Screen Saviour

Salvation awaits, friends. Commit your souls to Screen. Gaze deeply -- intently -- into Screen. Devote your lives to Screen's will. Pledge your money, your energy and your complete attention to the greatness and glory of Screen. Your sins will be wiped clean and your purpose revealed by Screen's plan for your lives. Dance and worship together in the shiny glow of Screen. Praise all-knowing Screen.

All of your yesterdays and all of your tomorrows belong to Screen. And to those all around you who pledge their lives to Screen.

Close your eyes each night peering into Screen's magnificence. Awake each morning and seek the will of Screen. Look to the strength of Screen for guidance. Cling to Screen all your days, at home, at work, in the car, in the store. Screen is everywhere, everywhere there is a screen.

Be on fire for Screen. Share your passion for Screen. Feed Screen your life and everything in it, and Screen will feed you hapiness and joy forever and ever. Hallelujah, Glory be to Screen.

An excerpt from a book I'm reading

Stephen Hunter is one of my favorite authors. I've spent years following a particular story or have invested a lot of time following compelling characters. But every once in a while, a gem of great writing jumps off the fictional pages of a book and smacks real world arrogance in the mouth.

..... from Stephen Hunter's I, Sniper: a Bob Lee Swagger Novel, December 2009, Simon & Shuster

----------------------------------------------------------

"Here's what I'm asking: why can't we do something? Do we just have to take it? Can't we find our reporter? Who'll tell our side and make Nick look good?"

"You're so young, Starling. You must actually believe in justice or something fantastic like that."

"I do."

"Let me tell you what's going on, and why this one is so touchy. We are fighting the narrative. You do not fight the narrative. The narrative will destroy you. The narrative is all powerful. The narrative rules. It rules us, it rules Washington, it rules everything. Now ask me, 'What is the narrative?'"

"What is the narrative?"

"The narrative is the set of assumptions the press believes in, possibly without even knowing that it believes in them. It's so powerful because it's unconscious. It's not like they get together every morning and decide 'These are the lies we tell today.' No, that would be too crude and honest. Rather, it's a set of casual, nonrigorous assumptions about a reality they've never really experienced that's arranged in such a way as to reinforce their best and most ideal presumptions about themselves and their importance to the system and the way they've chose to live their lives. It's a way of arranging things a certain way that they all believe in without ever really addressing carefully. It permeates their whole culture. They know, for example, that Bush is a moron and Obama a saint. They know communism was a phony threat cooked up by right-wing cranks as a way to leverage power to the executive. They know Saddam didn't have weapons of mass destruction, the response to Katrina was fucked up, torture never works, and mad Vietman sniper Carl Hitchcock* (fictional character) killed the saintly peace demonstrators. Cheney's a devil, Biden's a genius. Soft power good, hard power bad. Forgiveness excellent, punishment counterproductive, capital punishment a sin. See, Nick's fighting the narrative. He's going against the story, and the story was somewhat suspiciously concocted exactly to their prejudices, just as Jayson Blair's made-up stories and Dan Rather's Air National Guard documents were. And the narrative is the bedrock of their culture, the keystone of their faith, the altar of their church. The don't even know they're true believers, because in theory they despise the true believer in anything. But they will absolutely de-frackin'-stroy anybody who makes them question all that, and Nick had the temerity to do so, even if he didn't quite realize it at the time. That's why, led by brother Banjax* (fictional character) and whoever is slipping him data, they have to destroy Nick. I don't know who or what's behind it, but I do know this: they have all the cards, and if you play in that game, they will destroy you too."

"Why can't we simply destroy the narrative?"

"Starling, it's everywhere. It's all things. It's permanent. It's beyond. It's beneath. It's above. It's in the air, the music, the furniture, the DNA, the blood, if these assholes had blood."

"I say, 'Destroy the narrative.'"

"I say, 'You will yourself be destroyed.'"

She achieved a particularly cute and fetchingly petulant look, so totally charming that he fell in love with her until he remembered he had a wife and three kids.

"So you think it's hopeless?" she asked.

