The most recent 20 comments posted to Electrolite by Mitch Wagner:

Like Madeleine, I bristled a little about being described as a "settled bourgeois type."

But, y'know, I am. I'm a settled bourgeois liberal. I rant and rave about politics occasionally on online discussion forums, but I lose interest. I own a house, two cars, am married to a member of the opposite sex, am monogamous. I work for a billion-dollar multinational corporation, and like it. The last time I went to a political demonstration I was in collegee — and I wasn't demonstrating, I was covering it for the college paper.

I don't think I have a point here, except to say, "What Patrick said."

The Terri Schiavo case, in particular, set me off. I watched my mother lose her faculties, my father start losing his, and my aunt and mother-in-law lose theirs. Alzheimer's is, to me, what AIDS has been to bohemians and homosexuals — I know some people who had it, I know a lot more with family members who have it, and I accept that I, or my wife, might well get it ourselves. This is not a theoretical thing to me, it's a cold finger that brushes the back of my neck ever so gently every time one of us forgets a well-known word, or our car keys.

If that doesn't freak me out enough, then I'm really freaked out that Tom DeLay and Bill Frist might take it upon themselves to make our medical decisions. And then Amy Sullivan comes along and says, hey, you know, the Democrats ought to be more like DeLay and Frist.

Have I said this here before? I've voted straight Democrat in just about every election. It's not that I love the Dems, or even like them, it's just that the Republicans always seem significantly worse. But each year, I pull that lever with less and less enthusiasm. Third-parties are starting to look good to me, especially knowing (as I do) that third parties will often end up changing the major parties platforms and get their policies enacted into government.

By the way, one thing I learned living in San Francisco was that gay people can be settled bourgeois types — even settled bourgeois conservatives — and that's kind of one of the points of the gay rights movement. We had a lesbian couple lived downstairs from us, one of them was a lawyer for a downtown firm, the other was in law school. They took the Muni downtown to work every weekday, wearing suits, and they probably thought of us as the weird bohemian neighbors. So what do the communitarians think? That the Democrats should do more to distance themselves from dangerous people like my former downstairs neighbors?

Patrick, you've nailed it.

Since the Bush victory in 2000, the Democrats have been pursuing a strategy of trying to make the party more like Republicans. The more it fails, the harder some Dems seem to want to try.

I'm not expecting much reform on social issues from the next Pope. I'm not expecting him to get up and say, "Guess what? I decided that birth control is just fine and so is homosexuality — as a matter of fact, I'm the next guest on 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy' — wait 'til you see what the Fab Five does with the Vatican!"

I am optimistic that the next Pope will continue to be a force for good in the areas where John Paul II was a force for good. And I'm also optimistic that a younger, more vital man will be willing to take responsibility for the sex-abuse scandals in the U.S. OTOH, the next Pope may do as the Vatican has apparently been doing along along, and view those scandals as a local matter and not interfere.

Most powerful people are extremely likeable people when dealing with friends, allies and neutrals who might become friends and allies. Often, the more powerful they are, the more likeable they are. Good, evil, they're still likeable. I'm a journalist, and sometimes my favorite people to talk to have been outright villains.

Apropos of nothing, sf and high fantasy usually gets the likeability of powerful people wrong. John Barnes's "Mother of Storms" is a noteable exception.

I recall a conversation about Ronald Reagan on a very small discussion group that I participate in. I made a nasty remark about Reagan, one that I'll stand by the truth of and don't particularly regret. This was just a day or two after Reagan died.

One of the participants let it be known that he thought my comment was quite inappropriate, in timing if not in content. This person loved Reagan, and was distressed by Reagan's death. Because I like the guy who spoke out, and had no interest in causing him distress, I shut up.

And so I'm somewhat sympathetic to Mark A. R. Kleiman, who writes:

A note to those who have criticisms to offer of the papacy of John Paul II:

Right now would be an excellent time to keep your mouths shut and your keyboards idle.

If your criticisms are true and important -- I can easily think of some that are, and one reader has supplied me with others of which I'd been unaware --they'll still be true and important after the grass is green on his gravesite.

But there's a problem with critics maintaining a decent silence when a historical figure dies. The problem is that, while the critics are maintaining a decent silence, the figure's supporters are busy beatifying the deceased, as Anna Feruglio Dal Dan notes. We saw that in June, with Ronald Reagan. And of course in the case of John Paul II, beatification would be literal.

That said, overall I think the world suffered a great loss when John Paul II died, although I do share in the usual liberal objections to Church policy under his papacy.

