If you drive due west from Salt Lake City, past the Great Salt Lake and out across the West Desert, you’ll arrive in an hour or two — depending on how heavy your right foot happens to be — at a dusty outpost town called Wendover. Well, technically you’ll find two Wendovers out that way, because the town straddles the Utah-Nevada border. On the Nevada side, a handful of casinos and other, ahem, adult businesses lend West Wendover a certain glitz and affluence. Wendover, Utah, on the other hand, is much quieter, darker, and sadder, a fading remnant of more important days.
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It’s a Paradox, Charlie Brown
So, as I mentioned earlier, I sat up half the night last night talking politics with an old friend. The conversation — which occasionally flirted with becoming an argument but thankfully never went too far in that direction — was pretty standard liberal vs. conservative stuff and isn’t worth detailing here. (Not that I could reconstruct much of it anyhow; one consequence — or perhaps it’s a blessing — of having these conversations at two in the morning is that they end up looking pretty hazy the next day.) But one thing my friend said struck me as noteworthy, because it was so unexpected and, from my point of view, so very odd.
My friend said that he and others he knows who share similar views often feel like they don’t dare express their opinions, for fear of offending people, starting an argument, and/or being unfairly judged. Now, I completely understand and sympathize with that feeling. As a self-identified liberal* living in the reddest state in the Union, I experience it to one degree or another just about every day. It’s the reason why I rarely blog about politics or controversial topics, because I know the bulk of my audience doesn’t agree with me and I don’t want to pick fights with my friends (or, indeed, with anyone; I don’t need the elevated blood pressure and anxiety that comes with it). But here’s the thing that I found so strange about my friend’s comment: his opinions are basically the same as those of roughly 75 percent of this state’s population. In other words, the overwhelming majority of people around these parts are on his side. So realistically just who does he think he’s going to offend? Why should he of all people feel insecure about speaking up?
I don’t mean to make light of what he said or invalidate his feelings in any way — if he feels intimidated or inhibited, that’s what he feels and it’s not my place to say he’s wrong for feeling that way. And perhaps I misunderstood what he was getting at; maybe he was just saying what my mom has always told me, which is that it’s impolite and generally a bad idea to discuss religion and politics openly. Maybe his job places him in situations where he’s more likely to find himself interacting with that dissenting minority and he’s had to learn to keep his mouth shut to avoid problems (welcome to my world). But given the overall demographics of our environment here… well, it just struck me as a very odd thing to say…
* For what it’s worth, my friend told me he doesn’t think I’m as liberal as I believe myself to be. I suppose I should take that as a form of compliment.
This Is Just What You Want to Hear…
…first thing after a foolishly late night of debating politics with an old friend followed by very little sleep:
more animals
McMuffin anyone?
Post Christmas
I hope everyone reading had a nice Christmas or other mid-winter holiday unique to your tradition and preference. My own was unexpectedly good, with much more contentment and much less angst and drama than in years past. Of course, the weather sucked. Seriously, after three days of more-or-less constant snowfall and four sessions of driveway clearing, you can have your winter frickin’ wonderland. (God, my shoulders are sore.)
My corporate overlords have kindly granted me the next week off, so, among lots of other projects I need to do around the house, I hope to complete some unfinished blog entries that have been hanging over my head for a while now. Stay tuned…
Christmas with the Doctors
If I was embarrassed by the level of my own geekery on display in the previous entry, than this one is going to be downright mortifying. Still, it made me laugh, so I figured it was worth passing on, although you’ll have to be something of a geek yourself to see the humor:
This is a clip from a BBC sketch comedy show called Dead Ringers. I’m not familiar with it, but they certainly live up to the name in this piece. The guy playing the Fourth Doctor especially amazes me; he doesn’t particularly look like Tom Baker, but the voice and, my god, the laugh are uncanny. Good stuff!
My thanks to SamuraiFrog, who is pretty uncanny himself in his ability to find stuff like this…
In Memoriam: Majel Barrett Rodenberry
I’m late in commenting on this, so I’m sure everyone reading already knows that Majel Barrett Roddenberry, the widow of Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry and the only actor with the distinction of having appeared, in some form or other, in every incarnation of the long-running franchise — including the Saturday-morning cartoon in the early ’70s and, reportedly, the upcoming remake film — died last week after a short fight with leukemia. She was 76 years old.
You’d never guess from the usual content of this blog, but I’m not always comfortable with my own fanboyism, especially when it comes to revealing the depths of my attachment to the nerdy stuff that consumes so much of my attention. Still, I have to admit that I flinched when I heard this news. Another of the original crew gone…
The ’80s in Ten Minutes
Seeing all those glorious mullets and baggy t-shirts and big-block plaids earlier sent me wandering around the InterWebs in search of more of the nostalgic same, which eventually led me to 80s-Music.net and the following compilation of music-video clips that span the entire decade. It’s pretty fun:
Is it just me or did music go to hell the year after I graduated from high school (1987)?
So Many Mullets…
I’ve noted before that I’m not a big fan of Christmas music, and the stuff from that I do like tends to be of the more melancholy, wistful variety. The upbeat songs usually make me squirm, because their cheerfulness so often strikes me as synthetic and forced, if not downright hysterical — “Carol of the Bells” is a particular offender in the “hysteria” category; it always sounds to me like the performers are going to ram their bells down our throats if we don’t acknowledge their mantra of “merrymerrymerrymerrychristmas!” — and also because I simply don’t want to give into their shiny insistence that everything is holly-jolly-wonderful. So I was a little bit surprised at just how happy this old music video made me feel when I ran across it earlier, especially considering that I’ve been teetering at the edge of my annual funk for a couple of days:
Yes, I know this song — “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” by Band Aid, in case you don’t remember — and its American counterpart, “We Are the World,” are sappy and condescending toward the very people they were recorded to help, and we all got really damn tired of hearing them every five minutes (especially “We Are the World,” which at its peak was well-nigh inescapable). But I got a kick out of seeing the old clothing styles and trying to identify all the participants, and… well, hell, I’m not going to apologize for the fact that this little piece of ’80s claptrap made me feel better on a gloomy morning. Maybe it’ll do the same for someone out there…
Via Sullivan, who made me smile with his quip that, “George Michael’s hair always makes my yuletide gayer.”
For the record, I still miss my mullet.
He Puts the Neo in Neo-Con
By now, everyone has no doubt seen that video of a disgruntled Iraqi journalist hurling his shoes at President Bush in a gesture of contempt. Naturally, the Internet was immediately awash in parodies, mash-ups, and remixes of said video. Here’s my favorite response thus far:
(I moved it below the fold as a favor to anyone with a slow-loading connection…)
A Simile Too Far
My lovely Girlfriend has informed me that yesterday’s entry may fall into the dread category of “Too Much Information.” To anyone whose sensibilities were offended by my description of my physical symptoms, I apologize.
Still… I thought the hand-cranked egg beaters were a pretty powerful image. Sometimes I actually believe I might be one of those writer fellows you hear so much about…