Showing posts with label manifesto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label manifesto. Show all posts

Friday, March 12, 2010

Forbidden Boolean String

According to this article in the LA Times, the internet makes it easier to become a terrorist. Easier than what? I ask, but deduce from the open-ended question they mean easier than without. The logic in that is shoddy, but we'll ignore such a discrepancy in order to have the discussion move past the poor rhetoric it displays.

Another objective flaw in the article is its attention solely to Islamic radicals.
From charismatic clerics who spout hate online, to thousands of extremist websites, chat rooms and social networking pages that raise money and spread radical propaganda, the Internet has become a crucial front in the ever-shifting war on terrorism.
to
[F]iery Internet imans who use English to preach jihad and, in some cases, to help funnel recruits to Al Qaeda and other radical causes.
I've encountered plenty of radical hate-mongering from far more than Islamic voices. I think the easy way to rationally discuss this sort of thing is by just killing everyone who's viewpoint is different than . . . hmmm, that doesn't work because then . . . we'd all have to . . . end up shooting . . . each other.

Okay, to rationally discuss this topic, instead of pointing fingers at just one religious sect of wingnuts, how about point our fingers at all spectrum of wingnuts.

Hmmmm, that really doesn't work either, sing who defines who the wingnuts are?

"Decent society" I guess. Although I've seen damn little proof such a place exists.

And so I tried something. I used Google to help my terrorist indoctrination. But alas! Google failed me. I shan't be able to join my hoped for radical group since, apparently, they don't exist:



· • ·

Sunday, March 7, 2010

"You can't keep lettin' it get you down."

~•~

This may not be the greatest musical/art project in the history of this universe—and, quite possibly, any other—but it is certainly on the shortlist for the position.


· • ·

Friday, March 5, 2010

"Bad writers borrow from other writers; Good writers steal."

Here's a paper I wrote for Books & Publishing class about plagiarism. I framed it around the controversary of Dr. Brad Vice's Flannery O'Connor Award, but included a few other public cases.

In a comment on a semi-public forum, Vice commented about the passing of the author and his mentor, Barry Hannah.
I'm proud to say that you can find my name and a little blurb on the paperback copies of Yonder Stands Your Orphan. Later it was used to make me look like some sort of criminal when my book controversy hit. It really made me depressed. I can't even find the review on-line now as there are more so ... many articles about the review that the review is lost. You could find it on the SFC page if you were interested. I even told my editor when he gave me the book--Look, I've read everything by BH, and I love it all --so if you give me this book, I'm likely to write a good review. He said, "You sound like your qualified for the job." Anyway, it made me so angry that they tried to smear Barry through me. I still can't get over the Lucifarian villain who looks like Conway Twitty--too concerned about his hair to play high school football.

I have no reason to believe he's actually referring to Robert Clark Young being a prissy pansy and disrespectable no-account lying jealous sack of excrement or anything of that nature. No reason at all to associate that person with those traits.

If I ever rewrite this—or write again on the subject—I think I shall bring into the conversation the legal criminology term of "larceny," that is, theft by stealth, and equate it to the Twain attribution. Steal it quietly, make it your own, and wear your influences as evidence of the literary stream which has washed down from those who came before you. Or something poetic like that.



~•~



CRW 321 - 001
February 24, 2009
Wild Card Essay


"Bad writers borrow from other writers; Good writers steal."


This quote is often attributed to Mark Twain, T. S. Eliot, or Oscar Wilde. It's witty and deeper than it seems at first, and completely apropos to our discussion. Without absolute veracity of such an attribution, for the sake of this argument, we'll leave the source of that quote with Mr. Twain.

Does this comment mean that Twain encouraged and condoned plagiarism? Although it may not be immediately apparent in this statement, we can be fairly certain that, indeed, Twain (nor Eliot, nor Wilde) was not encouraging anyone to plagiarize another's work. But let us take a closer look at what defines plagiarism before picking apart what Twain might, or might not, have meant by that.

