Will work for food, promises made but unkept

From the Associated Press:

Photo by Matt Rourke.

Recent La Salle University graduate Sean Christman of Westmont N.J., attempts to hand out resumes to passing motorists in Philadelphia, Wednesday, July 22, 2009. The number of newly laid-off workers seeking jobless benefits rose last week, though the government said its report again was distorted by the timing of auto plant shutdowns.

Why is it that whenever my alma mater, La Salle University, appears in the news, it’s for something dreadful?  Basketball rape scandals, rapacious tuition rates, and now unemployment.

Nevertheless, it’s a powerful statement Christman’s making: whither America’s promise that with education would come opportunity, career, and normality?  Was our generation just fed a line long enough so that Wall Street could cut and run?

I commend Christman for his good sense of publicity to highlight not only his personal plight and that of Philadelphia, but that of so many people around the world in today’s “brave new economy”.

Pimping Ben’s new apartment

Right around the corner from the Grote Markt.  Photos by Alison.

Looking sexy with that roller, Ben!

Painting Alison.

A surprisingly studly picture of yours truly. *sizzle

New Media and Memory: a review of “Adoration”

Sometimes it’s nice just to go to the cinema alone.  The fact that movie-watching in theaters is typically a social occasion makes me highly cognizant of my solitude — a sensitivity which, I think, enhances receptivity.  So, tonight I saw Atom Egoyan’s latest, “Adoration”, a film that I found quite striking for a number of cinematic and personal reasons.

The film details one teenage boy’s struggles to piece together the truth about his parents, one of whom may or may not have been a Palestinian terrorist.

The bad news is that the film is somewhat overwrought.  The characters’ interconnections, which are labyrinthine á la similar films “Babel” and “Crash”, are hard to believe.  Indeed, two of the characters make remarks essentially to this effect.

Second, the relationship at the center of the story, that of a star-crossed love of a Lebanese Palestinian violin restorer and a brilliant Canadian musician, is beatific to the point of sappiness.  However, the sentimentalism may be attributed to some of the character’s eulogizing memories — hence the title of the film, which also leads to the good news.

Bahai Rights Day

Re-posted from the Muslim Network for Bahai Rights:

For many months, we have been thinking about creating a dayin which everyone can become aware of Baha’i human rights abuses. We approached our friends at Iran Press Watch with the idea and we agreed upon July 11 in order to mark Baha’i Rights Day, a day dedicated to support the human rights for members of the Baha’i faith.

We are working on developing content and more ideas to make this day as influential and effective as possible, however this is impossible without your help and participation.

[...]  We rely on people like you to help make this day possible, despite the short notice. Please start spreading the word as much as possible through all your networks and mailing lists and let’s achieve this worldwide Baha’i Rights Day where we all unite regardless of our race or religion to support Baha’is everywhere!

Thank you.

Go to the official Bahai Rights Day website or continue reading to see how you can help.

Michael Jackson is not a demi-god!

Not even deceased heads of states or founders of religions get memorials like this.  Ugh.

Michael Jackson Memorial in the game Second Life, on Michael Jackson Island (no kidding). Image courtesy of Valsadie, via Flickr.com.

John Mayer suffers the audience to listen to his subpar rendition of "Human Nature". Earlier, a gospel choir sang, "We're going to see the king," inducing hallucinations of nightmarish narcissism. Image from Flickr.com.

Other than the Jackson Family’s odd Nation-of-Islam-inspired uniforms and, of course, the golden casket, what bothered me the most was the perverse deification of the man.  As though the Christ-like images of the “King of Pop” broadcasted upon the stage weren’t gratuitous enough, that the King family would stoop so low as to proclaim that God Himself had sent Jacko to earth on a divine mission to entertain us all twisted my stomach into knots and made a mockery of the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr.

A great talent?  Indisputably.   A pioneer for Black Americans?  Of course.  But he was also a symbol for much of what goes wrong in America’s minority and celebrity cultures.  Yet, even that speaks to the most tragic aspect of Michael Jackson: when the stage lights dimmed and the curtain closed, at the end of the performance, he was just a man, flawed and troubled — not a demi-god.