I'd certainly like to meet some of those critics he's talking about who hold triple degrees in astrophysics, molecular engineering and Chaucer. Me, I can't even figure out where the light goes when we shut the refrigerator door.

Laz, as an American, let me say that I'm very happy to serve as a bad example to help you fuel your smug and unearned feeling of superiority.

I think one of the root causes for widespread acceptance of torture is the belief on the part of civilians that we can somehow know whether someone is guilty or innocent. The cops know it (goes the argument) they're just being hampered by those sissy due-process laws.

In fact, the cops don't know. Nobody knows.

I recommend the excellent documentary "Remembering the Friedmans" as an illustration. It's the story of a widely-publicized child-molestation case in the 80s. The defendant, a schoolteacher, was accused of molesting a great many boys, under the guise of providing computer tutoring.

The documentary is based on extensive home videos taken by one of the defendant's sons, who seemed to be a compulsive videotaper. There are interviews with investigating officers, journalists, and the defendant's alleged victims.

The defendant admits to one case of molestation and, IIRC, declines to comment on the others.

I guarantee you will start the documentary certain that Friedman is guilty as anything, and you will finish the documentary confused as hell, having no fucking idea whether he molested any but that one kid.

You will also have only a vague idea of what he actually did with the one kid. I mean, all child molestation is bad, but there are degrees of badness, and you won't even be sufficiently sure of Friedman's behavior to make that judgment. Did Friedman just diddle the kid? Touch him? Was there penetration? Ejaculation? The only two people who know are Friedman—and he's dead—and the victim himself. And maybe even the victim doesn't know, there are all these studies about how memory of childhood trauma is unreliable in adults.

As a journalist, I did a bit of courtroom and cop reporting in the 80s. More recently, I sat through extensive jury selection on a relatively high-profile murder trial. And that experience of confusion, of not knowing, was universal for me.

Even if the defendant confesses, you often don't know if he did it because he was guilty, or because he figured he'd be convicted anyway.

This is not how it works on TV. On TV, the cops and prosecutors always know who did it. Lennie Brisco hauls them off in handcuffs with a witty, dry remark.

Following up my own post: not just illegal, but condemmed and considered immoral.

PinkDreamPoppies: "... popular culture seems to be trending toward a more accepting view of torture ... "

Yes indeed. We watch a lot of cop TV shows in our house; "NYPD Blue" and "Law & Order: SVU" features its cop heroes beating the crap out of suspects, and TV Guide and the entertainment media never really remarks on it.

One recent episode of "SVU" had a New York cop going to Prague (iirc) to chase down a pedophile mastermind operating on the Internet.(I bet you didn't know that most of us Internet users spend most of our time buying and selling children on the Internet to use as sex slaves---and they say you don't learn anything on TV.) When the cop finally catches the child-molesting pervert, the pervert sneers, "Are you going to arrest me? Everyone knows nothing bad will happen to me if I'm arrested in America." The cop says, "We're not in America now," and demonstrates the error of the child-molester's legal position.

"NYPD Blue" has toned it down a lot quite a bit. It was quite commonplace when Jimmy Smits starred on the show. Meanwhile, all the entertainment press had to say about the show was (1) ewww, who wants to look at Dennis Franz's butt and (2) isn't Jimmy Smits just an adorable dreamboat?

Of course, the people the cops beat up are always guilty.

I read a very thought-provoking article in an 18-month-old "Atlantic Monthly" a few weeks ago. It argued that torture is sometimes necessary---but also that it must be tightly controlled, because once a society starts torturing people, it becomes the norm. The article concluded that torture requires a legal and societal framework that existed before 9/11 in America: torture is officially---and sincerely---illegal, but occasionally practiced anyway. But the people who do it need to know that they are risking their careers, criminal prosecution, and the opprobrium of society for their act, so they better be damn sure that the torture is necessary.

I also read a thought-provoking and troubling article in an 18-month-old issue of "Atlantic Monthly," about interrogating prisoners. The article was in the context of Iraq and terrorism, of course.

Much of the article dealt with the question of torture: Is it wrong? Does it work? Until reading the article, I would have said, flat out, "Yes," and "No." My attitude was that we should NEVER torture anyone, and it doesn't work anyway.

The article argues convincingly that torture is necessary, and it does work sometimes. It's more effective as a threat than when it's actually used, but for it to be an effective threat, it has to be used occasionally.

Torture is part of a whole spectrum of techniques used to make the prisoner feel powerless, uncomfortable (much of the time), confused and---paradoxically---friendly to his captors.

