Ray Bradbury is dead at ninety-one. He was one of the great writers of our time. Not as a science fiction writer, but as a wonderful seer, in a class with the greatest writers.
He was not technichnically innovative, and when he wrote what is called "science fiction," he was no better than other generic hacks.
But at his best, Ray Bradbury was a beautiful writer who was superbly moving.
I met Ray Bradbury when I was a freshman in college. I bought a copy of The Golden Apples of the Sun. It was full of beautiful stories. I was seventeen years old, and it moved me to tears of joy.
I read more. I loved his stories. And then, in my senior year, I read Dandelion Wine. I was off to be a Marine Corps lieutenant, and Bradbury didn't help me to go. I thought constantly of his stories, particularlý of Dandelion Wine, and when--with a bad fitness report--I went off to Camp LeJeune as an infantry officer, I took Ray Bradbury with me.
I set up a "library" in my company's barracks. There was resistance from the Staff NCOs.. The kids--"men"--mostly read what were called "skin books"; my little library contained books by Thomas Hardy, Bram Stoker. Mary Shelley, Katherine Mansfield, Sherwood Anderson, Evelyn Waugh, Graham Greene, William Faulkner, Scott Fitzgerald, J.D. Salinger. People my miserably educated self had read.
All that stuff was considered "subversive." But when kids borrowed those books, they often read them and kept them. I simply replaced them..
The Bradbury books regularly disappeared. Kids would borrow them, and keep them. And I woulld buy new copies. After a while, I would buy several copies at a time. I was happy that they wanted to keep them.
When I first started teaching in university, I was afraid to assign Bradbury stories. They weren't part of the "canon" of serious literature. By the time I was my own, as a professor, I didn't try to teach Ray Bradbury; I just recommended him--and found numerous students who took to him.
Ray Bradbury was a humane genius. A gifted man who said beautiful things. A wonderful man who saw beautiful things. This world--certainly this very small part of it called "me"--is so very much the better because of him, and his writing, and his life.
Thank you, Ray Bradbury.
Sincerely,
BertHornback
donderdag 7 juni 2012
zaterdag 2 juni 2012
FASCIST NOISE
FASCIST NOISE
The image of twentieth century fascism is Hitler, at his microphone, in Nuremberg. The volume is—for its time—incredible. In a sense, the amplification of sound was a key to fascist success. Nobody could escape from hearing Hitler. They might not listen, but they had to hear.
We live, now, in a world of fascist sound. Rock concerts with noise machines, boom-boxes, cars with high-decibel sound systems, home sound-systems that re-define the idea of home: they are all fascist.
Power is anti-social. Power is ego. Microphones and amplifiers made Hitler’s rise to power possible. In more modern times, amplified sound has made other demagogues powerful. It has made late adolescents powerful, too: “We will rock you.” Kids wanting attention, power. Noise is power. The world belongs to the noisy.
I can turn away from, refuse to look at, things I don’t want to see. That may not always be wise, but sometimes it may be appropriate: I don’t have an obligation to look at ugliness.
I can refuse to go to places where I don’t want to be, but still be somewhere.. I don’t have to touch things I don’t want to touch—and still touch the things I like. I can avoid tastes that I don’t like, without giving up my sense of taste.
But the fascists with their noise? Either I give up my ability to hear, or I hear them.
When attention-getting noise-making was in its early stages among adolescents, the city of Ann Arbor made it a misdemeanor to make noise that went across your property line at above a certain decibel level. That made perfectly good sense, and for the most part made life bearable for Ann Arbor’s citizenry.
The law made an exception, however, for the University of Michigan’s football stadium; and at my house, twenty-four blocks away, for five Saturday afternoons each fall I had to hear—whether I listened or not—to 101,500 screaming football fans and worse, to a Hitler-style “public address” system that might well have been audible on the moon.
So Ann Arbor’s law was biased. Basically, it was aimed at young people. It could have been aimed at Jews.
