Wiston Papers

Senator Harkin retirement is good...if we're prepared to act wisely

Iowa Democrat Senator Tom Harkin announced January 26 that he would not seek reelection when his term expires next year.  

The announcement brings to three the number of U.S. Senators to declare plans to retire at the end of their current terms--Georgia Republican Saxby Chambliss (after 9 years in the upper chamber)  and West Virginia Democrat John D. Rockefeller IV (28 years in the Senate).

Already Iowa professional politicians are salivating over the prospect of succeeding Harkin--the 40-year liberal voice of the Hawkeye State.  Democrat Senate wannabes are lining up to toss their proverbial hats into the ring.  No less enthusiastic are Iowa’s Republicans who see what they perceive as a long-overdue opportunity to elect a fellow GOP representative to join Senator Chuck Grassley on Capitol Hill.

Still two years away from Harkin’s exit, Iowa’s senatorial aspirants are emerging like a swarm of bees stirred by a stick probing their hive.

Many of the hopefuls include persons--both Democrats and Republicans--who’ve failed to excite Iowa’s voters in earlier unsuccessful campaigns either for governor or Congress.  And there is little reason to believe that they have realistic chances of succeeding Harkin given their track records.  But they are giddy about the prospect of what--for all practical purposes--is a virtual lifetime job of power and prominence.

Even Mr. Harkin acknowledged the addictive nature of his job and why he’s remained in Washington for 40 years.  “To walk away from this position and this power is not an easy thing,” he confessed.  

That’s exactly the point and that’s why we need to overhaul Congress and reform how we choose our representatives.  It is about power and the position; it is not about what is in the public interest.

Let’s be honest.  Neither Democrat Harkin, Republican Chuck Grassley or any other Iowa member of Congress is truly a public servant.  They are professional politicians--driven by egos inflated by their delusion self-importance. Yes, they may go to Washington at first with hopes of making a difference, optimistic that their fresh ideas and energy will result in meaningful legislation for Iowans.  But once inside the Beltway (the freeway that encircles the nation’s capital), they soon are seduced by lobbyists flush with cash, flocks of media hanging on every pronouncement, and royal perquisites of their office.

Soon they forget their original purpose.  They exchange Congressional longevity for constituent commitment, they accept a lifestyle that is alien to average Americans, and they introduce bills and pass legislation to which they are not subject but affect the rest of us.  Obama care is the most recent example--a health program that touches no one in Congress, but the rest of America must endure.

Quite simply, Harkin, Grassley and the rest of Iowa’s legislative delegation stay too long, lose touch with the voters of the Hawkeye State, fail to introduce fresh ideas for the nation’s problems, and work solely to remain in office.

This is wrong and we Americans should not accept it.  Instead, we should demand that our representatives go to Washington for a limited number of years then return home.  We should refuse appeals by professional politicians for reelection if they fail to fight for our interests.  We should not be fooled by the false claims that the longer legislators remain in office, the greater their influence on our behalf.  The record of Messers Harkin, Grassley and other lifetime politicians does not support this contention.

I celebrate Senator Harkin’s decision to retire in 2014.  He has stayed too long.  And I hope that I can soon rejoice in the similar words from Sen. Grassley.

Make no mistake.  I have supported and voted for some members of Iowa’s congressional delegation.  But I stop after they have been Washington for more than six years (a single Senatorial term) or have failed to fulfill their initial campaign promises (often after two terms for member of the House of Representatives).

I believe that public service is a worthy calling.  Persons who are prepared to sacrifice their welfare for the public good are to be lauded and supported.  But when that commitment erodes, when their personal welfare supplants those of their constituents, they cease to be public servants and evolve into public leeches.

I wish Mr. Harkin well in his new life.  I hope that other professional politicians will join him soon.

Steve Coon

January 28, 2013

Wiston Papers

Just in time for Super Bowl XLVII...new football cliches

In an earlier blog I wrote about the changing nature of English.  I complained that English speakers and writers are responsible for the fluid nature of the language because they  misuse words.  Most often because an incorrect word is chosen to describe a person, place or event.  And over time this error becomes widespread, accepted, and replaces the correct word, which is subsequently discarded and forgotten.

