A flickering match point excels softly into the aether.

Transcending the emotional into an equally mortified existence,

It becomes necessary to transform into a spectral entity that subsists

solely on the random grief of strangers who flock for the sole purpose

of experiencing the momentary gladness of being.

An entire being composed of thought and sadness.

A flickering luminescence haunts an antiquated framework.

Incandescence flows in a solitary manner

unbeknownst to those most faithful to the cause.

I become confident that I know

the most effective course to steer the fragmented ship of emotions

that have ravaged the mindful tenants of this most respected and treasured

of foes.

After morrow becomes a moot point.

War Plans?
Today's edition of the Guardian has a troubling article regarding the Bush administration's advanced plans to bomb Iran, which refuses to cease the uranium enrichment that may or may not be for the purposes of creating a nuclear weapon; in fact, Iran's president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has gone so far as to claim that the work is so far advanced at this point as to be "irreversible." To be more specific, the article is about an article, a coming piece by Seymour Hersh in the New Yorker. Of course, the piece was greeted with denials from the White House who insist that no such planning is under way and that it is in fact absurd to even suggest such a thing, and Hersh continues to stand by his reporting that, as usual, was gleaned mostly from unnamed sources.

Now, herein lies the problem. Someone is not telling the truth, right? How is it that this operation, which has been hinted at before by Hersh in previous New Yorker columns, has been in the planning stages for so long, but at the same time is being sprung upon an unknowing public that has neither the stomach for another war nor removed the bitter taste of the previous run up to our current situation in Iraq? It just doesn't make sense. It's apparent that our leaders are very adept at the art of saber rattling. Cheney has been doing pretty much as long as he's been in office, and Bush himself is no stranger to the tactic. However, as much as I'd like to say that this all stinks and Hersh is revealing a dirty secret that no one wants to acknowledge, I can't do that. I just don't buy it.

As I alluded to above, this isn't the first time Hersh as written about this subject. Looking back, this operation has been in the works for a better part of the last year, a year in which Bush and his various henchmen have alternately either pushed for tougher sanctions, more diplomacy, or military threats, sometimes, it seems all at once. Hersh, though, was writing about it after the Israeli war with Hezbollah and earlier. In fact, one can go back as far as January 2005 and read a Hersh article about impending military action against Iran.

I've written about it before, but I have a hard time trusting articles that rely on so many unnamed sources and former officials. The New York Times is just as guilty. You can count on one hand the number of named sources that appear in either the Times or New Yorker. Unnamed sources seem to reveal anything, a lot of which seems overly dramatic and that hardly ever comes to fruition.

I guess what it comes down to is that it's easy to get blinded by either mistrust or hatred regarding politics. You can say, "That damn Bush and Cheney," all you want, but at some point it reaches a critical mass where it's too easy to absolutely never read between the lines or see through the doom and gloom scenarios that these various unnamed sources and star reporters like Hersh traffic in. Hersh made a comeback of sorts with the Abu Ghraib scandal, and, like any reporter, he's probably searching for the next big story. Our secret war with Iran seems to be what he's settled on.

An Important Death

Spc. Dustin R. Donica, 22, of Spring, Texas, was the 3000th casualty the United States sustained in the war with Iraq.

I find it incredibly funny watching professors and my co-workers take magazines from the shelf to read while eating. Why? Because I have observed, surreptitiously, other people taking those very magazines into the restroom with them.

Today's chronicle of rudeness.

1. To the old lady at the library,
When someone is at the circulation desk waiting for an attendant to check out materials to them that are on hold, please don't feel like you need to put the books you plan on checking out on the counter right in front of them. This being the same old woman who the staff said is such a "cool lady." No, she's not cool. She's a rude asshole with poor taste in reading.

2. To the young guy coming into the library,
It's usually customary to say, "Thank you," to the person who holds the door open for you. It's not as if you're crippled, elderly, blind or suffer from any other malady, so show some manners next time.

3. To the butcher at Giant Eagle,
Please don't run me over with huge cart you're pushing filled with packages of fresh meat. In fact, it's probably a good idea to say, "Excuse me," to the person you are pushing out of the way, the same person who happens to be looking at packages of meat that they might purchase. Guess what? You just lost a sale for your store!

