First Caturday of Spring

This is my very BEST photo of Cyril yet, by far! (Yes, Mr Daisy's man-legs are in the photo, but I think that's why Cyril is so mellow, too; he likes to sit by Dad.) The second kitty is the venerable Peace Cat, official cat of DEAD AIR.



Here we have Peace Cat AND Cyril together... Again, pardon the man-foot.




I finally remembered to post kitties on Saturday... and I was wondering: who decided the old tried-and-true feline meme, Friday Cat Blogging, needed to be updated? And why was it moved up one day?

And yeah, I got ANSWERS!--

Actually, they appear to be dueling memes: Friday Cat Blogging is clocked from March 14, 2003 and just celebrated its 10th anniversary as an internet meme. It was even written about in the New York Times.

Caturday dates from December 12, 2006, when cat photos were posted every Saturday on 4Chan. (A personal blog by the name CATURDAY dates from 2005, but does not appear to be connected to 4Chan.)

So, I guess you can pick whichever day you prefer. I am moving to Caturday since I love the sound of it.



As always, you can click photos to enlarge. Happy Caturday, everybody!

A Buddhist Story about People and Cats

My cat Cyril, who has never bitten me.






About a dozen years ago, give or take, I was feeding a cat behind our apartment building. He was a very cute, squat kitty, white/tabby patterned with sweet golden eyes. He was dirty and bedraggled--a feral cat, to be sure; he would not approach humans. I fed him for months, and occasionally sat out on the terrace while he ate. As a stray, he was far too hungry to wait for me to go inside to commence chowing down. He ignored me, and I took advantage of this situation, to get closer. And closer.

And eventually, one day, I touched him. He instantly purred, rubbed against me, meowed happily. I wondered if he had always been feral ... or maybe he had simply concluded I must be okay, as his faithful food-dispenser. I pet him every day after that. It was about two or three weeks after I first touched him, that he suddenly lunged and grabbed my arm with both paws, full-on, and... crunch. He bit me. Hard.

Ouch. It was DEEP. (I still have the scar from it, a singular spot on my thumb-joint.) There was blood, and the pain did not readily subside.

Two seconds after he did this, he was purring again, rubbing against me happily. What gives?--I thought. I realized that he probably had an ear infection (or an infestation of ear mites, as most strays have) and while petting him, I had gotten too close to his ears. I could see that he wasn't mad at me, because he didn't run off. My mistake, I thought, this is what I get for petting strays. I cleaned myself with peroxide and bandages, and went to work as usual.

Within two days, I had a fever, and my arm was red... the redness appearing to climb up my arm. I was working at the dreaded call-center then, and even typing had become painful. I called my mother, and she basically shrieked at me to go to the doctor, that being bitten by a feral animal was a serious matter. Denial, I guess. I knew this intellectually, but didn't seem to think it applied to ME. Because I am a cat person!

It was serious... I already had an infection that was in danger of becoming systemic. I needed a huge dose of Rocephin and was running a significant fever. I was embarrassed by the whole thing. As a cat person, I was embarrassed a CAT had attacked me, feral or not.

But even more than that, it then became a government matter. DHEC has rules about feral animal-attacks. (Who knew?) They have to fill out government paperwork and call the Health Dept and everything. Was this an unprovoked attack?--asked the nurse. I couldn't readily answer. Was it? "Well, I was petting the cat and I think I got too close to his ears," I said, "so that is MY fault." She shook her head at me and disagreed; that is still unprovoked, in fact, that is exactly the instantly-unpredictable, random bad behavior they are looking for.

I certainly didn't think it was unprovoked, but officially, it was. They would have to trap the cat and see if it was rabid.

And get this: to check the cat for rabies, they have to cut off its head.

So, even if the poor stray feline in question doesn't have rabies, the poor cat has still lost its head. :(

I was reminded of those tests for witchcraft in the Middle Ages, in which some poor accused girl would have a boulder tied to her waist and was then thrown into a lake. If she was guilty of witchcraft, of course, she would float. There really is no way to win that one.

