Words, Books, Memory

As a Jewish atheist I enjoy the rituals of my people. While I don’t enjoy laying t’fillin (putting on phylacteries)—although I remember how—I’ve always had a visceral sense memory when seeing or touching the prayer book my dad used.
I have the second one he had in my lifetime. The first, a Shiloh edition daily prayer book, was made of relatively normal linen paper, had almost disintegrated by the time I was ten. It wasn’t really unusual: kiddush with my dad entailed dribbling at least a little wine on the pages, and havdalah, when separating from the Sabbath, adds wax to yet more wine.

My current one, with whatever chromo paper was extant in the 1970s or 1980s, doesn’t shy from absorbing the waxy fats of the Havdalah candle, nor the dribbles of wines wending from horrific Manischewitz to actual red, dry wines.

Seeing, feeling… even smelling these remnants of my former life, my belief life, trigger more than just memory. They bring to the fore, for me, the belief that we can strive to be better than the species. That we can transform the anger, hate, trivial, niggling, negative feelings into something… more. Something that elevates us, as humans, as homo sapiens sapiens, from the troglodyte slaves of hateful religious dogma to individuals of thought, laughter, and action bringing up the level of humanity, instead of sinking what we find to some lowest common religious denominator ensuring that all lose to guilt, anger, and anguish.

Instead of experiencing the transubstantiation of plebeian thought to anger and tempora mores, let’s see if we can’t bring to the fore those flutterings of love from that which brought us happiness, and joy.

Because the alternative is the cataloging of sin, transgression, and propinquity instead of the formless, incalculable, effervescent moment of thought, pulled from the past to the present.

Thanks to Choir! Choir! Choir! for the acoustic background to this piece. Ground Control: we’re still here (although they didn’t do that, they did this).

 

Bravery

I have a character in the short story ShutEye who gives her life for a love she knows she can never have, because it’s the right thing for the greater good. There’s a character in Best Shot (being shopped) who will do anything to get the right photo.

These characters are trivial, flickering shadows in comparison with the real ones. On this Memorial Day weekend there are the obvious ones who fought and died, some knowing their actions would certainly kill them, to save others. The young and the idealistic are great for cannon fodder (said the cynical ex-soldier) because we believed in the true rightness of our cause. The brave are a category apart from that: they are willing to sacrifice themselves to save or help others. For examples, look no further than the American Congressional Medal of Honor stories. Every war has their heroes, from Afghanistan & Iraq to the Vietnam War, back through the Korean conflict and of course World Wars One and Two. And every country has its fallen who died bravely for their military cause.

Yes, one can argue whether the war was justified, or served its purpose in the most horrible of methods. But this is about personal bravery, not the religion- and drug-fuels acts of cowards and terror-mongers. The same Medal of Honor rolls tell the stories of bravery during what they call the “Indian Wars,” which today the world (excepting the current US administration) would call “genocide.” These men were, however, brave in their actions, if not the moral righteousness that history best describes.

Bravery is without border, without nationhood. It’s a person deciding to do the right thing as they see it.

This weekend we have two more recently fallen, and another seriously wounded, protecting their country from enemies domestic. Without uniforms, without preparation, without patriotic pep talks or camaraderie. Bravery comes from within, and the ‘spur of the moment’ comes in part from purity of thought. Neither were there under orders, of with a unit. Their bravery was as true and real as any from the Congressional rolls of recent decades.

Friday night a domestic terrorist apparently tried to attack two women in hijabs on a commuter train in Portland.

If Congress can honor a Arnold Palmer, a golfer, with the Congressional Gold Medal, it certainly, at a very minimum, honor these three men for their service to this country, fighting against terror.

 

Nazi Anything

Sometimes writing takes a back seat, as it should, to reality.

We spend a lot of time, in this Trumpian, Facebookish era, endlessly macerating previous texts, quotes, and media. It’s easier, it’s true, to quote others than to write one’s own clever words. Of course, some folks’ clever words will stand for ages:

People shouldn’t be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people. (Alan Moore, from “V for Vendetta”

Writing is hard. Quoting is easier.

Memes are easier remembered than created. And easier appropriated than created. And memes, by the nature of their being, are slippery viruses that get to all kinds of places you might not consider.

This is difficult. It’s difficult because I’m a child of Holocaust survivors. My mom from Auschwitz, my dad from a nameless slate of forced labor camps. My aunt, one of Mengele’s survivors, was the only close relative to make it through those years. My grandfather, who survived by the grace of a Polish, Catholic farm family by being hid in their attic (his Polish neighbors burnt down his farm after my grandfather testified at their denazification trials).

I’ve faced Nazis (and forebore from killing them, what with this being a democracy and all.) America, after keeping Jews in the line of fire and bringing Nazis back to America after the war to aid in their rocket research, has been fairly good to my people. It gave my parents a home, and a home and opportunity to many of my kind, including the mafioso, the Nobel Prize winners, and the awesome, awesome, everyday people.