4. To the girl driving to a red light,
The big, solid white line is where you're supposed to stop, not the white lines of the crosswalk that I happen to be using to cross right in front of you.

As the occupation of Iraq enters, what seems to be, its final stages before erupting into an all-out civil war that threatens to engulf the entire region in one way or another, the situation in this country seems to remain steady as she goes. An election won, a new year begun, and it seems like the more things change the more they stay the same. The President seems reluctant to accept any advice or criticism from outside of his loyal circle, and would rather make boisterous statements about being the "decider" on all issues regarding the war regardless of which party is in power. The Vice President, in all of his ominous glory, would rather spar with Wolf Blitzer over the appropriateness of questions regarding his pregnant, lesbian daughter and proclaiming that nothing will stop the "surge" from advancing. Is it just me, or didn't we spend the entire last year, and most of the previous three, hearing exactly the same thing? If someone can tell me what the point of democracy is, then I'd love to hear it.

From the misguided stunts of the anti-war movement to the increasingly erratic behavior of the citizens of this town, Pittsburgh has it all wrong on a number of fronts. Perhaps it's because of the New Year’s infancy and my own expectations for some newfound civility and common sense in this town, or maybe it's just a case of the winter blues. Whatever the reason, I'm about to unleash a torrent of criticism on Pittsburgh in this post, so turn away if that's what you're not here for.

Anti-War Follies
First, anti-war protesters here in Pittsburgh routinely target the recruiting office right here in the heart of Oakland for their demonstrations. This is not without precedent, and I would agree that recruiter tactics are, without question, somewhat underhanded in nature. However, the latest stunt by the demonstrators left a bad taste in my mouth and more than a little perturbed at, what can be best described as, a desperate attempt to seem relevant and part of the larger anti-war movement. Earlier this month, the so-called Pittsburgh Organizing Group "successfully disrupted the military recruitment machine in Pittsburgh yet again." What made this different from the usual protests is explained as follows:

One difference about this picket, as compared to past ones, was the call for people to bring whipped cream pies (because recruiters should be afraid to show their faces). A number of individuals, young and old, responded to the call and showed up, pie in hand.

As far as I can tell, attacking recruiters in this crude manner has little or nothing to do with their practices and will lead to little or nothing more than a brief mention on the nightly news and the newspapers. Now, I'm not someone who supports the war in Iraq, or occupation as it should be referred to, but I don't think that this is how one should go about the process of voicing that opposition. Attacking soldiers, regardless of their position, is a cowardly act plain and simple, and it's not as if the recruiters are civilians, which wouldn't necessarily make this acceptable.

What else bothers me about this type of action is that I feel that it's just another attempt by Pittsburghers to feel as if they're part of a larger movement, which I just don't think they are. People here want it both ways, and that's just not possible. What I find puzzling about this town is that there seems to be this resistance to anything that's cosmopolitan in nature and outright offense taken when someone from outside of the area remains unimpressed with the scene here. On the other hand, the anti-war movement here would lead you to believe that they're part and parcel of a larger, more impressive machine. This is misleading, to say the least. When one looks at those in attendance, you don't see or hear from any Cindy Sheehan types. No, quite the opposite is apparent. To quote, reluctantly Donald Rumsfeld, these are simply the "dead enders" of the movement. These include the tattooed and pierced set of the "cooler than thou" crowd who I find incredibly puzzling in their desire to portray themselves as an all inclusive group, but are more than likely to act as the antithesis of the highbrow cliques they seek to counteract.

I heartedly endorse protesting the war. In fact, I think it's necessary, but I feel that it's somewhat diluted when you're main proponents are infected with poorly thought out ideas of what's right and how best to draw attention to the cause. Also, the amount of hypocrisy involved within the ranks of those who comprise the group is a little more than offsetting as well.