However, sometimes change is good.  Take football.

Super Bowl XLVII will  be played February 03 in New Orleans to determine the 2012 champion of the National Football League (NFL).  Only the quadrennial World Cup surpasses the Super Bowl in television ratings and fan enthusiasm.

This year’s professional contestants are the San Francisco 49rs of the National Football Conference (NFC) against the Baltimore Ravens of the American Football Conference (AFC).

All sport has its jargon—terms that coaches, officials, players, spectators and sports journalists have adopted to describe competition.  As we approach the 50th anniversary of the Super Bowl, I think its time for a football facelift.  The current descriptions of the game are old, tired, worn out.  Like stale fish and guests who have stayed too long, they need to go.   To put it simply, we need new football clichés.

As America prepares to scale back its military commitments around the world and downsize the nation’s armed forces, it’s time to discard the battle lexicon of sport in favor of a new vocabulary.  One that is more in tune with the new focus of America on the economy and the private sector.

Here’s what I suggest:

“Welcome to Super Bowl 47 from New Orleans--the Big Easy--the city that combines the Religious Revelry of Mardi Gras with an undercurrent of Licentious Paganism.  It’s an appropriate metaphor only moments away from the clash between two football teams that pursue contrasting philosophies in style and personalities.  Who operate like Conglomerates where Greed is Good and the Goal Line is as sacred and worshipped as the Bottom Line.

“This is the Brothers Brawl, Siblings Squabble--a Family Feud between the two head football coaches John Harbaugh who is Chairman of the Board for the Baltimore Ravens and Jim Harbaugh who is Chief Executive Officer of the San Francisco 49rs.

“Who will emerge from this DNA Division, RNA Rivalry, Chromosome Conflict that has shaken the Family Tree and whose Branches have Overshadowed the athletic contest between their respective teams?”

“Like two Wall Street Warriors, the San Francisco 49rs hope to Strike Gold as they collide with the Raucous Ravens of Baltimore.  Will it Pan Out for the Prospectors of the Bay Area Braggadocios or will Baltimore Boast Dividends when the Fourth Quarter Returns are counted?

“The enmity between these two Enterprises is as thick as a Corporate Prospectus and as tense as a Latte-infused Testosterone Boardroom rush as they struggle for dominance of the football Market.  Each Colossus is sure to Roll Out New Designs to steal Shelf Space and force the Competition into Chapter 11 Receivership.”

“The Left Coast 49rs have faith in quarterback Colin Kaepernick--the skipping, scooting, squirming Director of Operations who has oozed free of the Grasping Claws of opponents all season.  Will Wunderkind Colin escape the Treacherous Talons of the Clawing, Clutches of Baltimore this afternoon?  Will this Ballerina of the Boardroom triumph or trip?  Will his Performance today merit an End-of-the Year Executive Bonus or will he seek Bankruptcy Protection?

“The Football Fiduciary Fortunes of the Eastern Seaboard Ravens rest with Stay-at-Home Joe Flacco.  A quarterback who is more comfortable Barricaded behind his Behemoth blockers where he can Survey and Pinpoint Marketplace Targets with precision.  He eschews flamboyance in favor of finesse.  A CPA whose modus operandi has all the charisma of a Spreadsheet.  He’ll Bank Success on finding the Right Numbers to reach his favorite Niche Consumers all day.  But can he withstand the flooding 49rs who threaten to inundate his haven and sweep him away like the flotsam of just one more drowned enterprise that finds itself underwater?

“Enterprise Enemies in an epic Corporate Collision.  This is will be no Amiable Arbitrage, no Tender Takeover, no  Inviting Initial Public Offer (IPO).  These are  Financial Foes in a Fiduciary Fight. Its West vs East in transcontinental tension and a geographic grudge.  It’s brother against brother, familial friction,  simmering siblings.

“It’s Super Bowl 47!”

