Dead Monkees and Jolie Jambes: what is the world coming to?

Jolie spoofs






Although I hate to admit it, I watched the Oscars this year. And like everyone else, I thought they were awful and could not tear myself away from the television. I needed to see every awful minute. I don't care what anyone says, including JLo, she did have a wardrobe malfunction. There was definitely the shadow of a nip that was not properly tucked. I'm not sure why she was a presenter. No one else knows either, except my husband, who at first tried to say she had had some kind of bona fide career in the movies - to which I replied "Monster in Law!" - and then, realizing the folly of that statement, he retreated, mumbling something about how it had been determined that she appeals to a certain demographic. Ah! That's more like it.

I don't know when the Oscars became a runway show, with some of the models even affecting little runway poses. It didn't used to be that way. Then I left America for more than two decades, and when I came back the Oscars were all messed up. All I know is that this is not my fault. (As an aside, Davey Jones died today, and I can hear in the distance yet another Monkees song on the radio. Enough already!) The worst Oscar moment this year, and there were many to choose from, was probably Angelina and the Aggressive Leg Shot. I think everyone agrees on this point. What was she thinking? Angelina, what were you thinking? You looked really, really stupid, even though you are gorgeous, etc. Maybe you wanted to prove that you are, after all, a mere mortal? There has to be a better way.

And while I'm on the subject of movies and the Oscars, can someone explain why Steven Spielberg's War Horse was among the films nominated for Best Picture? Is the Academy afraid of pissing him off or something? And though I think Martin Scorcese has made some great films, Hugo is not among them and it was quite annoying to hear everyone thanking the great Marty S profusely, as if they were afraid not to. You'll never work in this town again kind of thing. Just as an aside, has Martin always had those Groucho Marx eyebrows? Scary.

The real purpose of this post is to say that I've been reading so much lately I haven't had time to do much else. Latest read: L'amour et des poussières by Clémence Boulouque. Feelings: Mixed. Maybe I'll elaborate another time, if only to figure out why this book bothered me before my book club meets to talk about it.


Me in my Oscar attire,at the after party (and if you can read what is written on my t-shirt, then you do not need to feel concerned by those words for a few more years at least):

Amanda Knox, all set to make a killing

Last week, two things happened that should give people pause:

First, the prosecution and the family of the victim Meredith Kercher filed an appeal to Italy's highest court, asking that the acquittal of Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito be overturned. In other words, for those who only get their news from US network television, the matter of the murder of Meredith Kercher is pending in Italy. Knox and Sollecito were acquitted on appeal, after having been unanimously found guilty in the court of first instance trial. Many observers outside the United States were surprised at the acquittal and even more surprised when they read Judge Pratillo Hellmann's reasoning. You can find an English translation of it online (perugiamurderfile.org), done by a group of volunteers who post regularly at PMF.org.

Second, it was announced with great fanfare that Harper Collins had won the silent bidding war for the right to publish Knox's side of the story, and that it had paid close to 4 million dollars for this right. Though HC is not confirming the sum, given the aggressive publicity surrounding the mere signing, it is fair to say the publisher is already trying to make this venture a profitable one. The usual suspects have rushed in to defend Knox's right to "tell her side" of the story. But don't get your hopes up, folks. She doesn't plan to talk about the murder itself, though no one would be interested in her story had this murder not occurred. No, she wants to talk about her life in prison. Me, me, me, I'm in love with me, me, me. You know that song?

I don't know what new details will emerge, since she has already told us more than we want to know via her various emissaries. Frankly, I think all of them suffer from narcissistic personality disorder. Candace Dempsey, Nina Burleigh, Rocco Girlanda... Never heard of any of these peoeple? Don't worry about it. They are just garden variety self-promoters who not only hitched their wagon to a potential star, they also did their best to make sure the star rose. Will they be repaid for their efforts? It has been hinted that Amanda will reward those writers who believed in her by allowing them to "help" her with the book. In truth, as Harper Collins was very quick to point out (repeatedly), Amanda will be helped by a real writer. But her name will be on the final product, of course, because she has sufficient brand appeal by now thanks to the PR firm that wrote the reality TV narrative you are seeing played out as we speak. Brandamanda.

In case anyone has forgotten, it was Harper Collins that thought publishing a book called If I Did It, by a guy named O.J. Simpson, was a fabulous idea.

