ever kept a lot of it around (I'd be more of a red wine guy, if I took after him in this regard), I do know that that taste he gave me of Coors Light when I was about ten probably informed--unconsciously--a lot of my future drinking habits.  This, to my mind, is an even more nostalgia-driven version of the above.  And as with the above, how many of your parents' habits do you usually exhibit when you can help it?  And, surely in this case, you can help it? 

-No interest in trying others
When I was in high school, my family moved to a rural area, where I met a probably 60-something-year-old man who had never gone more than ninety or so miles from his place of birth.  This was fairly common for his generation, but completely foreign to me.  He would never say that he had simply "settled," and neither would most light beer drinkers, I imagine.  However, that guy had a decent case for not roaming too far: it's a pain in the ass to move and he had never had a pressing need to do so.  What's keeping the light beer crowd locked into their habit?  That $2-3 extra per six pack?  That's fair but, similar to the health claims, if that amount will break you, you'd think you'd do without the booze altogether.

Some of this may be because craft beer can be hard--or impossible--to find in some parts of the country.  But this is slowly changing; as craft beer becomes more popular it will find more stable, if smaller, markets throughout the country.  The State of Alabama--a long holdout on this--recently raised the legal ABV limit in beer for sale from 6% to 13.9%, granting Alabamians access to a host of new craft brews.  More personally, while it's true I live in a very good beer town, there's still something heartening about seeing New Belgium beers stacked next to Budweiser at the grocery store.  Or when I'm wedding planning and I hear stories of weddings where guests (many of whom were of the light crowd) were offered the usual Miller Lites, but only went through a handful of those, while depleting the Abitas and Sierra Nevadas and later gushing about the beer selection.  Such breweries and their products are becoming less alien and more familiar to the casual beer drinker and someday they, too, may think, "yeah, sure, I'll splurge this once."  And that's how good beer spreads.  I don't demand that people drink higher quality beers, but I do ask that they try once in a while.  You might be surprised what you find.  Unless...

-You genuinely like it
Ah, yes, the (literally) inexplicable matter of taste.   We can go up and down a list of good-sounding reasons for why we've gravitate toward a certain type of beer, or music, or dating partner, but our preferences are based much more in irrational feeling and emotional attachment than many of us would like to accept.  I can explain my preference for Belgian Trappist ales and English session porters until you understand it, but never so that you share it.  For that, you'd have to drink some yourself, at which point you either begin to share that love or it was never meant to be.  The same way I've had many different light beers and have never once not wanted to gag.  And therein lies the problem. 


I stand by my opinion that the light beer marketing departments think people are stupid (more so than do most marketing departments).   I also stand by my take down attempt on light beer's health claims.  This is not solely about snobbery and I hope it doesn't come off as such.  I believe that the experience counts for as much as the ephemeral buzz and the fleeting taste on the tongue.  That experience ties into everything: the crowd (or lack thereof), the location, the reason.  The beer exists, by and large, to enhance those things.  You may not feel the need to enhance things any further, at least via the taste of your beer, but what's the harm?  I've survived the light beers I've had, just as I've survived bottom shelf whiskey and fast food.  But are we merely surviving?  What's the occasional excursion away from McDonald's and into even a three-star place?  You probably won't want that all the time, nobody does.  But done every once in a while, it'll open up new horizons and broaden experience.  Why should there be any resistance to that? 

This isn't a refutation of the light beer drinker (of the industry, perhaps definitely, but not the individual drinker).  It's an urging, a prodding to expand the scope of our collective experiences and not stick with the same old beverages just "because."  To push beyond the bland, narrow, and empty borders laid out for us by mega-conglomerates, who care nothing for their products (let alone their customers).  To deepen our understanding and appreciation of well-made, heart-driven beers that help make life worth living that much longer. 

What have we to lose? 

Buy My Book

Nos Populus now has a Facebook page, because that's how you know something is prestigious.  So go there and "like" it, if you did.  Or, better yet, tell people you liked it.  You remember when we used to do that?  ...Yeah, me neither. 

I've also gotten some people (okay, two people) asking if I have any special deals or further promotional activity planned.  As far as deals go, yes, at some point in the near future you can expect a limited hyper-cheap sale on the Kindle version, as soon as Amazon allows.  I'll let you know when that happens.

As for promotion, yes, it's coming.  Soon.  I hope.  I'm kicking around some ideas, both for online promotion (my Twitter is @IRobertsWriter, by the way) and the real world.  Much of the problem is that I have other demands--including a stupidly busy work schedule, another book in the works (early stages, will probably discuss it here some over the next few months), and, most importantly, a wedding to plan.  A wedding that's now about a month out.  My fiancee--who is working full time and attending grad school--is a much better person than I am and has taken on the great brunt of the planning, while I have often preferred to hide under a pile of coats.  But at this stage, we're both having to batten down against the maelstrom of often arcane details (and once it's done, those will be more than worthy of a post of their own) and is is time- and energy-consuming.  I'll try not to interrupt posts here on THDS too much over the next month, but no promises from now through the end of May. 

The point is, I'm one person without a publisher or agent and no real experience at this kind of thing.  I'll be up and running some more come the summer, but in the meantime, check out the excerpts I've posted.  And if you liked Nos Populus, please, get the word out. 

More real posts to come.