Steve Coon

January 25, 2013

Wiston Papers

Lance Armstrong turned the  Tour de France into  the Tour de Farce.

American cyclist Lance Armstrong has admitted what many observers suspected for years--that he was guilty of doping during his professional career.

Late summer the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) stripped Armstrong of his seven Tour de France championships dating back to his first victory  in 1999.  And this week the 41-year-old Texan told TV talk show host Oprah Winfrey that he had, in truth, taken performance-enhancing drugs despite years of denial.

The morning before the historic interview, John and I met for our weekly coffee klatch.

“Dope, dope, dope!”  John shook his head as he plopped on the chair across from me.

“Don’t be so tough on yourself, John,”  I comforted.  “Just don’t make another comment about Beverly’s appearance and this week you’ll get some coffee.  Careful, here she comes.”

“Say, you look stunning today,” John brightened as he saw our waitress Beverly.  “Wait, where’s your habit?”

“Thanks for noticing, Big Wheel,” Beverly smiles and begins pouring two cups of coffee.  “I don't have to hide myself anymore. My boss’s wife made him find another job so my attractiveness wouldn’t threaten his marriage,” Beverly fluffed her hair conceitedly.

“Why did you call me Big Wheel?” John asked.

“Oh, today’s when your bicycle hero Lance Armstrong spills the beans, fesses up to his drug use, and asks us to forgive him.  Speaking of beans, tell me later how you like the Guatemala Antigua I just served you.”

““Dope, dope, dope!” John shook his head again.  “Armstrong lied to us for years.  He said he didn’t take drugs.  I don’t trust any athlete anymore.”

“Cheer up and enjoy your coffee, John,” I consoled.  Maybe this will be a transformative moment.  Maybe this year the Tour de France and all the riders will wake up and smell the roses”

“You mean the Tour de Farce.  The only smelling will be the cyclists sniffing Poppies for cocaine,” John snorted.

“I’m sure you’ll feel differently come June 29th...the start of this year’s race.  It’s the 100th anniversary of the Tour.  Just remember the number 100,”  I beamed.

“Yeah, 100.  That’s how many kilos of drugs the bikers will take this year,” John popped off.

“No, no.  Think of the 21 stages of the race,” I blew my hot coffee carefully.  “There are seven flat stages...”

“That’s how the riders feel before they get a fix.”  John chased his first coffee sip.

“And the five hilly stages...”

“Probably the biker’s rocky feeling before the drugs kick in,” John pushed his chair closer to the table.  

“Don’t forget the six mountain stages with their four summit finishes,”  I injected.

“Phooey.  That’s just a euphanism for the drug high,”  John rolled on.

“Well, the team time trial may let the athletes support each other to stay clean,” I touted another attribute.

“You mean the team trials of different substances,” John relapsed.

“But think how inspiring the individual time trial can be,”  I hit up my next swallow.  “You’ve got to be clear headed for that speed stage.”

“It’s speed all right,” John nodded. “But it ain’t from the bike.”

“John, you’re forgetting all the pagentry, all the color...all...all...the color,” I blasted.

“Sure. Like the Green jersey for the leader of points classification?  Now I know it’s just a signal to other contestants to tell them who’s selling Marijuana...the weed, dude.”

“What about the Red Polka Dot jersey?” I tried to get through.

“Oh. That’s for best climber...got it?  The guy who can get you the fastest high.”

“John, surely the White jersey symbolizes purity of competition and love of sport,” I bit my lip slightly.

“Pure all right.  The youngest riders don that to signal they’ve got the purest quality cocaine.”

“And the Yellow jersey, John.  The Yellow one...” my eyes blazed.

“Mellow yellow, bro.  Yup.  Lot’s of ways to get stoned with anything from daffodils, to marijuana to banana peels.”

“But Armstrong says he took performance enhancing drugs,” John” I tried to clear up.  “Not these...these...these other kinds.”

“What have you been sniffing, man? Why does anybody take any drug?  You use them to boost your performance, but they also boost your mood, supposedly boost your perception, and even boost your coping mechanism.” John dabbled his spoon slowly in his cup.  “But it’s phoney.  It ain’t real.”