In examining this subject of borrowing and stealing other people's work—focussing exclusively on the written word and not on intellectual theft in the other arts—we will discuss ideas and intellectual property rights, touch briefly on copyright law, and take a look at three cases involving the accusation of plagiarism, and find evidence that in the world of literature, stealing is not as readily evident from borrowing as one might expect. Following that, we will return to Mark Twain's (attributed) quote and have another look at what it might really mean.

Before we get into our three specific cases, let us take a moment to define some things. Intellectual Property, to put it simply for our use in this discussion, is considered to be—as stated by the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO)—"Intellectual property refers to creations of the mind: inventions, literary and artistic works, and symbols, names, images, and designs used in commerce." The term is used to denote the legal rights of a work and not the work itself. Under intellectual property laws, the creator, or rightful owner of a work, are granted certain exclusive rights to their work in any medium. Copyright, trademarks, trade secrets, and patents are just a few examples of intellectual property rights. For the purposes of this discussion, however, we will limit our commentary to copyrights, and not touch upon any of the other defined forms of intellectual property.

So what is involved with copyright law?

A comprehensive answer to that would involve a firm of lawyers and more pages of explanation than a small room could hold—this is why there are specialized attorneys to deal with the complexities of copyright law—but we will try to offer a very brief description of what it covers in relation to our purpose.

The intent of copyright in the United States is based on Article I, Section 8, Clause 8 in the U.S. Constitution, which states: "To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries." This is intended to give the creator of a substantive and discrete idea—that is, an idea that is seen to fruition in an extended written work, and not merely the idea itself, nor titles, situations, or characters without their placement in a substantive, discrete work—certain exclusive rights (as we said about intellectual property) to publish, distribute, or adapt their work for a reasonable amount of time. That reasonable amount of time is currently given to be 50-100 years following the death of the creator of the work. This complexity is further muddled by "fair use."

The fair use doctrine does not specifically define "fair use" but rather gives a four point rubric to discern if use of copyrighted material is able to be used fairly by another party. The factors given to consider this are: the purpose and character of the use; the nature of the copyrighted work; the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work. Thus there is a legitimate right to use excerpts or quotes from a copyrighted work "for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching […], scholarship, or research," (U.S. Code) which means book reviews can use portions of a work for purposes of illustrating an opinion; schools can use copyrighted work so long as they are not charging a fee for its use in an educational manner; and very brief quotes can be used as epigrams by others in their own work.
Confused by that? You begin to see how quickly complicated this matter can become; especially when copyright/intellectual property right laws differ from country to country. The entire matter is about as clear as a lecture on theological nuclear physics recited by Carl Sagan, backwards, in Pig Latin.

My sarcastic analogy is silly, but is meant to illustrate the complexity of this point. We are three pages into a discussion of plagiarism and we have only now reached the examples.

Our first look will be at the case involving the accusation that in The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown plagiarized the work of Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln (although Lincoln's name did not appear on court records in this accusation) in their non-fiction work, Holy Blood, Holy Grail. This is a case of fiction appropriating material from non-fiction, which is not as common as fiction appropriating from other fiction, as well as the fact that the accusation hinged upon the direct use of ideas and framework of the earlier material. As author Richard Leigh stated, Dan Brown "lifted the whole architecture—the whole jigsaw puzzle—and hung it on to the peg of a fictional thriller." (Day)

So the accusation of Brown's plagiarism did not involve direct use of phrases and word choice, but on the framework, background, and general idea of Baigent's and Leigh's intellectual property.

To many in the literary world, the case Baigent and Leigh brought against Brown looked to be a clear case of copyright infringement; plagiarism. Myriad ideas put forth in Holy Blood, Holy Grail (HBHG) were present in nearly identical form in The Da Vinci Code, including a character who physically resembled the third author of HBHG, Henry Lincoln, and whose name, Leigh Teabing, is lifted directly from authors Leigh and Baigent (anagram of Teabing). The Justice who heard the case in UK Court disagreed with the accusers, and the verdict dictated that the ideas depicted in non-fiction work could not be plagiarized.

As a work of historical research, HBHG was often criticized as being faulty and venturing into the realms of fiction. So, ironically, if Baigent's and Leigh's work had been fiction, they would have likely won their plagiarism case against Brown. As it was, copyright precedent had been set for works of fiction to be able to use non-fiction ideas without infringement.

