(The Rest is) History

This wasn't a war. Not officially. Not even among the two native races. Tigeries and Seatrolls had fought since they evolved to intelligence, probably. But that was like men and wolves in ancient days, nothing systematic, plan natural enemies. Until the Merseians began giving the Seatrolls equipment and advice and the landfolk were driven back. When Terra heard about that, it was sheer reflex to do likewise for the Tigeries, preserve the balance lest Starkad be unified as a Merseian puppet. As a result, the Merseians upped their help a bit, and Terrans replied in kind, and--and the two empires remained at peace.

Poul Anderson, "Ensign Flandry"

SINCE IT'S CHRISTMAS, after all, I'm rereading a novel by a fellow named Poul Anderson called "Ensign Flandry." It's a rip-roaring tale of interstellar espionage, big-breasted tiger aliens, and empire--but, like so many other sci-fi rags written in 1966, it's awfully dated by its failure to imagine any future not characterized by perpetual bipolar war. (For a slightly subtler example of Cold War sf, check out "The Forever War" or anything by that other dude I like.)

The story's intrigue unfolds on Starkad, a primitive backwater planet in Betelgeuse sector which nobody wants, and the satellite war that the two great powers, Terra and Merseia, foment between the natives there. (The Terrans support the tiger people; the Merseians, the fish people. My browser's spell-check extension seems to already recognize the word "Merseian". That's weird.) Naturally neither the Terrans nor the Merseians really want war on Starkad, but neither one dares concede any ground for fear of losing the confidence, therefore support, of Betelgeuse itself. In the end it turns out the evil Merseian empire was actually trying to trick the Terrans into concentrating as much of their fleet around Starkad as possible, having discovered the planet lay in the path of a huge asteroid, but the eponymous ensign figures it all out in the nick of time and they all go home. Nice.

Anderson was born in 1926, which means he passed his formative years not in the Cold War but in the Hot one: a patently multipolar universe of the sort that strikes me as just more likely in a huge galaxy teeming with intelligent spacefaring life. So his motivation for bipolarity for this novel is probably allegorical or aesthetic and not necessarily the product of his upbringing or context. He could have imagined, grew up imagining, a different kind of world and war but chose not to. Fine.

But it's been making me think. Joe Haldeman, the author of "The Forever War," was born in 1943, and he was drafted as an engineer to Vietnam in '67. Admittedly, his novel, written in '76, is much less about bipolarity and much more about the psychological effects of war at relativistic speeds. But it could have been just like "Flandry," and since I always remember it that way, bear with me...

For obvious reasons, it's hard to recognize our own blind spots--hard as individuals, harder still as generations, nigh impossible as a civilization. What makes sense to me can be incomprehensible to you (or, more often, vice versa; don't fret); the way we see the world might be incommunicably different from the way a Renaissance man did or an Indian man does; and complete modes of social organization wholly unlike ours are simply unimaginable. And so if Poul Anderson's novels bear the mark of the Cold War, perhaps it's because he wrote in a context that made it hard to imagine any other kind of politics. It makes me wonder--what kinds of blind spots are we constrained by? What are our failures of imagination? In 42 years, which assumptions will make our science fiction look silly?

Echoes from the Bayou

Cities - by definition - are all meant to be pretty much the same. A business core surrounded by pockets of wealth and poverty, in many directions. Usually, a city is either continually building up, like Montreal or New York, or continually building out, like Toronto or Los Angeles. New Orleans, which is where we, loyal readers, find bernice right now, is decidedly doing neither. Yet, it has become a beautiful, clean, inviting, rowdy, and exciting place. many streets there are people who stand full time with a broom and dustpan and sweep up litter as soon as they see it fall, in an apparent effort to keep the city clean. After the hurricane that destroyed sections of the city, focus has clearly shifted to rebuilding things that have been lost, which is a really interesting thing to see in a city which doesnt look like it has torn down or rebuilt a building since about 1910. On In fact, the hotel I'm staying in happens to be inside an old asbestos factory, although it is extremely welcoming and well-designed.



This is weirdly representative of almost everything here - both sinister and welcoming. To wit: Almost every corner has a street musician. This musician always looks like he just stepped out from under a train, and he is always supremely talented. On the way from the airport, there were billboards all over the highway advertising casinos and stripclubs. All of these ads have large boxes on them that say "If you or a friend has a gambling/drinking problem, help is available!". Also, if you look lost or confused, a giant black dude with grillz might come up to you, ask if you need any help, point you to the street or the trolley or the basketball arena that you're looking for, shake your hand, and thank you for coming to the city. I guess that's Voodoo.






Everyone is extremely glad that tourists are here. seriously, they are. The main reason i'm here is because my mother found out about something called Prospect 1, which has apparently become the largest city-wide art display in the world now, or something like that. Most of it is inspired by the hurricane, and most of it is absolutely incredible. Many exhibits are in the 9th ward, which is a neighborhood that was almost completely destroyed. Since, the area has become a cesspool of filth and crime, and one of the worst in the country. However, walking around it feels completely safe. All of the residents are extremely glad to see you, and would like to introduce themselves and talk to you for a while. A man named collins took me into his studio he just finished rebuilding and showed me some of the stained glass he was working on, and we watched his children paint. All I was staring at the mural on the wall of his house when he happened to walk outside. He was very nice. The most interesting thing is, it doesn't even look like a bad neighborhood. During the day, it looks more like farmland. It's harder to feel the danger, since things like run down houses and buildings arent derelict, there just gone.


