Look Who's Godless Now

So just when we all thought we couldn't listen to anyone more annoying than Cindy Sheehan, here comes along Ann Coulter! I would honestly rather listen to Cindy Sheehan for an hour than listen to Ann Coulter for five minutes. This week's clips were nearly unbearable...I seriously considered skimping on the videos (but for the record, I didn't).

I have always loathed Coulter. She represents that "skinny bitch" that everyone loves to hate (I use that terminology only in an allusion to another new and ridiculous diet book with the same title...really!). To steal a phrase from my paper, I lean so far left that it's remarkable that I can stand at all, so obviously my reaction to Coulter is negative. But my distaste extends much further than that. I never understood why until I read the fallacies section in our packet and now everything seems much clearer.

Coulter reeks of fallacies. Any serious reader would find her arguments illogical and unpersuasive (my apologies if you're a conservative diehard who wants to father Ann's babies).

Coulter's arguments thrive on personal attacks. In the clip with Mrs. Edwards, it was obvious that Coulter's reasons against electing John Edwards were so weak that she had to resort to childish name calling. Furthermore, even if it's true that Hillary has chubby legs (she probably does), it has no place in an argument on policy. I'm more keen on trusting someone who eats a cookie every once in a while rather than someone who thinks eating should be done sparingly. (I'm definitely not endorsing Clinton, but...you know how it goes.)

I absolutely loved it when Matt Lauer asked her difficult questions and she just sat there stumbling over her words. I think she might have actually been trying to formulate a real answer without personal attacks and just couldn't. How sad that she's written, what was it, five New York Times bestsellers? I thought the Times had more pride than to include her in their list!

I especially refute her attack that liberalism is opposition to God. That's either/or reasoning. Either you're conservative and love God or you're a liberal and you have a tattoo of a pentagram across your forehead.

Besides being a shameless liar (as Franken pointed out), Coulter is also a poor debater. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't it unacceptable to refuse to allow your opponent to speak? For the love of all that is good and holy, Ann, take a breath!

So I feel like I've been attacking her personally...but maybe she deserves it. No, not maybe. Definitely.

Jesus Christ!

I grew up in the Church of Christ, a small and extremely conservative denomination, and I believed in all of its teachings until the age of seventeen, when I strayed from the "straight and narrow" in pursuit of something else, something more. When I describe my previous church to those unfamiliar with it, I call it "just a little less conservative than the Amish." There are no musical instruments, no female leaders, no salvation without baptism. The only thing worse than being a fornicator is being a homosexual fornicator, and the only thing worse than killing your neighbor and three kids is killing a microscopic fetus. I am harsh on my previous beliefs, I know, but I still believe religion can be a good thing. The Church of Christ, I hope and believe, is about to undergo a fundamental change with the leaders of my generation - my friends who stayed in the church are surely more secular and understanding than the seventy year-old generation before us. The same can probably be said of any major religion within the United States.

For nearly ten years I attended summer camp with my church in a forgotten crook of Texas countryside outside of Bandera. It was week of Bible lessons and competitions, where "mixed bathing" in the river was forbidden and the watermelon was always ripe. Emotional sermons were a daily tradition, and it was in response to one of those sermons that I was baptized at the age of 11 in the murky river that has since run nearly dry.

My camp was certainly conservative, but it was nothing in comparison with the church in Jesus Camp. Well, first of all, we don't believe in speaking in tongues, but we also didn't pray over a cheap cardboard cut-out of W. We had those sermons against abortion and even some counselors who forbid Harry Potter in their cabins (and a girl who was ridiculed and called a sinner for having a thong and a push-up bra in her suitcase). We were told we were living in a wicked generation, and we girls were also told to return to our cabins to change if we were wearing anything "suggestive," meaning shorts that didn't go to our knees or spaghetti strap tops.