The Road
Cormac McCarthy's latest novel, The Road, takes a fairly basic premise, an apocalyptic event ravages the world and leaves few survivors, and tries, mightily, to make something of it. The plot, centered around a father and son who are among the survivors and are simply trying to stay alive, is rather scant in terms of traditional narratives with arcs and resolutions. Perhaps that's not the point of the book, and I doubt McCarthy would say that it is, but his previous novels have taken other barebones narratives and made something of them, so it's not foreign territory to him as a writer and shaper of worlds. One could argue that this book serves as a loosely termed bookend to his previous novel Outer Dark, but in that novel the quest the two characters set out on had a definite purpose. The father and son here simply have to survive with what's left of humanity, but this leaves the reader with little knowledge of what the ultimate purpose of the narrative is supposed to be.

A lot of the criticism can be attributed to McCarthy's style as a writer. His novels seem to be comprised of episodes more than definable chapters. In previous books, Outer Dark and Blood Meridian, this style worked to his advantage and the reader didn't necessarily feel as if they were reading a disjointed narrative. For one reason or another the time lapses worked in these two novels. However, in The Road and No Country for Old Men the narratives seem lacking in one thing or another, in the latter it seems as if the plot advances forward illogically at several key moments which had me wondering if some pages were missing from the text. In the former novel the problem isn't so much that there are jumps in the narrative, but that the narrative is almost too static in nature. The events do not build upon each other in a cohesive manner, which leads to the reader feeling as if they could pick any random point in the book to start reading and not feel as if anything has been missed. There's only so much plot that can be made out of two people walking from town to town looking for supplies and avoiding the "bad guys."

This is not to say that the book isn't without its highpoints. In fact, the ending of the novel is pretty powerful especially for McCarthy who seems to be an expert and conveying emotional detachment in his characters and lacing his novels with a sense of distance. The novel certainly would have benefited from more episodes that work on the level the ending does, which leads me to believe that the novel may have better served as a novella or short story. McCarthy is a master craftsman, but I'd like to see his novels in the future utilize traditional narrative structures instead of the fragmented nature he's been relying on lately.

I've been a comic book reader for many, many years. Sure, when I was younger I just looked at them and didn't bother to read the word balloons, and after a hiatus for a good portion of my school age years, I resumed buying them in middle school and all the way through college. At any given time, I was buying ten or more books a month, and, as one can imagine, I amassed quite a collection over those years. However, once the shop I bought my books went under, I stopped buying as well. Luckily, it just happened to coincide with the last issue of, what is possibly my favorite book of all time, Preacher, so I didn't just have to stop cold turkey. After that, I spent my time acquiring all of the older issues from the legendary runs that I coveted from before I restarted buying comics in middle school. Thanks to eBay, I was able to complete the collection. All of this to say that I've read my fair share of comic books. Most of them could be considered your typical superhero fare, but a good portion of them are not, as in Preacher, Sin City, and Sandman. All of these fall into what one would term the more mature end of the spectrum and aren't confined to the PG type action typical of most superhero books. What's happened over the years since I stopped buying comics on a regular basis is that writers of superhero comics have been given more leeway with regard to the type of action that can occur within the confines of their books. By this I mean that writers don't have to abide by the old standards of keeping comics family friendly fare and are able to use their freedom to explore more issues that are real life in nature and how those types of events might impact these characters.

The most controversial and somewhat disturbing trend in comics today is the repeated and widespread use of rape as a plot device. Some of the criticism I've come across appears to make the case that the use of rape is nothing more than a weak plot device grasped by a desperate writer. How this came about is anyone's guess, but, while not agreeing with its constant usage, I can see how comic writers feel the need to adapt to the changing world around them and the fact that the well for many characters has run dry many times over. (My first encounter with it appeared in the excellent DC mini-series Identity Crisis.) It seems to me that it's only logical that writers of comic books today might feel the need to inject some real life drama into the characters' lives in which they are shaping in order to maintain a continuous narrative that isn't replete with only those cosmic threats and tired, villainous schemes that are parodied so easily.

There are many things troubling about this trend. First off, it risks making light of a crime that occurs more and more frequently in our society. Why risk turning something so serious into a stock event all for the simple purpose of creating an edgy feel to your book? Second, why has rape of all things become the plot device of choice for today's writers? Perhaps, just as it seemed somewhat absurd to believe that heroes of the past had difficulty defeating the Nazi armies of World War Two, it might seem equally absurd to think about heroes of today fighting a terrorist threat. In other words, superheroes should, logically, feel threatened or at least challenged by an equal or greater threat to their own abilities. While this occurs most often in superhero books, it also doesn't leave too much room for maneuverability plot wise. By inserting a mental element that threatens the lives of the characters in a way that has been previously unexplored, it allows writers to create challenges for heroes on a more personal level rather than confining those challenges strictly to cosmic threats.

