Saturday, January 14, 2006
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
it is awards season, after all
And so the People's and Critics' Koufax Award for Best Amazon Reviews linked from a Blog Comment Even though the Latest Posting is Two Years Old goes to Henry Raddick of (London UK).
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
our priorities
from the New York Times today:
"Ms. Olson said the I.R.S. devoted vastly more resources to pursing questionable refunds by the poor, which she said cannot involve more than $9 billion, than to a $100 billion problem with unreported incomes from small businesses that deal only in cash, many of which do not even file tax returns."
"...while tax fraud by the not-so-poor weighs in at about $340 billion."
"Ms. Olson said the I.R.S. devoted vastly more resources to pursing questionable refunds by the poor, which she said cannot involve more than $9 billion, than to a $100 billion problem with unreported incomes from small businesses that deal only in cash, many of which do not even file tax returns."
"...while tax fraud by the not-so-poor weighs in at about $340 billion."
Sunday, January 8, 2006
My mother? Let me tell you about my mother.
It's my fault for wanting to watch Blade Runner, which is on Spike, which means at almost every commercial break there is an ad for a games-on-mobile service.
A young man with a light Eastern European accent is on a city bus. He impassively commands — and they follow — an old man to turn up his radio, a young woman to dance, two other men to fight, and the bus driver to throw on the brakes, causing others on the bus to fall. I am certainly not the audience for this commercial, but who is?
Who would be moved by the magical implications that playing the mobile games gives power over inner-city others? Who would not be offended by the presented naturalness of a young white man telling older, darker skinned, and poorer people what to do? (And why does the young man have an accent?)
Why is this commercial being made now?
How can it not know what it is?
or:
Because then we're stupid and we'll die?
a walk in the park
Yesterday we went for an afternoon walk at McLain State Park. There were about 30 degrees floating about, and the snow was compressed and crusty, with lots of ice underneath. The wind was sharp, there were lots of deer tracks, and there was no ice on the big lake at all.
Saturday, January 7, 2006
if I don't understand you, it is your fault
Over at Washington Monthly, Kevin Drum asked Debra Dickinson to guest blog for a while.
Some of the responses to her various posts:
and so on.
People came down on her for writing "spoze" instead of "suppose." There are comments that took her points seriously, also, but I quoted comments above at length (and there were many more) to show how much her writing was denigrated.
Maybe I'm reading all the wrong blogs, but I read a lot, and I have never seen such responses. There's all kinds of writing in blogs, and people do comment on spelling sometimes (usually their own), but I have never seen such a pack response to a writer who is bringing into a blog arguments that haven't been made there before, arguments about how deeply race is embedded in all sorts of past and present practices.
Such responses to Dickerson are condescending at best, misogynist and racist at worst, and show -- minimally -- that a lot of readers are not willing to put in time and effort to read anything but that which is familiar and re-inforcing of what they expect. This is the pattern we get used to in writing instruction: some readers are blinded by one word they consider to be misspelled, seeing in it moral implications.
The people who wrote the comments I quoted will say, "It's only about the writing" -- just as (for example) was said by those who turned down an article by Carole Blaire, Julie R. Brown, and Leslie A. Baxter that focused on women and academia (Blair, Carole, Julie R. Brown, Leslie A. Baxter. (1994). Disciplining the Feminine. Quarterly Journal of Speech (84): 383-409). One example, but I'll let it suffice for now because it's a strong one and because my stomach needs soothing after reading those comments.
The teaching of writing also needs to be about the teaching of reading and about the teaching of generosity toward that which is not familiar.