Now that I'm writing about this, I'm realizing how little different my camp was (and is) from the camp in the film. This scares me. Perhaps such Christian fundamentalism is more widespread than we believe.

I really do salute Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady for their film. It exposes the dangerous close-minded way many of America's religious leaders are leading. I see nothing different between Reverend Wright's ill-advised statements and Becky Fisher's sermons. There is always a way to take an idea to an extreme that hurts society.

Some parts of the film especially moved me. I really appreciated (though I didn't enjoy) the scenes that interspersed Fischer's sermon with the cries of the children. It was an excellent montage that heightened the tension and highlighted Fischer's immorality. It was a good filmmaking move to keep the diagetic music (with that woman kind of crying or yelling or singing or whatnot), and in other sequences the music choice was point on with the mood.

I believe Becky Fischer is wrong, yet I believe her branch of extremism will live on for centuries to come, just as any other kind of fundamentalism will. I do believe that she thinks that she is doing what is right, just as I believe that everyone in my previous church thinks the same. However, this does not make either of them right. Anyways, who is in charge of determining right and wrong in the first place?

Writing About Writing

I pretty much just wing it every time I write, or at least it feels that way.  Typically I listen to some music, usually something mellow along the lines of Jack Johnson, Damien Rice, or Broken Social Scene, or just anything that is subtle enough to enjoy but not distract me.  As you can see, I think the music I listen to is the most important part of my writing process as it changes my mood and helps me focus on the paper.

Other than my music choice, I really don't put much thought into my writing process.  I've been writing since I was a kid so now it all comes naturally to me.  Occasionally before I write I'll consider the points I need to hit, but sometimes these points change as I write so I don't usually take much stock in them.  As I write, I naturally try to pace myself so that I hit the page requirement or word count.

I guess my biggest problem with writing for other people is that sometimes I find it difficult to ensure that others can follow my thought process.  My writing can tend to be a bit choppy (as evident in this blog) and I can jump from idea to idea without considering my reader.  I also tend to write a bit less formally than is sometimes desired, but at the same time I consider that to be my voice as a writer instead of a crux.

FYI: I've written this blog without listening to any music and I feel that it is my weakest.  I'll be back on the music next week.

The Shape of Punk to Come

When I was a freshman in high school I probably wore black every other day and wore my hair in my eyes (which were covered in black eyeliner and heavy mascara). I was filled with angst against my parents, my religion, my school, even my friends at times, and bands like the Swedish group Refused used the political rhetoric I espoused.

Looking back at pictures of myself, I must admit that I am a bit embarrassed about my fashion sense in those early days of high school. I was also able to travel to Sweden this summer and tried to listen to Refused as I rode the train to Stockholm, but the scenery did not match the music. Sweden is one of the most beautiful countries I have ever seen and such a grungy, discontent sound described my hometown more than it did the Swedish countryside. I listened to Sigur Ros instead.

However, during high school I believed my fashion sense to be a form of protest. It thrilled me to wonder what the older people at church thought when they saw me clad in only black (after all, they had watched me grow up). I'm sure not many even gave me an extra thought, but it satisfied me nevertheless.

Punk and its many offshoots serve as a method of contentment for the wearer; they do not necessarily serve as expression to others. This may have been different in the early days of punk, when it was fresh and the mainstream hadn't realized the market potential it had. But today, when stores like Hot Topic specialize in non-leather dominatrix outfits, punk, in general, has become yet another example of groupthink and adherence to social norms. Some punks may believe in the rhetoric they spout, but most are probably just drawn into it because of its association with social deviance, or "coolness."

This is really a difficult issue to tackle without taking both sides. Punk can be what you want it to be. Punk can be everything or nothing. Punk, really, just is.

I'll end this with some lyrics from the song "Refused Are Fucking Dead" that I think capture the punk spirit.
A naive, young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud and fashionable ways

PETA/My life story

I am a vegetarian.  I have not eaten meat (knowingly) for about four years.  I prefer soy milk to cow's milk and eat eggs from free-roaming hens when I have the opportunity.  I am quite the cheese-addict though, but I've rounded that off in my conscience with my newfound appreciation for soy pudding.