And it was the same for the poor kitty. I was horrified and felt terribly guilty. If I had never fed the damn cat in the first place, none of this would have happened. (I also thought of Star Trek's prime directive, and remembered that I had always believed it was a fine idea. Thus, I regarded this as the penalty for my direct interference in Feral Cat Civilization.) Mr Daisy said he hoped this was the end of "Dances with Cats"--for awhile, at least.

The DHEC guy brought the cage-trap and set it on my terrace. When the stray kitty came to eat lunch, as he always did, he was caught in the trap. The guy returned the next day (the cat sat out there in the trap, yowling the whole time, making me feel like a sadist and killer) and took him away. My then-teenaged daughter alternately sobbed and glared at me. I made a mental note to leave the feral animals alone forever after, and I have kept my promise to myself, regardless of how winsome and wonderful they appear. (As they all do, to me.)

The verdict? The stray kitty didn't have rabies, as I knew he did not.

~*~

I recently wondered why I felt so deeply about the cat, and experienced such guilt over his death, when I do not feel this way about humans who bite me. Literally or figuratively. I usually believe they get what they deserve.

Not only did I totally overlook the damage the cat inflicted on me, I somehow believed I had caused it. I was the catalyst for his actions, after all. I immediately sought the reason for his behavior, and in doing so, quickly figured out his ears were sensitive. I took all responsibility on myself. I only went to the doctor and reported it when I realized I was sick. I was ready to forgive and forget, and give him more food besides.

Some of the people I worked with thought I was crazy: "An animal bites me, I'll kill it!" Or at least kick it or do something. The self-defined cat people were more sympathetic, but not uniformly so. Feral cats are dangerous, they said. Many said they would have no sympathy for a cat that harmed them; good riddance.

~*~

Today, I realized... some people are as over-sensitive in various spots and at various junctures, as my stray kitty was about his ears. Get too close, and CRUNCH, they will bite you, big time. I'm sure you know what I mean; it has happened to you, too. And yet, for some reason, I don't excuse the people who bite me, the way I excused the cat. I do not take total responsibility for being the catalyst; I certainly don't fret that they are suffering on my account. I do not instantly search for the possible reason for their sudden attack, and as a result, feel more compassion.

Why do you suppose that is?

Because we cast ourselves in the role of caretakers of the animals? Custodians of the earth, etc? But doesn't that role extend to other humans? Why doesn't it?

Do we assume humans "know better"? And why (chuckle) would we assume such a thing? On one hand, we know humans are completely capable of acting like animals, and yet, on the other, we are always shocked when they do.

I thought of this story while asking myself if I am capable of compassion on a deep level. I doubted it, and then, remembered the feral kitty. I look at the scar on my thumb and remember the surprise of his sudden attack. And yet, in seconds, I forgave him. I was crushed when DHEC took him away.

I have resolved to attempt to replicate this consciousness the next time humans disappoint me, and bite.

I will look for the ear mites; I will attempt to figure out if I got too close, and if this person jumped in pure animal reflex as a result. I will try to perceive in what ways I was the catalyst for the bite. I will forgive and try to remain forgiving.

It's a tall order for someone with such a bad temper as I often have. And yet, if I can suspend my temper for an animal, it seems that I should be able to suspend it for a human being.

Perhaps I can even nurture the opposite emotion, compassion.

Although of course, it really is hard to compare people to cats. But for me, its a good place to start.

Of all God's creatures there is only one that cannot be made the slave of the lash. That one is the cat. If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat.

Mark Twain

Random Dead Air Photo Gallery--Spring 2012

During my unofficial blog break, I pondered these Puzzling Questions of the week:

Why did Jeff Goldblum decide to sleepwalk through his season on LAW AND ORDER: CRIMINAL INTENT?

Is Ron Paul going belly-up for Mitt? (his followers certainly are not)

Is Charles Murray for real?

That last one is a result of reading his latest sordid volume: Coming Apart: The State of White America. At first, you think, huh? WHITE America? And then he explains that he has taken everyone else out of the equation so as not to be (insert whine) ACCUSED of anything, as he (correctly) was when he (co)wrote the racist book THE BELL CURVE. Thus, suitably chastened, he petulantly refuses to discuss anything but white people from now on.