What I fear will happen is that writers may become complacent and rely on the simple shock value instilled by having such a horrendous act occur to a beloved character. It's not uncommon for books that are lagging in sales to resort to such publicity stunts, which is not to say that books that do sell don't also suffer from such trends. I guess point I'm trying to make is that I would hate to see a medium that I dearly love reduced to utilizing horrific events to propel a storyline or to simply create shock value within a book.

Cormac McCarthy's novel Outer Dark is one of his earlier works that foreshadows his apocalyptic tone adopted in Blood Meridian Or the Evening Redness in the West. The book is puzzling in many regards, but it seems to fit into McCarthy's scheme to portray characters without resorting to what one could call a clear sense of judgment, even for those who act in what is clearly morally ambivalent or totally devoid ways. Of course, any work that involves the product of an incestuous relationship between a brother and sister as the main plot point isn't exactly what one would term conventional in any sense.

However, as with his other works, McCarthy isn't simply set on centering the narrative on such a repugnant action and going from there. Again, shock value seems to be the least of his concerns; he's much too talented of an author to resort to such triteness. He also doesn't seem to be concerned with exacting vengeance upon these derelicts. On the contrary, one could argue that he shows incredible sympathy or at least remarkable restraint by not allowing the two main characters, Rinthy and Culla Holme, to suffer from some horrendous fate or everlasting torment. That's not to say that they don't suffer, but it would have been easier for McCarthy to exact some form of swift justice upon these two loesome individuals. For some reason, though, it does not, and that's one of the peculiar aspects of the text.

The text also features three nameless individuals who, for lack of a better term, serve as the primary force of moral clarity on one hand and outright evil on the other. They are reminiscent of the Judge in Blood Meridian, but they float in and out of the narrative too infrequently to get a true sense of their motives. What exactly they are trying to accomplish by their pursuit of Culla is unclear. What is clear is that their actions at the end of the novel provide one of the more gruesome scenes I've encountered but one that is no less puzzling for its appearance in this text. Some accounts of this event seek to paint religious overtones to explain its occurrence. I can't say for sure whether or not I agree, but I can say that it is a disturbing action that surely serves more than just to bring the quest of the narrative to a screeching halt.

I can't think of any other writer in recent memory who has created such portraits of worlds both familiar and strange in an effort to relieve any sense of comfort in their inherent notions of stock stereotypes as McCarthy consistently does in his early novels. The outright sense of horror and outrage combined with an inability to harshly condemn and pass judgment upon those whose actions seem repugnant to most creates a dilemma for the reader to try to ascertain what the right way to feel about the text is. The only other option is outright passivity, but I don't think McCarthy or anyone else would feel comfortable with that type of reaction.

Cormac McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian Or the Evening Redness in the West is without a doubt one of the goriest, bleakest, most blood drenched books I've ever encountered. That being said, I have to point out that this isn't all purely for shock value. No, the book has a literate tone to it that seems to originate from a different time and place. McCarthy's ability to write about characters who range from the illiterate and borderline mentally defective to the most well-spoken and wordily has a lot to do with that tone and his unique voice regarding the nature of humanity.

What I find intriguing about the book is that McCarthy's tone isn't one of moral outrage and he doesn't try to compensate for the harshness by injecting some highly moralistic character as a counterbalance to those who engage in acts of depravity beyond most people's ability to comprehend. Rather, McCarthy adopts a highly neutral stance in order to strip bare the high-handed romance of the "Wild West" and portray the country for what it sometimes resembled, a literal hell on earth. To say the book is a "horror" story is not too far of a stretch, but not in the sense that Stephen King writes horror. It's a horror that's all too real and it's personified in the looming character of the Judge, who is without a doubt one of the most terrifying figures in recent literature.

The book isn't for everyone, and the gore factor will sway most people to give up early, but if you can stomach that, you can see one of the better writers today create a world both wholly strange to us and all too familiar.