Intro to Sympathetic Characters

Community is one of the most clever and creative shows on television today.  It's certainly the most ambitious sitcom going, perhaps ever.  And it has John Goodman occasionally.  Commercially, it's been rough, yes, but I'd rather get a handful of seasons of an Arrested Development than another nine-and-counting seasons' long sludge pump of Two and a Half Men.  I love the show.  And I hope it gets its six seasons.  A movie?  Eh, maybe.  But I'd see it regardless. 

That said...

I want to like the show more than I do.  Part of it is that I'm more of a Parks and Recreation guy (oh, Ron Swanson) and the stupid, baseless competition between the two fan groups has been hard to totally stay out of.  But most of it is the bear-hug embrace by its fans.  Pop culture nerds and Internet-shackled geeks (among whom I count myself and a number of friends) worship the show and I get why.  However, that sort of thing also runs into a neurosis of mine: the contrarian streak.  If I don't already adore something--and sometimes even if I do--it's hard for me to hear constant praise of it without wanting to become a dissenting voice, even if I have no real desire to dissent.  I call it the Joss Whedon-effect.  It's unfair, irrational, and entirely my problem.  I'd like to say it makes me a stronger critic of writing, both my own and that of other people, but it has very little practical application and is kind of dickish.  And it forces me to obsess over cracks that may not be a big deal otherwise.

Very few shows work well when their characters are hard to sympathize with.  Everyone knows All in the Family made a horrible and unlikable person basically sympathetic by showing why he was the way he was (it helps, I think, that most every family has an Archie Bunker).  Cheers' Cliff Clavin was generally more obnoxious than horrible, but fans knew there was a good guy in there--he just happened to always be trying too hard.  Some shows get away with making characters bad people, but work because we understand--and maybe even share--the badness and because it's funny: Seinfeld is still the king there.  I already mentioned Arrested Development, where the lack of sympathy is probably part of what doomed the show, but the regular watchers whom the show rewarded (much as Community does its die-hards) saw enough glimpses of humanity underneath the cartoons; and for shows where the cartoons are funny enough (see 30 Rock in its prime), this works.  Then there's the professional wrestling model, where as long as the heel gets his comeuppance every so often, he can sink to any depths.  South Park can get away with having Eric Cartman do vile, vile things, so long as he's appropriately beaten down a couple of times a season (it also helps that he's nine).  Which brings me back to Community and Abed Nadir. 

At the end of last October's "Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps," we see that a series of personality tests taken by the group--tests which had previously been assumed to identify one member of the group as a "psychopath" and are then shown to be interpreted backwards, producing six psychopaths and one "normal"--has revealed Abed to be the most normal of the group.  Now, ignoring the fact that if any of them is normal, it's Troy (a friendly, likable, eager guy who's maybe a little dull-witted at times but that's about it), this still seems disingenuous.  Season Two's "Abed's Uncontrollable Christmas" was one of a few that has highlighted how deep Abed's psychoses go.  Now, a character as thoroughly screwed up as Abed can still be a decent person, and in a sitcom setting may even be charming.  But when we're also supposed to swallow that he's the sane one?  With that revelation, I began to suspect that Abed may be the show's way of rationalizing the socially awkward behavior of its nerd fanbase (of which I am one).  That what's most important to be yourself, at the expense of anyone and everyone around you.  "Digital Exploration of Interior Design" from a few weeks ago features Abed refusing to compromise on something so trivial as blanket fort versus pillow fort, in a literary reference no one could miss: of course it would be the show's resident manchild who would demonstrate the most John Galt-tendencies, even moreso than the resident industrialist.  And at least Pierce Hawthorne is acknowledged as an asshole in the show's universe.  

Then came this week's episode: "Virtual Systems Analysis."  In it, Abed descends to the lowest point that I think he can for me.  In the beginning of his fantasies, he describes his mission as Dr. Spacetime to protect "innocent unremarkables."  He later huffs and wants to give up playing when Annie doesn't play exactly as he wants.  Remember: we're presumably supposed to like this guy; this guy who makes everyone stop what they're doing to indulge his fantasies.  His roommate and best friend Troy tells Annie that she has to be careful around him, not to "break him."  This seals it then, doesn't it?  Abed's a fragile, selfish child that the others put up with because the point of the show is that friendship trumps everything.  Well, if it trumps everything...

But then, the show did something less expected and very welcome.  Go see it if you haven't already, but for the first time since October, it breaks Abed down and admits angrily points out that "there is something wrong here" and more remarkably, Abed appears to accept it.  He is given comeuppance and comes out a tad healthier--he gains empathy.  He may or may not still be the sane one, but at least that can no longer function as armor. 

Series creator Dan Harmon has announced that he, like Abed, has Aspergers and frequently has trouble empathizing with people.  In that light, Abed's recent arc makes a lot more sense.  A writer can come up with some very powerful stuff when working through personal issues.  With this, the former rationalization of horrible selfishness and childishness becomes Dan Harmon hitting a wall with his own issues, which lends itself to Abed's revelation.

