More Light in the World

Happy 250th birthday to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who is holding up remarkably well for someone who died at the age of 35.

The very amusing and skillful classical-music critic Jim Svejda tells the story of how he once filled out a job application and wrote "Mozart" in the space marked Religion. The interviewer was not amused, but then, says Svejda, "I hadn't intended it as a joke."

That more or less sums it up. I'm no expert on orchestral music, and there are times when I prefer the work of other composers, but if nothing else Mozart is the most dependable of artists. Other musicians step wrong from time to time; not Wolfgang. Even his most ridiculous pieces (see "Abduction from the Seraglio" and "The Magic Flute") will suddenly reach in and touch your heart.

(Yeah, I know, there are a lot of people who will threaten me with death or worse for that opinion of "Zauberflote." To me, the thing is and always will be a third-rate fairy tale with a lot of embarrassing philosopho-sexual trash dropped in like overcooked matzo balls. Nevertheless, as I say, the damn thing can still move me. No one cuts Amadeus.)

I note with interest that today is also the 125th anniversary of the day Thomas Edison filed a patent for the electric light bulb.

And thus, as we should be told much more often, do art and science pursue the same goals.

Benshlomo says, Light is light.

Terrorists in the State House

Here's a pretty good analysis of the Hamas victory in yesterday's Palestinian elections. Juan Cole is not exactly Israel's friend, and I disagree heartily with some of his assertions in this piece. There's no evidence I'm aware of, for instance, that Israel intends to unilaterally withdraw from West Bank territory while keeping large blocks of settlments there, although I'm sure they do intend to maintain control of united Jerusalem - it's Israel's eternal capital and always has been. Nevertheless, Cole's major points about George Bush's America, and about Sharon's Israel, seem quite well-taken.

So I don't have much to add regarding the new power of Hamas. I suspect that the Palestinian people did indeed vote for that party because Fatah is a corrupt gang of thieves and the voters had had enough. I'd like to believe, as I've been told, that a great many Palestinian Arabs could not possibly care less about destroying Israel, for all the "leadership's" rhetoric. And I suspect that, once Hamas takes power, with or without Fatah, they'll be so busy cleaning up they won't have time to blow up Jews any more than they have been (which is bad enough, but not as bad as it could be).

All in all, I'm not exactly happy about Hamas, but I'm going to keep my fingers crossed real hard.

Benshlomo says, Hope is most powerful when all seems lost.

Open Letter to the White House - Doubts in Your Mind

Dear Mr. President:

I seriously considered giving you a break on the issue of illegal wiretaps on American citizens' phones. God knows why; maybe I just felt tired. My thanks to you, therefore, for your comments at the "super-secret" NSA headquarters yesterday (and what's with the "super-secret" moniker? What is this, a James Bond movie?). I feel like those remarks really woke me up.

Let's see - you said two things in particular that really struck me as even more cute than your usual meaningless fluff. First, there was your declaration that "the American people expect me to protect their security and their civil rights, and that's what I'm doing." Second, there was your reassurance, "There's no doubt in my mind" that those NSA wiretaps are constitutional.

Now, sir, I've addressed you before on the subject of what the American people expect from you. Your poll numbers have gone up slightly since that time, but not enough to bolster your claim. It's obvious that the American people, contrary to your assertion, expect nothing but further bumbling from you and your administration, whether deliberately or through mere incompetence.

I won't bother to repeat myself any further than that when it comes to yesterday's statement, though. Let's discuss exactly what you seem to think the American people expect from you - protection of our security and our civil rights. Where in the world did you get the idea that those items reside in your personal job description?

Time for a quick civics lesson. You, sir, are the head of the Executive Branch, not the emperor. Your job is to implement the laws enacted by the legislative branch, that is, the Congress of the United States. You are indeed the commander in chief of the armed forces; that does not mean that you make all the decisions having to do with national security, or with anything else, nor does it mean that you may not be questioned or investigated. Your decisions and orders are subject to review, just as are the decisions and orders of Congress and of the courts. Protection of our security is a joint responsibility to be shared between the three branches of government, not your personal bailiwick.

