The Wild Winds of Fortune

Short review of Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows Part 2:

Good movie.  All of the principal actors have aged very nicely, and turned into really nuanced actors, especially Daniel Radcliffe. Matthew Lewis as Neville Longbottom showed the most growth as an actor and a character. (Not to mention he is a very handsome young man — who would have foreseen?) The absolutely wonderful Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall has much more to do than in the past few HP movies. 

Alan Rickman is… Alan Rickman.  He is Snape. Ralph Feinnes is oddly subtle as Voldemort, about as unsubtle a character as you can get.

It is most definitely not worth the extra money in 3D.  The 3D effects, while there, were pretty subtle — except for one or two moments where the movie was slowed down quite annoyingly to emphasize the 3D motion. The best 3D effect was clearly Voldemort’s snake Nagini, and even that would be almost as scary in 2D. [Edited to add: IMAX 3D, on the other hand, was great.]

Given that I tend to get bored in all but the most engaging movie (short attention spans ‘r’ us), my attention wandered only very briefly in this one.  I felt it could have used a small editing — maybe ten minutes cut here and there.

Entertainment Weekly gave it an A-.  That’s about right.

Ever since I have had this blog I have had Sitemeter installed. (The basic package, which indicates server location but not individual IP addresses.  I don’t want to shell out additional bucks for something I’m only going to use if someone is stalking me, which is highly unlikely to happen.)  I rather like seeing where people who are reading me live.  Not that in any case I know exactly who is who (although in a few cases I can make intelligent guesses.)  My numbers have always been abysmal.  On a very good week, maybe seven people a day visit this blog, according to Sitemeter. 

So then I started looking at my Blogger stats, which show up as much higher. As much as by a factor of three. What gives?  It was driving me nuts.

It turns out that if you go from one site with a Sitemeter page to another, then it does not count the second page unless you refresh your page.  Since a lot of people —  myself included — do not refresh their browser pages between sites, and since a lot of blogs have Sitemeter installed, visits are way underreported.

This of course does not include people who read via RSS feed or Google Reader.  (Quite frankly, I find Google Reader the easiest way to access blogs, but that’s just me.)

So, that mystery solved.  There are still only a few people reading me, but I think I can live with that.

When he was in fourth grade, The Red-Headed Menace was not the most popular kid in school. Partly this was because he was occasionally obnoxious, but mostly because he was extravagantly individual in a milieu that did not reward extravagant individualism, to say the least.

Like many elementary schools, RHM’s school had a “mail” system.  Kids could send messages to each other or to kids in other classes. Under most situations, this was a force for good: learning to communicate is an important skill for children of all ages, and the more competent they are at it at ten means that there is that much less to learn when they are, say, thirty.

One day, I pulled up to the school to pick up RHM and was greeted by the school’s principal.  I was told of how my son had misused the school communication system to insult others.  It turns out that RHM, after having gotten into an argument with kids in the other fourth grade class, had sent a letter through the mail system purporting to be from all the kids in his class telling them “you stink.”  Before I could finish forming the obvious question, the principal cut me off at the pass.  “We knew it was RHM,” she explained, “From his handwriting.”

Ah, yes, handwriting.  All three of my sons have penmanship that most chickens would be ashamed to own up to.

The principal told me that RHM had been ordered to write letters of apology to the other class for insulting them and to his own for misrepresenting them.  I was to speak to him sternly about how horrible his behavior was.  And I did.  With the principal watching, I managed to keep a completely straight face and lecture him on the importance of civility to his peers.  When what I really wanted to say was…

“Look, kid.  The next time you want to send nasty notes through your school mail system? For God’s sake,  TYPE them. That way you have a fighting chance of getting away with it and I won’t have to have these awkward chats with the school authorities.”

Hey, I’ve never claimed to be the world’s best mother.