Our next example involves a case of fiction borrowing from other fiction, coming from a first time author and young student at Harvard University named Kaavya Viswanathan. At the age of 19, she had her first novel published to notable acclaim. How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got A Life garnered Viswanathan a large advance along with a two-book deal, praise from the Los Angeles Times, USA Today, The Boston Globe, and many others. An film deal with Steven Spielberg's company DreamWorks SKG had been signed. Her academic and literary future seemed bright (Bailey; McGonigle; Memmott).

Then The Harvard Crimson ran an article claiming Viswanathan had plagiarized 12 passages in her book from two novels by Megan McCafferty. The passages were more than merely similar, they were virtually identical (Zhou). Both the author and her publisher denied the accusations, but things got worse quickly. By mid-May of that year, the New York Times had covered the story with several articles, and the evidence of plagiarism expanded. From 12 passages to 29 passages to more than 40 passages of almost identical phrases had been used by Viswanathan, taken from the two novels by McCafferty, as well as novels by Sophie Kinsella, Meg Cabot, and Salman Rushdie. As it turned out, more passages from Viswanathan's debut novel were copied from previous works than were not (Zeller; Smith and Moto).

Soon the publishers, Little, Brown and Company pulled the book from stores—at first to republish it with the offending passages removed—but as the scandal grew, they cancelled republication and Viswanathan's book deal (Crimson).

When the initial accusations were reported, Viswanathan appeared on The Today Show with Katie Couric, were that she commented that she must have "internalized" the details of McCafferty's books without realizing it. Following the expansion of the accusations, neither Viswanathan, nor her publisher, offered further comment directly concerning the issue. Viswanathan has since left Harvard and is currently attending Georgetown University (Atwan).
Our third example is perhaps the most difficult to deduce facts from accusation since it involves the overlap of academia, professional publication, and the sometimes uncomfortable meeting between fiction and non-fiction narratives.

In 2005, Brad Vice was an assistant professor at Mississippi State University when he was awarded the 2004 Flannery O'Connor Award for his short story collection, The Bear Bryant Funeral Train. Not long after this announcement, a library advisor at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa (where Vice received his B.A. and where the story of contention is set) contacted the publisher of the award alleging plagiarism in one of the collected stories. Based on this single allegation, and without questioning the author, the University of Georgia Press rescinded the award to Vice, and ordered copies of his book to be pulled from distribution and pulped (Media Bistro).

Following this, Robert Clark Young published an article in the New York Press attacking not only Vice's short story collection, but extending the plagiarism claims to other short stories and articles Vice had written, but also calling into question Vice's Ph.D dissertation at the University of Cincinnati. Young's allegations went beyond Vice's work, but to his academic career, both as a teacher and a student, and made inflammatory comments about a number of another writers—all of whom were graduates of the Sewanee Writers' Conference—including Barry Hannah (Young; Sanford).

"Tuscaloosa Knights" was the story at the center of these allegations. It contained two sentences that were very similar to those appearing in a non-fiction book by Carl Carmer called Stars Fell On Alabama (It would be another year before a British court would offer an opinion as to the validity of fictional work using non-fiction source material, so a case of fiction "plagiarizes" non-fiction had not yet had a ruling in court). Carmer's work is quite famous around Tuscaloosa, as the author had been a professor at the university for a number of years in the 1930s, during which time he wrote his book (York). Vice stated that his use of Carmer's words and setting was an example of intertextual postmodernism, and an homage to Carmer's work. Indeed, previous version of the manuscript, including that of his Ph.D dissertation, contain epigrams to Carmer (Vice).

Critics, particularly Young, argued that it was deliberate plagiarism. Vice's supporters—who included other authors, editors of magazines where Vice's work had previously appeared, and Vice's former professors and advisors—leveled their own claims against Young, stating the latter man was bitter at Vice, Hannah, and the Sewanee Writers' Conference because Young's work was widely panned at the conference, and in his article accusing Vice of plagiarism, there are numerous factual errors concerning the Sewanee Conference and unfounded allegations against its sponsors and organizers.