Throughout the book, Murray periodically reminds us that he went to Harvard, just after he asserts something resoundingly clueless. Just so you know: he makes big money saying these stupid things. Is this what a Harvard education is worth? Save your pennies, kids.

What he doesn't understand is that white people's position is a result of having several buffer classes of people to take the heat; classes that CUSHION whites from economic and social upheaval (and thoroughly unpleasant jobs such as picking grapes in the fields), rather as having military bases all over the world cushions the USA from much unpleasant international fallout.

Murray thinks the elite (whites) have become the elite because of their superior morals and values... an argument so flimsy (regardless of all his graphs and pie charts) that Jonathan Chait (who admits he has not even read the book) successfully countered it in ONE FUNNY GRAPHIC on his blog. We know Wall Street is filled with paragons of virtue, yes?

Tellingly, Murray also includes a quiz about "living in a bubble"--which I found the most incredible section of the book. (Needless to say, I don't, and I doubt you do either.) One question, for instance, is "Have you ever been on a factory floor?"--and Murray has, exactly ONE TIME. (!) One. Time.

Non-Harvard aside: Why is someone so sheltered he has only been on a factory floor ONCE, trusted to write an opus about CLASS? That's hilarious, all by itself.

DEAD AIR studied this book in abject amazement, and consequently wondered if the Right and Left can ever agree on ANYthing at all. (shakes head) Also, my dislike and mistrust of the elites populating the Left, has been greatly enhanced... if that's possible.

~*~

I got photos... I have not posted random photos for a good while. (I blame Facebook!) Also, I have noticed that these random-photo threads tend to become spam magnets, for some odd reason. I guess the word "random" brings in the bots?

Anyway... below (as always, you can click to enlarge):

1) Efia Nwangaza addresses the Malcolm X festival; the local Malcolm X Center meet-and-greet photos are here.

2) Doggie cooling off in Falls Park fountain.

3) Big Girls Rock banner, also present at Malcolm X festival.

4) Cyril decides to relax in my clean laundry. It was suggested to me on Facebook, that a warm basket of laundry IN THE DIRECT LINE OF A SUNBEAM amounts to me setting an irresistible cat-trap.

5) Your yearly azalea fix! I almost let Spring go by without posting any! (McPherson Park)

6) Country band, The Buchanan Boys, who did an excellent country version of "Kashmir"! They have a Facebook page, but not a regular web page. (May 4th)

7) Purty roses and 8) Irises! That new Facebook "timeline" gives me an excuse to post flowers! Both from Falls Park.

9) Reedy River Falls, Greenville, SC. And have I written before (a few hundred times) about how cool it is to have a waterfall in the middle of town?

10) Yes, your ever-humble narrator continues to Occupy in downtown Greenville, SC.

11) and 12) My beloved Cyril has turned three years old!

I wished him a Happy Birthday, but he seemed singularly uninterested in celebrating.

~*~

Henri, philosophical cat

Apologies if I have already shared this with you; I have posted it everywhere already. This morning, I realized I had not posted it here yet.

We cannot escape ourselves!

Henri, the philosophical cat, in Paw de Deux:

Stray Cat Strut

Stray Cat Strut - The Stray Cats



As my late mother, the musician, would say (and did, the first time she ever heard this song), DO YOU HEAR the difference in a big-ass stand-up bass (as she called it) and a regular electric bass? Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-THUMP.

Lovingly dedicated to one of the greatest cats of all time, Maurice. He was named after the old Steve Miller song, wherein Some people call me Maurice/Cause I speak of the pompitous of love. He sure did. But mostly he would "slink down the alley looking for a fight/Howling to the moonlight on a hot summer night." I owned Maurice at the time the song came out, and used to sing it to him. (He knew the song was all about him.)

Of course, cat people know that he really owned ME.

And I miss him.

I send him my most loving Deadhead vibes in his next lives and hope to someday meet him again.