“Hey, guys.  Want another boost?” Beverly suggested.

“What!”  John and I both jumped.

“Whoa, fellows.  I’m just doubling up your cups,”  Beverly commented as she  dropped off her bill and started to walk away. “You guys are really jittery.  Let me get you a poppy seed muffin to calm your nerves.”

Steve Coon

January 16, 2013

Wiston Papers

English is a living language.  That's why it's constantly changing.

Picture the following scene on a sidewalk in London.  Two strangers meet and begin speaking.  A few minutes later they walk away in opposite directions--shaking their heads in confusion.  

The two were fluent in English.  But one speaker was from 13th Century; the second from the 21st.  

Eight centuries separate Middle English from Modern English.  Such is the case with organic entities and all languages are subject to evolution.

When I was born seven decades ago, American English of the mid-20th Century had a nearly universally understandable vocabulary and widely recognized  rules for spelling, syntax, and grammar.  Even short-lived slang expressions were shared and understood by most Americans.

In other words, the English rules I learned and continued to refine during subsequent years were based on standards I held to be the ideal.

However, language changes.  Commonly used words either change in spelling, conjugation, meaning or disappear.  And new words emerge.

The old vocabulary either no longer fits the times or those who use it apply the language incorrectly.

One would hope that language as employed by the nation’s upper class and arbiters of taste would percolate through all social strata to feed, inspire and reinforce correct usage. Residents of a nation would emulate and adopt the practices of the elite.

The reverse is true.  So-called substandard English leaches upward similar to a broken septic tank that spews sewage, degrades the surrounding environment, and spreads unchecked until it permeates everything.

Some readers will consider as overly harsh my evaluation of contemporary American English as a putrid contamination emanating from uneducated masses.   Despite this persistent erosion I continue to respect the English standards that prevailed during my formative years.  

Authors Richard Lederer (“Amazing Words”) and     Paul Dickson (“Words from The White House”) are two writers who have documented the ebb and flow of American English.  Lederer lists scores of words that have disappeared; Dickson cites others that were coined by America’s presidents.

I argue that every word necessary to communicate clearly and effectively today existed when I was born.  But the majority of Americans--including me--lack a vocabulary so extensive that we can easily and immediately draw upon the exact word that conveys precisely what we want say or write.  

As a result, we all contribute to language change by making up new words, revising the meaning of existing words, and embracing new slang with each generation.

Readers of my earlier blogs on words know that:

--I prefer the earlier noun form of “mixture” to the contemporary use of the verb “mix.”  I like to keep verbs and nouns separate.

--I cringe when I hear “snuck” instead of “sneaked.”

--I moan when someone uses “impacted rather than “affected.”

--Few things are “awesome,” but it’s used today as a substitute for an enthusiastic “yes.”

--“Its” and “it’s” are too commonly confused in writing.

--The singular “There’s” is almost always used even when followed by plural ideas, objects of persons.

--The nominative case has all but disappeared except for the few persons who still answer the telephone with “This is she/he.”  Otherwise, we substitute “her” and “him” after every other occurrence of the verb “to be” and its various tenses.

My dismay, nevertheless, is a futile reaction to what is inevitable.

Simply stated the standard of English I speak and prefer reflects the stage the language had reached at the moment of my birth.  Since English will continue to evolve it is fruitless to demand permanent allegiance by everyone to a standard destined to be swept away by changing cultural and societal expectations.

My granddaughters born today will employ a lexicon significantly different from mine when they reach my age.  We all are spectators of a fascinating evolution.  

Fascinating and often frustrating.  I acknowledge  the change; I just don’t have to accept it.   

Steve Coon

January 14, 2013

Wiston Papers

Is this how 2013 will be?

“Boys, you’re in for a treat today,” our waitress Beverly cheerfully greeted us for our weekly coffee.

“Our monthly Mexican theme continues with either Tapachula or Chiapas.”

“Yum...the Tapachula sounds good,” I answer enthusiastically.

