Nothing to see here. Move along.

Today I was in a rare face-to-face meeting with a client. I was describing how social content and social network tagging would be an easy way to generate lists of news articles that they could syndicate their own or other Web sites. Yawn, right? Then I mentioned in passing that I use on my personal blog.

"Really? You have a blog? What is it? Can we read it?"

"Oh, you really wouldn't find it interesting. It's just, y'know, stuff I write so people can ignore it on a mass scale."

"So you're not going to tell us the Web address?"

I was in a bind. I really don't want my politics and crackpot opinions to intruded on my relationship with my clients. If I'd enthusiastically encouraged them to come look at the blog, it would have guaranteed they wouldn't. But at that point, I'd become evasive. Being more evasive would only make it worse. So I gave them the URL, and hoped they would stay away.

So, dear client, if you are reading this: Congratulations. You found it. Now please get back to your vital work. Every second you spend here is comes at the cost of your mission. Lives are at stake.

Still here? Damn. Then I'm going to have to write about technology.

Leveraging social networks using RSS feeds, chat, video, file sharing, and discussion groups is a mission-driven strategy for engaging stakeholders as a community, not just as "end users." These tactics, when incorporated into a comprehensive strategic plan, will have positive externalities, including enhanced search engine optimization... blah... blah...

...blah.

Whew. That was a close one.

Presidents that Bridge the Racial Divide

I recently saw The Presidents of the United States of America (PUSA) at The 9:30 Club in Washington DC. (An unexpected treat was Joe Jack Talcum, formerly of The Dead Milkmen as the opening act.)

Prior to the show, my friend Abhishek and I found a pretty good spot in the balcony. I scanned the crowd and summarized: white men in their mid-30's. That assessment settled in--along with a vague disappointment that I somewhat fit a stereotype. I texted my friend Ron, just to make him jealous. Soon the show began.

I was digging the first few songs, when a black woman apparently in her 20's asked me to squeeze over so she could see better. I complied (happily), but found myself asking (stupidly) to myself (thankfully), Do black people like this band? Maybe she's here on a date. But, no, she started singing along--an obvious fan.

I felt so much better knowing that the PUSA fan base was broader than me and my demographic ilk.

It was a very fun show. In my sheltered life, I've never been to a concert where there was crowd surfing--but there was a bunch of it that night.

This is a cell-phone video filmed that night by someone else. At 2min 35sec, check out the headbanger right in front of Chris Ballew, the singer.




Incidently, the 9:30 Club employs the most intimidating bouncer I've ever seen. I was certain I could find a picture of him on the Web, and I was right. His name is Josh Burdette, and he is quite articulate, as you can find out in this Washington Post article.

"Articulate." That's a loaded word now, you know. It can imply low expectations, as in "You wouldn't think it to look at him, but he can actually express himself in grammatically-correct English." Which is exactly the kind of surprise I felt when I read the interview with Burdette. When I experience a moment like this, the note-to-self is not that a particular person is an exception to the rule, but instead that I need to examine this particular preconception--and perhaps discard it.

Last year, Sen. Joe Biden characterized Barack Obama as "articulate" and got chastised for it. President Bush also used the "A" word to describe Obama, but with less backlash. (Perhaps reporters gave Bush a pass as a reward four using a fancy four-syllable word.) The political field manual needs an entry that says, "Never refer to a racial minority as 'articulate.'"

Anyway, I rent cars fairly frequently, because I don't personally own one anymore. But when I turn on the radio, I involuntarily assess the previous renter, based on the radio station. If it's an R&B or rap station (as it often will be in the DC area), I will assume the previous renter was black. (However, I would not assume the same in Flagstaff, AZ. In the DC area, though, you have about a 50% chance of correctly guessing black as the race of anyone chosen at random. Add rap music as another data point, and your odds are better than even.)

Also, I have a mildly passive-aggressive habit of setting the radio station presets to NPR stations. I'm not sure what that's about, but when I do it, I get a feeling that says, Take that, Rap. (In my white mind, rap is a proxy for misogyny, glorifying crime, etc. Another preconception that is under examination.)