Fun Friday Links

From here, there and everywhere:


:: CNN reports that the newest poll shows that Voters want to throw em out:

76 percent of voters said most members of Congress do not deserve to be re-elected, the highest percentage Gallup measured in 19 years of asking that question. And the 20% who say congressional members should be re-elected is a record low-one point below the previous low recorded in August.

:: December 6th was the 22nd anniversary of the Montreal Polytechnique Massacre – during which a man named Marc Lepine killed 14 women because he was “fighting feminism”. Please pay your respects.

:: My beloved Elizabeth's jewels are going to auction, the estimated value is $30 million. A stunning collection, well worth ogling.

:: In Occupy news, Thuggish Republican Allen West Says It's OK To Beat Up Peaceful Protesters. Are you surprised? Family Guy writer Patrick Meighan was roughed up during his arrest at Occupy Los Angeles, and has written about it:

As we sat there, encircled, a separate team of LAPD officers used knives to slice open every personal tent in the park. They forcibly removed anyone sleeping inside, and then yanked out and destroyed any personal property inside those tents, scattering the contents across the park. They then did the same with the communal property of the Occupy LA movement. For example, I watched as the LAPD destroyed a pop-up canopy tent that, until that moment, had been serving as Occupy LA’s First Aid and Wellness tent, in which volunteer health professionals gave free medical care to absolutely anyone who requested it. As it happens, my family had personally contributed that exact canopy tent to Occupy LA, at a cost of several hundred of my family’s dollars. As I watched, the LAPD sliced that canopy tent to shreds, broke the telescoping poles into pieces and scattered the detritus across the park. Note that these were the objects described in subsequent mainstream press reports as “30 tons of garbage” that was “abandoned” by Occupy LA: personal property forcibly stolen from us, destroyed in front of our eyes and then left for maintenance workers to dispose of while we were sent to prison.

When the LAPD finally began arresting those of us interlocked around the symbolic tent, we were all ordered by the LAPD to unlink from each other (in order to facilitate the arrests). Each seated, nonviolent protester beside me who refused to cooperate by unlinking his arms had the following done to him: an LAPD officer would forcibly extend the protestor’s legs, grab his left foot, twist it all the way around and then stomp his boot on the insole, pinning the protestor’s left foot to the pavement, twisted backwards. Then the LAPD officer would grab the protestor’s right foot and twist it all the way the other direction until the non-violent protestor, in incredible agony, would shriek in pain and unlink from his neighbor.

It was horrible to watch, and apparently designed to terrorize the rest of us. At least I was sufficiently terrorized. I unlinked my arms voluntarily and informed the LAPD officers that I would go peacefully and cooperatively. I stood as instructed, and then I had my arms wrenched behind my back, and an officer hyperextended my wrists into my inner arms. It was super violent, it hurt really really bad, and he was doing it on purpose. When I involuntarily recoiled from the pain, the LAPD officer threw me face-first to the pavement. He had my hands behind my back, so I landed right on my face. The officer dropped with his knee on my back and ground my face into the pavement. It really, really hurt and my face started bleeding and I was very scared. I begged for mercy and I promised that I was honestly not resisting and would not resist.

My hands were then zipcuffed very tightly behind my back, where they turned blue. I am now suffering nerve damage in my right thumb and palm.

There's more.

:: Lisa understands what some of us are going through, since she is going through it, too: Unemployment Diary: Shortfalls and little sins. Good luck, Lisa!

:: By way of wonderful Onyx Lynx, here is Herman Cain & Eddie Long: A Tale of Two Players, great reading from The Republic of T. He makes an excellent, overlooked point about the Cain scandal, in particular:

It would have been incredibly damaging to Republicans if Cain had actually gotten on the ticket as veep (because we all know he was never going to get the nomination), and then these allegation had come out. (Which is why I’m convinced that someone on the right is responsible for these allegations coming forward. Democrats just didn’t have any compelling reasons to want Cain out of the race. Republicans had lots of them.)

And they sure did, didn't they?

:: Andy Borowitz amusingly follows up on Cain and Mitt Romney's plummet in the polls, with this funny bit titled, Falling in Polls, Romney Considers Adultery:

CONCORD, NH (The Borowitz Report)– Troubled by his fading poll numbers, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney is considering a bold strategy to reboot his Presidential campaign: engaging in a high-profile extramarital affair.