Mr. Seinfeld brought humor to American television, in a vapid, aimless way. While I ever found his show funny, he is a pretty good standup comic, and I wish him no ill.

The “Soup Nazi,” however, was definitely not a bright spot in his writing resume for that show. His parents were foreign-American: his dad fought in World War II, and his mom was Syrian-Jewish-American. And he spent time in the early 90s in Israel on a kibbutz. He had to know about the sensitive, “it’s still too soon” aspect of calling people Nazis under any reasonable circumstances.

But his dad was a US soldier. And US soldiers had no problem talking about krauts, spicks, japs, chinks, and gooks. It’s the nature of soldiers and their governments to demote their enemy to non-humans. I know: I’ve been a soldier.

So, the “Soup Nazi” was written, first to paper, then to episodic television, and eventually, became a meme. It was funny, ugly, and therefore quickly absorbed into what passes for the American etymological memory.

We were having a good meeting, this manager and I. He is a sweet, kind, honest, funny, straightforward married dad of a young child. He chuckles, a grownup version of a giggle, and he reminds me of myself, in the 1990s, at an IBM subsidiary, trying to empower and feel for my employees. My contractors. My peers. The world around me.

I want you to be the documentation Nazi, if you—” he said, as we discussed process in his nascent group.

“Don’t ever say that again,” I said. “My parents were in the Holocaust. My father was in labor camps. Today is Holocaust Memorial Day.”

I’m very bad at reading faces, and expressions. I think he was shocked and taken aback (who wouldn’t) at my statement. I _do_ know that, from the tone of his voice, he was surprised at my reaction. And genuinely, honestly, deeply, sorry.

So was I. In some way, I was surprised I didn’t lose it. He said this on the Holocaust Memorial Day. He said this hours after I’d listed, carefully, clinically, the names and dates of all my my immediate family who died in the Holocaust. And how they were people, not numbers. Not even the number carved into my mother’s skin, until, after the war, she seared it from her flesh. 72197.

I can’t help me; I’m the creation distillation, and essence of what my parents, their actions, their family, my actions, and my family, have created. And I can’t help him, not that he needs it, a happy, funny, forward-looking person who wants the best for those around him.

But I can cry, without stop, at the surprising pain of this jab, silly, memetic and trivial though it may be.

And, after breathing, a viewing of “V for Vendetta,” and a possibly unhealthy dollop of wine, I realize that the Nazis really are dead. They’re not making soup, or making fun of it. They’re not standing in front of gun show, advertising their fear. They’re not doing anything. Their power is a function of their reach. And their reach, delusions of the fascist right aside, is the length of their small arms and even tinier hands.

“Last Run” Progress Report

After a lot of editing and wiping of cruft the novel stands at about 104k, and still has the main drama in front of it. I’m an unrepentant pantser, which means story outlines aren’t part of my usual practice. What that means, and I’m learning the cons of, is that I’m essentially writing in ‘first gear.’ Like certain authors who are famous and fabulously paid, I can take 2,000 words to describe a simple mean and the character interactions. Not because what they’re doing is so fascinating, but because it’s from their dialog and actions that I get the clues for the next scene.

Any strength overused eventually upsets the balance of life. And while 104k is a “big” number, that’s not what this novel is about: when I started Last Run I was aiming for 90k total and edited. At the rate I’m going, my first draft will top out somewhere in the 150k-175k region. And I don’t want to be writing low-density gorp for the next few months.

Fortunately one of my writing groups helped me resolve that issue, much the way a good therapist lets a client talk out their problems without actually having to intervene. I’m happy to report that the damn party has moved through three days over the course of two days writing, and i’m just at 70% of the way through my outline—which, of course, I don’t have. But if I did, that’s where I’d be.

I’ve pinged UT Austin to see if I can’t get some long-distance expert opinions on the astronomy/astrophysics parts of the novel. Still need to find a good volcanologist or two and someone good with atmospheric analysis of ash fall and particulates.

Words, badly used

A quote from the Jerusalem Post: “The warning comes after multiple mortar rounds, emanating from Syria, landed in Israeli territory near the border.”

I lobbed the smell of roast chicken out the oven door.

On Language, Lies, and Reality

The British voters supported the referendum proposal to leave the EU. Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty (which describes the exit process, as as 261 words can) requires that the constitutionally represented leadership call for the cancellation of the treaty.

Oops. Britain does not have a constitution. Does Cameron press the button? His party leadership? The Queen?

In the meanwhile, all the major selling points touted by the ‘Leave’ promoters have already been “rolled back.” This is code, I think for “we lied.” The regrets Britons feel among those who voted to leave are already being heard. As are the complains by heretofore legal EU workers being asked when they’re going home so they won’t take “British” jobs. Not that the askers would do the work these migrant workers are willing to do. (See case studies in every country in the globe with any immigrant population, legal or otherwise.) These are disingenuous comments, as honest as the reasons for Britain leaving the EU; hate speech would be much more accurate.