Refreshingly, not everyone is just shrugging their shoulders or shouting "go for it, girl". Many people are actually troubled by the ethical issues raised and have actually found ways to grapple with them rather than refusing to acknowledge that there could be any at all. Hats off to them!

For example, Christopher Fowler has written a brilliant open letter to Harper Collins, which you can read by clicking on the title.

One thing I forgot to mention. Harper Collins is owned by Rupert Murdoch. Surprise, surprise!

Meredith Kercher's family launches appeal against acquittal on first appeal of Knox and Sollecito

Many found the "out of the blue" report at the end of last week a little odd, both for its timing and its content. In terms of content, it focused on the "silent auction" to be held amongst publishers for the right to shape and package Amanda Knox's memoirs. There were a number of basically anonymous quotes, attributed to unnamed publishers taking part in the silent bidding and a few opting out. Among those taking part, all were eager to act as if they had won the bid and were already involved in the first phase of marketing: "charming girl", "almost scholarly", "quoted Shakespeare" and blah blah blah.

In the dissenting corner, one said something like "well, it isn't as if she has been unambiguously found innocent".

You can say that again! There was no mention of the fact that the prosecution was getting ready to file its appeal of the frankly absurd and wholly illogical Hellmann decision, which set both Knox and her rather hapless ex-boyfriend free. And not just the prosecution. It is significant that the family of the murder victim, Meredith Kercher, have also launched an appeal of the verdict. It is long past time to stop acting as if they don't exist and/or as if they are merely confused.

There is a gaping divide in opinion that spans the Atlantic Ocean. And this should come as no surprise. The PR firm hired by the Knox and Mellas families just days after Amanda Knox was taken into custody has been tireless. Expensive but tireless. It has fed a load of bull to an extremely lazy, uninquiring and xenophobic US mainstream media, only too happy to read talking points prepared in advance and give sympathetic interviews with family members as they cry on cue. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure the emotion was as real as it gets for television. But things soon got murky, as these same media types began vying for the exclusive interview with the product they had helped to create. Anyway. That's old news by now.

Across the pond, and extending into Italy (which for much of the US media is part of the third world, apparently), the news feed is a bit different and the "innocent abroad" meme is not playing so well. Accordingly, the news that an appeal was duly filed comes as no surprise. In Seattle, it is "breaking news". And it is presented with the prepared reaction on the part of the family. No mention is made of the fact that it is not just the prosecution but also the family of the victim. But that's par for the course by now. We are only told that this is harassment, pure and simple. After all, that nice gentleman Mr. Hellmann said that those two kids look like decent people and their families seem very supportive, so they have to be acquitted. For those who are interested in complexity rather than fructose, click on the link to Andrea Vogt's article on the most recent developments for The Week.

I suspect the hope in launching the silent auction at this time, before the judicial process in Italy has played out, is to get as big an advance as possible so that the PR and other bills can be paid off. Talk is of seven figures. That's a good start. But then the hard part comes. No mention of who the "co-author" will be. Nor of the exact terms of the promotional participation expected from the "author". Amanda Knox has not spoken to the press since she was released. Contrast her situation with that of the two hikers held in Iran under horrendous conditions for an extended period, told they had been abandoned by their family and country. They were blindfolded much of the time and had nothing to listen to but the sounds of fellow inmates being tortured. They were finally released and, as soon as they touched down in the US, they sat down with reporters and held a two-hour press conference. Then they got on with their lives. They don't have a huge PR bill to pay. I guess that's the difference.

What the fook?

I didn't have time to stop and buy the latest issue of Fluide G. The train to Aix was leaving, with or without me.

Here's what I missed:

Saint Valentin : fuck me tender, fuck me true
Shopping : c'est la crise ! Claque ton dernier smic
Mode : looke toi comme Raël ! Shooting au bois
Sexe : la toutoute première fois de Didier Super ! 32 petits plaisirs égoïstes
People : dans le frigo à Liliane Bettencourt
Santé : la grossesse en vrai


And here is the cover, up close.




I just wanted to reassure those who may be thinking I spent all my time at Le Crillon and all them fancy places, with fancy people.

If, on a wintry night...