When submitting documents such as papers or grant proposals, you are told to use Times New Roman. Job coaches tell you that TNR or Arial are best for resumes – depending upon whether your job coach is a fan of serifs or not. But what should you use all those other times? Herewith, a primer of usual fonts for unusual occasions.

For the Dear John letter: Zapfino.
Dear John, I am leaving you for the nanny. Sheila says hi, by the way.

For the ransom note – what else but Courier?
Leave 20 million behind the oak tree at the church if you ever want to see your beloved iguana Fifi again.

For the letter of recommendation for your trusted servant: Cracked.
To Whom It May Concern: Igor is a wonderful lackey, and has connections to get the best brains for whatever your project requires.

For the letter excusing your ten-year-old from gym class: Futura.
Please excuse Timmy from gym class. He suffered a broken collar bone when Lassie pulled him from the well.

For the letter your ten-year-old writes to excuse himself from gym class: Comic Sans.
Please excuse me from gym class because I don’t feel well. Timmy’s mother.

Faux-suicide notes for the obnoxious ex you plan to murder depend upon the method:
Poisoning: Apple Chancery
 Please forgive me for all the horrible things I’ve done to you, [your name]

Hanging: Papyrus (or alternatively, Herculanum)
I just can’t live with myself after I broke [your name]’s heart…

Poison Pen letters from the person who saw you leaving your ex’s house just before the body was found: Marker Felt.
I know what it was you did, and you don’t honestly think you’re going to get away with it, do you?

And, finally, your confession after the cops track you down, with the incriminating copy of the suicide note in your Documents file (since you always forget to clear out your Documents file, even though you remembered to kill the copy on your desktop): Copperplate.
Yes, I did it. And here’s how I did it. And I would do it all again if I had a chance.

I think that just about covers all the eventualities, doesn’t it?

“I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.”

As I said in the title of a post the other day, I have been feeling pretty blue lately.  The reasons for those are complex, and much of it is nothing I can (or more accurately, am willing to) discuss in such a public space.  So I think it is time for another list to remind myself of the good things that are out there.  (It will undoubtedly be somewhat redundant with previous lists.) If life has been pretty good for you, please skip.  If it has been as crappy for you as for me, I hope this helps:

The baristas at the Starbucks two blocks from my house.
Venti Non-fat Half-Caf Mocha Coconut Frappucinos.
Caltrain.
San Francisco.
Muir Woods.
Redwood trees.
Crepe Myrtles that are just beginning to bloom.
Garlic herb sourdough bread from the Arcangeli Bakery in Pescadero, California.
Marianne’s and Rick’s Rather Rich Ice Cream.
Phish Food.
Food Network.
The Internet.
Blogger.
And yes, FaceBook.
Apple Computers.
Georgia (my computer).
Georgia O’Keefe.
Writing.
That none of the cars are in the shop.
Lands’ End clothing.
Grilled corn-on-the-cob.
Other people’s birthdays.
We are past the solstice.*
Fourteen year olds who are trying to refine their ability to tell truly awful jokes, and only partly succeeding.
Seventeen year olds who smile and hug you for no reason.
Twenty year olds who make coffee — good coffee — in the morning.
Knowing that, while it saddens me that my kids are growing up and away from me, they still talk to me.  I may have done something right.
That all of us are in (relatively) good health.
The China Mieville book (Krakken) which I have just started reading and which looks to be very good.
Mary Chapin Carpenter.
The Beatles.
Great Big Sea.
Show tunes.
Stephen Sondheim.
Singing in the car.
Pandora radio.
Pandora the cat.
Penwiper the cat.
The works of Connie Willis.
Swarovksi crystals.
The meds which pretty much make it possible for me to keep on keeping on.
Decent health insurance, which makes me very lucky.
Hawks.
Hummingbirds.
The Pacific Ocean.
The color blue, in all shades, but especially jewel-like royal blue.
Art. Except for that of Mark Rothko and Barnett Newman.
Good people.
Love, in all its myriad forms and with all its range of associated emotions and complications.
Life.

