Debris
«chaque notaire porte en soi les débris d’un poète.»Archive for video
Greensboro Goddam
In the crush of a busy week, I nearly overlooked the fact that Tuesday marked the 30th anniversary of the Greensboro Massacre, in which neo-Nazis and KKK members murdered five anti-racist and labor activists and wounded another eleven. As far as I can tell, the anniversary passed without any official public commemoration in Greensboro. I can understand that residents might be reluctant to recall that dark moment in our city’s history. A Truth & Reconciliation Commission held public hearings and issued a detailed report just a few years ago. But my sense, as a newcomer to the city, is that sentiment remains divided, both about the massacre itself and about the commission.
However painful, it is essential that we remember.
Der verlag mit der fleige
German publisher Eichborn staged a clever promotional stunt at the 2009 Frankfurt Book Fair: they released flies bearing tiny banners attached with wax. Insect rights activists were outraged. Everyone else was amused.
(Thanks to Moldy Chum for the tip)
More authoritarian personality on display
In this installment, an upstate NY police officer drags a woman out of her minivan (in full view of her kids), shoots her multiple times with a taser, and shoves of face down in the middle of an icy street. Her “crime”? Asking to see the videotape supposedly showing her using a cell phone while driving (she wasn’t, and it didn’t, so the cop made up a bogus speeding charge instead).
Police abuse doesn’t only affect scary gang members or uppity Black men. And it isn’t only about racism. It’s about power.
(Thanks to Feminist Law Professors for the tip.)
The authoritarian personality on display
Gang leader Jorge Cornell is running for City Council in Greensboro. Yesterday, he was arrested and charged with “obstructing and delaying a law enforcement officer.” As the video shows, he was doing nothing more than talking to the police, in a reasonably calm and non-threatening manner. As with the Gates brouhaha, this is another example of how the police simply can’t abide the idea of anyone not bowing down to their authority.
If this happened in Iran, there would be howls of protest across the U.S. media. Because it happened here, and because Cornell is a “gang leader” rather than an “opposition figure”, the incident will attract almost no notice.
Unleashing my inner Don Draper
Once upon a time, I actually considered a career in advertising. I was contemplating dropping out of grad school, and advertising was among the few fields I could think of where someone with graduate training in sociology might be employable. To my surprise, I got interviews with several of the major agencies in Chicago–Leo Burnett, BBDO, DDB/Nedham–and one of them (I won’t say which) appeared genuinely interested, inviting me for multiple callbacks. In the process, however, I decided that I should stick it out in grad school (though I did ultimately drop out and move from sociology to law).
That experience may help explain my obsession with Don Draper. While I maintain the appropriately critical stance toward advertising and marketing for someone of my political and academic ilk, I do find the ad world–or at least the high modern 1950s & 1960s ad world as depicted in Mad Men–tremendously fascinating and rather alluring in the way many things that are bad for you tend to be.
All of which is a long, and perhaps unnecessary, preface to this video. 3banana Notes is a handy little application that I discovered when I got my Android phone. As part of a promotional campaign, I made this video showing how I used 3banana to plan a recent fishing trip. I had fun putting it together (and it earned me a generous gift card to Amazon, which is nice). And I’m happy to help publicize something that I’ve found genuinely useful.
Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
While rummaging through my box of memories, I found my “Certificate of Registration” from when I lived in England as a graduate student. Under the Immigration Act of 1971, I was required to carry this certificate (really a passport-sized booklet) with me at all times, and produce it on demand by any police or immigration officer. I don’t recall ever being asked to produce it except at the airport when entering the country.
What is especially striking (apart from the amusing fact that the officer who registered me was named “David Hume”) is how utterly old-fashioned the document is. All the information was entered by hand or with a rubber stamp. The photograph is affixed with staples. It looks as though it could just as easily date from 1934 as 1984. No doubt the contemporary equivalent is a small plastic card with a magnetic strip. I can’t imagine that such a thing would stir such memories as this old paper relic.
Just can’t find the time to write my mind the way I want it to read
While looking for something else in the garage, my attention was diverted by a box of old letters and postcards gathering dust on the shelves. Fortunately, for both my productivity and my mental health, I didn’t spend too much time on that diversion. But I did read one letter that brought back bittersweet memories prompting thoughts of roads not taken. With the benefit of hindsight, I suspect that particular fork would have put me on the road to nowhere. But I still think it would have been an interesting ride.
Calm that wicked wind
Yes, they’re horribly precious hipsters. But I still like Bishop Allen’s music, and this song is quite charming.
(Video from The Holland Project of Reno, NV)