The article argues convincingly that the status quo---or, perhaps, the status quo prior to the Bush administration---is the right way. Officially, torture is illegal in the U.S., and a serious felony. Officially, anyone caught torturing a prisoner will face dishonor, the end of their career, public humiliation and possible felony penalties. Torture is strongly protested by organizations like Amnesty International. The net effect is that torture is driven underground. It still happens, but it's used only rarely, and when absolutely necessary, by people who know that they risk their lives, their careers, and the respect of their communities if they're caught.

It seems to me that this model, of having tough laws on the books that are lightly enforced, is a model that's used frequently in the real world, in drug laws and copyright, to name two examples.

Charlie Stross:

You're saving "The Baroque Cycle" for a long flight? Boggle ... I've been reading it for about four or five months now and I'm just short of halfway through....

You must have a brain the size of a planet compared with mine---it took me six months to get through "Quicksilver" alone.

Currently reading "The Black House," by Stephen King and Peter Straub. It's a sequel to "The Talisman." I liked "The Talisman" just fine, but what really drew me to the novel was I was intrigued by the idea of writers writing about a 10-year-old boy, and then coming back to the same character 20 years later and writing about him as a 30-year-old man.

Tough beginning, but it's picking up. I'm kind of obsessive-compulsive---when I sit down to dinner, I like to finish one course before starting on the next. Protein first, then starch, then vegetables. (If I did it in a different order---veg, then protein, THEN starch, I'd be a healthier man today.) Likewise, when I read a novel, I like it to start with interesting characters in an interesting situation. I like a little hooptedoodle about scenery later on, but I like the novel to start with those interesting characters in interesting situations. "The Black House" starts with pages long descriptions of scenery, but I stuck with it and now it's starting to pay off.

"Old Man's War" is definitely next on the list, though, and I may just start it before I finish "The Black House." From what I'm hearing about it, it's a fast read, and I might be able to finish it in a couple of days and then come back to "The Black House."

Ha! I didn't have to ask! I did a little web-sleuthing and discovered the title for myself: "Armaja Das."

I'm just so darn smart.

Vanessa:

"Name the story:

A man of Romany descent is cursed with galloping psoriasis for turning his back on tradition. His devoted secretary (AI) manages to get the curse transferred from him to herself, and in turn rapidly infects all the computers that keep the world running.

The story's final scene is of an old woman riding in her horse-drawn cart past the wrecked vehicles of those 'who had had somewhere to go, on the day when John Blank was cured.'

Possibly by Roger Zelazny."

The story is by Joe Haldeman. I forget the title. I'll ask.

I just added the subscription to my RSS feed. Excellent blog! Thanks, Patrick.

I notice that The Corpuscle, like me, stole your basic blog style, but he did a much nicer job stealing it, so I will be stealing his style pretty soon.

Now reading "A Drinking Life," by Pete Hammill. Very evocative of an immigrant community in New York around the time of World War II. I'm always interested in reading about that culture and period, since it's where and when my parents, aunts and uncles grew up. I think of myself as being "from New York" in the way that other people think of their immigrant heritage. I mean, yeah, my ancestors came from Poland and Lithuania, but I have no bonds to those countries; my ancestors were driven from those countries, why should I give them any kind of loyalty?

I just finished reading "Quicksilver," by Neal Stephenson. It was the most challenging book I've read in many a year.

Patrick -- Thanks. Is that a commonplace marketing expression?

It means that the qualities people claim to like often aren't actually the qualities they like.

I just saw an article on that very subject....

Here's another example of the principle: A lot of trade-paperback novels with very "literary" covers are in fact commercial melodramas....

I've noticed, browsing the bookshelves, that the "Star Trek" books are going for more understated, tasteful covers nowadays, and I assume it is because Trek fans are an aging demographic.

Me three to what Xopher and Tina said.

Several of the most vehement critics of the Religious Right I know are themselves religious Christians, and at least one is pretty conservative.

"Dry on the label, sweet in the bottle"? I've never heard that before. What's it mean?

Kevin, like I said earlier: I don't know how they do things at Salon, but one of my responsibilities on my day job is to select which AP stories to post on an webzine. I also frequently re-write their headlines; AP's headlines are often kind of boring.

Salon may have some kind of automatic feed that posts AP stories un-edited and without human intervention, but I doubt it.

Comment statistics for Mitch Wagner on the Electrolite blog

Total: 59 comments. View all these comments on a single page.