I've had Aphex Twin's double album Selected Ambient Works volume 2 for years, and I've probably listened to it, and the second disc's first track more than I can possibly recall. As you can see, the album has a mythology all its own due to its unique packaging and lack thereof any song titles. I find all of that interesting, but it's not the reason why I like the album so much.

For lack of a better analogy on how to describe the sound of the work, let me say that Richard D. James (aka Aphex Twin) has been said to have composed it after a series of lucid dreams in which he heard the music, which he tried to compose upon reawakening . Listening to the work, you can tell that it just might have been like that. The music, ambient in nature without any real percussion, sounds as if it's from another dimension. In fact, the sticker on the outside of the package quotes a reviewer who states that it sounds like the kind of music the obelisk in 2001: A Space Odyssey would make if it made sound. To me, that's one of the greatest analogies out there.

News Story
Flipping through the channels last night, I found myself wading through the all-news networks which devote all of their nighttime programming to talk shows or, in most cases, shouting matches. The topic on all three networks (CNN, MSNBC, and FOX) was Ann Coulter's latest book in which she makes some pretty disparaging remarks about several widows of 9/11 victims. It's typical Coulter nonsense that's simply meant to provoke the very reaction that it receives, sheer outrage. The thing to expect from every one of these types of provocateurs is that they'll pop up every once in awhile to make some sort of statement that generates controversy, which means we can probably expect something from Michael Savage pretty soon as well; it's usually accompanied by the release of a new book or some other type of promotional necessity. What usually happens is that people get upset, the controversy rages for awhile, and the it fades as quickly as the book sales that land the remainders in the discount bin. The question remains, though, is she right to criticize these women, clearly victims of a tragedy, and if not, how can we assume when it is okay to criticize and who is out of bounds?

Personally, I think her comments are par for the course with her type of reactionary conservativism. She's a walking contradiction that profits off of rage and pandering to a base that is amused by her rhetoric. Blatant racism, sexism, and any other -ism you can think of in the negative sense are usually what you'll find within the pages of her books or the words that she spews on the television. The networks know what they're in for when they book her as a guest, and it's always a guaranteed verbal sparing match that will engulf the majority of the broadcast. They know it, and they book her anyway.

What I find mystifying about her is that she spouts forth the ideals of the uber-conservative, but actively portrays herself as anything but with regards to her style. Have you seen how short her skirts are? This isn't done by accident. She's a pretty calculating woman, and she exudes just enough raw sexuality that it appeals to the males in the audience, myself included, who find themselves mesmerized by her appearance all the while forgetting just how offensive her comments really are to a huge portion of the public.

As for whether it's right or wrong to criticize the victims of tragedies that decide to speak out on the issues concerned, I'm of the opinion that once you cross the line and enter the public debate, then you're fair game for criticism. Should it be in the form of the near slander the Coulter uses? No, I think you can say that you feel that these people are simply using their status as victims to project on to the public sphere their feelings and opinions and that you don't agree with that. Personally, I feel the same about Cindy Sheehan. I can't listen to her speak, and I turn the channel when I see her on the news. I think that her policies, while noble in regards to her demanding answers for her son's death, have reached a point where her influence seems detrimental to the cause she's trying to promote. Now, she's campaigning not only against Republicans but also Democrats that voted in favor of the war in Iraq. That's her position to take, but I think it's wrong in the long run. The point of the coming election, to me, is to wrest control of either or both houses of Congress from Republican control. Anything that seeks to undermine that cause in favor of ideological nitpicking seems to defeat the purpose. But I would never say that she's some "harpie" that may have been planning on abandoning her son, ala Coulter's remarks about the 9/11 widows.

All of that to say that it's a fine line to criticize a victim.

News Story
So, today, Ben Roethlisberger, the quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers and the greatest thing to happen to this town since sliced bread, wrecked his motorcycle and was injured pretty substantially, if reports are to be believed, which, from the similarly inconsistent reports surrounding the details of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi's death, can be unreliable at best. Surprisingly enough, Roethlisberger was not wearing a helmet while riding his bike. It's apparently something that he feels is not necessary and, I would wager, not "cool".