I don’t want to give up Mozart, the sounds children make playing, the mooing of cattle and the purring of cats, human voices of all kinds, birds chirping, thunder, an autumn breeze rattling leaves, a voice reciting lovely poems. I don’t want to give up singing, either. And I don’t want to surrender the world of sound to fascists.
But sometimes—like tonight, when my neighbor explained that ten o’clock was much too early to ask him to turn down the noise that was shaking our apartment building—I think I might rather be deaf.
The image of twentieth century fascism is Hitler, at his microphone, in Nuremberg. The volume is—for its time—incredible. In a sense, the amplification of sound was a key to fascist success. Nobody could escape from hearing Hitler. They might not listen, but they had to hear.
We live, now, in a world of fascist sound. Rock concerts with noise machines, boom-boxes, cars with high-decibel sound systems, home sound-systems that re-define the idea of home: they are all fascist.
Power is anti-social. Power is ego. Microphones and amplifiers made Hitler’s rise to power possible. In more modern times, amplified sound has made other demagogues powerful. It has made late adolescents powerful, too: “We will rock you.” Kids wanting attention, power. Noise is power. The world belongs to the noisy.
I can turn away from, refuse to look at, things I don’t want to see. That may not always be wise, but sometimes it may be appropriate: I don’t have an obligation to look at ugliness.
I can refuse to go to places where I don’t want to be, but still be somewhere.. I don’t have to touch things I don’t want to touch—and still touch the things I like. I can avoid tastes that I don’t like, without giving up my sense of taste.
But the fascists with their noise? Either I give up my ability to hear, or I hear them.
When attention-getting noise-making was in its early stages among adolescents, the city of Ann Arbor made it a misdemeanor to make noise that went across your property line at above a certain decibel level. That made perfectly good sense, and for the most part made life bearable for Ann Arbor’s citizenry.
The law made an exception, however, for the University of Michigan’s football stadium; and at my house, twenty-four blocks away, for five Saturday afternoons each fall I had to hear—whether I listened or not—to 101,500 screaming football fans and worse, to a Hitler-style “public address” system that might well have been audible on the moon.
So Ann Arbor’s law was biased. Basically, it was aimed at young people. It could have been aimed at Jews.
I don’t want to give up Mozart, the sounds children make playing, the mooing of cattle and the purring of cats, human voices of all kinds, birds chirping, thunder, an autumn breeze rattling leaves, a voice reciting lovely poems. I don’t want to give up singing, either. And I don’t want to surrender the world of sound to fascists.
But sometimes—like tonight, when my neighbor explained that ten o’clock was much too early to ask him to turn down the noise that was shaking our apartment building—I think I might rather be deaf.
dinsdag 22 mei 2012
Robin Hood
American mythology doesn't have a Robin Hood. Instead, the United States has Robber Barons. They are America's heroes, theirs its inspiriting social myth.
Richard Nixon was a minor thief, but his bragging about his wealth--"I am now a millionaire," he said as president--was what got Woodward and Bernstein sniffing. He was only pursuing the American Dream in a minor way, but it did him in.
But stealing a million is nothing these days. And in moral terms, greed is theft: theft from the idea of community, of society. Bill Gates--a Great American, by current standards--could fund St. Martin, St. Francis, Don Quixote, Pablo Escobar, Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez, and several thousand other Robin Hoods, and provide food for all the millions of starving people in the world on nothing but the interest he earns on his $90,000,000,000 fortune. So could the Catholic Church, of course.
And. . . .
I am reminded of all this by a 245-page pamphlet I received in the mail today from Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association of America, the organisation which manages most of America's teachers' retirement programs.
The pamphlet was offering TIAA investors "a tax-deferred variable annuity option." The prospectus warns would-be investors that they may lose money by investing in ths program, and it notes that the expected annual administrative costs are one percent of the amount invested; it also notes that TIAA guarantees that the annual administrative expense deductions will not exceed two and a half percent of investment funds.