*I know for some of you this is not a feature but a bug.

I have spent quite of time bitching online and off about the weather around here the past few months.*  Two nights ago, I saw a Weather Channel show on The Top 5 Weather Disasters, followed by The Top 5 Tornadoes and The Top 5 Hurricanes.

Those top 5 weather disasters included hurricanes, the great Super Storm of 1993, tornadoes, floods and the Dust Bowl. (I lived through the Super Storm in 1993,  in Northern Virginia.  In a house with no heat except that provided by two small space heaters, just me and a two and a half year old.  The Rocket Scientist had had to fly to California, poor baby.  The furnace died just about the same time the storm hit, and in driving snow I — and the toddler — went to the closest Lowe’s and bought what were literally the last two space heaters available in the store, and probably in the area.**  The toddler (the Not So Little Drummer Boy when he was really little, and before he had discovered drums) and I huddled upstairs in one room except when I would go downstairs and fix us food.  This is not an experience I would recommend to anyone.)

Where I live, we only get the very occasional earthquake. It seems not worth mentioning. 

So I hereby resolve not to whine… at least not until fall, when we get those two weeks of really hot weather.

* Not today, though: it is 72 degrees and sunny, with crystal clear cornflower skies.

**And boy, are they good space heaters.  It is now eighteen years later, and they work just fine — we use them in the winter sometimes when it gets chilly.

I mentioned in a post yesterday that I should not read any more Internet polls because they annoy me so much.  In addition to the one which claimed that the Republicans were traitors, two others caught my eye:

Should Casey Anthony have been convicted?
Should gays have the right to marry?

Both of them annoy me for exactly the same reason.  There seems to be an underlying assumption that the exercise of constitutional rights is somehow open to debate by the general public.

With a very few exceptions, people had their information about the Casey Anthony trial filtered through the lens of the popular media.  The popular media have every interest in inflaming public opinion: it sells papers and garners ratings.  Irrelevancies are expounded upon as if they are crucial.  The jury, on the other hand, has to look at relevant evidence, and has to examine the credibility of witnesses for the prosecution and the defense.  They cannot take on faith that what purports to be clear evidence of guilt is such.  They are rightfully required to acquit if the evidence presented by the prosecution does not show guilt beyond reasonable doubt.

That “beyond a reasonable doubt” requirement is very important.  A person should not be sent to jail because some large number of people who are following the trial half-heartedly, or only through what is shown on their television set expounded by people such as former prosecutor Nancy Grace, believe that the accused committed the crime. Not to mention the part of the public who believe that People magazine is a credible news source.  Occasionally, will someone get away with murder? Possibly.  No system is perfect.  But the alternative is worse:  the likelihood that innocent people will suffer is inevitable. 

Case in point: Richard Jewell.  Remember Richard Jewell? He was the security guard whom the FBI listed as a suspect in the Olympic park bombing.  The media presented so called “evidence” against him and a great many people thought he was the bomber and should go to jail. 

Problem was, he did not commit the bombing, serial bomber Eric Rudolph did.  Jewell’s life was ruined, even after the FBI cleared him. Had he gone to trial, the pretty flimsy evidence against him would have been touted by the media as being overwhelming, resulting in people calling for his conviction. And many people are far too in love with law enforcement: there is a mentality out there which says that the cops would not have picked someone up had they not done whatever they were accused of.  In many cases that’s true, but cops are human* and make mistakes and are often subject to pressures that high profile cases get solved as soon as possible.

And now for that other Internet poll:

My objection to that one is simple: rights — and I do believe that same-sex marriage is a right — is not and should not be a matter of public opinion.  The Constitution (not to mention state constitutions) exist to protect the minority from the tyranny of the majority. Had Brown v. Board of Education and Loving v. Virginia been a matter of public opinion at the time, then segregation would still be legal and states could still control who gets to marry based on race.