At a press conference in Concord, New Hampshire today Mr. Romney confirmed that he was consulting with senior advisors about the best way to proceed with an inappropriate relationship.

“Republican voters have sent the message that they want to vote for an adulterer and I have heard them loud and clear,” he said. “I promise that I will engage in a world-class extramarital affair that will make all of us proud again.”

According to one senior advisor, the Romney campaign was already holding focus groups and conducting special polling to determine the best person with whom Mr. Romney should conduct his extracurricular dalliance.

:: In South Carolina news, Labor Board Drops Case Against Boeing:

The [National Labor Relations Board]’s acting general counsel, Lafe Solomon, said the labor board had decided to end the case after the machinists’ union — which originally asked for the case to be brought — had urged the board on Thursday to withdraw it.

On Wednesday night, the union announced that 74 percent of its 31,000 Boeing workers in Washington State had voted to ratify a four-year contract extension that includes substantial raises, unusual job security provisions and a commitment by Boeing to expand aircraft production in the Puget Sound area.

Mr. Solomon had filed the case against Boeing last April. Agreeing with the union’s position, he asserted that Boeing’s decision to build the $750 million plant in South Carolina constituted illegal retaliation against the union’s members in Washington for having engaged in their federally protected right to strike.

The case against Boeing enraged South Carolina officials, who saw it as an insulting blow to one of their greatest economic development successes. It also angered Republican lawmakers and presidential candidates, who asserted that federal regulators should not engage in heavy-handed regulation that tells companies where they can or cannot invest.

At left: Anti-Newt protester at our Fox News debate demonstration here in Greenville, back in May. This guy warned us that Newt wasn't down for the count, and we should have paid attention!



:: In Newtie news, we learn that Newt Gingrich Sells Books And Films While Campaigning For President:

Gingrich's personal financial disclosure form shows that he and wife, Callista, reported between $500,000 and $1 million in assets from Gingrich Productions, the couple's media company that produces books and films. The filings also list a promissory note worth between $5 million and $25 million owed to the production company, records show, although details of that asset are unclear.

The July filings list Gingrich's income and assets since early 2010, including rental income, investment dividends and capital gains.

Gingrich has turned over the production company to his wife as he works to build support for his White House bid. Yet he still promotes their films, often hosting a screening for them on the sidelines during conservative conferences.

Afterward, aides sell DVDs of the programs and their companion books.

It is a routine for Gingrich. He delivers a rousing speech, as he did at the Conservative Political Action Committee conference in Orlando, Fla., this summer; a short time later, he and wife are at a table signing freshly purchased copies of their books. The same was true last week at events in South Carolina: stump speech, book signing.

Utterly shameless. Even more shameless (as well as racist and bigoted, but what else is new?) is his recent comment that Palestinians are "an invented people":

Newt Gingrich did an interview with The Jewish Channel, and had some interesting comments about the Israeli-Palestinian peace process — possibly leaning toward the expulsion of the Palestinians.

“Well, I believe that the Jewish people have the right to have a state, and I believe that the commitments that were made at a time — remember, there was no Palestine as a state, it was part of the Ottoman Empire,” said Gingrich.

“And I think that we’ve had an invented Palestinian people, who are in fact Arabs, and were historically part of the Arab community. And they had a chance to go many places. And for a variety of political reasons, we have sustained this war against Israel now, since the 1940’s, and I think it’s tragic.”

This would seem to imply that Gingrich would not only oppose a Palestinian state — but thinks that Palestinians in Israel and the Occupied Territories should have had to leave.

Watch Newtie grovel for that Evangelical money! As I said, utterly shameless. (Interestingly, contemporary conservative pundits aren't having any.)

:: Your combination Friday Cat Blogging and Daily Dose of Cute, comes from Daisy the Curly Cat's new hat and new holiday skirt. Not to be forgotten is Harley, who looks exactly like my dear departed Zeppo Marx Katz, one of the greatest cats of all time. I am fairly certain Harley is Zeppo in one of his later nine lives! (((snugly hugs, purrs and kisses for Harley)))

:: Don't forget to catch me on the radio tomorrow morning, bright and early, 9am sharp! I will be talking about some scary stuff for upstate SC: how nonChristians celebrate this time of year. TUNE IN!