What the prospectus calls "TIAA's total statutory admitted assets" in 2011 were $225,900,000,000. One assumes that "admitted assets" means TIAA has more--perhaps considerably more?--assets than $225,900,000,000. So it charges its investors at least $2,500,000,000 for administration, and maybe as much as $6,500,000,000.
And the good people at TIAA are helping teachers all over America--few of them, even in 2012, who will ever earn, in all their working lives, $1,000,000. But these hard-working teachzers will not get rich from their investments in TIAA.
And part of their retirement funds will go to the president of TIAA, who takes home more than $7,000,000 each year. That's $7,000,000 of the money that America's teachers invest for their retirement. He is small potatoes in the greed market,of course, a very minor Robber Baron. But he IS a Robber Baron. Roger W. Ferguson, Jr., born in 1951, has been president of TIAA for four years this month.
Richard Nixon was a minor thief, but his bragging about his wealth--"I am now a millionaire," he said as president--was what got Woodward and Bernstein sniffing. He was only pursuing the American Dream in a minor way, but it did him in.
But stealing a million is nothing these days. And in moral terms, greed is theft: theft from the idea of community, of society. Bill Gates--a Great American, by current standards--could fund St. Martin, St. Francis, Don Quixote, Pablo Escobar, Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez, and several thousand other Robin Hoods, and provide food for all the millions of starving people in the world on nothing but the interest he earns on his $90,000,000,000 fortune. So could the Catholic Church, of course.
And. . . .
I am reminded of all this by a 245-page pamphlet I received in the mail today from Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association of America, the organisation which manages most of America's teachers' retirement programs.
The pamphlet was offering TIAA investors "a tax-deferred variable annuity option." The prospectus warns would-be investors that they may lose money by investing in ths program, and it notes that the expected annual administrative costs are one percent of the amount invested; it also notes that TIAA guarantees that the annual administrative expense deductions will not exceed two and a half percent of investment funds.
What the prospectus calls "TIAA's total statutory admitted assets" in 2011 were $225,900,000,000. One assumes that "admitted assets" means TIAA has more--perhaps considerably more?--assets than $225,900,000,000. So it charges its investors at least $2,500,000,000 for administration, and maybe as much as $6,500,000,000.
And the good people at TIAA are helping teachers all over America--few of them, even in 2012, who will ever earn, in all their working lives, $1,000,000. But these hard-working teachzers will not get rich from their investments in TIAA.
And part of their retirement funds will go to the president of TIAA, who takes home more than $7,000,000 each year. That's $7,000,000 of the money that America's teachers invest for their retirement. He is small potatoes in the greed market,of course, a very minor Robber Baron. But he IS a Robber Baron. Roger W. Ferguson, Jr., born in 1951, has been president of TIAA for four years this month.
zaterdag 19 mei 2012
HELPFUL INFORMATION FOR TOURISTS
Surviving in a world of strange and foreign languages can be difficult. The following vocabulary may be helpful.
Ad valorem=the price for tourists.
A la carte=all you can carry.
Al dente=with a few dents and scratches.
Antipasta=we don´t like pasta or skip the pasta.
Auto bahn=self-discipline.
Buona notte=without bones; filleted.
Carpe diem= fish of the day.
Chemin de Fer=pajamas for the sleeping car.
Corpus delicti=what a beautiful corpse!
Crepe du chine=dog-shit.
De gustibus non est disputantem: there is no doubt that this
is a windy day.
Dejeuner: Of or about young people.
De rigeur=concerning the dead man.
Dimanche=lunch for two.
Donnerstag=gift certificate.
Et tu Brute=Champagne with dinner.
Frutti di Mare=horse shit.
Gazpacho=bloated feeling.
Hors d’oeuvres=horse hooves (a delicacy in France).
Hund in de Gut=Dutch pickpocket.
In hoc signo=in debt; i.o.u.
La Gioconda=joker (in a deck of cards).
Laus tibi=insect causing tuberculosis.
Pas de deux=two free tickets.