Some of the responses to her various posts:
"Where did this Debra person come from, anyway? Is she here to stay? Most of the time I have no idea what she's is talking about. I mean, I'm sorry, but her posts are mostly incomprehensible to me." "Apparently, this writer thinks blogging is just journalism done to lower standards and with greater self-indulgence. It betrays a contempt for other bloggers and for her audience." "Oh rubbish, the woman was just feeling her way along. She got it wrong at first. So bloody what, it's not contempt, it's getting her bloody sea legs." "hey, this as a much better, more interesting Dickerson post than the last few." "uh, am I the only one here who's finding Dickerson's posts mostly incoherent? I can't even make out Will's argument, much less hers, from this mess. And maverick negro cowboys with made-up diseases wha?!? Maybe blogging actually *is* harder than it looks." 'Yeah, I agree. She needs to frame her arguments better." "Tony- there was an argument there? What was it?" "This was entirely unreadable. Incoherent, poorly written, largely irritating." "That was a terrible, terrible piece, and even aside from the awful writing, it's practically content-free." "Who is Debra Dickerson? And why does she write so poorly?" "Seems that Dickerson can actually turn in a coherent piece, as long as she lifts 95% of it from other sources." "I read the whole thing, even the silly link to the 1851 racist tome. What is your point?" "Yep, that post was the mother of all brainfarts. Race? "The Negro Cowboy"? Huh?" "I read Debra's post shortly after it went online. I didn't have a CLUE what she was talking about, but was too embarrassed to say so. I felt sure I was missing something fundamental." "That was.... a fine example of incoherent blithering on." "Typically one normally intends to have a fucking point when writing. And, given this blog is supposed to be about American politics one might expect a guest author would want to have something approaching a point." "Get rid of this Dickerson person, and her incoherence. Haven't seen a sensible piece from her yet -- what the fuck, is she doing some kind of low wage, between-terms internship or something? Sheesh." "Misogynists? I suppose illiterate looney Left have to dig around for hackneyed smears, but my problem with this incoherent twit Dickerson has fuck all to do with her gender and everything to do with her inability to write coherently or even in an interesting manner."
and so on.
People came down on her for writing "spoze" instead of "suppose." There are comments that took her points seriously, also, but I quoted comments above at length (and there were many more) to show how much her writing was denigrated.
Maybe I'm reading all the wrong blogs, but I read a lot, and I have never seen such responses. There's all kinds of writing in blogs, and people do comment on spelling sometimes (usually their own), but I have never seen such a pack response to a writer who is bringing into a blog arguments that haven't been made there before, arguments about how deeply race is embedded in all sorts of past and present practices.
Such responses to Dickerson are condescending at best, misogynist and racist at worst, and show -- minimally -- that a lot of readers are not willing to put in time and effort to read anything but that which is familiar and re-inforcing of what they expect. This is the pattern we get used to in writing instruction: some readers are blinded by one word they consider to be misspelled, seeing in it moral implications.
The people who wrote the comments I quoted will say, "It's only about the writing" -- just as (for example) was said by those who turned down an article by Carole Blaire, Julie R. Brown, and Leslie A. Baxter that focused on women and academia (Blair, Carole, Julie R. Brown, Leslie A. Baxter. (1994). Disciplining the Feminine. Quarterly Journal of Speech (84): 383-409). One example, but I'll let it suffice for now because it's a strong one and because my stomach needs soothing after reading those comments.
The teaching of writing also needs to be about the teaching of reading and about the teaching of generosity toward that which is not familiar.
flu almost gone; Habermas ringing the doorbell
I gave up and spent the last several days in bed, me, the computer, and the cat, with soup supplied by the sweet one. I got the Instructor's Manual for the textbook edited, following the proofreader's comments. I reviewed the index for the textbook and dealt with three different permissions issues with the textbook (there's only one left, but we're working with people in London on this one, people whose sense of timing is not just other coastal but other continental). I wrote three recommendation letters. I've written letters to friends and those nieces. And I've played a lot of MasterMind. And now I have to review the final pdf of the textbook by Monday (while waiting on those few pages that might need to be edited depending on the permissions from London.) So maybe just maybe this tenacious flu will finally float away and die.