Have you ever seen something so spectacular you just had to stop and snap a photo, even though you realize the photo will not do justice to the beauty you are so miraculously beholding? On Friday, I was emerging from the Paris métro at Concorde, on my way to meet a friend for a drink at the nearby Hôtel de Crillon. This is what I saw unfolded before my eyes, except that the reality was a million times more breathtaking. The black Tour Eiffel against a winter sky the color of a blood orange, with the big wheel, the traffic, and the other incredulous photo snappers united in a moment of awe. It was all just too beautiful. And all I had for capturing the moment was my iPad. And in my excitement, as well as because of the unbearably cold temperature, not to mention the fact that my friend was waiting for me at the Crillon, I seem to have included my thumb in the photo. Three times. I took this photo three times, and discovered much later that my thumb is in every one.

And for those who have never ventured inside, the Crillon, while magnificant, cannot hold a candle to Paris, ablaze on a freezing wintry evening.

Don't call it a man cave, you cave man!

Apparently, the expression is as passé as baby bump. When I moved back to the United States, I discovered this strange thing called a man cave. It seems the American male needs his own space in the family home, where he can hang out with other males, play music, drink beer and emit strange bodily noises without a care in the world. I don't think they have those in France, not yet anyway. I'm sure man caves will soon be furieusement tendance, given the fascination with all new and trendy things American. I will never forget the first time I saw an SUV in Paris (called a quatre-quatre) with Paris plates. Ugh! Then there was the sudden appearance of small decals that said "bébé à bord". Double ugh! The most depressing day was the one where I saw an SUV with a "bébé à bord" decal. Utter despair!

But I digress. As I was saying, American men have and apparently need man caves. For Xmas, Hub got his man cave. But we're not calling it that and it isn't off limits to girls like me. How else do you expect it to stay relatively clean? We're calling it the Music Room, because we have decided to store our guitars and amps in there. I may bring my bongos down. We still need to buy a decent microphone and are currently auditioning back-up singers. No talent required. You just have to promise not to call it a man cave.

Glorious gadgetry

Okay, so it has been awhile. Haven't you ever heard of the holiday season? I don't know about you, but I tend to get overbooked and overtired just at the time of year my body and brain shut down in unison, demanding an extended period of hibernation. Can you blame them? It is dark most of the time.

That's what really hit me this year: the seemingly sudden (though actually gradual) lack of daylight hours for stuff like going outside, walking Neko, etc. You wake up, it's dark. You drag your ass out of bed at 6 am to deal with work issues, and it's dark. You look outside and it's raining. And kind of dark. You feel like you need to keep indoor lights on all day, as a stay against the impending gloom that surrounds you.

This is where Gadget Number One comes in. Hub got me an iPad for Xmas, delivered in early December. With an iPad, you can comfortably check your emails and comfortably respond without getting up. Coffee in bed! With dark chocolate! And darkness all around! So much more commode than an iPhone. You can actually read what you are typing and pretty much press on the key you want. The iPad does a lot more stuff too, which I'll know more about once I've read the iPad manual I bought for Hub.

Vitamins are also critical at this time of year, which is where Gadget Number Two comes in: a Vitamix! This incredible machine can pulverize anything, probably including body parts. Attention! Don't operate while drunk or groggy or preoccupied. I discovered this the hard way. I wasn't drunk, but it was early and I was groggy. I also had a bad cold. I wanted a green smoothie bad. I followed the instructions in the book to the letter. Order of ingredients, check. Amounts, check. A vitamix has an on/off button (right side) and a high/variable speed button (left side). In the middle, there is a speed dial. One to ten, then hit high. So I did that. It was not until I got up towards ten that I realized I had forgotten to put the top on. What tipped me off was the green vomity looking stuff flying everywhere, sticking to cupboards. You've seen The Exorcist, right? A focused, non-groggy person would have done what? Well, probably turn the on/off switch to off, real quick like. But what do I do? I see the top and decide to put it on, real quick like. The problem with this response - well there are many but let's mention this one only - is that the top has two parts and if they aren't locked together, one of them will pop off. It is the plug. It popped right off and met the blade. The smell of burning was not far behind. Then and only then did I turn off the Vitamix. But it was too late. A part known as the "drive socket" had pretty much melted. That's where the burned smell came from.