“Whoa...what in the world are you wearing?” asks John. “You look like a nun.”

“I’m afraid for my job,” Beverly looks around, leans toward us and whispers, “I have to cover up. It’s my new habit.  Didn’t you hear about that Iowa Supreme Court ruling.  If my boss thinks I’m too attractive, he’ll fire me.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry too much about that,” muttered John.

“No coffee for you, buster.  You’ll be lucky if I come back with water,” Beverly glared.

“We’re in another good mood I see,” I said to John.  “You can share my coffee.”

“So far 2013 sucks,” complained John.

“What!” I startled.  “I thought you were looking forward to this year?  You’ve sworn off love life after three divorces, you’ve outsourced your Gay Marriage Counseling Service offshore, and you’ve...hm...I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” John looked around hoping for Beverly to return with coffee.  “So far I spent half of 2013 yesterday renewing my driver’s license.”

“Why?  Don’t you just go in, take an eye test, give them your money, and get a new license?”

“In your dreams.  Now you fill out a form the moment you enter the door.”

“OK...”

“Then they take a photo...give you a number...and you wait for the next available clerk.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” I wondered.

“...and you wait...and wait...and wait...for an hour!” John groused and again looked at Beverly who returned his gaze defiantly with her arms folded across her habit.

“Oh...I see your point,” I commisserated.  “That does seem long.  Say, this coffee is really good.  You should have some,” I smiled sadistically.

“When you’re finally done, they tell you the license renewal is for only two years because you’re too old.”

“Did they actually say too old?”

“Not exactly,” John admitted “but after the long wait nobody actually gets a license.  They send it to you!”

“I may give up driving,” I joked and motioned to Beverly for a refill.

“Then there’s the swab test,” John shook his head.

“To get a driver’s license?” I put down my cup in shock.

“No, my kids want to know about my ancestry.”

“Are they preparing a paternity suit?”  “And these are children from which wife?”

“All of them,” John clarified. “They’ve heard that some humans actually have Neanderthal DNA and now the kids want to know if that explains my behavior.”

“Here’s your refill,” Beverly acknowledges me.  “Sorry, but none for caveman here,” she turns to John.  I’m not in the ‘habit” (making quotation marks with her hands) of serving Neanderthals.”

“Ouch,” I moaned mockingly.

“Whatever. Then there’s the Piers Morgan and Alex Jones fight,” John changes subject while eyeing my coffee longingly.

“Uh..Piers Morgan...you lost me.”

“Morgan made some anti-gun comment on his CNN TV show and now radio host Alex Jones has begun a petition to deport him back to England.”

“Really,” I sipped my coffee slowly watching John’s growing envy.

“But like everything else wrong with our government, the White House says it won’t do anything.”

“Deportation requests everywhere in the U.S. have declined I heard.  But I do remember that you were upset with foreigners taking aways American acting jobs,” I reminded.

“Acting! Don’t even go there.  The Oscars nominations were announced yesterday...and none of my favorite movies made it.”

“That’s surprising,” I noted sarcastically.  “What movie were you rooting for?”

“Why, Breaking Dawn — Part 2, of course, with actors Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson!  I was shocked that they were dissed.  It was a tour de force.”

“No doubt.  I wonder why they didn’t get the nod,” I savored my Tapachula.  “This is delicious, I can hardly wait to try the Chiapas next time.

“Why thank you,” Beverly noted sprightly.  “As for you, John, as you say in your native Neanderthal...‘Grunt, Grunt.’”

Steve Coon

January 11, 2013

Wiston Papers

I'm tweeting.  I'm not reporting news.

This week the headline service Twitter was in the news. The micro-blogging source continues to evolve and that was recognized positively by two different sources.

The preeminent broadcast news organization Radio Television Digital News Association (RTDNA) announced that it would present its First Amendment Award to Twitter.

According to the RTDNA news release, the award recognizes those who have “...played a significant role in dissemination of news and information.”

Furthermore, continues the RTDNA statement, “Social media has (sic) added a new and important dimension to information dissemination and Twitter has been in the forefront of those efforts.”