Abed probably hits a little close to home for me.  Not just the aforementioned contrarian streak, which causes me to start picking apart the most mundane things in an attempt to understand them (much the same as Abed does, albeit coming from a different place).  Nor the occasional social awkwardness.  My empathy sense fails on occasion, too, and while it's again coming from a different place (my WASP-yness, his emotional trauma) the fall backs to pop culture tropes in place of genuine emotion (sci-fi television in his case, The Simpsons in mine) strike a chord.  But also because, perhaps like Harmon, I created a character who is too much like me for my own liking.  All of my characters are me, some more so.  James Reso actually became easier to write when I accepted that, had a dozen or so things gone differently, he could be me.  Or not too unlike me. 

So it was all the more troubling when I was having friends read early drafts of Nos Populus and a common note was that James could often be childish, irritating, or even cruel (sound familiar, Abed?).  And, it's true, he can be those things.  But for the book to readable, I needed to pull back and show James' human side, how he got to where he was, and how he could also be a decent guy when he understood what he was doing.  If I could do that, then the reader's reaction to the bad things he does later is more in line with what I wanted.  Or at least, the reader's reaction is something other than "couldn't have happened to a more deserving son of a bitch."  Did I succeed?  Read it and tell me. 

I'll give Community the benefit of the doubt and assume they'd been working Abed to make this turn all along.  And, like with Pierce last season, they needed to push him to his worst in order to redeem him (even if Pierce's payoff never totally happened).  But it required a good long stretch of Abed being near unbearable.  And maybe they can "put him back together" as Annie seemed to this week.  But if they can't, and the demands of an ongoing television show bar them from making that kind of permanent change, is it deserving of it's fans, it's viewership?  Was the character--and it's creator--ever worth our time and investment?   

Well, maybe for now I'll just hope that Community can do it.

The Internet is Wonderful

Because this doesn't work anywhere else.  You can already envision the seven-minute opening SNL sketch, can't you?  Now, at which minute do you think the joke would play itself out, with or without Darrell Hammond's Clinton?  Even The Daily Show and Colbert--usually excelling at these little bits of cleverness regarding fleeting moments--would have to sandwich it between a bunch of other jokes that all have a slightly better than even chance of working and you may or may not remember it the next morning.

But on here, a simple--if hilarious--image and some clear text to amplify it and you have a runaway hit built for the gypsy moth-memory news cycle.  In three weeks, the Secret Service scandal, like the GSA spending thing, will be played out.  Boring.  Even George Zimmerman isn't getting the time he used to and he killed a guy.  Some will try to keep it going longer, and attempt to tie the scandals to Obama (who might have the best facepalm in national politics).  But these seem unlikely to stick, at least to him.  The man's untouchablility in and of itself is probably worth a post, but this election has another six and a half months to go (yes, really) and hell if I feel like talking politics tonight.  So when Republicans realize this ain't good election fodder, they'll move onto the next stupid thing. 

This is why we have moments like the above image.  Everyone has their one guffaw at this perfect moment and we move on, quietly awaiting the next.  When events and technology move as fast as they do today, our cultural moments have to happen just as quickly.  The Hunger Games movie's monster opening weekend was just a few weeks back and we're all already getting hard over The Avengers' release in a couple of weeks.  After that, it'll be The Dark Knight Rises and then The Hobbit and then Christmas will be in there, maybe.*  Texts From Hillary worked because of that one picture someone happened to snap and then it ended with a perfect crescendo; it lasted one week and was never allowed to get stale.  Twitter allows a few brilliant snippets and insights to flourish for all the world to see for a brief period of time; thoughts that would've been said aloud to the family dog and then dying before hitting the floor.  YouTube brings sneezing pandas and other cultural icons into our homes at speeds that would terrify previous generations, moving on before the next meme hits.  Tumblr gives us glimpses into bizarre trends from a half a world away that we'd never have gotten--or cared about--in the prior media age. 

Most of you are probably thinking that these outlets also highlight some of the worst of humanity.  Well, yes.  You don't have to tell me.  Lolcatz, Lemon Party, Newsmax.  None of that shit would have been allowed to infect people's eyeballs once upon a time.  And, yes, I'm aware that this cultural ADD and increased openness is also responsible for all that makes the Internet terrible, as well as wonderful.  And the loss of artistic and cultural permanence in all of this is something I may have a small stake in, myself.  That same wit I was just praising won't be remembered the way (is Oscar Wilde too obvious?) Oscar Wilde still is a century after his death.  So there'll be plenty more posts on that in the future.  For balance.

But for now, let's bask in one of those great little moments the Tubes occasionally deign to allow us.  Heh, Clinton. 

*For those who know me, yes, I'm already excited for The Dark Knight Rises and will be well into the winter movie season and likely long after.  But that's more of a chronic Batman fetish on my part and not to be confused with our larger cultural fickleness.

Light Beer, Part II: Your Health and You

**This is Part II of an ongoing series.  Read Part I here.**  

I've had people tell me that, even though they may usually prefer craft beer or other quality beers, they'll semi-happily drink Bud Light or Miller Lite if they're already drunk and especially if it's cheap or free.  And while that logic almost works, consider this scenario: someone offers you a tall, frosty glass of urine.  And it's free.  Free, ice cold, low calorie (no calorie?) piss.  How drunk do you have to be to accept it?  

While you're thinking about that, let's examine the health aspects of pee light beer. 