Friday Cat Blogging: Ziggy

Whenever Cousin Bethie's kitty Ziggy relaxes, she sticks her tongue out. It's the cutest thing!

PS: Hope everyone has a great weekend; Ziggy says you should kick back and enjoy the summer sun.

Random Friday notes

At left: Mr Cyril is now 7 months old!





Like everyone else in the USA, I am presently bustling, rustling, hustling... and trying to dig out from under mounds of email (as well as real-life junk mail), Mr Daisy's comics and kitty detritus, to prepare for the holiday week coming up.

How is everything with you?

I have decided to run for County Council, as I mentioned here. I figure it can't hurt. I know for sure I will get at least a dozen votes!

Visit the Greenville Greens page on Facebook! And if you are in Greenville County, vote for me! (Don't worry, I'll be reminding you at least a million times before the election.)

Transgender Day of Remembrance was yesterday. Please pay your respects.

Good reading for Friday:

Is Adoption a Feminist Issue? (AdoptionTalk)

Pharmaceutical Giant Paid $500,000 to Psychiatrist Who Used Chicago's Poor as Guinea Pigs (AlterNet)

New Study Shows Women Still Underrepresented in Leadership Roles (ACS Blog)

Regarding that last point... I repeat, vote for me!

I am gonna be a grandma again! Am I old or what?

Very happy and very pleased. :)

~*~

And now, our musical accompaniment for this post.

I was gonna use the following video for Tuesday's alcoholism post, and then decided it was too irreverent... I went with Hank Williams instead. Today, feeling a bit irreverent, which I once again blame on Frank Zappa's ghost (listened to Frank on Friday, of course!)... thus, I now freely offer this irreverent look at junkiedom.

Observations:

1) Why on earth didn't they give Slash the Nobel prize for playing like that?

2) Axl appears rather fried, thus illustrating his familiarity with the subject matter.

3) I love when substances take "human" form; i.e. John Barleycorn, Mary Jane, Mr Brownstone, etc. (On a rather Calvinist note, this particular personification always reminds me of the Devil card in the Rider-Waite tarot deck, with the chains on the humans.)

This is live from 1988, a bit of nostalgia for you metal-heads.

~*~

Guns N' Roses - Mr Brownstone

Friday Cat Blogging: New Family Member

I went to the kitten rescue, to take photos of kittens. As I've said here before, I visit feline rescues regularly.

Unexpectedly, I saw a miniature version of my smoky-gray Grand Old Man, whom I lost a year ago. There he was! (below, far right)

Of course, since cats have nine lives, I wondered if it really was him.

I picked up the white one, and he was disinterested. The gray one was very determined, yowling insistently at me. Hmm, I thought. Is it him?

I picked him up and he purred and head-butted me, promptly crawling into my hair.

Okay.

I guess you know what happened next. :)

~*~

Peace Cat appears very jealous and is punishing me for the new arrival by refusing to acknowledge my existence. Currently, he just glares (and occasionally hisses) at the kitten, but I am hoping he will come around. His grief was as profound as mine, and I fervently hope he will soon make friends with our new family member.

He is an affectionate little sweetheart; I am very happy right now.

Friday Cat Blogging, musings about capitalism, etc

Caption: Why won't she let me sleep in peace?


Also see: Daisy the Curly Cat's extremely cool new kitty digs and John Scalzi's cats, who are currently tripping in outer space. (Yes, the first one's always free!)

~*~


Thoughtful article in The Nation, by Benjamin R. Barber, titled A Revolution in Spirit... has me thinking some deep thoughts.

Excerpts with commentary:

But it is hard to discern any movement toward a wholesale rethinking of the dominant role of the market in our society. No one is questioning the impulse to rehabilitate the consumer market as the driver of American commerce. Or to keep commerce as the foundation of American public and private life, even at the cost of rendering other cherished American values--like pluralism, the life of the spirit and the pursuit of (nonmaterial) happiness--subordinate to it.