The context in which Vice used a few sentences of Carl Carmer's work places the appropriated phrases in a very similar setting—that of a nighttime Ku Klux Klan rally in Tuscaloosa—but with different characters and a different outcome. Carmer's "Flaming Cross" chapter of Stars Fell On Alabama, was a description of an actual event (Carmer; Cobb). Vice's story is fictional, although keeps the setting of several people discussing, and then attempting to attend out of curiosity, the Klan rally (Vice).

The result of these allegations against Brad Vice resulted in his loss of the Flannery O'Connor Award (although another publisher picked up the book and made a few minor editorial changes) and eventually his dismissal from his position at Mississippi State University. He now teaches at the University of West Bohemia in the Czech Republic (ZČU).

These tales of caution bring us back to the quote we've attributed to Mark Twain, "Bad writers borrow from other writers; good writers steal," and our question at the beginning as to what such a volatile statement as that could possibly mean.

Twain is almost certainly not condoning nor encouraging plagiarism. What this quote is taken to mean is that if an idea or phrase or concept appeals to a writer, they shouldn't borrow it, as in merely using the words of another to make their own piece seem stronger or more literary or more legitimate, instead stealing an idea, concept, or phrase, means to take it and use it in a manner unique to the voice of the "thieving" writer; to re-engineer, deconstruct, improve, fold, spindle, and alter it into a manner fitting the voice and setting and framework of a new piece.
If all literary theft was plagiarism, Byron could sue Poe, Petrarch could sue Shakespeare, and Shakespeare could sue almost everyone else. T. S. Eliot called such appropriations "verbal kleptomania," and practiced such himself.

In other words, if you are going to liberate material from another writer—from another source—don't just rent it and make a copy; turn it into something of your own.

The moral of this story may well be: Be aware of where the words and ideas you use have been before they showed up on your page, but when they do—and here I steal a comment from Martin Luther—"sin bravely."


•


Works Cited

Atwan, Greg. "Kaavya Emptor."
02138 Dec. & Jan. 2008-2009, Vol. 3, No. 1.
Bailey, Marilyn. "HOWMTF:
How 'Opal' will make teen famous."
The Boston Globe 17 Apr. 2006.
Cobb, Mark Hughes.
"Book's passages raise questions of plagiarism."
TuscaloosaNews.com.
21 Oct. 2005. 22 Feb. 2009 .
The Crimson Staff.
"'Opal Mehta' Gone for Good; Contract Cancelled."
The Harvard Crimson [Cambridge]
2 May 2006.

Day, Elizabeth. "Two Academic Writers
Assert 'Da Vinci Code' Is Plagiarism."
Sunday Telegraph [London] 3 Oct. 2004.

"Department of English."
Západočeská Univerzita v Plzni,
ZČU
.
Apr. 2008. Web.
McGonigle, Thomas.
"The Saturday Read;
Oh c'mon, getting into
Harvard isn't that easy:
How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild,
and Got a Life: A Novel
."
Los Angeles Times 8 Apr. 2006.

Memmott, Carol.
"Charming 'Opal' shows smart can be funny."
USA Today 29 Mar. 2006.
Sanford, Jason.
"The literary lynching of Brad Vice."
StorySouth. 18 Dec. 2005. 22 Feb. 2009 .
Smith, Dinitia, and Moto Rich.
"A Second Ripple in Plagiarism Scandal."
New York Times 2 May 2006.

The Today Show. NBC. New York, NY. 26 Apr. 2006.
"U. of GA Press Recalls Stories, Revokes Prize."
Media Bistro. 27 Oct. 2005. 22 Feb. 2009 .
17 U.S.C. § 1-107 (2007).
U.S. Constitution. Art. I, § 8, cl. 8
Vice, Brad. The Bear Bryant Funeral Train.
1st ed. Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction.
Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2005.