I did a lame-ass test and came to the conclusion the motor was f*cked. I called Hub, who probably could not see that my tail was between my legs, identifying myself as "The Loser". He said it could just be a part and maybe one of the guys in his shop could fix it. Long story short, I isolated the part, we tested the motor - still working - and I ordered the part online. To ensure free delivery of the part, I bought myself a new pair of slippers. I'll skip the rest of the story. The Vitamix, which retails for more than 500 dollars and comes with a 7-year warranty that does not cover groggy idiocy, is now working again. It shakes a bit, but so do I early in the morning.

The moral of the story is that I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but this year I did. I have resolved to strive for mindfulness, in particular when operating expensive and possibly dangerous home appliances that turn kale and chard into green liquid.

And that's all there is to it.

Bonne année à tous!

The little guy that melted

Brilliant and sad and true: the photographs of your junk will be publicized

Foxy Knoxy: The Musical

Most people remember Tonya Harding, right? Did you know that she just turned 40 and had a baby this year?! I found a photo of her on the internet and was amazed to note the physical resemblance between Tonya and Amanda Knox. Harding looks like an older, heavier version of the 24-year old Knox. Tonya's trials and tribulations became fodder for various media, including a number of books (Celebrities in Disgrace and Women on Ice, the latter a collection of feminist essays, to cite but two examples) which in turn have spawned plays, movies, an opera (!) and a musical that had a run in Portland a couple of years back. There were lots of Tonya Harding jokes too and I bet the number one choice for a Halloween costume in the mid-90's was Tonya Harding. So there is lots of common ground, for sure. Speaking of Halloween costumes, some bloggers and other commenters found it a bit distasteful of Foxy to dress as what appeared to be a cat burglar and get photographed doing so as she hit a party. You can read one reaction here. Of course, one member of the Foxy Furies was on duty and responded with a defensive "let the girl live" post. But it went nowhere.

Foxy Knoxy, acquitted on appeal of the murder of Meredith Kercher, has already entered into that peculiar state of existence known as "being a cultural product line". There is the matter of the final automatic appeal by Italy's highest court, which could put a spanner in the works, but quite frankly I think Italy is glad to be rid of the American. That's what UK journalist Sharon Feinstein discovered recently, when she traveled to Perugia to interview the prison warden and the inmate who shared a cell with Foxy for three years. You can read about it here. Poor Ms. Feinstein has since been dealing round the clock with the Foxy Furies, a small band of apparently unemployed people who spend every waking hour hounding anyone who questions the appeal verdict or who dares to criticize their idol Foxy. Ms. Feinstein's crime is to have published the interviews on her blog. She has done an admirable job of dealing with the attack dogs but I believe she's a bit weary by now. They do wear you down.

Anyway, back to Foxy. She has signed with a lawyer, who will represent her in talks with potential publishers. A big-wig agent whose clients include Tony Blair and Bill Clinton. He will help negotiate all of the various "official" variations on the Foxy Knoxy theme and narrative - the book by Knoxy, the movie based on same (which is bound to be dull), and perhaps eventually a rock opera or a musical. If they hurry, Knox will still be age appropriate enough to star as herself. And let's not forget the exclusive interview. Barbara Walters seems to be hot on Foxy's trail, having left a couple of enticing crumbs. For example, she has named Foxy as one of the most intriguing people of 2011. I think she comes in at number 5. Something like that. Walters must be hoping PR guru David Marriott will forgive her for the tacky bit on her show after the acquittal, where she and her gal pals wondered aloud if Casey Anthony and Amanda Knox "got away with murder" because they are attractive as that term is currently defined.

It seems everyone is cashing in. Bottom feeder Sharlene Martin, who negotiated the publication of OJ's If I Did It after the Goldman family obtained the rights, has signed Raffaele Sollecito and Steve Moore. Raffie is Foxy's former beau and he too was acquitted on appeal. Raffie is an avid knife collector, by the way. Just wanted to get that out there. As for Steve Moore, he apparently is a retired FBI agent. He has tried to parlay the murder of Meredith into a new career for himself "in the media", as his wife Michelle says. I guess he hopes that publishing a book dealing with his life as a g-man could help him gain some much needed cred.