Economists and politicians across the spectrum continue to insist that the challenge lies in revving up inert demand. For in an economy that has become dependent on consumerism to the tune of 70 percent of GDP, shoppers who won't shop and consumers who don't consume spell disaster. Yet it is precisely in confronting the paradox of consumerism that the struggle for capitalism's soul needs to be waged.

I work in consumerism, yet I am critical of consumerism. I realize, that's a contradiction, but it does mean that I think about it a lot.

Tomorrow, I am going to a social event sponsored by a business. At my (capitalist retail) workplace, we also sponsor various "special events"--even though they are usually "progressive" in nature. These capitalist-sponsored "events" have ever-so-slowly supplanted social events and parties sponsored by individuals, in real homes and recreational areas.

What does it mean that so much of our social life in this age is determined by commerce? The kids make their best friends in malls. Our social life is guided by work, more often (it seems to me) than leisure. Back in the day, social life was centered around neighborhood, church, family, free time. Those institutions have now taken a role subordinate to the marketplace.

In my workplace, there is a cafe, where people meet each other for lunch, coffee, dinner. (Certainly, it's the most common place I meet with my friends, also.) We go to people's homes, even our best friends, far less often than we once did.

And what does it mean that such cafes are now in retail spaces, such as grocery stores and bookstores? (Even Starbucks now makes the major money with drive-through windows and retail sales, rather than relying primarily on cafe revenue.)

How did this whole state of affairs come to be, and why? (Again, let me recommend Robert D. Putnam's excellent book, BOWLING ALONE, which also addresses some of these issues.) Barber writes:

The crisis in global capitalism demands a revolution in spirit--fundamental change in attitudes and behavior. Reform cannot merely rush parents and kids back into the mall; it must encourage them to shop less, to save rather than spend. If there's to be a federal lottery, the Obama administration should use it as an incentive for saving, a free ticket, say, for every ten bucks banked. Penalize carbon use by taxing gas so that it's $4 a gallon regardless of market price, curbing gas guzzlers and promoting efficient public transportation. And how about policies that give producers incentives to target real needs, even where the needy are short of cash, rather than to manufacture faux needs for the wealthy just because they've got the cash?

Or better yet, take in earnest that insincere MasterCard ad, and consider all the things money can't buy (most things!). Change some habits and restore the balance between body and spirit. Refashion the cultural ethos by taking culture seriously. The arts play a large role in fostering the noncommercial aspects of society. It's time, finally, for a cabinet-level arts and humanities post to foster creative thinking within government as well as throughout the country. Time for serious federal arts education money to teach the young the joys and powers of imagination, creativity and culture, as doers and spectators rather than consumers.

Recreation and physical activity are also public goods not dependent on private purchase. They call for parks and biking paths rather than multiplexes and malls. Speaking of the multiplex, why has the new communications technology been left almost entirely to commerce? Its architecture is democratic, and its networking potential is deeply social. Yet for the most part, it has been put to private and commercial rather than educational and cultural uses. Its democratic and artistic possibilities need to be elaborated, even subsidized.

Are these changes a matter of sheer 'political will' (i.e. doing what needs to be done) and/or a public consensus?

Could such changes happen 'organically'--naturally evolving, or will some sort of government action actually be necessary to prompt such change?

As regular readers know, I have some pesky libertarian, Ron Paulesque tendencies, and I am not sure a government-sponsored social life is superior to one guided by simple commerce. Public schools are a good (bad?) example of that already, aren't they?

It seems the same social (emotional) bankruptcy is at the root. If we don't go to some contrived commerce-driven "common area"--we simply don't know how to make friends anymore. We require something "in common" before we are able to talk to people--and that commonality is no longer our belief-system or neighborhood; the commonality we increasingly depend on is taste in product, the fake commercial-culture that has evolved around the marketplace.

I am not sure how to phrase these things. It's like discussing the air we breathe, circumstances simply taken for granted these days. (I think the kids DO take them for granted, so will the baby-boomers have to lead the discussion, because we can still remember a very different social atmosphere?)