I've also been thinking ahead to the writing I want to accomplish this semester. I have 2 conference presentations, 1 conference workshop, and four presentations at other campuses. Should I turn the MLA presentation into a paper? I'm not sure it has legs, but it was fun to put together, to play off the comparison of these current years to the Gilded Age, to think about the conditions for working, writing, and civic participation in these two different eras that many writers compare. (And upon which Karl Rove modelled the 2000 election.) But all it got me was paranoia: if the late 19th century was initially full of promise -- based on its communication technologies and worker practices -- for invigorated citizen civic participation but then went down in flames because of the turning of private potential toward corporate ends, the lesson for now would be that any communication technology that enables the conditions that lead to developed participation are going to be shut down (or regulated out of their raucous potential).
I was thinking specifically of blogs, and of the messy and enlivening openings they provide for citizens to develop a sense of self and connection. (In the talk I looked not just to 19th century communication and work practices -- quickly -- but also to 19th century theories of how political participation requires first the development of sense of self with agency and then development of self as communicator with others).
But all of this reinforced for me why I may not want to use blogs in teaching. Or, rather, if I use them, I know that I am using them in a very limited way, as a technology that can lend itself well to very focused directed reflection and highly useful record-keeping; I know that others use them very well as development writing spaces. But where I see blogs being most useful, politically, is in their potential to excite participation, to support us in reading and responding to each other's musings and rantings, and to provide wider perspective on events than we get in traditionally reported news media. And I know from experience that the fastest way to cool off a potentially hot medium (I am using the temperatures not per McLuhan) is to assign it as homework.
If I were to develop this presentation into an article, I think I would want to focus on that quandary, and how it relates to the relations between the public and the private Habermas argues are necessary for there to be a public. If a public can only happen because the private (for Habermas, the realms of drawing room and diary) is at least in part a nursery for a sense of self, then one way to diffuse the public, should you so want, is to break the possibility of the private opening into the public; at the end of the 19th century, that meant diffusing private potential within corporate-provided structures. And a classroom can so easily be that, no matter what we attempt otherwise.
I've also been thinking ahead to the writing I want to accomplish this semester. I have 2 conference presentations, 1 conference workshop, and four presentations at other campuses. Should I turn the MLA presentation into a paper? I'm not sure it has legs, but it was fun to put together, to play off the comparison of these current years to the Gilded Age, to think about the conditions for working, writing, and civic participation in these two different eras that many writers compare. (And upon which Karl Rove modelled the 2000 election.) But all it got me was paranoia: if the late 19th century was initially full of promise -- based on its communication technologies and worker practices -- for invigorated citizen civic participation but then went down in flames because of the turning of private potential toward corporate ends, the lesson for now would be that any communication technology that enables the conditions that lead to developed participation are going to be shut down (or regulated out of their raucous potential).
I was thinking specifically of blogs, and of the messy and enlivening openings they provide for citizens to develop a sense of self and connection. (In the talk I looked not just to 19th century communication and work practices -- quickly -- but also to 19th century theories of how political participation requires first the development of sense of self with agency and then development of self as communicator with others).
But all of this reinforced for me why I may not want to use blogs in teaching. Or, rather, if I use them, I know that I am using them in a very limited way, as a technology that can lend itself well to very focused directed reflection and highly useful record-keeping; I know that others use them very well as development writing spaces. But where I see blogs being most useful, politically, is in their potential to excite participation, to support us in reading and responding to each other's musings and rantings, and to provide wider perspective on events than we get in traditionally reported news media. And I know from experience that the fastest way to cool off a potentially hot medium (I am using the temperatures not per McLuhan) is to assign it as homework.
If I were to develop this presentation into an article, I think I would want to focus on that quandary, and how it relates to the relations between the public and the private Habermas argues are necessary for there to be a public. If a public can only happen because the private (for Habermas, the realms of drawing room and diary) is at least in part a nursery for a sense of self, then one way to diffuse the public, should you so want, is to break the possibility of the private opening into the public; at the end of the 19th century, that meant diffusing private potential within corporate-provided structures. And a classroom can so easily be that, no matter what we attempt otherwise.
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