Vice, William Bradley.
The Bear Bryant Funeral Train.
Dissertation.
University of Cincinnati, 2001.
York, Jake Adam.
"Fell In Alabama: Brad Vice's Tuscaloosa Night."
StorySouth. 13 Nov. 2005. 22 Feb. 2009 .
Young, Robert Clark. "A Charming Plagiarist."
New York Press 7 Dec. 2005.
Zeller, Jr., Tom.
"In Internet Age, Writers Face Frontier Justice."
New York Times 1 May 2006.
Zhou, David.
"Student's Novel Faces Plagiarism Controversy."
The Harvard Crimson [Cambridge] 23 Apr. 2006.


· • ·

Thursday, March 4, 2010

"Two-Thirty in the mornin' & I can't sleep..."

This was about the eighth assignment from Fiction I Class. We were to write "a letter story" (not that the fiction program at Columbia thought enough of us mere freshmen to actually tell us to write an epistolary tale, but that bleeds over into a philippic I will undoubtedly add to this blog at some future time concerning creative writing programs in general, and more specifically, my thoughts on the two I have personally been part of.

As for this piece, the teacher replied to me with, "You shouldn't write about something as complicated as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict."

At no point in this tale is there any mention nor even hint of Hebrew-Arabic strife, and, in fact, since two of the characters have Persian names (incidental to the point of the story), I really wondered if the teacher had actually read the piece at all.

Alas! Not the first time i would clash with the heirarchy of academia, especially in those aforementioned two creative writing programs.

The story here was triggered by a writing prompt: What you do at 2:30 in the morning.

~*~

FICTION I
October 4, 2007


"Two-Thirty in the mornin' & I can't sleep..."


Delivered-To: grim@nepenthe.net
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Date: Sun, 2 Dec 2007 02:39:59 -0700
From: L. Zakariyya
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Salaam! Shalom! And all other manner of salutations, O Grim One, my brother from another mother.

Insomnia again, so I'm doin' what I do. It's 2.30 in the mornin' and I still can't sleep. At least the paranoia's subsided a bit; it's all just anxiety and edges now.

The front room here is cramped and stuffy and smells like rotting lemons. No one's showered in a couple of days, but then again, no one is complainin' since we all equally stink. Ghada comes from downstairs and complains in her motherly tone about how typing in this dim light is gonna ruin my eyes. I've got my little desk lamp on that spills a tiny circle of light on my desk by the Underwood typewriter where I've been hammering out the manifestos. She reaches up under the thick woolen lamp shade and twists the little black knobs until it clicks twice and the stuffy room is filled with dirty yellow light. She looks down at Syd on the floor in front of the couch and just shakes her head. That's about the only expression anyone ever has for Syd.

Syd pulled the ugly green couch cushions off the couch and laid them out on the floor. With a faded brown crocheted blanket tossed over the scratchy hounds-tooth cushions, he spread out on them about an hour ago and now he's passed out. He's been doin' dex for a couple of days and ate a bunch of valium a few hours ago. He was readin' and now Hitchhiker's Guide is folded open on his chest, rising and falling with his erratic pharmaceutical sleep. We should maybe turn him on his side, but it's not a priority on anyone's list. Kira was matchin' Syd's intake, but she's farin' better than he is. A short nod in the recliner, but now she's awake and all fidgety, watchin' some black and white movie on tv with the sound turned down. Neal's in the other room with El and Fen and a couple of others whose names I don't know. El & Fen. Yeah, that's really their names. 'S what happens when you're "in the field", as it were, as opposed to just holdin' the safe house.

We were all freakin' out just after they got here this afternoon because about a half hour later, all the cops in the world showed up outside. We all went into defense mode, but it turned out their target was the house across the street. They were bustin' some dumb ass with a meth lab in his closet. Kinda funny, when ya think about it. Not funny, ha-ha, but funny, like, well, like the sort of funny where cops are bustin' a meth lab when right across the street. Freakin' meth lab! There goes the neighborhood, right!?

After last week's Thanksgiving bombs--a dozen chain store coffee shops were all blow up within sixty seconds of each other, coordinated terrorist attack, the news called it. The brand name coffee stores were closed at the time, of course, it was a holiday, so there were only a few people injured by the blasts. One person died. Anyway, I digress. Constantly. But you know that. As I was sayin', after last weeks' Thanksgiving bombs, the cops are naturally a bit jumpy. Witness the heavy response to the meth lab across the street. Ironic place for a safe house so close to a cop show like that!