Barber:

Of course, much of what is required cannot be leveraged by government policy alone, or by a stimulus package and new regulations over the securities and banking markets. A cultural ethos is at stake. For far too long our primary institutions--from education and advertising to politics and entertainment--have prized consumerism above everything else, even at the price of infantilizing society. If spirit is to have a chance, they must join the revolution.

The costs of such a transformation will undoubtedly be steep, since they are likely to prolong the recession. Capitalists may be required to take risks they prefer to socialize (i.e., make taxpayers shoulder them). They will be asked to create new markets rather than exploit and abuse old ones; to simultaneously jump-start investments and inventions that create jobs and help generate those new consumers who will buy the useful and necessary things capitalists make once they start addressing real needs (try purifying tainted water in the Third World rather than bottling tap water in the First!).

The good news is, people are already spending less, earning before buying (using those old-fashioned layaway plans) and feeling relieved at the shopping quasi-moratorium. Suddenly debit cards are the preferred plastic. Parental "gatekeepers" are rebelling against marketers who treat their 4-year-olds as consumers-to-be. Adults are questioning brand identities and the infantilization of their tastes. They are out in front of the politicians, who still seem addicted to credit as a cure-all for the economic crisis.

Agree? Disagree? What do you think?

Even more than that, what to do? How can we encourage these changes?

National Enquirer Kitty!

... has an inquiring mind.








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Listening to: The Replacements - Alex Chilton
via FoxyTunes

Friday Cat Blogging: do kitties grieve?

Left: Peace Cat (black and white) and the late Grand Old Man, were always together.

~*~

Since the death of my beloved Grand Old Man, my youngest cat, Peace Cat, is alone.

He started out with us over six years ago in a household of three cats, and now he is the only one left.

Peace Cat loved to sleep next to Grand Old Man and fight with him. He also pestered him terribly and chased him everywhere. I used to adopt an "old man voice" and complain, imagining how he must feel, as Grand Old Man just looked so TIRED and weary of any more fun feline-games. Peace Cat, contrary to his name, loved to jump on him and bite his ears. Grand Old Man would loudly growl and whine, as if he just couldn't even muster up the energy to swat back at him. (The noise was meant to signal ME, to break it up.)

When Grand Old Man was sick, he huddled under an end-table. I found him when I was calling for him and he was too sick to respond; Peace Cat (just like the fabled TV canine, Lassie) went under the table, as if pointing to him. He licked his ears earnestly, as if to say (simultaneously): HERE HE IS!... and "I'm sorry for all those times I bit your ears!"

Peace Cat seems sad now. Am I projecting? Do cats grieve?

I ask because he did indeed seem to love Grand Old Man, and followed him everywhere.

Yesterday, I discovered Peace Cat near the window in the spare room, where Grand Old Man used to sleep during the day. There are still wads of gray hair in the window, that I can't bear to clean up yet.

I saw Peace Cat poking on the closed curtain. Poke, poke. I realized: OMG! It's one of the feline-games! He used to poke on the curtain while Grand Old Man slept. Eventually, Grand Old Man would poke BACK (cats simply can't contain themselves for very long in such circumstances, regardless of their age) and the feline curtain-game would be ON. That's how my curtain got all torn up, too.

And Peace Cat was poking the curtain, possibly hoping his old friend would reappear, and poke back through the curtain. Or just pretending and playing anyway?

Can kitties have hope and memories?

He waits for the answering swat through the curtain, that never comes. He looks as sad as I am. Is that possible?

(I miss him, too, PC. I miss him, too.)

Friday Cat Blogging

Caption: Why doesn't she leave me alone? Doesn't she know I dislike her flashing steel box game? Boring.

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Listening to: Patti Smith Group - 25th Floor
via FoxyTunes

Friday Cat blogging - overworked Christmas retail edition

~*~

I've never participated in Friday Cat Blogging before, but as always, there is a first time for everything.

One cat just leads to another. -- Ernest Hemingway

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Listening to: Talking Heads - Artists Only
via FoxyTunes