I personally think that all of the above will eventually be fodder for the definitive and inevitably irreverent treatment of this sad saga. The players mentioned will all eventually figure in a wicked parody showcasing a monumental amount of human folly and vanity. Their names may be changed and their story slightly altered. But make no mistake about it. The story of what happened to Meredith Kercher, lovely Meredith Kercher, will never be told by those who are in a position to tell it. And all these other stories have been over told and over sold. The problem is that the PR guru (and the assorted fixers, lawyers and other shady types) must now be paid. So the books must get written and the movie rights must be sold and you must all pitch in with your pennies and other spare change. This acquittal cost a bundle!

By the way, the link to the news about the book is in French. The media event was amply covered in the English-language press, but I liked this one because the title suggests that the book in question, penned by Knox (and probably a co-author, according to sources), could be a "confession". Fat chance! If it were, it might be vaguely interesting! Will Savive has written a blog post worth reading on the role of Barnett in ensuring that Curt and Edda's really big bills get paid in our lifetime.

It is interesting to note how intertwined the names of Knox, OJ and Casey Anthony have become - on so many levels. This may be one reason why all the big wigs who stand to gain financially from the Knox book deal are taking such great pains to draw a distinction, especially between Knox and Casey "Kryptonite" Anthony. But the parallels just keep pushing their way back to the surface, like an annoying person who just won't drown for Christ's sake! According to the ever excellent Button, Anthony too has a "mob" of rabid supporters who swoop in for online attacks whenever any negative press is detected.

Proud to be an illiberal moron?

There are many nice things about living in France as opposed to America. One of them is the absence of bumper stickers. Keep your illiberal ideas, and even your liberal ones, to yourself! I don't need to know what the overweight, badly dressed, middle-aged, tight-lipped white man driving the rundown Ford Fiesta in front of me northbound on 99 in Seattle yesterday at approximately 11:30 am thinks about the Occupy movement or Obama. I think maintaining the mystery is usually the right thing to do, especially when you are surrounded by virtual strangers.

But since he feels the need to share this information, so will I. His piece of shit car was festooned with two bumpa stickas:





Actually, the hippy one said "Shut Up Hippies" but I could not find that on the internet.

As the world burns, America indulges in navel-gazing

Shaka Ponk

If this doesn't get you moving, there's something wrong with you.



And they're French!

Deer Harbor, Orcas Island

How much you wanna make a bet I can throw a football over them mountains? Well, if coach woulda put me in fourth quarter, we’d have been state champions. No doubt. No doubt in my mind. You better believe things had been different. I’d have gone pro in a heartbeat. I’d be making millions of dollars and living in a big ol’ mansion somewhere, soaking it up in a hot tub with my soul mate. - Uncle Rico

Falling back is as much fun as springing ahead

It would have been nice to have some advance warning. Walt left for practice yesterday at what seemed to be 9:30 (for a 10 am start). I discovered shortly after he left that it was only 8:30 (thank you, facebook) and was able to communicate that news quickly. On the plus side, the whole day - and it was a crisp and sunny one - got immediately longer, or so it seemed until everything got dark at 5 pm. When that happens, you just want to hunker down under the covers until April or May if you live in these parts.

Only the day before, Saturday, I was marveling over the length of the period called dusk, as we drove through Blewitt Pass towards Seattle. The sky seemed to extend out west forever, and no I can't post a photo because I didn't take one. The car was moving. Those photos never come out.

We spent more time in the tourist trap that is Leavenworth than was strictly necessary. I didn't know there was so much stuff made in China and sold in cutesy gift shops. Is there anything going on in Leavenworth that I need to know about? Anything cultural, for example. I saw only shops and more shops, selling some frankly hideous looking shit. We stopped at the Icicle brewery for an IPA that could have been colder given the name of the place. It was pleasant; we met the proud owner of one of the local shops. Let's leave it at that. He is German-born, at least. Stopped in Leavenworth one day and fell in love with the place. Go figure.

Then the Huskies lost to the Ducks, which was inevitable. Then came the extra hour on Sunday and a long walk for Miss Neko in Jack Block Park, followed by an excursion downtown for a winter casual coat and then a stop at the Brave Horse. I love that place. I just wish the menu had more options. Brave Horse has a really good no meat burger made with black beans and green chilis. I don't know how they manage to achieve a texture that resembles a steak tartare. And they have great cole slaw, though sadly the sauce has mayo in it. Walt had a giant pretzel and mussels. I think having a drink and some food at 3pm helped to take the edge off the sudden darkness at 5 pm. Walt kept trying to figure out what time it "really" was; I told him this would only lead to sorrow and frustration. The cats woke up at 4:40am for breakfast, but that's okay because we went to bed at 9:30pm, which was not - as I reminded Walt - "really" 10:30pm. I'm with les agriculteurs français on this one: I wish the world would stop tinkering with time and clocks twice a year and just let things be what they are. But until that happens, and it will never happen, the best and only remedy is to live in the moment. In an ideal world, winter hibernation would also be a viable option for humans.