Now, as Miller Lite ads have so astutely observed, real men demand fewer calories.  That's how that works, right?  And that's why light beer is so desirable: because it's so much lower in calories.  Isn't it?  Eh, sort of.  The caloric range of beer varies, based on style, ingredients, brewing techniques, etc.  But you can usually expect the average can/bottle of light lager to come in at about 110 calories.  A can/bottle of regular beer (taking into account all styles) will come in at around 153 calories.   That's a 43-calorie difference.  Using the same source, that's the same as about half a McIntosh apple.  Can you honestly tell me you were going to use those extra calories (and remembering that an average adult male is allowed around 2,000 to 2,500 calories a day) on half a McIntosh apple? 

Oh, but we now have Miller 64 and Budweiser 55.  Can't argue with math.*  But let's consider these comparisons to some non-alcoholic beverages: A cup of black tea (no sugar or milk) is 2-5 calories.  A cup of coffee (as with tea, adding things to make cappuccinos or lattes will blow this out of the water) is 2 to 4 calories.  An eight-ounce glass of V8 is 50 calories.  Skim milk, a beverage that is beneficial for health, is about 55 calories per half cup.  Each of these is equal to, less than, or well less than even the phantom beverages of Miller 64 and Budweiser 55.  Even Coca-Cola--everyone's favorite healthy beverage--at 95 per eight-ounce glass, still has fewer calories than most light beers.  You want to go for no calories at all?  Try water--you know, the same thing you're currently drinking, except minus 55 calories and losing that stale cracker taste. 


Then there's another question: if you're watching your caloric intake that closely, should you be drinking beer at all?  Or any alcohol?  Finally, the booze comparisons: A glass of Pinot Grigio wine will be around 123 calories; Pinot Noir, about 122.  A shot of Grey Goose vodka (roughly similar to the amount of alcohol in a beer) is 69 calories.  Johnnie Walker Black Label Scotch (a personal favorite) is about the same per serving.  If that 50 to 100 calorie difference is really scaring you off of regular beer, you shouldn't be bothering with any of these, either.  And it's not as though alcohol does anything especially healthful for you (with the possible exception of red wine).  If you're a strict diet, booze should be one of the first things to go.  This guy says it pretty well:

Depending on your lifestyle, (light beer)'s either a half-assed indulgence or a half-assed health kick. I'll drink light beer when it's handed to me,*** but otherwise I base my beer choices on several different criteria, none of which involve calories. I'll get the cheap one or the good one or the high ABV one or the weird one, but I'll never get the one that wants a pat on the head for sparing me half an apple's worth of calories. 

But you just wanted to get drunk, you say?  Fair enough.  And it makes sense that you'd want so as quickly and as cheaply as possible.  (Never mind the fact that if that really is all you want, a handle of cheap whiskey or vodka will do the trick for a comparable cost)  Well, here's the problem: beer is not the ideal beverage for that task.  The average ABV of beer is around 4-6%.  A glass of wine ranges from 8-20% (a variance that surprised me some, actually).  And liquors often hover around 40%.  For the sake of ease of drunkenness, then, it's no contest.  You shouldn't be bothering with beer at all. (And, in that cheap handle comparison above, that one handle will have you and your party trying to hold on to the floor while the party next door is only halfway through their stupid goddamn beer-amid). 

And outside of the imperials and a few largely experimental beers, most people will be full before they can get drunk.  It's one of beer's great advantages, I find: I've had enough long before I'm too drunk.  If it's the buzz I'm after, I reach for scotch.  Not to say I haven't been drunk on beer, but the process is neither cheap nor quick.  And if light beer drinkers aren't going for cost or drunkenness, what are they after?

Well, we're back to the pesky question of personal choice again.  Someone may rightfully point out that people are going to drink what they're going to drink.  And, though shallow and obvious, it's true; I mentioned in my first post that taste is not a universal thing.  I also can't stop people from drinking light beer and I don't propose to; that, to my mind, would be both immoral and impractical, as well as generally douchey.  But prodding should be acceptable, yes?  Even as a polite (ha, who am I kidding) question on my end.  If you're a light beer drinker and you've made it this far (and again, ha), you should certainly have no problem confronting the question yourself. 

My question from the beginning has been why.  Along with women's clothing sizes and Jimmy Buffet's appeal, it's something I've repeatedly tried and failed to wrap my head around.  Why is light beer such an apparent (if, thankfully, diminishing) staple of our culture?  Why do we as a culture continue to embrace a beverage with no serious health benefits, little real chance for drunken carousing (yes, I'd consider that a reason), and less taste than many equally available alternatives?  And why are banality and mediocrity celebrated--or at least accepted--so readily in a nation that traditionally relishes its knack for innovation and ambition and betterment? 

Stay tuned. 

*Or can I?**

**I can.  

***Another common argument and where I differ with this sentiment: "I drink it because it's there."  Well, after first referring you back to my pee-drinking analogy above, I've long thought that "because I can" is among the worst reasons to do anything.  If you're hungry, are you going to eat those old batteries someone handed to you?

Cold Dead Hands

If you met someone and they told you that they were a "landmine enthusiast," you would likely look at them askance.  To combat your apprehension, this person might tell you about the heritage of their landmines--handed down from father to son--and he'd let you play with some (deactivated, of course, because the guy cares about landmine safety).  He'd recite facts, not just about the history of landmines as a tool of our founding fathers, but also statistics demonstrating that landmines are easily hyped by the media and they're actually less dangerous than one might think.  And you'd have fun playing with those landmines (seriously, how cool would that be?) and you'd be generally impressed by his calm knowledge regarding the situation.  Of course this isn't likely.  But of course there is, as far as Google will tell, no pro-landmine lobby.  