As for protection of our civil rights, that is even less your personal task than national security. You are commander in chief of the armed forces, and therefore may be considered to have some leeway in your military actions. You are certainly not commander in chief of the Bill of Rights - that is utterly outside your jurisdiction. If, as is undeniable, our national security is a matter for joint administration among the three branches of government, our civil rights and freedoms are even more a matter for joint oversight. They are not to be molded to the will of any executive, least of all a secrecy-obsessed power-hungry demagogue like yourself.

So much for what the American people expect of you (and I might add, your statement that you are indeed protecting our national security and our civil rights is simply another lie, but we'll cover that sometime in the future). Let's move on to your other statement. You said "There is no doubt in my mind" that the NSA wiretaps are unconstitutional.

Mr. President, I could not possibly care less what is in your mind. Your mind is not the final arbiter of what is and is not constitutional, and you may not simply wipe away your misdeeds by executive fiat. I would not trust Abraham Lincoln, our greatest president, with that power - I certainly will not trust you with it.

There has been a lot of talk from you and your administration lately, attempting to reassure us that no telephone conversations between American citizens have been subject to illegal wiretaps; that our government is listening only to phone calls originating overseas; that the information thus obtained has prevented several terrorist attacks; that revealing this secret program gives valuable information to this nation's enemies; and so on. These claims, too, do not weigh with me in the least whether true or false. As usual, you and your cronies are missing the point in a quite spectacular fashion.

Once again, allow me to educate you regarding the American governmental system. You may not simply do as you please - you are required to submit to judicial oversight. If you cannot convince Congress and the courts that your contemplated actions are necessary and legal, you may not undertake them, but you are required to make your argument nevertheless. You may not violate the law at any time, nor attempt to excuse your conduct later, when it becomes known, no matter how critical you may consider your actions to be. If you find governmental processes slow or inefficient, you are required to work with the other branches to fix them; you may not simply go around them. In short, when it comes to your job as an employee of the American people, no matter what is in your mind (or whatever you call your mind), you are to submit its contents for review before you act.

I notice that, in your first comment, you evidently claim to read the minds of the American people, to know what they expect of you. In your second, you evidently ask us to read your mind and to trust what's there. We refute both claims, sir. Henceforth, we require that you obey the laws and do your job properly, rather than destroying all democratic institutions within your reach while claiming to preserve them.

If you find that requirement uncongenial, you can pack up your things, head back to Crawford, and let your cows try to read your mind. They could not possibly be less successful than the American people in figuring out just what the dickens you're up to.

That'll Do

The other day, Little Miss and I went grocery shopping at a local Whole Foods. We were trying to pick out the proper brand of qinoa (you'd never find that in a regular grocery store), when we heard a voice asking "Excuse me, is this your cart?"

I turned around and found myself face to face with Farmer Hoggett - James Cromwell.



His voice was polite and his face was friendly, but I don't think Little Miss recognized him. She said "No," and turned back to the qinoa.

Mr. Cromwell took the empty cart down the aisle, and a couple of minutes later Little Miss looked up at me sheepishly and said "That wasn't very polite of me, was it?"

That's one thing about Little Miss that really softens my heart; she loves people so much and she wants to treat them well so much, that she'll think she's being rude when she's only being normal.

So we walked down the aisle and Little Miss said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so short."

Mr. Cromwell grinned so wide I thought the top of his head would fall off, and he said "That's quite all right, you weren't!"

As we continued our shopping, I said to Little Miss, "You know who that was? That was Farmer Hoggett!"

She didn't quite remember the name.

"You know, the dead guy from I, Robot!" That's one of her favorite movies.


I think she felt very happy that she had apologized to him before she found out he's a celebrity.

Living in Los Angeles, you see celebrities on a fairly regular basis. Over the last few years, within about a ten-mile radius, I've seen John Goodman, Jeff Goldblum, Shaquille O'Neal, John Cleese, Geena Davis, Jerry Seinfeld, Axl Rose, John Hiatt, and a host of others, all in the ordinary course of daily life, and old as I am I still find it surprising that they're normal sized (except Shaq, that is, and Geena Davis too). I keep expecting celebrities to be about fifty feet tall, even the ones you only see on television.