Stephanie Kercher's open letter marking 4th anniversary of Meredith's death

FOR us, this has only ever been about Meredith. She had been in Perugia for eight weeks and I had moved away from home only three weeks previously. We had stayed in touch updating each other with the exciting new things we were doing.

I had just got home from a training course when Mum called me, her voice trembling, relaying news that a 21-year-old English girl had been found under a mattress in Italy.

Trying to calm Mum down I began calling Mez on her mobile. I ended up leaving a voice message explaining what had happened, telling her to be safe and to call me as soon as she could.

I finished, as always, saying “I love you”. I even emailed her the news page so she knew what I was talking about... Little did I know I was already too late.

Dad’s was the next voice I heard. Through tears he told me the name he had been given by a newspaper was Meredith. I cannot remember what I thought – it was a mixture of disbelief and sheer pain. I did not know what to think or do and then my body just sunk.

When I arrived at Mum’s the pain in my chest was unbearable as I was told the few details of what had happened – the broken window, her door locked on the inside.

Thoughts and scenarios were racing through my head faster than I could comprehend and I collapsed into my parents’ arms, filled with the fear Meredith must have endured that night.

We stayed up all night watching the news, waiting for any concrete information. The Halloween photo of Meredith was the first to appear and I spun round to Mum and said ‘That’s not Mez! That’s not Mez, Mum!’

I was adamant it was not my little sister, but Mum stroked my hair and painfully submitted that it was.

I cried all night until I could barely see or breathe, everything just felt so empty. From the moment we received the call I knew we had to go and look after Mez.

We were told she was in a room with flowers either side of her and Mum said we had to go as soon as possible because she did not want to leave Meredith on her own. I cannot begin to imagine how my parents must have felt, I just know how numb I was and how Mum’s strength pulled us together.

We began our journey to identify her and bring her home. Arriving in Italy was surreal, everything happened so quickly. I still remember looking at Meredith lying there so still, no breath to be taken, a crisp white sheet pulled up to and over her neck.

She seemed peaceful, yet she bore a look of determination, of courage marred by defeat. It was a look that let us know how hard she had fought to be with us – and for that I am eternally grateful.

From that moment we knew we had to fight for her, too, not only for justice for her, but every day for ourselves, for her.

Others have given us the strength to continue since November 1, 2007 and we’d like to thank everyone around the world who has supported us and given us hope.

This is testament to a truly special sister, daughter and friend. She really did touch so many lives with her selfless compassion and loyalty, and continues to do so now.

Nothing was ever too much trouble for her. Mez never knew how effortlessly beautiful she was or how much of an impact she had on people. This was a quality of hers, which enabled her to make others laugh, help others when they needed someone, and become someone to aspire to.

She held such an incredible presence that the void she has left us with is noticeable every day. Marking the fourth anniversary of our loss, we now live without reason. No motive was found.

It is difficult to find any reason to want to hurt her and it terrifies me to think she may have left us that night not knowing either.

We still hope justice will prevail and, in the darkest times, the support given to Meredith and us as a family reminds us of why we are still here.

We are working with friends and colleagues to start a Trust Fund in Meredith’s name to help with the case and eventually support anyone else who may tragically find themselves in our position, so that her fight may continue and help others.

On November 1 at 9pm I will light a candle for my sister, may she rest in peace.

For Meredith Kercher, on the fourth anniversary of her death

Io non capisco come si possa passare davanti ad un albero e non essere felici di vederlo.

Violent times?

I happened to catch part of Steven Pinker's interview on KUOW yesterday. He was in town for a lecture on the history of violence. Pinker, a psychology professor at Harvard and notable science writer, argues that the human species is less violent today than it has ever been. Not surprisingly, his point of departure is the Hobbesian view of man in the state of nature, as opposed to the more benign - some might say naive - view most famously put forth by Rousseau. For humans, life in the state of nature was, according to Hobbes, "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short". Whenever I think of that phrase, I always mentally add the word "thankfully" just before short: solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and thankfully short.