So, the other day I reserved a car from Enterprise, and was picked up by Kwame--yes, a black man. I mentioned something about Flagstaff. Inexplicably, he started asking me about Shakespeare. "What was the name of the friend of Henry IV? Was it Flagstaff?"

"Uh, I think it was Falstaff," I said, not being 100% sure.

"That right: Falstaff."

Kwame must have assumed in me a much greater familiarity with Shakespeare than is the case. He asked me about several plays he had either read, or seen on stage or on film. I felt outclassed, but didn't want to let on the extent of my Shakespeare cluelessness. I also found myself thinking, Isn't he articulate.

Later, when I signed the rental contract and drove off alone, I realized that Kwame already had the radio tuned to NPR.

Fox Weather: Hell Freezing Over

Fox talking heads getting snippy with each other over Obama's speech on race:
http://tedjohnson.us/url/?TlRqY4MD

Chris Wallace chides the Fox talking heads for excessive Obama bashing:
http://tedjohnson.us/url/?zn4te0j9

Mike Huckabee defends Obama vis-a-vis Rev. Wright:
http://tedjohnson.us/url/?p01QXd54

Googling Rev. Wright with Anger and Hate

While I'm not interested in defending Rev. Jeremiah Wright, I couldn't help noticing how often the words "hate" and "hateful" have been used to characterize his controversial statements, not to mention his entire ministry, and his influence on Barack Obama.

Obama, in an impressive speech last Tuesday, characterized Rev. Wright as "angry" and "bitter."

For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up vote.

Not to be deterred, the wingnut-o-sphere is still working hard to get "HATES AMERICA" stamped across Obama's forehead.

Out of curiosity, I went to Google, did a few searches and counted up the results. I searched for the terms Obama, Jeremiah, and Wright under different conditions:

• with "hate" or "hateful" but without "anger" or "angry"
  
• with "anger" or "angry" but without "hate" or "hateful"
  

Results: When Obama and Rev. Wright are part of the context, "hate" outperforms "anger" by 37 points.

These numbers reflect Google search results conducted this evening. Your results may vary:

Terms	Results	Percent
Obama Jeremiah Wright hate OR hateful -anger -angry	114,000	69%
Obama Jeremiah Wright anger OR angry -hate -hateful	52,400	31%
Total	785,000	100%

On the Web, "hate" outperforms "anger" on its own by only 24 points (when searched for with no other keywords or context). Perhaps this means that the effort to paint Obama (via Wright) as anti-American is ahead the general usage of "hate" when compared to "anger." Probably not. I'm sure my results don't mean anything. This methodology is full of holes and totally unscientific. But I spent a bunch of time on this and I'll be damned if I'm not going to publish it.

Footnote: Once again, I thought I'd invented a word, but "wingnut-o-sphere" has already been used.

Nailing "The Passion" Upside Down

Note: This is my contribution to Blog Against Theocracy 2008. You know about that, right? It was in all the papers. A bunch of bloggers, blogging about other blogs...and...stuff... So this is my take on The Passion of the Christ, four years late.

When The Passion of the Christ came out, you heard a lot of rhetorical questions that began with a variation of, "How could anyone see the film, and..."

...not walk away a believer.
...find it anti-Semitic.
...not find it anti-Semitic.

Well, I actually liked the movie, perhaps for the reasons unintended by Mel Gibson.

My first reaction:

How could anyone see this film and not become an advocate for human rights?

I have never seen a more visceral depiction of torture on film, and I don't want to. Jesus is brutally abused by civil servants--or perhaps they are contractors. Nonetheless, in a civilized society there can be no sanction for sadistic treatment of anyone in the custody of the government.

At least Jesus was afforded the right of habeas corpus, not that it did him much good. Didn't he appear before Pilate--twice? In Jesus: The Guantanamo Years, comedian Abie Philbin Bowman suggests that today, Jesus wouldn't even be given that.

And why was Jesus tortured? Because he espoused views that were threatening to an established, politically-connected, religious hierarchy.

Which brings me to my other reaction:

How could anyone see this film and not conclude that, in a just society, civil and religious authority should not be mixed?

In this case, it was the Roman colonial government trading favors with the Jewish Pharisees--but it could apply to any government anywhere, and any religious cabal.