RTDNF Executive Director Mike Cavender is quoted.  “Millions of people turn to Twitter as an instant source of information, especially in times of crisis.”

Two days later ReadWrite blogger Jon Mitchell captured our attention with the headline “Watch Out CNN:  New Twitter Search Capabilities Will Rule Breaking News.”

Mitchell argues that traditional news sites are slower than Twitter and have less information about what’s happening.  He continues by claiming that Twitter “is increasingly where breaking news emerges.  That’s just a fact.”

No.  It is not a fact.  

Jon Mitchell obviously does not understand what Twitter is and the RTDNA apparently has forgotten what news is.  Here is the truth.

Twitter is a source of rumor, innuendo, speculation, opinions, tips and--on occasions--a link to actual news. But it is not news itself.

RTDNA erroneously asserts that Twitter’s limited 140-character messages constitute significance.  In fact, Twitter is nothing more than headlines.  There is no detail, no context, no explanation, no elaboration and no guarantee of accuracy.

Although Twitter often is first in spreading rumors about breaking news, every posting must be confirmed elsewhere.  First is not a synonym for fact. 

Mr. Mitchell incredulously claims most news sites have less information about what people find interesting.  On the contrary.  Legitimate news sites are not limited to Twitter’s 140-character restriction.  News sites have space to provide critical detail and background on news of interest to people.  Twitter cannot and does not do that.

 Yes, I tweet about my blog.  But I don’t delude myself that I’m disseminating anything more than a tease to my latest opinion.  I'm tweeting; I'm not reporting news.

It is true that social media are increasingly prominent forums for exchanges of opinions and information  But the overwhelming percentage of content is not actual news.  News is information that has been checked for accuracy.  News consumers should have confidence in the veracity of statements in the story and believe that the journalists who compile the information strive for fairness and balance.  In other words, news should present the truth.

Twitter and other social media have a place in contemporary society.  But we should not ascribe to them attributes they do not have nor a role they do not play.

Let’s recognize Twitter for what it is.  A headline service about topics of possible interest to families, friends and followers.  Actual news about those topics will be found elsewhere.

Steve Coon

January 09, 2013

Wiston Papers

Which America are we?  The "American Idol" or the American Ideal?

Americans don’t want definitive resolutions to the topics or issues of our times.  We engage in acrimony rather than seek answers; we incite confrontation rather than invite consensus; we  provoke debate rather than pursue decision;  we revel in struggle to avoid solution.

At least that is the conclusion from observing how Washington handled the recent fiscal erosion debacle.

Ironically this is a stark contradiction to the stereotype we have of ourselves.  An image we export and one that has inspired millions around the globe.  Much of the world views the United States as a nation of rugged individualism; a promise of success from hard work; the land of equal opportunities; a people who embrace a strong sense of right and wrong.  We are the champions we boast.

Put another way; every American wants to win; everyone hates to lose.  We no longer really believe in the adage “It’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.” Most Americans discarded that philosophy years ago.

We are a competitive society and we cannot refrain from picking winners and losers.  But we attempt this in various ways that are both ingenuous and laughable.  

The truth is we are more willing to applaud pretend champions in arenas of little importance rather than demand demonstrable excellence in struggles of significance.

Let’s examine this by contrasting our expectations of public service in America with entertainment.

Here are some examples:  the Bowl Championship Series (BSC)  national football game Monday night, the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences (Oscars) next month, and a score of competitions throughout the year ranging from the Emmys for television performance to Bluegrass Music, as well as Art and Photography.  All will crown persons and performances that purportedly are better than the competition.  

The truth, in fact, is that Americans are averse to legitimate contests and accurate evaluation.  We mollify mediocrity behind a masquerade of merit.

The universities of Notre Dame and Alabama will play a football game for the mythical national championship.  It’s a meaningless charade, of course.  Both teams arrived at Monday’s moment solely by virtue of a popularity vote rather than a playoff that would guarantee that both schools were legitimate contenders.  Absent that format, it’s only your opinion against mine.  No true college champion will be emerge from Monday’s game.