Pinker makes a forceful case (which you can read by clicking on the title above) for the civilizing effect of, well, civilization. If we think the world is more violent today, this is partly because violent incidents are blown out of proportion by the media, or so Pinker believes. He says we are basically fed a steady diet of gruesome news (perhaps because we ask for it?) and that, as a result, we have come to believe that we live in the worst of times when, in fact, compared with the past, we live in the best of times.

For many people, though, his panglossian thesis is counterintuitive, partly because, like it or not, we live in the present. And the present looks scary and violent, especially if you happen to live in America, where outlaws are not the only ones who have guns. Everyone seems to have them and be prepared to use them to enact vigilante justice as required. On my own facebook page, I happened to see a wall post praising gun ownership, which got many "likes" and elicited many comments, most of them of the "by the time the police arrive, I will have put any attacker away with my handgun" variety. Many of those posting were women. Go ahead, make my day! In the world they live in, danger is lurking around every corner and the best response is to shoot first and ask questions later if at all.

Get out yer knives

Has violence always been as random - everywhere and nowhere in particular - as it seems to be today? After listening to the well-spoken and mild-mannered Professor Pinker, I read an article in the Seattle Times about an unprovoked, girl-on-girls stabbing at Snohomish High School (north of Seattle) yesterday. A sophomore, described in today's paper as a "nice" and "quiet" girl, went after two freshmen girls with a butcher knife as they applied makeup and chatted before class in the restroom. One was in critical condition (today she is reported to be in serious condition, after six hours of surgery). She had been stabbed twice, once in the chest and once in the neck. Her friend was also stabbed, but was released from the hospital with no life-threatening injuries. Kids at the school told the Seattle Times that neither of the female victims is the type to get in fights or trouble. Another knife attack was carried out on October 11, 2011, by a young female perpetrator who chose her two female victims at random. One of the two died. The knife wielder apparently stole the knife used in one of the stabbings from a nearby butcher shop. This happened in England.

Are young women suddenly picking up knives and using them on their peers? Apparently, some girls carry knives as a matter of course or a fashion accessory these days.

The return of button; counting arroyos crows; the biz that keeps on giving

Now that the supertanker has pulled into port, the story about the creation of the narrative can finally begin to be told. We live in a world that needs an endless supply of stories. Just ask Scheherazade - whatever gets you through the night is all right.

Click on the title above and you will be taken to the Land of Marriott. In the land of Marriott, as Button notes, the media operates on the assumption that the American Public can't remember the day before yesterday. And in the business journal treatment of the Marriott PR Triumph (aka The Snow White Job), someone has forgotten that the script a month ago stated that there was no PR campaign and that anyone who believed there was one was nothing but a guilter and a hater. But now all that is swept aside so that Mr. Marriott, who looks like a cross between Colonel Sanders and a dumpling, can lumber up to the stage and accept kudos from one and all. After all, he was hired three days after Knox was arrested, for financial terms neither side will disclose.

Let's look at how the business journal spins the yarn:

Marriott was as important a player in [Knox's] ordeal as anyone in the courtroom. As Knox’s publicist, beginning three days after her arrest, Marriott worked to convince the international public that she did not murder her British roommate while studying in Perugia.

“Hiring him was one of the smartest things we ever did,” said Curt Knox, Amanda’s father.

The partnership between the Knox family and Marriott illustrates the potential of a public relations campaign to shift sentiment — and possibly even influence a verdict.

Like I said, if you have the right publicist, anything is possible! The right publicist can make water flow uphill and, once that has happened, can advise you on the best way to make the money you will need to pay for his services. That's the phase we're in now, folks. If you ever get in trouble, this is the guy you want working for you, feeding chicken shit to the masses and calling it chicken delight.



More from the Business Journal version of The Story:

Then, there’s the need for money. Curt Knox and Amanda’s mother, Edda Mellas — they are not married to each other — have each said they’ve drained their retirement funds, taken out second mortgages and accrued credit card debt to pay for Amanda’s defense. So, in this new phase, lucrative media deals will be a consideration.