Some cat I don't know comes in from the kitchen and asks me if I want to join them. "Zak'?" he called my name a few times before I noticed. I've been typin' out plans and peakin' out the window between half-open curtains at the chem suits across the street and tryin' to ignore the commotion from the kitchen. Dorian, that's this cat's name, Dorian Gray, just like the book, he's askin' me if I want to join them in the kitchen. "What's cookin'?" I ask. He tells me. Kira jumps at the offer. Absinthe, speed, and now they're fixin' some hot knives to smoke some hash. Strange safe house we've got here, but it's never drawn any attention in three years. I guess all safe houses could say that; they're safe regardless of what goes on inside them until they get raided. I look forward to staying at a place where these sort of things are the standard behavior.

The blend of spice smells is odd, anise and sweet tar. I'd like to, but I need to finish the outline of plans before I get any more fucked up. Not that they shouldn't be, right now. Hell, most of 'em have just finished their end of things for a while, so it's a good time to celebrate, I guess. And a few of the others don't have to be clear-eyed until tomorrow afternoon when they take out the children's gifts. But my end of things has to get done right now. Guidelines. Projections. Organizin'. Mappin' routes. And a couple other things. One of which I have just appointed for myself; that's to be paranoid enough for the rest of us. We had the obligatory visit a few hours ago from the cops who said all houses had to be evacuated because...well, he didn't say aloud why, but it was clear from the chem suit guys across the street in their big trucks. Explosive hazard, they said, and I laughed behind my straight face. I spoke with the cop and told him my elderly grandmother was an ornery ol' crone and said she'd be damned if they moved her out of her own house and where would she go anyway if they did. He bought it with change left over and told us he'd come back if necessary. It wasn't, of course. They hauled off the poor dumb kid--not yet twenty, from the look of him--who'd been cookin' meth in his closet or somethin'. Who'd have thought? Right across the street! It's just a quiet neighborhood.

Anyway, the smells from the kitchen was enticin', but I had to pass for now. Even when I got through writin' up the guide for everyone, and mappin' the routes and placements and such, I still had to go over the various drafts we had for the press release and finalize it. Then there was the finishin' touches to be done on the gift packages.

Ghada comes back in and asks when the Hanukkah gifts are goin' to be ready. The hash smell clings to her beautiful dark skin and bald head and I tell her to just be patient. She abstains from the absinthe and wine, of course, the Prophet speaks against intoxicants, but somehow, by the measures of her mosque, such abstinence doesn't include Lebanese hash. She takes a look over my shoulder at the maps and things I've already finished and seem to be pleased with the dropoff locations. She tries to take a gander at the manifesto, but until I'm finished with it, no one reads it.

The anxiety in the house is turning to excitement. I ask 'em if I could get just a small toke of somethin' before I finish wrapping the presents and they head off to the kitchen and I push my laptop (and this email to you) away and peer out the window again. The last of the chem trucks pulls away and I sigh a deep breath of relief. I didn't want to leave my window seat until they were all gone, so I guess it's time to play Santa Claus.

Does Santa come around on Hanukkah, too?

This year he will, I guess.

Ghada brings me a small hookah and I take a few quick puffs. Plus one more thinkin' of my distance brother. Kira gladly takes over the hookah. A thank you to Ghada and I'm off to the basement where the Hanukkah gifts sit in wait. Even when I smoke hash or even opium I can't sleep.

Just like Thanksgiving, we'll make sure our light display is afterhours. Collateral effects are always a factor in any human endeavor, but our show is not meant to be waged with flesh and blood. The manifesto cries for something beyond that...I triple check the wiring and it is all perfect. The taggants and detonators and caps. Everything is ready. I sit down in the small concrete cellar and smile at my array of Hanukkah gifts to the world. A two dozen packages of T4. The canvas, brush and paints for our masterpiece of fire, glass and stone.

Our Christmas party will be even better.

This is what I do at 2.30 in the morning when I can't sleep--

--Mondays will never be the same,

L. Zakariyya, Nepenthe


· • ·

"I Believe..."