I find it almost unfathomable that someone, anyone, would want to ride a motorcycle without a helmet. How this is explained, I guess, is that it's now up to the individual to decide whether they want to ride with or without a helmet. Fine, I can accept that notion, but doesn't it work both ways? My theory is that a person is probably more likely to suffer some sort of gruesome injury if they do not have a helmet on when they're in an accident with someone else, who in all likelihood will be in a car or truck. So, why not spare that person, regardless of whether or not they are at fault, the trauma of witnessing this spectacle just because the other person didn't want to wear a helmet? I realize that these accidents can be traumatic even if the rider does have a helmet, but from the descriptions of Roethlisberger's accident, which was serious but not fatal, it's apparent that a lot of blood and other injuries can occur.

As for this incident, it didn't take long for Pittsburgh to show its true colors. A maintenance man in the building asked a co-worker of mine why she wasn't glued to the television because of this tragedy. He appeared on the verge of tears. Meanwhile in Iraq, people are being incinerated by roadside bombs, and nobody gives it a second thought. Ben Roethlisberger has an accident, from which he'll live, and it's as if the world has fallen apart. Please.

A New Start
It's well past time to do a proper entry on this site. The reason for the long break has nothing to do with the usual fact that I have nothing to write about. No, in fact, I have much to address. I moved from one side of Pittsburgh to the other. The New York Times named Beloved the best work of fiction from the past twenty-five years. My reactions to Philip Roth's new novel Everyman. I have all kinds of stuff to write about. Now, I just need to get it down on the page. So, in the interest of time, I'll devote this post to a shotgun like summary of the topics above.

First, the move. I moved during the middle of May from the rowdy South Side to the much quieter confines of Friendship. The difference is striking in many regards. First, I have a yard surrounding my building for the first time in three years. And this yard is composed of grass, unlike my other place which consisted of concrete. I never thought I'd be so enamored by trees and grass, but when you don't have them on your property for such an extended period, the change is dramatic beyond belief. Also, I have a porch! Yes, a real porch that I may sit on during the summer months ahead. Take that South Side and your measly stoops. All this to say that I really like where I am now. There are aspects of the South Side that I miss, but I think there are an equal amount of negatives that I don't give a damn about not experiencing on a daily basis that more than outweigh the positives.

So Beloved is the best work of fiction from the past twenty-five years. I can't argue since I haven't read the book yet. Oh, it's sitting on my book shelf at home along with the numerous other books that I haven't tackled yet. I'll read it someday, I hope. The list itself is pretty standard considering what's out there. There's a lot of Roth, some DeLillo, Updike, McCarthy, and a slathering of other writers. All in all it's a pretty solid list. The biggest omission, though, seems to be the lack of contemporary writers from the last twenty-five years. No David Foster Wallace. No Rick Moody. No Michael Chabon. It's amazing that these three alone, who have produced some pretty impressive efforts, were totally absent from the list. Maybe twenty-five years from now they'll make the list.

As for Roth, who is my favorite writer along with Thomas Pynchon, his latest novella, Everyman is pretty slim in size but pretty powerful in content. For the most part, I find that his fiction is nearly flawless, but I feel that sometimes he sacrifices the sustained flow of a narrative for the sake of a few crass sex scenes between an older man and a much younger woman. Anyone who is familiar with Roth's work knows that this is nothing new. It's his obsession, to say the least, that the power of male sexual prowess is somehow entwined with the desire to live. The decline of this ability is almost inevitably preceded by the death of the subject. I guess my world experience is much more limited than some others, but I've always found it almost unbelievable that there are these numerous older men who posses this omnipotent sway over younger women. It's just a plot device that I find stale in his work, and it, to me, detracts from the larger narrative that is portraying a decline in both the narrator's body and his familial relations.

Well, that's a start.

So, it appears that Harvard sophomore Kaavya Viswanathan plagiarized large portions of her book How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life from a multitude of other books written in the same generic genre, teen-fiction. Passages with the similarities have been published in a multitude of outlets, and the case seems to be pretty concrete that she did not do this by accident, as she claimed by saying it was a totally "unconscious" effort on her part. To me, this seems to be suggesting that she reproduced these passages simply due to her ability to retain the bland, pedestrian text that fills nearly every novel. That's striking to me because what one generally remembers about a text is those passages that are truly memorable and stand alone not those that serve as traditional transition devices or engines that move the plot forward.