Next month the Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences will hand out Oscars to various alleged winners for meritorious performance in movies.  Again, it’s a beauty pageant rather than recognition of actual talent.

The most likely films to be nominated as best motion picture have little in common: “Lincoln,” “Argo,” “Zero Dark Thirty,” “Les Miserables,” and “Silver Linings Playbook.”

Equally incomparable is the acting of leading male contenders Daniel Day-Lewis, John Hawkes, Denzel Washington, Hugh Jackman and Joaquin Phoenix.  The most likely female nominees will be Jessica Chastain, Jennifer Lawrence, Naomi Watts, Emmanuelle Riva and Quvenzhane Wallis.  They, too, have such discrete roles as to make any legitimate analysis impossible.

A true contest would compare each actor and actress’s performance in the same role of the same film--such as Cordelia in Shakespeare’s “King Lear” or Falstaff in “The Merry Wives of Windsor.”

Instead, the Academy serves up a mixture of apples and oranges and asks up to name the best fruit.  An impossible task.

Equally unappetizing is the prospect of picking the best Bluegrass song or performance at the Telluride Troubador Contest in June.  We’ll be treated to a range of genre from Progressive, Gospel, Neo-Traditional and Redgrass.  None can be fairly compared because each is different.  But purported winners will be named.

Art truly is in the eye of the beholder.  How and why should we argue that the Baroque painters Caravaggio, Rembrandt and Vermeer are superior to the Modernists Matisse, Impressionist Manet or Cubist Picasso?

That, however, is exactly what various art competitions and exhibits this year will demand of those who seek recognition...entrants will attempt to emulate the structure of the masters.  Style as unique and disparate as the genre themselves makes any attempt to compare contestants in multiple categories both ridiculous and pointless.  Nevertheless, winners will be announced.

Honesty dictates that we admit that it’s impossible to rate any contestant superior to another when there is no comparable criterion.  On the contrary, we would be better off celebrating the quality of diversity in athletics, performance, music and art instead of claiming superiority.  Absent specific criteria for legitimate evaluation and assessment, we should not label these different presentations as either winners or losers.  Rather, we should acknowledge the truth.

This was a game well played; a theatrical or film performance that was a delight; a song of joy and meaning; a picture or photograph of inspiration.  Nothing more and nothing less.  

Yes, we will continue to debate.  We’ll argue that my team, my favorite actor, musician or artist is better than yours.  As long as we are honest with ourselves and concede that these are only opinions that’s fine.  Our parlor debates about the best athletic team, actor, artist or musician should be entertaining escapism.  We should not make more of these exchanges than they are.  These are moments of leisurely rejoinders of no serious consequence.

But when we delude ourselves that we alone are the repositories of wisdom, correctness or legitimacy we make a mockery of the truth and reveal ourselves as fools..unworthy of attention or credibility.  

Unfortunately, that too often is the nature of our elected and appointed leaders.  We should hold Washington, state and local decision-makers to a high standard.  Their words do matter and their actions even more.

It’s time for serious talk, serious resolve, and serious action by the persons we elected in November.  Unless Washington and local governments are prepared to act responsibly, their results and claims will be as mythical as the competitions cited above.  Allegations of accomplishment that are false.  Assertions of achievement that are lies.

The problems facing America demand heroic action by winners.  But we have none in charge nor do we want them.

U.S. voters knew--coming into the November national elections--that our elected leaders were at loggerheads.  Neither major political party was willing to budge from its ideological stance even in the face of undeniable evidence that their truculence would forestall adoption of critically necessary legislation.  

Despite this painful truth, American voters cast ballots for the status quo.  Thus guaranteeing several more years of wrongheaded discussions by government leaders who see in their re-election a mandate to continue their vacuous or vitriolic diatribes in order to deflect responsibility and to escape leadership.  Courage has long been absent from both the White House and Congress.  November’s vote assured continued cowardice by local and national leaders.  Had Americans wanted change we would have voted accordingly.  We did not.

Sadly, it seems, Americans now prefer the “American Idol” rather than the American Ideal.  