There is no political consensus in this country for any kind of repeal or abridging of the Second Amendment.  Americans have a deep emotional attachment to guns (the same emotionalism that gun-loving libertarians decry when it's time to "reexamine" Social Security and Medicare).  If Obama, or any president, had any serious designs on stripping citizens of their guns, they'd likely have a lot of other pesky Constitutional rights to attend to first (I included a partly tongue-in-cheek bit in Nos Populus about how a truly cynical tyrant-to-be would actually leave guns off the table, just because that one issue would render the whole takeover too complicated).  Much of this is due in part to a pro-gun control movement that has largely accepted the facts on the ground.  Much more can be laid at the feet of the most successful lobbying organization of our time.

In spite of the fact that the President Obama has in no way acted to seriously curtail Americans' access to guns, has not even spoken on the issue, and would generally be ill-advised to do so, the National Rifle Association still loves to wheel out the old "from my cold dead hands" scare tactic canard.  This macabre imagery works with the marks, of course.  But for a lot of other Americans, it gets a little bizarre and even creepy after a while.  It's not that we have a problem with guns or gun-owners, per se.  It's that when we see pro-gun people and their friends posing with guns and posting the pics to Facebook (and, admit it, part of the reason they did it in the first place was to aggravate a nameless liberal), we don't exactly see the freedom fighter that you seem to.  Yes, these are the movement's most extreme members (if they're even that) but fairly or otherwise, these people do reflect on the movement as a whole.  And it is up to the responsible, sensible gun-owners to police their own side, not circle the wagons, as the NRA apparently must, even when no one is threatening guns or their owners. 

But what purpose does the NRA serve if their mission is basically accomplished?  To guard against future infringements upon the Second Amendment?  Yeah, maybe, but how much overhead does that require?  No, they need donations.  And some pro-gun Americans recognize this; many more (mostly younger) view the NRA as outmoded because, well, Mission Accomplished.  Enforce the laws as they exist, is the general view.  What choice does the NRA have, then, but to double down?  "It could happen at any time!"  "Never trust anyone who says they don't want to take your guns--it's a ruse!"  To remain relevant, they must reinforce the fear that drove so many to the party in the first place.  Never mind the vicious cycle that's bound to create.  People might stop giving us money.  So it's "protect your rights this" and "cold dead hands" that.  Regardless of the facts, keep pushing for the weapons you already have.  Nothing must stop us. 

On the fifth anniversary of the Virginia Tech massacre, and with the Trayvon Martin killing still very much in the news (whether you think it deserves to be or not), gun enthusiasts might assume a bit of deeper reflection.  Neither tragedy was solely about guns--no episode like this ever is--but it's hard to imagine an executive from the ax industry offering a full-throated defense of his product in the aftermath of a tragic ax-killing.  It would be, at best, in poor taste.  And most people would understand that the ax itself was largely incidental, as gun proponents rightly point out when it's a gun.  But perhaps if we lived in a world where ax murder rates were anything like gun murder rates, there'd be a bit more of a push for a check on their availability.  And would it be then, as here, that the people holding the weapons would be the most viscerally offended?  The ones clamoring the loudest and most creepily for would-be suppressors, real and imagined, to back off?  Maybe.  But they'd look just as ludicrous. 

So, a little bit of humility.  Or is the point of the gun that you might never have to be humble?

Nos Populus excerpt, III

Here's another excerpt from Nos Populus. This time, a glimpse of James Reso at the height of his popularity: 

James walked back to center stage, grabbed the microphone, and breathed in his audience, still showering him with their adoration.  He milked the emotion for all he could, gathering their strength to him.  The more built up they were on a cold day, he figured, the better.  He wasn’t going to get far on a following of unresponsive disciples.  After a few more minutes he decided that his name and presence had gotten as far as they were likely to on their own.  He put the microphone to his mouth and screamed: “Nos Populus!”  The crowd’s volume picked up and only after he could feel them plateau did James continue, “America!”  And a new high was set as James turned to the statue behind him, “Mr. President.”  This time a small groan rose from the crowd.  “I know that one’s been done before, but I couldn’t resist.  If nothing else, it’s nice to be able to have some modicum of respect for the person you’re addressing with that title.  This is said a lot in any context, so I have some hesitation saying it at all, but… we’re coming to a turning point.  Now the problem with that being said all the time is that you keep hearing it and it never feels like a turning point because it never is.  Then when a real turning point arrives, you let it slide by and miss it because you heard ‘wolf’ one too many times.  But believe me now, a turning point is coming.”  The crowd roared its approval of James’ promise. 

“A couple hours ago I saw the sun come up and I felt something different in the air.  It was small but it was there.  A premonition of the potential for big things to come.  So I called you here to tell you about it.  Now seeing thousands of you packing in, rubbing against each other to get some warmth—and I hope nothing more, there are children here, people—I get the feeling that there may be a hell of a lot more than the potential for change.  And the best way to generate change is to set an example.  So let it be shouted throughout the land that from this moment forth, Nos Populus is going to do things a tad differently.  From now on, we’re not relying on the Democrats.”  Scattered boos answered the namedrop.  “We’re going to have our own issues, and our own candidates and we will decide what the public discourse will be!  And that begins now!”  The assembled congregation screamed yet again.  But not yet ready for his audience to boil, James paused and let them simmer.