Finally, referendums do not have the force of law in Britain. This means that the government can be advised by them — although with Prime Minister Cameron’s resignation, it seems that the (deluded) will of the people will be heard.

It’s entirely possible that between the Lisbon Treaty clause and the referendum-level of the vote, all British leadership has to do is select a scapegoat to declaim the referendum and then everything can return to normal.

Except that the genie out of the bottle isn’t the referendum, but the magnitude of the isolationist, xenophobic, sentiment.The bottle is shattered, and, stay or not, Britain needs to focus on basic needs such as education and deprogramming that the right wing there, as it has here, has done on major population and ethnic segments.

This is yet another example of the use, misuse, and ultimate semiotic nullity of words of power.

Fake Magic Words to Keep Programming Cool & Mysterious

old deviceIn preparation for a set of developer interviews I’ve been boning up on the “basics:” testing, objects, algorithms, etc. I approached testing with trepidation, as I (a) know what needs to go into it, and (b) know EXACTLY how little those needs are met in small development environments. And by small, I mean less than about 100 developers and testers.

new-deviceNow I’m mostly irritated. There’s not a single thing new under the sun (yeah, I should have known that). For example, unit testing: lots of chatter about test harnesses, fake objects, parameter limits, etc. Sigh. Let’s roll back to the black & white days of FORTAN/360 (yes, that’s before FORTRAN 77). COBOL. PL1. I know, not much “objecting” going on there. But program files with sets of functions abounded even then, and functions relying on more primitive ones were more important then, in the world of memory cores and 1Mb “super” hard drives (yes, I know that age) than now, in the bloated reality of needing 4Gb just to make one’s commercial operating system happy to boot.

cobol algorithmsHere’s the ugly truth. Folks in this decade make up pretty names and “paradigms” that are literal plagarisms of the testing manuals of yore. And by literal I mean entire paragraphs pulled with some names changed. Test cases and corner cases, which are part of or sometimes synonymous with testing procedures from manuals of yore.

The net of all this, to give reason for this missive, is that companies hiring are looking for buzzwords, but what the technical managers need to be doing is listening to the words, not keywords, in describing a person’s experience. Because a rose by any other name still smells sweet.

Scotland the Brave

Full Disclosure: I think an independent Scotland would be WAY cool.

Sane disclosure:

I think an independent Scotland is a _great_ idea. Except for the whole “we’ve been together for centuries and splitting things would be horrible.” As a very liberal Israeli, I’m very much appreciative of the Labor and leftist parties. Didn’t work.

  • A Scottish state would reduce England’s power to calm the world. In other words, all the economic, ideological and practical pressure that Great Britain has used to keep things calm will disappear.
  • I’m Israeli. While I _love_ and greatly appreciate Scottish history and culture, the disruptive and false Palestinian discourse seems to have a traction in Scotland. As an Israeli-American, I have a problem with that.
  • Edinburgh is wonderful and magical. Having to wrestle between Scottish culture and society and an independent country with notes of Scandinavian and “pure” Independent philosophy.

I’m with the “keep Scotland in the UK.” Here’s why:

  1. It gives Scots more power on the world stage.
  2. It given Scots a greater ability to push the Liberal agenda in Great Britain”
  3. I will buy Scottish Whiskey no matter what.
  4. Scottish culture and tourism has nothing but gain in keeping an allegiance with Britain.

Good luck, folks!

Shlomi

“The Press,” mass media and bloggers

One of the keystones when I read the New York Times in its staining, non-soy-ink edition, at the tail end of it’s black-and-white “Grey Lady” era was the language. Reporters wrote, editors edited and their bosses vetted articles for publication. “All the News That’s Fit to Print™.” And what was fit to print, in part, was the language of the article. Always in sync/synchronous to/in line with/alike to the current Manuals of Style (AP, Chicago, or internal) and their dictionaries. CBW became ‘weapons of mass destruction.’ RC airplanes became ‘drones,’ even if they were smaller than their decades-older ancestors, using batteries instead of gasoline-powered engines.

The press is already an endangered creature. I’ll be honest: I read the NYT and WP through their paywalls and pay only if the specific article gets my attention. I’m part of the problem: there are so many places where I can get the sensational information from multiple, free sources, and the more it bleeds, the more venues to watch/read/hear about it. After all, the Internet market is about click-throughs, page reads to set ad placement, and SEO analytics to monetize a page to the max.

Also about speed. And speed is queen, now. Who waits for the next morning to get information tweeted twenty hours previous, then blogged and shared through imagur, tumblr, facebook and a zillion other venues? Where’s the value added? Grammar? I think not.