This was an assignment to write a response for NPR's on-going series "I Believe..."

Extra-credit for submitting it, which, of course, I did. And it came as no surprise, as I stated within the framework of the response itself, NPR wouldn't touch it. I did, however, receive an email back from NPR that seemed to have been written by a person, stating that, although several of the editors found it more rational than most rants and more funny than most attempts at humor they receive, they would not use it for their program.

~•~
(3rd draft)


Writing & Rhetoric I
Reading Response #2: "I Believe..."

"I Believe..."

I believe that laughter is a holy, divine human trait.

I believe that it is not unpatriotic to say that I am sick and tired of hearing about September 11, 2001 as if it were the worse day in human history. There were worse days than that, even in American's short history, and there will probably be days which will be considered worse yet to come. I believe that a bunch of schmucks boarded airplanes that morning and flew them into buildings killing more than 3000 people they'd never met or spoken with. I believe that calling someone like Rudy Giuliani a "hero" is derogatory to people who actually do something heroic, like firefighters who, on thousands of other days not called "September 11, 2001", enter burning buildings in an attempt to save life and property of others they may have never met or spoken with. I believe that politicians who so casually use terms like "heroes" or "innocent victims" are likely the same people who continually turn a blind, arrogant eye to the rest of the world's (and their own country's) poverty and pain while they line their pockets with money not legitimately theirs and take profitable advantage of the misery and sorrow of those affected by tragedies such as September 11, Hurricane Katrina, and the continual daily hardships of not having enough food or adequate health care.

I believe that the worst terrorists in the world hold elected and appointed offices. I believe that exchanging liberty for the promised illusion of security is a large step on the path of a totalitarian society. I believe that Democrats are really no different from Republicans, but are probably more inept, although feel slightly more guilty about their incessant greed.

I believe that Bill Clinton is a liar, but he lied well, and with many witnesses.

I believe that George Bush is a poorly-spoken liar, but has enough witnesses to intimidate people from challenging his badly told lies.

I believe that anyone who compares Hitler, Nazis, and/or the Holocaust to anything other than the likes of Pol Pot, Stalin, China, Khmer Rouge, Rwanda, Bosnia, and Darfur displays ignorance, and, regardless of their skin color or religious trappings, comparing the Holocaust to something that is not a regimented genocide automatically disqualifies the speaker from rational, intelligent discussion. I believe that criticizing the nation of Israel does not even remotely make the critic anti-Semitic.

I believe that there are only two sources for almost any human action or thought: Love and Fear.

I believe that NPR isn't going to touch this essay with a ten foot pole.

I believe that yesterday can remind us all something about what we (hopefully) have already learned. I believe that today is wonderful, regardless of the weather or what I may or may not have to do before it has passed. I believe that tomorrow, like yesterday and today going to be another beautiful miracle.

I believe that whatever happens, I'm still going to laugh.


· • ·

Authorial Intention

The purpose for this blog is two-fold:

1: to provide a space for the ideas I have that make it to the page is some sort of rational coherence.

2: to provide an archive of (some) my university papers, without any further editing than they received prior to being turned in.

This latter point is a cringe-inducing thought. As a writer, I wonder about putting forth work in any kind of public venue, let alone that with which I haven't edited for public consumption. But, being that these are the versions of papers that were graded and deemed to be worthy of the high marks which I received for them, they must be worth something. Of course, a reader could finish one and wonder how in the hell did he receive an A for this!? That teacher must be crazy. And to that I say, let's see your work and we'll analyze the rubric against which your instructors measured that work.

These university papers will be posted with information about what draft was handed in (I may be holding a blade to my own throat with that ideal); the grade for each was an A unless otherwise indicated.

As for the former idea, well, that's where the philippic of this comes it. Sometimes I write things that would best be heard as my barbaric YAWP atop a soap box (or milk crate) in a subway station of your choosing. That station then, quite likely, would be one that you were not personally in at the time of the YAWPing.

Schools; Departments:
Columbia College Chicago; Fiction Department (Fall 2007-Spring 2008)
University of North Carolina—Wilmington; Creative Writing (Fall 2008-Spring 2009), English (Fall 2009-current).


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