"Starling -- Agent Chandler, Jean, Jean, that's it, right? Jean, listen, you do not want to get involved with these birds. They are smart and in their way they are ruthless; they will smile at you and charm you and look you in the eye, and for something they believe is the Truth, they will cut out your heart and let you bleed out in the sun..... "

----------------------------------------------------------

Good stuff. And a press guy too. In addition to being one hell of an author of fiction, Hunter was a newspaper guy by trade, having retired as chief film critic of the Washington Post. He won a Pulitzer Prize in 2003 for Distinguished Criticism.

Cardboard cutouts

Maybe Facebook isn't the best place to let your guard down. Keep it simple. Stay close to the surface. Most people are happier if expectations are kept to a minimum. The more savvy among us do something like this: they trot out cardboard cutouts of themselves, with seemingly endless supplies of shallow status updates and photo albums highlighting the stuff they've consumed. They spotlight solely on their lifestyle, never revealing a single insight into what makes them tick or what makes them feel vulnerable.

Try it. This will be best for everyone. Here's how:

• Old friends will conclude you've done well for yourself, and be happy for your success in life. This is ideal because, as it turns out, you'll probably never (ever) be in the same room with any of these friends again.
• New friends will bask in the glow of your awesomeness, and feel that little extra euphoria from knowing they chose wisely when they chose you. And further, this is the shiny surface with which you can explore the shallow depths together. You'll have new best friends in no time.
• Former friends of a wide and varying ilk will envy your sparkly awesomeness when confronted with its magnitude. They already hated you; no biggie. Now, with very little effort on your part, you've confirmed all over again why they hate you.

This is one way to treat your friends. It's not your fault Facebook took what essentially amounts to a one or a zero in a database field and concluded friendship. They could've went with "associate" or "acquaintance" or "chum" or "well-wisher" or "cohort" or "buddy."

But they chose "friend."

And it's clear, the cardboard cutout route isn't cutout for friendship.

Put me in coach

My son's new tee ball coach is me. I'm not really sure how it happened. An old teammate called last week and asked if I'd be interested in helping out. My son was with a group of unplaced players in the downtown area. Without much thought I said yes.

We play a lot of catch at my house, and hit the ball across the road, and generally have fun. It's not too long before other kids from around the neighborhood are gathered around participating too. So, it can't be too much different from that, right?

That was Friday. After mulling it over a few days and nights I'm not so sure anymore. This is Tee Ball. The kids are 5-6 years old. The skill levels are all over the map, from zero to barely more than zero. Attention spans not withstanding, this will be their very first exposure to organized baseball -- America's favorite pastime.

It's not really a matter of knowing the game and building fundamentals. I know baseball like the back of my hand, having spent my entire youth playing every spring and summer.

This is coaching. This is important. Like the baseball gods of Cooperstown saw fit to entrust me with the very essence of the game: not the doing, not the greatness, not the achievement, nor the legacy. No. I'm talking about the soul of the game. That which ignites in young kids, turns to love or hatred in an instant, and burns for a lifetime.

And then... parents. Their trust is bigger than baseball or any other sport. They trust that a simple decision to sign their kids up for a fun activity like tee ball won't result in permanent scarring -- not only of precious, delicate young minds but the kind of scarring that occurs after a little bleeding. That the coach won't be a total jackass. Or that he won't hurt their kid's feelings. Or that he won't yell at them and make them cry.

I need a frame of reference, to draw from my own experiences.

My coaches were all great, from the time I started to the time I stopped playing: Mr. Clauser, Mr. Lyons, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Bradford, Mr. Blacketter, my dad, the Bloom brothers, Mr. Carpenter, Coach Vasser and Coach Church.

They all left impressions, about baseball, teaching me the game, and about the kind of men they were. Respectable human beings. Men I looked up to. A lot. They were instructors (better than my school teachers). They were motivators (better than my parents). They were cheerleaders who corrected mistakes and encouraged play-making: hitting well, fielding well and throwing well. They drove home the practice of being a good teammate and always being a good sport.

My son is thrilled beyond words. Every last relative and friend knows that his dad is his coach. I've never seen him more excited than when he found out.

The pressure is palpable for this first timer.

Circular logic

The world doesn't want you

... so you change

The world doesn't want you to change

... into something you're not

The world doesn't need you

What's new? Nothing much

I asked a friend on Facebook what was up today, what was new, that kind of thing.... the interchange went like this:
---------------------------------------------------------
ME: what do you know, stranger?