In a half-standing house in the area, there has been set up the Lower 9th Center for the Arts, a small art gallery. Inside, the exhibit featured some of the best photography I'd ever seen. It took a few minutes of taking the entire thing in before I realised that the toothless fat man in a sleeveless t-shirt on the porch shouting obscenites in both french and english was the artist. Seriously though, each picture was better than the last. The whole experience is hard to describe over the internet, but if anyone wants to talk about it, please let me know. There's also a shit-ton more art I've seen, that is definately worth discussion.



Other things of interest:

I've now seen 4 works by Banksy. The first time, I got really excited and told everyone near me. They all seemed impressed. It was of a kid on a tire swing, and it was on the side of a partially destroyed house. Since then, I've seen one of a main losing his umbrella painted on the side of the leevee that broke, the pope on a warehouse on the other side of the city, and of a girl stuck in the rain in the french quarter. They've all been protected with a plastic sheet fastened to the wall on top of the work.



I went to a hornets basketball game. The slogan is "Geaux Hornets", and the cheerleaders are all senior citizens called the "Used to Bees". There was also a prayer before the game and a moment of silence led by a good-ol-boy white pastor with a crewcut at centre court. Louisiana can be a strange place.

The sign at the airport as soon as i got off the plane said "We're JAZZED to see you". I thought it was funny.

I went to a concert by a dude named Trombone Shorty. He was 22 (it was his birthday), looked alot like T.I., and was incredible. Also, the guitar player in his band was wicked, clearly jewish, and reminded me alot of another pudgy-cheeked jewish lead guitarist who plays a wood-couloured strat that my band used to open for. Rabbi, i'm talking to you, I hope you catch the reference.


People here have wicked names. we saw a sherrif the other morning whose nametag said "T.J. Montreaux. He was black, but had blue eyes. Cajun!


The food is great. there is gumbo, and lots of seafood, and here, they call a sub a po-boy! And they put fried shrimp in them! Weeeird!

Anyway, I should be heading off. the Dr. John concert isn't going to attend itself! ho ho, ha ha.
Also, I might be seeing Thug Wrangler in the next couple of days, since he's also hitting the Crescent City. I'm waiting to hear from him, I'll let y'all know (That's how they talk here!)

Bernice Out, from The Big (Un)Easy.


Just Kidding, this place rules.

Mommy, What's an Economy?

Because sometimes it all seems a little too complicated.

Happy holidays, my friends.

Random Thoughts

Stanford professor Thomas Sowell, a well known conservative economist and social critic, begins his daily column with the aforementioned title. What usually follows are several terse, aggravatingly ignorant, and often racially charged remarks mainly about politics and the economy. As a black man, he loves turning conventional assumptions about the state of African Americans on their side, often blaming democrats and welfare programs for ‘keeping black people down.’ White conservatives love this guy. He makes them feel less responsible for societal problems, he says everything that they want to say but don't out of fear of sounding racist, and ironically for many, he’s the only black person that they can relate to or respect.
Anyways, the only reason I say this is because I liked his idea of random thoughts and I felt prompted more than ever to write something today.

I was walking with my sister and brother today through the two weirdest isles of the Frys Electronic establishment. Most of Frys looks like your regular large electronics establishment (Best Buy or Futureshop). These two isles however, seem to be filled with shit I would only find in those creepy yet awesome catalogues that my roommates and i look through when we dream about the possibilities of having a pinball machine, an electronic roommate, or in one most serious case, a hot dog toaster for our dear friend Gregorio. Today, sitting on display in full glory, was the exact same toaster! Apparently, this is quite a coveted product, cause all that was left was the one on display. I was thrilled anyways, even when the guy told me he didn’t have the box or the manual, and that he wouldn’t give me any discount. I handed the man 21 dollars and walked out with my new pride and joy.
However, today I learned that things sold in weird catalogues and castaway isles in second rate electronics shops should never be trusted, as their poor construction becomes obscured by even the savviest consumer (ok maybe not the savviest but definitely the most well-intentioned), sold on the possibility of having found the greatest invention known to man, the answer to all of his personal riddles. Such wonder and excitement inevitably makes the fall so very hard. Upon attempting a preliminary toast on a small piece of bread, the machine began smoking as soon as I plugged it in. Broken after one try. Yeats was right when he said the innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.

That’s all I got right now, but you can expect shorter and more random thoughts to continue.

Why Can't We Be Friends

I was studying for my politics final today (ok, so I wrote this a while ago and forgot about it completly and am only now posting it) and reading about ethnic conflict. Its incredibly sad and very complicated. I am taking obviously only one very simple point from everything I read to say this: discrimination is bad. Why do you have to hate people who are different from you. I mean, I was flipping channels the other night and I came across the movie Splash just when Eugene Levy was chasing Daryl Hannah with a bucket of water so he could pour it on her and prove she was a mermaid. Eventually he is succesful outside a big event where there are cameras and press. He sprays her with water and her fins are reveiled. Tom Hanks freaks out and doesnt save her from the security guards who take her away to be tested on. This is just not right. Daryl hannah wasn't hurting anyone (and in fact, this movie was made before she got scary looking from too much plastic surgery-cuz now shes kiiinda hurting my eyes) she was just trying to live her life with Tom Hanks. My point? Leave different creatures alone, most are friendly. ET almost died when the government was doing testing on him (not to mention elliot too). He, like daryl hannah, didn't hurt anyone. It was just wrong. Admittedly not every creature is good. Take the aliens from independence day for example. Those were some bad motherfuckers and it was probably for the best that Will Smith and Hank Azaria look alike killed them. But for the most part, leave other creatures alone. Mermaids never hurt anyone, they just walk around kinda naked making long alanis morsette hair (that would be hair long enough to cover your naked boobs) cool. So to sum up, leave other creatures and beings alone, unless of course, the are "Independence Day" aliens. Then beat them to a bloody paulp and don't ask questions.