For the most part, she's been tried and convicted by the media, but Malcolm Gladwell wrote an interesting defense on his blog which he later revised to some extent. Basically, he wrote that teen-fiction is a genre that, like any other genre, adheres to basic conventions and that it was almost impossible to imagine a book in this genre without these passages. His point is illustrated in this passage:

When Doris Kearns Goodwin borrowed, without attribution, from a history of the Kennedys for her history of the Kennedys, that's serious. She's a scholar. And we have an expectation of scholarship that it is supposed to reflect original thought. We have no such expectation for genre novels, Harlequin romances, slasher films, pornos, or, say, the diaries of teenagers.

He also states, "Let's just say this isn't the first twenty lines of Paradise Lost." And, like I said, the examples chronicled are pretty generic in nature. There are definite similarities, and it does look really bad for her as an author to simply reword the writing of others to fill out her work, but they are simple passages, not entire plot devices or the entire narrative, other than the fact that it's about a young girl coming of age, which in and of itself is such a generic plot that it's hard to imagine anyone who is able to distinguish between any of these numerous works. They're all the same to some extent.

So, it's here where I admit that I don't care for teen-fiction. Why would I? I'm not a teacher, and they provide no nostalgia for me as a reader looking to revisit my past. But that's beside the point. What I actually find interesting about this controversy is that what Gladwell is addressing in his entry is that there are genre conventions that are so stereotypical and that appear in nearly every example of that genre and people do not bat an eye. Gladwell errs by confining his critique to this aspect alone and not addressing the idea that the passages are simply reworded from other texts. Sure, most of these books will contain base descriptions of events and they are so common that it would be absurd to cry plagiarism each and every time this occurs. His point isn't lost, though, and it makes for interesting food for thought when you consider the idea of how plagiarism actually works.

Just like James Frey, Viswanathan has had her publishing deals voided but unlike him her work was pulled from the shelves, which makes you wonder why one deserved a note inserted in the front detailing that much of it might not be true and the other pulled completely off the shelf. There's probably no controversy there, but someone might make something of it. Regardless, it doesn't change the fact that the books isn't an original work, which is what people are expecting.

Only those fortunate enough to live in a medialess vacuum would be lucky enough to have avoided the cries of scandal over the release of the movie United 93. I've tried to read several reviews and I cannot make it through to the end without shaking my head in disgust at how the media is playing its role, part and parcel, of the morally outraged advocate for those exploited by the corporate money machines in Hollywood.

I guess what I'm driving at is that when you read these reviews that claim either that the film is an exercise in unexploitive restraint or a tediously unemotional film that leaves one on the verge of boredom, you can see that the strings of manipulation are being pulled by those who are going to profit from all the fuss, the very people that made the film that the reviewers have so many questions for. To me, this is nothing more than the continuation of the blurring of the line between news and entertainment. Most media is an exercise in promotion as it is, especially in the realm of magazines, but shouldn't the news be a tad above that type of behavior? I realize that when artists put out a new product it will be covered, reviewed, and critiqued from all angles, including the major news media. What would the arts section be comprised of if it wasn't? What I don't understand is that these writers, many of them good at their profession, don't seem to realize that by taking some sort of stance that either raises questions as to the intent of the artist in a negative way or by overly praising the artist in such a gushing manner that they are simply doing part of the marketing campaign for the distributors themselves. Maybe it all goes hand in hand and one scratches the back of the other and vice versa, but there seems to be something askew about the process that riles me more and more.

One other aspect of the writing that bothers me to a tremendous extent is the way in which writers decree with some manner of satisfaction that their criticisms, while seeming harsh, aren't really meant to be taken that way and then deflect that attention by tossing out an equally inflammatory criticism. Here's an example:

To question this is not meant to take anything away from the heroism of the passengers on Flight 93. (Although to imply that they were the only ones who displayed courage in the face of the events of that day is to slight the cops and firefighters who rushed into the Twin Towers, many of whom never returned alive.)