Pate de foie gras=fat-head.
Pax tecum=May you die of syphillis!
Place Concorde=Paris airport.
Plat du jour=your hotel.
Prei dieu=please do.
Pour boire=American-style sandwich.
Quid pro quo=how much is this?
Sic transit gloria mundi=I’m sick of travelling—thank God
we fly home tomorrow!
Sortie à droit=medium-dry.
Vin du pais=the end of the war.
Vin du table=spill the beans.
vrijdag 24 februari 2012
With the Republicans ready to go to war against the poor, women, and anybody who isn't a mock-Christian hate-monger, Mitt Romney seems almost like a good guy: even if he isn't interested in or doesn'tcare about the poor, and (with the assistance of his wife) drives four Cadillacs.
Barack Obama, on the other hand, is a much worse war-monger that Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon ever thought of being. He cares less for the U.S. Constitution than William Penn did--and there wasn't a U.S. Constitution when Penn was stealing land from Native Americans. With the exception of Franklin D. Roosevelt, no American president has ever openly operated concentration camps. And with the exception of George W. Bush, no American president has ever condoned torture. And no American president--without exception, until we get to Barack Obama--has ever proposed that men kidnapped and imprisoned but never charged with a crime must be kept in prison for the rest of their lived because after ten or eleven years of torture at Guantanamo they must now hate the United States. One of those prisoners, by the way, was twelve years old when he threw a rock at a U.S. Marine who was carrying an AK 47; that little boy is now twenty-four years old.
So for whom do you vote?
Away back in history, in 1968, we should have elected Robert Kennedy president--and had we been able to do so, the world would be a better place today, and the United States a different country. But Robert Kennedy was murdered. And when Lyndon Johnson's toad Hubert Humphrey became the Democratic nominee, we weren't allowed to write in the name of Eugent McCarthy--so Richard Nixon became president. In 2000 and 2004 I didn't matter whom anybody voted for; George W. Bush was "elected" president.
It doesn't really matter this time for whom you vote. It's a lose-lose situation. Obama has betrayed every promise he made, and can't be trusted. The Republican candidates can all be trusted, of course, but trusted to do hideous things.
Anybody want to pledge allegiance? If so, he or she had better leave out the "under God" bit, lest (if there is a God) he or she get so offended by the blasphemy as to hot-squeeze our little union into a cinder.
Barack Obama, on the other hand, is a much worse war-monger that Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon ever thought of being. He cares less for the U.S. Constitution than William Penn did--and there wasn't a U.S. Constitution when Penn was stealing land from Native Americans. With the exception of Franklin D. Roosevelt, no American president has ever openly operated concentration camps. And with the exception of George W. Bush, no American president has ever condoned torture. And no American president--without exception, until we get to Barack Obama--has ever proposed that men kidnapped and imprisoned but never charged with a crime must be kept in prison for the rest of their lived because after ten or eleven years of torture at Guantanamo they must now hate the United States. One of those prisoners, by the way, was twelve years old when he threw a rock at a U.S. Marine who was carrying an AK 47; that little boy is now twenty-four years old.
So for whom do you vote?
Away back in history, in 1968, we should have elected Robert Kennedy president--and had we been able to do so, the world would be a better place today, and the United States a different country. But Robert Kennedy was murdered. And when Lyndon Johnson's toad Hubert Humphrey became the Democratic nominee, we weren't allowed to write in the name of Eugent McCarthy--so Richard Nixon became president. In 2000 and 2004 I didn't matter whom anybody voted for; George W. Bush was "elected" president.
It doesn't really matter this time for whom you vote. It's a lose-lose situation. Obama has betrayed every promise he made, and can't be trusted. The Republican candidates can all be trusted, of course, but trusted to do hideous things.
Anybody want to pledge allegiance? If so, he or she had better leave out the "under God" bit, lest (if there is a God) he or she get so offended by the blasphemy as to hot-squeeze our little union into a cinder.
zaterdag 11 februari 2012
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