I personally know people who strongly oppose the separation of church and state.  These people have no problem with sectarian prayers in public schools.  If it were a matter of voting, these people could easily mobilize their base and, at least in some areas of the country, impose their sectarian beliefs on schoolchildren of other faiths or none at all.

As I said, I hate Internet polls.

*Don’t get me wrong: cops have a very difficult job, one that I could not do.  For the most part, they are conscientious public servants.  They are, however, as human as the rest of us.  They make mistakes sometime.

A friend of mine on FaceBook has often shown me wonderful things from McSweeney’s (which if you are not reading you should be).  These lists by John Peck may be my favorites in a long time:


What Your Favorite Classic Rock Band Says About You
What Your Favorite Classic Rock Band Says About You, Part Two
What Your Favorite 80s Band Says About You

My answers are The Beatles,  Jimmy Buffet and Mr. Mister.  This would make me… someone who can do exactly 1.5 pull-ups, has used AAA as a cab, and who has forgotten both soup in the freezer and ice cream in the microwave on the same night.

Sadly, two out of three of those are spot on.

Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

U.S. Code, Title 18, Part I, Chapter 115, Section 2381

I should not actually read polls on the Internet.  This  morning on FaceBook, a friend posted the following poll:

Are Republican​s willing to ruin the American economy and destroy the faith and credit of the United States just to prevent President Barack Obama from getting reelected?

The top answer was “Yes, and it’s called Treason.”

No, it is most emphatically not.

What the Republicans are doing may be incredibly stupid, short-sighted, and unethical (and I’d be willing to go so far as to call it un-American), but it is not treason.  Treason has a very specific meaning within the law, and for very good reason.

The writers of the Constitution grew up under British rule  They could remember when treason was very loosely defined as “whatever the king or Parliament defined it to be.”  The founders defined treason as a very specific act of waging war against the United States. And yes, before anyone brings up sedition, there were acts of Congress defining sedition very loosely. If you want to argue whether or not what the Republicans are doing is sedition, go at it.  (I don’t think it qualifies even as that, myself.)

Those of us on the left have always been infuriated by our political opponents calling us traitors, very rightfully so.  When we are doing the same to our them, we are sinking to their level. Whatever the political expediency of that act, it is completely reprehensible.

I refuse to become as awful as they are.  I have to live with myself.

I needed to put something here that I can look up without having to Google it.

 “It’s Not Just For Gays Any More”

If you’ve seen a show, then you already know
how magical theater can be!
It’s a two-hour, live-action, barely-affordable
un-lip-synched version of Glee


So this song goes out to the rest of you
Those who’ve never seen theater before 
Because Broadway has never been broader…
It’s not just for gays any more!


If you feel like someone that this world excludes,
It’s no longer only for dudes who like dudes!
Attention every breeder, you’re invited to the theater!
It’s not just for gays anymore!


The glamor of Broadway is beckoning straights
The people who marry in all 50 states
We’re asking every hetero to get to know us better-o
It’s not just for gays anymore!


It’s for fine upstanding Christians who know all the songs from Grease
It’s for sober-minded businessmen who yearn for some release!


So put down your Playboy and go make a plan
to pick up a Playbill and feel like a man!
There’s so much to discover
With your different gendered lover
It’s not just for gays…
the gays and the Jews…
and cousins in from out of town you have to amuse…
and the sad and bitter malcontents who write the reviews…
and also foreign tourists and groups of senior citizens
and wealthy suburbanites and liberal intellectuals
although that group is really only Jews and homosexuals
I’ve lost my train of thought…
Oh yes, it’s not just for gays anymore!

….


We’ve got swarms of Mormons, showgirls, sailors, dancing boys and nuns
Plus a Spider facing death-defying budget overruns


So people from red states and people from blue
A big Broadway rainbow is waiting for you!
Come and be inspired
There’s no sodomy required!
It’s not just for gays, it’s not just for gays
We’d be twice as proud to have you if you go both ways!


It’s not just for gays anymore!