I assume the reaction is supposed to be, "Oh, of course, no one would accuse you have saying anything remotely negative against the innocent victims of this tragedy. In fact, you reinforce your position by mentioning the fact that there were other victims as well, ones not portrayed in the film, who you happen to have been the ONE person to recall. Good job."

These types of disclaimers are often pointless nonsense that serves little purpose other than to present the writer as an overly passionate observer and empathetic towards the victims, but the fact remains that they are still reviewing a film, so they need to make some sort of comment, which may be harsh in tone but respectful in intent. Does that make sense?

I think everyone can get my drift. This type of writing is so transparent that it's practically vaporous in nature.

The older I get the more I realize that it's the little things people do that are the most annoying. Sure, on occasion, you run into someone who has a monstrous personality flaw that grates on your nerves like no tomorrow. My theory, though, is that most people do very minor things that irritate you to the point where they seem huge but in reality really are not. I could give a few instances, but that's not the point. What I'm writing about today is the little thing here at the office that has taken on a life of its own as a minor, but what may be major, irritant.

The office kitchen sink has experienced more than its fair share of clogs over the last year or so. Every time it happens, though, nobody bothers to go to the drugstore and procure some drain cleaning solution. No, what inevitably happens is that the clog progressively gets worse and worse with little or no drainage until it finally clogs completely and no water escapes regardless of how long you wait, and the only recourse is to call a plumber. Being somewhat familiar with the inconvenience of a clogged drain (the bathroom sink in my current residence clogs on occasion), I feel that this is an easy problem to remedy. However, as I said, no one apparently thinks that some Draino might do the trick. On the face of it, this is annoying in and of itself, but now it's time to chronicle the really annoying part of this.

Every time this happens, and it happens frequently enough, certain members of the staff suddenly graduate to being private eyes. Through their deductive skills they arrive at the only conclusion possible as to why this keeps happening: oatmeal! Yes, it's because of leftover oatmeal on the sides of the bowl that somehow works its way down the drain to create some sort of super oat adhesive, a form of oat cholesterol blocking the veins of our pipes. That must be the reason that this continues to happen. It has to be oatmeal. Oatmeal absorbs water and expands. What other explanation could there be? The solution then is to demand that those who eat oatmeal must wipe their bowls before placing them in the sink. That will do the trick.

Now, I must mention that I am one of the "offenders." One of those oatmeal eaters who, when I don't have time to wash my bowl out immediately, leaves it in the sink for later. I do wash it. It's not as if I leave it there for days. The thing is that I scrape the bowl out pretty thoroughly. I don't leave many traces of oatmeal in the bowl that will carry itself down the drain and add to the blockage. So, I'm clearly off the hook, but not really. The only other offender is one of the librarians who eats oatmeal more than I do. I don't know what her bowl looks like when she's finished, but I'm pretty sure that it's not encrusted with massive amounts of oatmeal, but surely she must be the culprit. The absurdity of the theory goes so far as to suggest that because this person routinely does not wear her glasses then she must not be able to see the large quantities of oatmeal that she's washing down the drain. Right.

So it goes. The drain clogs and emails get sent or signs posted that tell you, especially you oatmeal eaters, to wipe off your dishes before putting them in the sink. The neverending cycle.

But the ultimate solution is at hand, a new sink. Yes, a new sink with a garbage disposal. That will do the trick. It's been months since it's been ordered and no one knows when it's going to be delivered let alone installed and usable.

Well, that day finally came on Thursday. There's a new sink installed in place of the old, unreliable one. One problem: it isn't working yet. There's a big sign reading "Temporarily Out of Service." (Which reminds me of the "Out of Order" sign placed on one of the doors that was broken. How is it out of order? It's broken. It's not functioning in some minor way. It's broken completely.) So the dishes are stacking up, and if you want to wash anything, you have to take it to the bathroom, which is not exactly an enticing option considering the amount of traffic we receive in the form of homeless people who frequent the bathroom, one in particular spends most of his time there.

The moral of the story is that it's a minor problem that seems much more major than it really is. But, gosh, it'd be nice to be able to wash my dishes without having to use handsoap and paper towels to do it.

Simply put, the 54C is the bane of my existence.