Look around the world today for religious persecution, and you will find a preponderance of states where the government is infused by a particular religion or sect. Generally speaking, religion ranks pretty high among the justifications people have for being shitty to one another. But combine that with the power of the state--formally or informally--and you have a recipe for oppression.

The story of Jesus, the Pharisees, and Pilate is a universal parable on the liabilities of sectarian influences on government. Certainly a government has an obligation to keep a watch on messianic cults within the society. But when government delegates to religious leaders to do the watching, all citizens should become very concerned.

If there had been separation of church and state in first century Judea, Jesus' ministry might have fizzled out. He might have gone back to carpentry. And we all would have been better off--particularly the corporeal Jesus.

Now that's an alternative ending I want to see on the DVD.

Happy Easter.

---

Update (3/23/2008, Easter Sunday):

Somehow I completely forgot this:

How could anyone see the film and not oppose capital punishment?

Who among us is safe from a similar, irreversible injustice if even the Messiah can get the death penalty--after being hastily convicted, on trumped up charges, without a fair trial, where the witnesses against Him (the only witnesses) had highly questionable motives?

Should Creationists Pilot Planes?

I arrived at Dulles International early this AM on a red eye flight from Phoenix. I found the bus I would take into D.C. A 40-ish man in an overcoat was preparing to board the bus too. He was tall, and looked vaguely like Dick Van Dyke--friendly and easygoing, by appearance.

We spoke briefly, discussing various payment options for public transportation in the DC Metro area. He thanked me, and removed his overcoat--revealing a US Airways uniform with three bars on the epaulets. A pilot perhaps?

When he settled into his seat across from me, he pulled out this in plain view:

Evolution Exposed: Your Evolution Answer Book For The Classroom

I found it disturbing. Alienating. Jesus, it bugged me that I might be in the presence of a creationist.

It bugged me that it bugged me too.

Why should it surprise me, since nearly half of Americans do not believe in evolution (more than half among Republicans)? Should I expect the doubters of science to keep their incredulity in the closet? Is this how a creationist feels when they know they are in the presence of an evolutionist?

He wasn't flaunting it at all, or waving it in my face tauntingly. He was just passing the time on the bus with the book he happened to be reading.

My thoughts continued to race. I own a couple of anti-evolution books, more for irony and ridicule than anything. Perhaps my pilot friend was just keeping up on the forces opposing science. I couldn't convince myself of this.

It even occurred to me--fleetingly--to say something to the guy. An inquiry, or a snotty comment, or disclosure that I--the friendly guy who helped him with bus--I am a supporter of the prevailing, accepted, not-controversial-among-scientists paradigm on the origin of species.

Leave him alone, I concluded. I put on my headphones and decided to listen to a podcast. I chose Skepticality - The Official Podcast of Skeptic Magazine. That didn't help. I kept glancing at him and his infernal book.

How, I wondered, can someone whose livelihood requires that he use and understand the technology of modern aviation, how can this person reject science altogether in another realm of cognition. Clearly it is easy to do. Take, for example, the 9/11 hijackers, who learned to pilot planes (with no interest in learning how to land them). Take them also as an example that superstitious beliefs have consequences--even some beliefs that seem to be benign differences of opinion. Take them as proof that the logical conclusion of such beliefs can be terrifying. This is where my thoughts took me while I continued my bus ride with Dick Van Dyke.

It's always bugged me, how many religious people deny science when it is inconvenient to their cherished superstitions. Yet these people will also use the commonplace technology of modern existence--say, a microwave oven--as though the science and the appliance do not often rest on the same proven research, the same well-understood phenomena.

If you deny that microwave radiation can help establish the age of a fossil--or of the universe--isn't it blasphemy to say that it can heat up your in-flight meal, much less that it can assist you in tracking weather for aircraft navigation?

If your profession puts you in contact with contagious air travelers from around the world, but you deny that species evolve through natural selection, shouldn't you continue using last year's flu vaccine--for it would be apostasy to believe that the flu virus has become resistant.

I could go on, but I have work to do. Paid work.

Although my fellow bus passenger is no longer near me, I've decided that there is something I can do after all. Something small and non confrontational to make myself feel better. In the tradition of Google bombing, I will link to information about the book using not the title, but keywords that will be picked up by the indexing algorithms of Google and other search engines.