 Written, brilliantly,  by David Javerbaum, and performed, again brilliantly, by Neil Patrick Harris.

I have accomplished nothing today.  After spending all day yesterday learning how to hit up foundations for money,  I should have spent today rereading my notes and planning my work out for the next week.  I have totally failed to do that.

Sigh.  I have no plans for tonight, I think that is where my energy needs to go.

Sometimes it is difficult to motivate yourself when you know that no matter how you screw things up, no one can fire you because they’re not paying you in the first place.  Fear can be very useful, sometimes.

I think that one of the ways that the Rocket Scientist knew I was the woman for him was that I was willing to stay up all night to watch the shuttle launch, especially since he would not return the favor in July by staying up to watch Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer get married.  Spoil sport.

[Edited to add: The Rocket Scientist insists he did too wake up for the royal wedding — he remembers “long trains and stuff.” “You must have gone back right back to sleep, then.” “Well, it wasn’t very riveting, was it?”]

In words that have been and will be repeated ad infinitum all this week and next… today was the end of an era.

I saw that era start on April 12, 1981, in a crowded common room in the first entry of Senior House at MIT.  It was a  momentous event, especially in a place where more than one in the watching crowd had the promise of, if not going into space themselves, helping see that others got up there.  Just how momentous it was could be determined by how many Senior House residents got up to watch television at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning.*

I saw that era end, a little over thirty years later,  in my bedroom surrounded by the rest of my household. 

We seemed more optimistic back in 1981.  This was the first step — there would be a space station, and then returns to the moon, then on to Mars, then on to … who knew? The shuttle would just be the first — we would develop true spacecraft that could get to space and return on their own power.

Of course, it was dangerous.  Everyone knew it was dangerous.  Except then we forgot: it became too routine.  We were brought back to reality, horrifically, with the destruction of Challenger. After Challenger, there was a lot of questioning about whether we should continue, about whether we have any business spending the money and will to get back to space. 

We did, and we have gained by it. We put up the Hubble telescope, which has greatly expanded our knowledge of the universe.  Along with our partners, America created the International Space Station. Technologies developed for the shuttle have impacted everything from medicine to outerwear.  Yes, some of those might have been discovered or developed independently. But space provides a laboratory for solving problems — the solutions to which can be used to make life better for everybody on earth in ways that might have not been imaginable otherwise.  Sometimes you can’t even recognize a problem until you see a solution.

It amazes, frustrates and infuriates me how excited people have become about the last flight.  If there was that level of interest in more of them, maybe this flight of Atlantis would not have to have been the last one.  We are hesitant to spend the money to explore space, but more than ready and willing to reap the benefits that space exploration spawns.

I know that I am not in any way whatsoever a disinterested observer.  I have been invested in the success of NASA up to my eyeballs since the mid-1980s.  But, as I have said before, I think the desire to, as Gene Roddenberry put it, “explore strange new worlds … to boldly go where no man has gone before” lies in our very DNA. 

I saw the start of the shuttle program.  I knew I would see it end.  I just never expected to see it end and have such low hopes for the future of manned space flight.

*Of course, for many of them, it was a matter of not going to bed Saturday night.

I have three things to say to you: 1) unless one of the jurors or spectators read this blog, which I seriously doubt, none of us were in that courtroom, and while I can’t speak for you, I don’t trust the media’s coverage of most criminal trials, especially not sensational ones;  2) the burden of proof lies with the prosecution to prove she was guilty NOT repeat NOT with the defense to prove she was innocent; and 3) most importantly, just because someone may be a poor excuse for a mother, or even a human being, does not automatically make them a murderer.

This notion that “justice for Caylee” somehow required the conviction of her mother for her murder speaks not of a concern for the rule of law but of a pursuit of retribution. And the equation of “justice for Caylee” with her mother not only being convicted but receiving the death penalty demonstrates a desire not for justice but for blood vengeance.

However you feel about it, the system worked.