“Now I know we all thought that that turning point was supposed to be last fall, but it didn’t happen.  While I’m here, I should probably address the ‘election.’”  Another small chorus of boos rippled forward.  “I know,” James acknowledged them.  “Believe me, I’m with you.  Now, there are those who would have you believe that in November, Americans went to their polling places and chose to ‘stay the course.’  That we said to ourselves on Election Day, ‘Gee, I really like what’s been going on the past eight years.  We’re no better off as a nation, with international threats mounting and the nation dividing further internally.  And I’m no better off as an individual, with my e-mails being read for me by government operatives and my natural human rights stripped from me as if I never cared for them in the first place.  But I really think that what my president couldn’t complete in eight years, he will if I give him four more.’  That we said, ‘I like living in a state of fear.  I like it so much that I’m too afraid to change that.’  Hear me now: we did no.  Such.  Thing!”  On cue, a roar went up from the thousands gathered around the reflecting pool. 

“We all know what happened last November; how Hornung the Liberal was decimated by the divinely-appointed President Ward.  See, the way I see it, the man who represented the Democrats on the ballot was not the man we chose.  The man we chose was a man who represented something, represented us!  But somewhere along the line Hornung lost his backbone and something always defeats nothing.  There are those who would also have you believe that Ward’s victory in November gives him a mandate to do with what he will.  That he has been entitled to certain privileges as commander in chief.  If you ask Ward himself—and he’d be just too happy to respond—he would say that those entitlements include the right to keep each American a prisoner in his own country.  That because he’s responsible for keeping people safe so he’s going to lock each one of us up in our homes and throw away the key.  ‘Don’t worry about your mail and errands, the secret police will be more than happy to take care of those for you.  Just sit back, drink the Kool-Aid, go to sleep, and come back to vote for me again in four years.’

“I think this country belongs to us!  And I think that when we’re pissed we should say something because it’s damn sure bad for you to keep that kind of thing in!  And the best person to tell would be the man in charge, no?  Tell him that we are not the Democrats, we are not Morris Hornung!  Something always defeats nothing and we’ll give them something.  I think we should make the first official act of the Nos Populus Party to do just that!  What do you think?”  The volume reached a fever pitch; the ground below them could’ve trembled and they’d never know the difference.   

“You hear that, Dennis?  You hear it, fucker?” he screeched into the microphone.  “Dust off the welcome mat, we’re coming over!”

The Hunger Games and book-banning

As you're probably aware, The Hunger Games author Suzanne Collins has earned (in addition to what must be a stupidly large literary fortune) one of the most prestigious and enviable honors in literature: a place on the most banned books list.  Lord knows I've dreamt of making the list and I applaud Collins for doing so.  But back to the banning: look at the reasons given in that link.  Or just look here:

"anti-ethnic; anti-family; insensitivity; offensive language; occult/satanic; violence."

"Violence" is last on the list.  And though the reasons do appear to be listed alphabetically, we're talking about a book where child-on-child murder is a central plot point.*  And when you draw up complaints like this about any book, you should probably lead with the most egregious offenses, no?  Of course, it's not as though violence is the most serious sin in American art.  Not even when it involves children.  Just ask the MPAA.  And this is not to diminish the severity or horror of child-on-child murder.  But there's a marked difference between not wanting your kid to read that and deciding no one should be allowed to read. 

----
*Full disclosure: I've only read the first two Hunger Games books.  I've been meaning to get around to the third for the last year or so, but was told that semi-central character and all around wet blanket Peeta Mellark (SPOILER) does not die.  I was told something about him having a surlier demeanor and possibly trying to kill main character and reluctant teenage dynamo Katniss Everdeen, which might finally give him something to do aside from get in Katniss' way and generally be a useless slug.  But then I was led to believe that this was more of a hypnosis thing, rather than a scorned would-be lover thing (please alert me if any of this is incorrect), because why should a crucial character ever be interesting?  (END SPOILER)  So, as you might've surmised, my interest was slightly dampened on an otherwise terrific pair of YA books and combined with an ever growing wishlist on Amazon to attend to, I haven't gotten to it.  Yet. 
----

I also notice that Satan (finally managing a bit of luck) was on the list of reasons for Hunger Games' inclusion.  Not that I remember him being heavily involved in the story, unless he's a stand-in for the evil that is done by the villainous government upon the children and, thus, their families.  In which case, couldn't we argue that drama and conflict are impossible without Beelzebub?  And therefore shouldn't we be thanking the Lord of Flies for his contributions to millenniums' old tradition of storytelling?  As long as I'm applauding Collins, I might as well save some energy for the paranormal entity that not only makes every banned list, but has made those banned lists possible.

On a similar note, "religious viewpoint" shows up a lot for a lot of books on the list.  I'm not even sure what the hell that means.  Depicting religion, maybe?  So are holy texts out, too?  But then, this is a specifically American list, so the offense is more likely related to depicting something that is seemingly counter to whatever narrow, thin-skinned, thick-headed version of fundamentalist Christianity a few bored parents in PTA meetings are huffing at the present moment.  That is to say: the dramatic depiction of anything remotely interesting.  And, again, it's not to oppose parents' deciding what is and isn't right for their kid; that is their purview.  But they don't get a blanket ban for everyone. 