So now we have outlets, like this CBS affiliate in my home town, where spell-checking is left to the computer, and the urgency is in the report, not the readability of the content. Such as, in this case, the content surrounding an Amber Alert. I’ll quote it from here in its entirety, just to point things out:

Amber Alert Suspect In Custody After SWAT Standoff
August 8, 2014 6:18pm
UPDATE: August 9, 12:20 p.m.
Austin Amber Alert suspect Jesse Thomas has been taken into custody, according to Harris County Sheriff’s Office. According to DPS officials, Jesse Thomas, the suspect in an amber alert out of Austin, was reportedly involved in a stand off with police in the Houston area. According to Sgt. John Sampa, troopers located Thomas’ vehicle this morning on the southbound frontage road of Highway 249. The road is blocked at Spring Cypress. Police had the suspect cornered in a parking lot of a Petco store. He says they were actively negotiating with him. Thomas turned the child over to authorities around 9:30 a.m. and was taken into custody after a brief struggle a shot time later. Officials would not say if a weapon was involved.

According to Austin Police Detective J.J. Schmidt, Thomas will be charged with Burglary for kicking the door in, DPS will charge him with Endangering a Child and APD will add several other charges related to kidnapping within the next several days.

9:15 p.m. UPDATE:

Police say Jesse Thomas is Cheyenne Johnson’s biological father, but he was told today that he no longer has parental rights.

He is currently out on bond for the aggravated assault against a peace officer with a deadly weapon. The biological mother is currently incarcerated. And the grandmother had full custody of the child, police say.

Investigators say Thomas went to his mother’s home, where Cheyenne was located. She refused to let him in but he went to the back of the house and kicked the door in, and got the child before fleeing the scene.

He was spotted at 5:15 p.m. at a U-Haul Storage facility, located at 1030 E. 46th St. Officers attempted to make contact, but as he saw them approaching he came at the officers with his vehicle and left the scene at a high right of speed, police say.

A short pursuit ensued, but was terminated due to heavy traffic and his erratic driving pattern — speeds of over 100 mph with the child in the vehicle.

Thomas has a violent history with other felony charges pending right now, police say.

If you see him do not make any contact with him. Call 911 or the homicide tip line at 512-477-3588.

Police say they believe the child is in danger.

EARLIER:
Police have issued an Amber Alert for a missing child last seen Friday afternoon in South Austin with her father — but his parental rights have been relinquished and he’s considered dangerous.

Investigators say two-year-old Cheyenne Johnson was last seen at 1:54 p.m. in the 1800 block of Anita Drive, just west of South Lamar Boulevard and south of Barton Springs Road…

The highlighted errors don’t change the story. I’m sure that Detective (Lt., by the way) JJ Schmidt (one of the best officers ever to be put in front of a microphone or camera) didn’t dictate the text.

The issue here, picayune as you might think, is that getting the basic spelling correct is part of the reporting. It’s a lot easier to trust someone who knows how to spell with at least 7th grade capabilities than someone who relies on “autocorrect” to get the words right. Spelling and punctuation change the meaning. And the reputation of the source (CBS’s KEYE-TV in this case) is on the line.

Getting it right is job #1. Getting it right quickly is a close, but not competing, second. If spelling stops being important, the facts are a close second in losing to ignorance or “fat-fingered” spelling.

Companies, the new Golem

In Citizen’s United, the Supreme Court awarded citizenship to corporations. Now, the same majority on the Court ruled that family-held companies, whatever the size, can have a religion.

The golem of the corporation as a person arises, one step at a time, from the nightmares of dystopic fiction into the Koch-fed reality of our purchased Congress.

It’s not just Hobby Lobby. It means that family-held Desseret (aka LDS) companies may apply their religious strictures on womens’ health to their religious doctrine. Scientologists owning business can refuse to pay for mental health care.

Jehova’s Witnesses? No surgery, blood transfusions, or any other invasive procedure for their employees. Charismatic Christian? Excellent: just prayer and the odd rattlesnake for you. Their employees don’t need no stinkin’ “modern” medicine.

This is a boon for insurance companies: the less they cover, the more they rake in. More irony: that’s something that President Obama counted on for insurance company support for the bill in the first place: requiring healthy younger folks to pay into a system to help those less healthy. So now insurance companies get money from the young, encourage smaller, closely held companies to “stand up for their religious principles,” and up the costs for healthcare a smidge because of “all the bureaucracy” with the law and its court-ordered complications. More than one someone is laughing themself into a cerebral hemorrhage — all the way to the bank.

Ironically, church-based hospitals can’t use the narrow Court ruling.

It’s a pity progressive religious such as those worshipping the Flying Spaghetti Monster can’t discriminate against deists: “No oxygen consumption allowed for our employees who believe in anything other than physics. And pirates. Arrrrrr, matey!”