• Crock of shit
• Crock of shit
• Crock of shit
  

You can help by linking too. Here is the code to paste into your HTML:

<ul><li><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Exposed-Answer-Classroom-Paperback/dp/1600920160">Crock of shit</a></li><li><a href="http://www.answersingenesis.org/PublicStore/product/Evolution-Exposed-Expanded-Edition,4579,224.aspx">Crock of shit</a></li><li><a href="http://search.a1books.com/cgi-bin/mktSearch?act=showDesc&code=gbase&rel=1&ITEM_CODE=1600920160">Crock of shit</a><br /></li></ul><br /><br />

Born-again Bassist

I have a religious analogy for working on songs (never mind that I'm an atheist). This is it in a nutshell: Each song is a god. Musicians performing a song are conducting a sacrament, the purpose of which is to serve and glorify the particular song god. If a musician tries to glorify himself (with extra volume, overplaying, or attention-hogging stage antics) then the song god suffers.

I've always thought of myself as a songwriter first, and a bassist second. Since I haven't been in a band in many years, the bass hasn't been a part of my songwriting toolkit. I've been composing almost exclusively on acoustic guitar--when I've made time to compose at all. Now that I'm recording, and collaborating on Indaba, I'm finding that my approach to bass has changed.

I never was a particularly flashy player, but looking back, I realize that my approach to composition used to be concerned with holding my interest as a bassist, and not always with what was right for the song. When a member of a band said "my part is boring to play" I'd say, "Suck it up for the good of the song." But...I always made my own part interesting, at least as a player.

I seem to have turned the tables on myself now. My newer songs--and the songs to which I'm contributing on Indaba--aren't necessarily built from the bass up. I'm often left with the feeling that the bass parts are unsatisfying to play.

Suck it up, Johnson, for the song gods.

After years of neglect I've been starting to enjoy playing bass again lately, mostly because of a song called "Blindin'Lights." It's by a guy named Robert Tripp from the Indaba Music site, and I offered to put bass to it.

So far I'm the only one who has contributed. I just think it's a really cool song.

(To listen, go here. Click on the "Tracks" tab, and you'll find a link to my bass contribution. The bass is mixed a little loud, because I wanted to make sure Robert heard the idea clearly.)

"Blindin' Lights," has given me a chance to have it both ways as a bassist. I'm not quite sure what the lyrics are about, but here's my interpretation:

It's directed toward a Christian Pentecostal, who is obsessed with salvation, but is living a miserable life.

Remind me when we get there. Sometimes I think it's hard to tell.
That blissful destination, but gettin' there's the part that's hell.

I see you crawling on the floor. It's like your barely alive.
The blindin' lights have consumed you. You're movin' real slow when you're talking that jive.

Sometimes I feel like a savior when I'm talking you down.
That's the same old conclusion. On tower goes up, there's another falls down.

"Crawling on the floor"..."talking that jive"... "tower...falls down"...? I take these as references to Pentecostal writhing and speaking in tongues and their link to the Biblical myth of the Tower of Babel.

...the languages of humanity were differentiated at the Tower of Babel leading to confusion, but were reunited at Pentecost...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossolalia

I liked the song even before I began to analyze the words. And until Robert tells me I'm off base, my take on the lyrics is another reason for me to enjoy working on this song.

A Wild Blue Blunder?

The Air Force revealed it's new slogan and emblem a couple of weeks ago. I just found out about it from the snarkholes at Boing Boing.

I didn't get what the snickering was all about, and it bugged me enough to go figure it out. This is what I learned:

In German, "above all" is "uber alles"--as in "Deutschland über alles"--as in the German national anthem.

The ridiculing of the Air Force seems misplaced.

It's worth noting that Deutschland, Deutschland über alles predates Nazi Germany--just as the USA's national anthem predates several regrettable periods in our history. (The line about "the land of the free" was written by a slave owner while slavery was still constitutional, and it was adopted as the official anthem in 1931 while racial segregation was still legally practiced in many parts of the country.)

The Nazis kept the first stanza of the German anthem, which begins "Deutschland, Deutschland über alles," but they dropped the rest and added their own racist lyrics. Imagine that for awhile there was a popular Jim Crow segregationist version of The Star Spangled Banner, that only retained the first stanza. Would that permanently disrepute on the original anthem?