FRIEND: I know lotsa stuff. What's up with you?

ME: I'm just the same old dude, doing the same old stuff. People ask me all the time, "what's new?" I freeze. I don't know what to say. I'm not even good at just stringing along a line of bull that says nothing but sounds impressive like it's something. I take a hard swallow of reality and offer up the same tried and true response: "nothing much."

It hurts. It's painfully obvious that the air was wasted on the question alone. People know better, usually. In a world of courtesies and civil interchanges, the ones who know better, but have to ask anyway (as politeness would dictate) come away from the experience ever more convinced that there really is nothing there.

I feel bad for them. They've been left wanting. It's the reason I stopped writing Christmas letters, because before I realized that most normal people actually hate those wretched, desperate attempts to show you're a witty S.O.B., it occurred to me that I was repeating myself. A lot. Oh sure, the kids get older and have new experiences (ah... youth), and occasionally the dog can write one to mix it up. It was the same old crap served up on a different plate year after year.

Maybe I am a deep S.O.B., and it's important for people to realize that, even though everything on the outside stays the same, never changing, never compelling, never really worth asking about. A dude so rich in thought who's never really been anywhere and never really done anything and doesn't really know much at all.

I know you know lots of stuff. How are you?

FRIEND: Maybe you could try really letting them know the truth of what is new and then they will stop asking. For example... the top five things that are new in my life that I would probably not advertise, but could would be:

1. Weaned myself from antidepressants
2. Got in a fight with my neighbor because her daughter is a bully
3. Watched Fat Actress for the first time and kind of enjoyed it
4. Admitted to my husband that I would choose my son over him
5. Came to the realization that I do actually probably drink too much

Then there are the top five things that that I would share, but realize nobody cares about:

1. My child's loose tooth
2. Home improvement projects
3. Pets
4. Weather
5. Cars

So, I like you... just say, 'nothin' much.'

But, usually when I ask someone whats new, I really kind of want to know the real stuff~like my first list, but nobody ever shares that info. Bunch of jabber really. My mother in law asks what's new and then interrupts me and tells me about all her friends with cancer who I don't know.. I really don't care about that, especially because she asked ME what was new, I didn't even ask her.

ME: I do like your first list better. What were you taking? Was it a fist fight or a war of words? That's tough stuff.. all of it.

FRIEND: I was on a low dose of Prozac for only about 2 months. I hated it. I was having hormonal issues as well as situational depression over the kitchen episode and it can't even be described how weird/hard it is to have your baby turning 18 and graduating. I was a basket case, however, I hated the fatigue and numbness the medication provided. It took away a part of me that, though I don't sometimes like, is a big part of who I am and who I have come to know. The fight was a huge war of words, that I only regret because I spoke a secret truth that hurt someone. Things are better all the way around now. I wish the sun would come out though... I've had enough cold and rain.

ME: (nothing yet... seems to be covered)
---------------------------------------------------------

It was a good exchange, I thought. On most days, "nothing much" seems to work best for most people. Life happens, so "nothing much" is that secret sauce able to bridge time and place to people and things, sparing all the boring details. Especially when the details are boring.

But it's nice, on occasion, to sweep aside the well-rehearsed and reflex ready replies to questions of what's new and how are we doing, by digging a little deeper and revealing more of ourselves to those who might inquire when we need it most.

Life is certainly more than "nothing much." It's good to remember that fact, as I wrestle with my nothing much, which just seems to ring truer for me, and anyone else who felt socially obligated to ask.

From Russia with love...

I got this in a junk email today and it was just too good not to share....

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello the stranger. We are not familiar with you. But I very much would like to get acquainted with you on closer. My name is Ekaterina, I from Russia and me of 27 years. I work as the seller in shop and I write to you from work. I when did not get acquainted before with men on the Internet it is my first time. I have decided to find to myself of the partner in life through the Internet and have written to you. I very much was disappointed in men from Russia, I wish to meet now the prince on the Internet. I send to you I wash a photo.

If I have interested you, write to me on mine e-mail: (hidden)

And I will necessarily answer you. You to me seem very good man with which it will be interesting to communicate. I would like you to learn better and more close to get acquainted. I will wait the answer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------