None of them have ever been rude to me, but James Cromwell was about the friendliest (with the possible exception of Jay Leno), and he was nice to someone I love, so I'm going to remember this incident very happily.

Benshlomo says, Way to go, Farmer Hoggett.

Shandeh fur de Goyim

It's a little late to comment, but now that the dust has died down, here are a few comments about Jack Abramoff's hat (with thanks to Stephen Hirsch for pointing it out).


I've said before that Jack Abramoff's claims of Jewish orthodox belief strike me as - well - incongruous, to say the least. Before he pled guilty to fraud, tax evasion and conspiracy, I thought with many others that his declared spiritual beliefs and his apparent corrupt activities didn't quite match up. How could he spend his week taking money from both opposing sides of an issues - from two Indian tribes interested in building a casino on the same spot, say - insult them in his e-mails and private conversations, join with Tom "Broken Hammer" DeLay in violating both legal and ethical rules, and then go to synagogue on the Sabbath and proclaim aloud his devotion to the law of Moses?

Then he comes marching out of court wearing the hat of an Orthodox Jew and everyone says he looks like a gangster.


In truly orthodox circles, this is called a Chillul HaShem, a desecration of God's name. What it does is give people a reason to say "If that's what belief in God leads to, I want nothing to do with it." Those people, under the influence of Abram Jackoff's hypocrisy, thus separate themselves from God, the source of all happiness, and from their access to the best life available.

The title of this post is Yiddish and means "it's a shame for the non-Jewish world." It may be an even more apt phrase than Chilllul HaShem in this context - Abramoff brings us all into disrepute. God keep me far away from any Torah that man adheres to.

Benshlomo says, Lose the hat, Jack, and don't you come back no more.

Hail to the King

As everyone knows, Elvis Presley would have been 70 years old yesterday. Sorry I missed your birthday, King.



Yeah, he never wrote a song, and he recorded a lot of junk, and almost all his movies are a waste of time, and his final years were just sad. On the other hand, if he hadn't lived it would have been necessary to invent him.

I like what Greil Marcus said in Mystery Train, which everyone should read right away. Marcus' point was that Elvis, whatever else you might say about him, was great. He was a great rocker, a great bore, a great American, a great purveyor of schlock, and so forth. In other words, he jumped into life with both feet and did something with it. We're still trying to figure out what, and it's a very useful inquiry.

Which probably explains why there are still people who believe he's still alive. In a very real sense, he is.

Benshlomo says, I would not care to live in a world that had not been touched by Elvis.

The Howl of Human Jackals

At the risk of perpetrating a radioactively awful joke, who died and made this idiot God? I suppose he's got an even greater mental ability than the Lord Almighty; after all, he seems to think he can read the Lord's mind. Does that strike anyone else as just plain weird?

It's not enough we look like losing Ariel Sharon just at the time when he might actually do some good for a change; now we have to tolerate this senile egomaniac's oral diarrhea on the subject as well? Can't someone just take a length of barbed wire and sew his dribbling mouth shut for him?

Yesterday I complained to God that I just couldn't figure out what He wants from us. I wish Pat "God's Analyst" Robertson were similarly confused.

Benshlomo says, If God talks to you, best clam up about it.

Forward into the Past

Ariel Sharon is back in the hospital after a "major stroke," according to his doctors.

After a lifetime of war against the Palestinians, he suddenly gives us reason to be optimistic. He withdraws from Gaza and makes it look easy, he unites Israel's voters like they haven't been united in years, he gets us all set to hope for peace again, he has a minor stroke and recovers nicely, and then he gets really sick. The louse.

Just when he was getting ready to win another term as prime minister and bring (so it seemed) a new, genuinely moderate party called Kadima (meaning "Forward") into Israeli politics - and with his old nemesis, Shimon Peres, with him - it now looks like he's going to have to withdraw. Even if he survives.