Lastly, I want to point out that one of the reasons given for the banning of one my favorite books from high school--Aldous Huxley's Brave New World (and if any teenager/pre-teen liked Hunger Games, Brave New World should be one of their next steps)--was "nudity."  Nudity.  In a book.  Without pictures.  Here's the thing: if a kid can read depictions of nudity or sex and comprehend them, then he/she is psychologically and emotionally mature enough to deal with those depictions or otherwise decide they don't want to read them.  And you should be, too. 

This sort of thing is nothing new (that second link is about the banning of Anne Frank's Diary.  Anne Frank's Diary.  A fifteen-year old made the list, which means that I have officially wasted my life).  And these lists aren't going anywhere, either.  I'm not going to make the case that banned lists are stupid.  Not because they aren't, or because other people have already said it, or because they often have the reverse effect of making a book more popular, or even because saying "ban banned lists" sounds odd.  I'm not going to say that because when you take that honor away, the only thing you leave writers is the hope of making some money with their work.  In other words, it leaves us with false hope than we already had.

If Collins were looking for my advice (she's not), I'd say take the honor with joy and aplomb.  Do you have any idea what some people would give to be in your position?**

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**I killed the Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives in my book!  Ban me!

In Brief: Exit Santorum

The world may never agree how powerful Dan Savage's Sword of Damocles is, or was.  If it had been anything to brag about, would Santorum's surge have happened at all?  Or was that more about Mittens?  Did the Republicans' far right wing get a good enough look at Gingrich and decide to default to the last best Not Mormon hope (minus Ron Paul, of course, which... yeah, no)?  Of course, this all implies that Santorum is deserving of the credit of creating so many questions.  He's not.  The answers are, respectively: yes, yes, and probably. 

That means Mittens now, finally, gets to move on to a real test: the V.P.  And it's a tough test--the only presidential decision a nominee has to make, really--the only probable outcomes of which are "not bad" or "you are really bad at this."  Mittens will need someone of the appropriate ideological rigidity.  Someone with foreign policy cred.  Someone with a proven (if damaged) electoral record.  And someone with a passing familiarity with connecting with human beings.  Those qualities will be hard to find in any one person.  Particularly when you eliminate all the guys that figure they're better off waiting until 2016.  And no matter who he picks, it's still Romney the Uninspiring + (Right Wing Fright Night T.B.D.) against the best campaigner of our lifetimes. 

Predicting the general at this stage is a mug's game, vulnerable to sundry unforeseeable events and scandals.  However.  Obama will take the election.  But he will not be the winner.  Republicans have effectively shut down the government these last few years.  At the expense of serious electoral prospects, sure, but it's not like the guys they wanted were trying out this time around, anyway.  Or that they care much about governance; not when there are talking head positions and speaking engagements to angle for.  No, they'll take four more years of Obama, perhaps gladly, just for the chance to shut him down all over again and, most importantly, raise revenues and increase buy rates.  That's right, the winner of 2012, the people who will be crowing, screeching, snarling, gnashing teeth, and slurping on the attention whore pipeline for another four years: Fox News.

Light Beer, Part I: No, I Can't Taste It. And Neither Can You.

During this past month's NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament, world famous swill-slingers MillerCoors LLC ran a promotion entitled "Can You Taste It?"  Presumably, the slogan had a double-meaning; the "it" referring to both the premature tasting of victory in their contest, as well as the beer sponsoring the contest.  As a reference to the beer, yes, the slogan makes for an an easy target.  Frankly, I'd think less of myself for taking the bait.  However, I can use it to pivot onto one of my favorite hobbyhorses.*

*Fair warning: this will be a multi-part rant and may well become a recurring theme here on The Half-Drunken Scribe. 

Understand: I come here not to bury crappy regular beers.  Those exist, sure enough, but some things really are a matter of taste and there are some tongues you can't argue with (however obviously right your tongue may be).  No, this is about that special scourge upon the alcohol and party industries: the light beer.  Because--however I try--I cannot understand the mind that thinks a bland, hollow, often stale light beer is a reasonable beverage in any situation.  Of course, without sitting down with that person who genuinely likes light beer and sharing some of my favorites with him and him sharing some of his with me, this debate cannot be close to settled.  But I can try to explain where I and the other sneering, haughty beer snobs are coming from. 

Now, thankfully, the craft beer market is growing.  And that means that higher-quality beer is becoming more accepted and thus should become more accessible.  But there's a lot of room to go before it's on any even par with the mass-produced beers.  Or at least before large brewers take it, their product, and their target market seriously.  And there's the rub: the large, lumbering manufacturers and distributors.  There wouldn't be any point in this post--or in any of the invective hurled at the big beer companies by petty, angry beer snobs--if not for the fact that so much of it seems so earned.  It's not merely producing (I will not denigrate the noble word "brewing" by using it in this context) and advertising a lousy product and insisting that that product has "more taste" that make us yearn to hit back.  No.  It's the clear contempt they have for, well, everyone.  Allow me to demonstrate. 