 

PETA didn't convince me to stop slaughtering animals with my dollars.  I convinced myself.  I had known for a long time that eating meat hurts not only animals but also the environment and my health, and I had also known of the corruption of the meat industry.  I had heard of PETA and maybe seen a few of their videos, but it was me who made the decision.  One summer day, I figured I was tired of contributing to such negativity and ended my association with such an archaic and unnecessary practice.

 

Being a vegetarian, I can't understand how people don't buy PETA's arguments.  To me, logic dictates that kindness to animals is kindness to yourself and harm to animals is harm to yourself.  There is little difference between a human and an animal, so how can people justify their acts?  It irks me when I ask people how they can eat meat and they say "because it tastes good."  Antifreeze tastes good to dogs, but that doesn't mean they should eat it (that will be my version of a stretched PETA argument for this blog; and by the way, vegetarians live longer than meat-eaters).

 

However, there are arguments that PETA makes that I do not completely agree with.  One of the reasons why I'm not personally associated with the group is that they typically endorse a vegan lifestyle; vegetarians are second-rate to them.  In this case, I share PETA's mainstream views but accept only modified versions of the specific arguments.  I believe that in order to gain more adherents, PETA should downplay its vegan aspect so it won't seem so extremist.

 

Overall, PETA is just one of those groups that I love but won't run around naked with.

Critical Mass

I thought the concept of Critical Mass was genius. It gathered a group of incredibly outgoing and uncanny people together and let them release their creativity in a positive manner. I actually don't see their actions as a formal protest. It was actually more like a flash mob, or a group gathered online (like through Facebook) to do weird things (like have coughing fits on the West Mall). In a way, flash mobs and Critical Mass are informal protests, going more against the status quo than against a specific aspect of that status quo.

I think the spirit of Critical Mass mattered more than the rides. It was that essence of freedom and unconventionality that can only thrive in a free society that kept it together, not the shared affinity for bicycles. Perhaps such is the same with conventional protests - it's not the issue at hand that matters but the mindset of the protestors.

Whenever this feeling of freedom generates a following, those in power will feel threatened. They may not fear for their literal position - mayor, senator, president - or for their lives; what they fear is change. Even in such a liberal city as San Francisco this fear will be present, so even in our city of Austin it will emerge (as seen in the video). As long as members of the group do not allow the brutality of bureaucracy affect them, their movement will continue in strength.

Ethos and Cindy Sheehan

I've always wondered why the mere mention of Cindy Sheehan's name can incite violent reactions in many Americans. I always assumed that it was because many people felt as if she were using her son's death to her advantage, as if being the mother of a fallen soldier and a war protester at the same time made her an instant celebrity. While this may be why many people dislike her, I believe the way she presents herself establishes an unflattering ethos for many listeners.

Throughout her speech she derides everyone not present at the protest. While she quotes (or, more accurately, paraphrases) great minds such as Emerson and Thoreau on materialism, she comes off insensitive to the lives of everyday people. Sheehan argues that if you can't bring yourself to sell all your possessions and follow her, you're not a true believer in the cause. She fails to take into consideration the responsibilities people have within families and communities. Furthermore, her words encourage angry words that are almost counterintuitive to a nonviolent protest - her followers shout out unflattering epithets at the White House and embellish her speech with rash comments of their own.

Sheehan's movement would be better served if she were to urge positive action instead of focusing on her hatred of the Bush Administration and mainstream culture. While I understand her anger and sense of betrayal that came as a result of her son's death, I question her ethos. Strangely, I find myself in agreement with plenty of what she said but I would never call myself her follower. Perhaps many other Americans feel the same way. If so, her polarizing character is a bigger hindrance to the movement than help.