At Marriott’s downtown Seattle office, he fields inquiries from book agents, screenwriters, news shows and movie studios. All want the Amanda Knox saga for their own. Some are offering big bucks. Marriott and the Knox family will be considering the offers, Marriott said — likely in a couple of weeks.

“There will be financial opportunities,” Marriott said. “I’ll be there to walk them through the opportunities.”

Vargas edits darkness out of the story where it suits her

If you have only watched morning television and the truly disgustingly bad mainstream network telling of the Marriott Fairy Tale, you will be excused for not realizing that Curt and Edda are no longer married to one another. They put on such a united front, and Elizabeth Vargas never once uttered the word "divorced" (focus groups show this does not resonate with viewers in a key demographic).

Ah, Elizabeth Vargas. Button has her number. Noting that ABC in particular had descended into "absolute Sleazeville" in its coverage, she makes a telling observation:

Did you happen to notice that Vargas tried to edit Meredith's mother entirely out of the press conference following the announcement of the verdict? As if she weren't even there. As if she didn't even exist.

Crow counting

The most interesting news item of the week was provided by a local blogger called batgurrl on her Crows of Arroyos* blog. Seems she was out counting crows and ran into the paparazzi assigned the task of hanging out and getting "candid" (LOL) photos of Knox in hiding.

Then on my way home I see the same two cars parked in the same spot. As I walked by one of the guys was out talking to the other again. I said “Whatcha up to?” even though I had it pretty much figured out. They proceeded to tell me they were making a living. I teased them they were “Professional Stalkers” and they teased me back that I was a “Crow Stalker”. While I was watching them they were watching me earlier. Guess it is pretty boring sitting in a car waiting & waiting.

Next they said they had given the family their cards and were invited to a BBQ last night over there. One of the guys started showing me his photos and said he had made over 200k on them. OMG no wonder they sit in cold cars for hours but it was like they were justifying their being. And did they really get invited into the house? One has to wonder.

Incidentally, some native American tribes - and the Irish - believe that crows symbolize the souls of the dead.

* The Arroyos is a fairly ritzy neighborhood (Marine View Drive) with spectacular waterfront views and properties, which unfortunately is located next to the dicey area called White Center, but referred to, not altogether unfondly, as Rat City.

I Occupy Wall Street, Mentally

Who me?
I'm with Lemony Snicket. (Click on title or read below or both - I recommend both.)

Thirteen Observations made by Lemony Snicket while watching Occupy Wall Street from a Discreet Distance

1. If you work hard, and become successful, it does not necessarily mean you are successful because you worked hard, just as if you are tall with long hair it doesn’t mean you would be a midget if you were bald.

2. “Fortune” is a word for having a lot of money and for having a lot of luck, but that does not mean the word has two definitions.

3. Money is like a child—rarely unaccompanied. When it disappears, look to those who were supposed to be keeping an eye on it while you were at the grocery store. You might also look for someone who has a lot of extra children sitting around, with long, suspicious explanations for how they got there.

4. People who say money doesn’t matter are like people who say cake doesn’t matter—it’s probably because they’ve already had a few slices.

5. There may not be a reason to share your cake. It is, after all, yours. You probably baked it yourself, in an oven of your own construction with ingredients you harvested yourself. It may be possible to keep your entire cake while explaining to any nearby hungry people just how reasonable you are.

6. Nobody wants to fall into a safety net, because it means the structure in which they’ve been living is in a state of collapse and they have no choice but to tumble downwards. However, it beats the alternative.

7. Someone feeling wronged is like someone feeling thirsty. Don’t tell them they aren’t. Sit with them and have a drink.

8. Don’t ask yourself if something is fair. Ask someone else—a stranger in the street, for example.

9. People gathering in the streets feeling wronged tend to be loud, as it is difficult to make oneself heard on the other side of an impressive edifice.

10. It is not always the job of people shouting outside impressive buildings to solve problems. It is often the job of the people inside, who have paper, pens, desks, and an impressive view.

11. Historically, a story about people inside impressive buildings ignoring or even taunting people standing outside shouting at them turns out to be a story with an unhappy ending.

12. If you have a large crowd shouting outside your building, there might not be room for a safety net if you’re the one tumbling down when it collapses.

13. 99 percent is a very large percentage. For instance, easily 99 percent of people want a roof over their heads, food on their tables, and the occasional slice of cake for dessert. Surely an arrangement can be made with that niggling 1 percent who disagree.