To stick with our original target, I'm sure everyone's familiar with Miller's Man Card/Man Up series.  The ads that insist that not only do men face penalties from their friends for behavior that's annoying and borderline anti-social (though, honestly, those could be nice), but that drinking light beer is one of, if not the, major offense among these laws.  Consider this: not drinking light beer is unmanly.  Really think about that for a moment.  At which point did the concept fail to process?  Was it the sad, obvious appeals to an arcane version of masculinity?  That's where most people go, I think, and I can see why but, again, the obviousness of it obscures the larger point.  Maybe it was the part where drinking something that is by definition an abbreviated, sanitized version of something else is more in line with the lumberjack crowd?  That's where I had come down--and would still award points for it--until I thought about it a little longer.  See, the lampooned men in this series--though apparently given to poor-decision making--are being judged and threatened by their friends for their beverage choice.  And while this is a slightly exaggerated version of things men really do (if jokingly), how is it different from the supposed imperiousness of the beer snob?  I'll explore this further in a bit, but imagine how events would transpire if the defendants in the Man trials had instead purchased, say, an Anchor Steam and then said to their friends, "Light beers?  Really, gentlemen?" 

Or how about advertising executives overly large beer-producer Budweiser?  These guys assume that your need for their product is so great that you'd abandon hope of rescue after a plane crash if your other option is a rockin' Bud Light party.  Not "let's get back to land so we can taste Bud Light and maybe see our families again;" that I'd get.  No, this is more along the lines "screw the rest of our lives--the one I was leading doesn't compare to all this Bud Light!"  More than that, your addiction is so great that you're willing to overlook clear and present danger and the objections of your relatively on-the-ball significant other in order to get a taste of that sweet, sweet, low-calorie nectar.  And just because I think we need the reminder, this same publicly-traded company is also responsible for the farting horse ad and the Wassup guys.  Not to mention the "drinkability" campaign (how much deserved shit do you think McDonald's would get if they advertised their food as "edible?").

Then there's Coors' Blue Mountains ads that assumed there were beer-drinkers out there who were having trouble telling when their beer was cold enough to drink (this is how, if you hadn't figured it out).  I'm not even going to bother with the fact that beer being as cold as possible is actually bad for the beer.  The point is: they really think people are this stupid.  And they're telling us so to our faces.  And people keep buying Coors.  

Conceited shit like this is the problem.  It's not about beer snobs wanting to lord our knowledge appreciation of Belgian Trippels and seasonal IPA's over people who just want to relax with a cold one.  Yes, those snobs exist and you have my permission to shove that tulip glass with the tall, frothy head into their eye (or my eye).  We sometimes need that.  But have we grown so intolerable that we're the ones to be loathed over the mega-corporations who insult you in exchange for your money?  Or is this another one of those culture war battlegrounds, where good and decent middle Americans can write off perfectly good beers solely because they're enjoyed by European socialists and coastal elites?  And the chasm grows so wide that we can never attempt to understand each other, lest our cliff crumble, killing us all and, more importantly, losing the war? 

Is this where beer--mankind's impetus for giving up that whole hunter-gatherer thing--has been dragged?  If so, then truly nothing is sacred.  And if these greedy and cynical mega-brewers have really so debased one of my most beloved pastimes and hobbies, then hold on, because I have a lot more where this came from. 

Next time: the health implications of beer of all goddamn things.

In Brief: The Sea is Full of Horror

Eons ago, the greatest horrors of our world returned to the sea from whence all life originated.  Some say that said horrors were banished there, as though such things could be banished, or would accept banishment.  Others say they took to the deep because the land had no challenges for them.  The truth lies somewhere in between, if much closer to the later.  Beneath the surface of gentle ocean waves, they look and act as beings of purest grade nightmare fuel.  On our surface world, they'd be reduced to hunting (or, for them, playing).  But in the vast darkness, these things of seemingly eternal lifespans (we don't actually know how long many sharks, for instance, live.  But does this look like a thing that can die?  Case rested) need not sink to something so base and can be patient, waiting for us to make the mistake of coming to them.  And we will.  Oh, we will. 

The brief glimpses we get of their tricks--that octopus above, for example--are but parlor tricks for simple amusement.  Their simple amusement.  Their true games are played much deeper, down where the light refuses to stretch.  It is no coincidence that H.P. Lovecraft identified the ocean floor as the location of R'lyeh, resting place of Great Cthulu.  From where else could an incomprehensible horror from beyond the stars rule without prematurely annihilating the planet through terror-driven insanity? 

Most people think that burying Osama bin Laden at sea almost a year ago was a geopolitical maneuver; no one really wanted the bastard, plus it denies his adherents a grave site for pilgrimages.  But those are mere fringe benefits, logical explanations for a world that does occasionally demand logic, if only because it has trouble contemplating the non-Euclidean horrors that lie beneath.  The truth is far more ghoulish than we mere land-dwelling mortals dare attempt to absorb.  In the place where the monster bin Laden now rests, he is not worthy of the title "monster."  Or even "terrorist."  Down there, he'd hardly rank as an amateur.  Nothing we could have done to him would have been fitting enough.  But we could feed him to the seeping moist, to be forever surrounded by those malevolent, invisible, slithering, toothsome creatures, with escape an impossibility. 

They will terrify him and then kill him.  Again and again and again.  Because fear is the most delicious condiment of all.  

*Credit to my wonderful fiancee on the title.