Remember what I said about looking forward to the years of my father's life after his minor stroke?

You're damn right I'm feeling bitter.

Benshlomo says, Dear Lord, sometimes I wonder what You want from us.

Think I Thought I Saw You Try

Today's a pretty busy day, it seems. Even if you don't count the Rose Bowl.

In politics, the putz Jack Abramoff prepares (or so the conjecture goes) to tell us who he bribed, when, for how much, and what he got for his money. Republicans all over Washington quake in their boots; with amazing speed, and with loud declarations of shock, they fling shovels full of Abramoff money out the window in the general direction of various charities.

When was the last time you saw a bunch of Congressmen move that fast when doing government business? Even George W. Bush can't goose them that hard. But I guess people move when someone shoves a red-hot poker up the fundament, or threatens to.

I'll have more to say on Abram Jackoff later. Meantime, in other news, eleven miners died in a West Virginia mining accident and a twelfth remains in critical condition. This after their families were at first told that the men were alive and well.

I've been trying to find a way to blame the Bush administration for this cock-up, but even I'm not that deluded. Yet.

However, on a strictly personal note, I'm most intrigued by the fact that today is Michael Stipe's birthday. I have two reasons for this. One, he's the lead singer for R.E.M., one of my favorite bands, whose music accompanied me through some difficult, amazing, frightening and profound times. Two, today is also my late father's birthday.

I only just learned that my father shared a birthday with one of my favorite rock stars. Who knew?

They don't seem to have much in common. My father divorced my mother when I was very young, and although he was a thoroughly decent man – paid his child support on time, almost never missed a weekend visit – it took me years to think of him as a father. I doubt Michael Stipe will have the same problem; despite rumors in the mid-80's of a relationship between him and Natalie Merchant, he came out of the closet at about the same time as R.E.M.'s biggest hit, "Losing My Religion." (He said "I wear makeup and a dress onstage - why are you so surprised?") In fact, there are those who say that song is itself about being gay in a homophobic world. I don't quite get that myself, but you can check out the lyrics if you like.

On the other hand, like Michael Stipe (who spent something like five years with R.E.M. playing bars and pizza joints on the south Atlantic coast practically without a break), my father was a stunningly hard worker. He came from a poor background and never got to finish college, but he got into the computer business back when computers took up three rooms. He predicted ATMs and home computers back in 1976. When he had his first stroke, he referred to it as a "wake-up call" and decided it was time to take it easy.

I remember visiting him in the hospital at that time. He was a little stiff on his left side and his voice rasped because of the tube they had run down his nose before he regained consciousness, but it was his facial expression that really struck me. He looked a little worried and a little stunned, like he still couldn't quite believe what had happened to him. Mostly, though, he looked pensive. He was thinking about things he'd probably never given himself time to think about before. He told me he would be working less and enjoying life more, and he started by asking his long-time girlfriend – a woman I really liked – to marry him.

I was really looking forward to hanging out with him over the next period of years, seeing what he did with himself. With that energy of his, I figured he'd stun us all.

Then a couple of weeks later he had another stroke, much more severe, and it killed him.

While my parents were still married, my mother tells me, she would sometimes ask him to spend more time with me. His response was that although his family was the most important thing in his life, his work was more urgent. I've come to believe that his family, particularly his sons, were indeed the most important thing in his life. I've also learned that we human beings may declare what's urgent in our lives and what's not. My father never learned that himself, but he taught it to me.

Benshlomo says, Happy birthday, Dad.

Two Zero Zero Six

I spent most of the day with Little Miss at my brother's house, with my mother and her sister, my sister-in-law and niece in attendance.


I used to think that if I didn't spend New Year's Day doing something out of the ordinary, something was seriously wrong. That usually consisted of watching the Rose Parade on television. And there's nothing wrong with the Rose Parade, but expecting to get some kind of special-occasion high from a television broadcast invariably gave me the sense that it was going to be just another year.

I much prefer today's marking of the turn to 2006. Nothing specifically new-yearish, but it left me with the definite knowledge that this year is going to be good.

Benshlomo says, Happy New Year, everyone.