(Apparently a racist song, Jump Jim Crow, was once mistake for our national anthem. This isn't just crazy conjecture, you know.)

So the "Above All" slogan isn't necessarily original, but it shouldn't be associated exclusively with Nazi Germany either. Should it be associated with the US Air Force? That's not for me to say. But if Nazism is the first thing that comes to mind when some people hear the slogan, it suggest that the Air Force could have done their homework better.

The first thing that came to my mind was the Van Halen logo.



BTW: I thought I'd invented the word "snarkhole" just now, but I was wrong.

Jane Fonda, Penn Jillette, and the Grudge that Keeps on Giving

A couple of weeks ago, Penn Jillette decided to chime in on the controversy that followed after Jane Fonda said "cunt" on national television. In fact, it was from Penn's video diary that I heard about the non-event.

From Crackle: Penn Says - Jane Fonda Says C*nt

Penn provided the catalyst for me to put down why this grudge has always bothered me.

Whenever someone refers to Fonda as "Hanoi Jane" (and it's usually a conservative) I think to myself, this decades-old grudge makes her so much more important than she deserves to be. She's a fucking actress! What she did in 1972 in Hanoi (for which she apologized years later) was stupid and irresponsible. Imagine that: a stupid, irresponsible entertainer!

Whenever Jane Fonda succeeds in reminding the world that she exists, it provides the Fonda grudge holders of the world an opportunity to give her even more undeserved attention--and they can never resist it.

One of my favorite Warner Bros. cartoons is "An Itch in Time" which features a dog with a flea, but the dog is threatened by Elmer Fudd that he will get a bath if he scratches himself again. The dog is in agony from the itching. He creeps over to the sleeping cat and kicks it. The cat responds instantly by rapidly scratching the dog. The dog leans into the scratching with an ecstatic sigh.

To me, the dog is Jane Fonda, the flea is her celebrity narcissism, and the cat represents all of the Jane haters that can't help but give her the satisfaction she is seeking.

The scratching moment occurs at about 5:50. It's hilarious.



I actively work at not knowing or caring about the personal lives and the personal opinions of entertainers. I only wish it were as easy as maintaining my ignorance about the personal opinions of other people from whose professions I benefit. For example, the last interaction I had with an unfamiliar person was the cashier at a bookstore tonight. His personal and political opinions had no reason to intrude on my dealings with him tonight--and they didn't. (Though he did provide me with excellent, friendly service.)

Penn Jillette should be no exception to me, but I can't help but think of him as someone I would like if I knew him personally. For one, he's a public atheist, and he's funny--a celebrity antidote for the charmlessness of the atheists getting press lately. In addition, he's an anti-celebrity in the sense that he seems to have little vanity, nor does he seem overly invested in wanting to be loved--or hated.

Perhaps I'm projecting. He is an entertainer after all. He's on "Dancing With the Stars" now, for chrissakes. I've been watching and enjoying his video diary since it came out, and have found myself a bit disappointed in some of his statements and opinions--such as his adding to the latest "Hanoi Jane" chatter.

Cyd and I saw Penn & Teller last Sunday in Las Vegas. After the show, I stood in a short line to get Penn's autograph on my souvenir program. I remained aware that I had no legitimate reason to seek his autograph, and no reason to be disappointed in his opinions--anymore than the bookstore cashier tonight.

Cyd offered to document the autograph moment by taking a picture of me with Penn. That's where I drew the line. She knew I was fawning over a celebrity in my own conflicted way, and I felt a little ashamed.

Half-Hearted Fanatic

This is quote is attributed in many places to Edward Abbey, although I can't locate the original source:

One final paragraph of advice: Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am-a reluctant enthusiast... a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there. So get out there and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this:

You will outlive the bastards.

--Edward Abbey

I've decided to go ahead and believe that it's a real quote. I think of this when I find myself lacking in commitment to my values, wanting instead to have fun. I provide the quote here to explain the title of my blog, and to explain, in advance, that if my postings are infrequent, it is because I'm choosing to spend less time as a deskbound person.

The snow is melting. I need to fix that flat on my mountain bike.