Steve Coon

January 07, 2013

Wiston Papers

I like people.   It's just the businesses they work for I despise.

“John, you’re especially attentive to your cell phone,” I note as we gather for our first coffee klatch of 2013.

“Shoo,” John interrupts as the wrinkles deepen on his forehead.  “I’m trying to program technology...again.”

“Happy New Year, boys” our waitress Beverly attempts to cheer us.  “Are you ready for a better year than last?”

“How could it be worse?” grumbles John as he pokes insistently at his phone’s miniscule keypad.

“I’ve got just the ticket. Our coffee specials this first week of 2013 are Mexican imports Altura Orizaba and Oaxaca Pluma,” Beverly encourages.

“Probably smuggled in by undocumented workers” John groans sarcastically.

“I’ll bring a full pot of each,” Beverly shakes her head as her smile wanes.  “Looks like this year will be just like the last...” she exhales as she strides off.

“Happy New Year, John, and what’s wrong now?” I brace myself with my first strong caffeine swallow of 2013.

“I get DirecTV...”

“Well, it’s not exactly Mediacom but...”

“And I have CenturyLink for my home landline phone,” John glares.

“I see a pattern.  But your point is...”

“So...two months ago I had a chance to ‘bundle,’” (John makes the quote sign with his hands) “my DirecTV and CenturyLink telephone service into one bill.  

“Sounds like a good idea,” I conciliate.  

“I talked with a ‘helpful, customer service representative,’ (John makes the quote sign with his hands) “signed up and guess what happened?  It worked...but for only one month.   Now I’m back to separate bills again,”  John taps his cell phone on our table.

“Did you try to...” I try to intervene.

“Yes I did...twice,” John anticipates my suggestion.  “After lengthy conversations of explanations, apologies and promises from ‘helpful, customer service representatives’ (John makes the quote sign with his hands) “that the problem would be resolved, I tried again.”

“Good for you,” I cheer John and began another swallow of my Altura Orizaba.

“Forget it...” John reboots his phone.  “No luck.  I still have to pay two bills.”

“Hm...” I look around for help.

“Next I tried to program my CenturyLink landline phone,” John chugs his Oaxaca Pluma.  It only rings three times...before the calls roll over to my answering machine.  I can’t always reach it in time.”

“Well, you could always...”

“I did.  I phoned a CenturyLink ‘helpful customer service representative’ (John makes the quote sign with his hands) “to get specific, step-by-step instructions and followed them precisely.  Success!  I did the happy dance.”

“Congratulations!” I raise my hand for a high-five.

“In your dreams, compadre,” John ignores my bonding offer and pounds his phone against the edge of the table.  “The very next phone call...three rings and the answering machine.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” I began to panic between coffee sips. “But surely your cell phone...”

“Hello...can you hear me now?  I have Verizon.”

“OK I see what you mean. In other words...” I respond cautiously holding my cup somewhat firmly in increasingly shaky hands.

“You got it, bub.  I tried to enroll in automatic payment from my bank America’s Big Bank (ABB),”  John shifts position in his chair and stomps his cell phone with his foot.

“Let me guess, they...”

“Of course, I called both ABB and Verizon.  “We’d be happy to set that up for you,’” (John makes the quote sign with his hands) “said the helpful customer representative at the bank.”

“And...” I roll my eyes in sinking resignation.

““It would be our pleasure to assist you in that,” (John makes the quote sign with his hands) “said the helpful customer representative at Verizon.”

“Let me guess,” I nod as we both respond in unison.  “It didn’t work!”

“Beverly, can you help us here,” I plead.

“Of course,”  she assures.  “What you want is assurance that the good of 2012 will continue and the bad of last year will disappear.”

John and I exchange surprised glances.  “Uh...why...you’re right!”

“No problem, gentlemen.  John, let me take that phone from from you...and here is my bill.”

“But...” we both start to protest.

“Welcome to 2013...”  Beverly bounces away enthusiastically.  “...let the good times roll.”

Steve Coon

January 02, 2013