Not a whole heck of a lot has happened since last night—although I did manage to secure a second pillow from the apartment agency. Exciting!—so I think I'll just write about a few of those things I mentioned were on my mind. And I'm going to pretty much skip Ricci. You've all read it or at least read about it, and your analysis is probably as good as mine. It does make me think, however, that the forced symmetry of our laws (you can't discriminate based on race, period, whether you're an all-white group discriminating against blacks or a mixed-race group discriminating against whites) seems to me to be contrary to the whole reason race is a strict-scrutiny category in the first place. Not that I have a better suggestion.
Now, please, allow me to get riled up. Judith Warner had a column the other day about how people freely and openly criticize mothers. At one point she tells a story about how she snapped at her kid one time, and another mother said, "Julia, I love you, and if your mom ever doesn’t feel like bringing you home, you can just come home with me." Warner hopes that after this story, we are "all now gasping and gnashing [our] teeth, rending [our] garments and gesticulating." I read this while I was wearing my work clothes, so there was no garment rending, but I was pretty close. And Warner thinks this is less about other people loving the children and more about other people hating on the moms. I think the two are inextricably intertwined in our society in an absolutely awful way. We are crazily, irrationally protective of children. I can't really write about this without devolving into a rant, so, well, prepare for the inevitable devolution.
Adults are people, too. Yes, children are especially vulnerable people, and I think we need to protect them in a way that's proportional to their vulnerability. They're too small to physically defend themselves, too immature to emotionally defend themselves, and they get very disturbed by things that would hardly bother adults at all. And if you want to go econ on this (nobody really does), you can say that they have some more value than adults because they are going to live for more years. But I don't think children are in any way more inherently valuable than adults. Adults and kids both think and feel, they both love and are loved, and there's really nothing so great about kids. I really don't think kids are innocent in any meaningful way. Yeah, they're not sexual. Great. Kids are horrible to each other. Maybe my own experiences were unique (they're certainly more common to girls than to boys) but pretty much every major insecurity I have now I got before I turned eleven. Yeah, sure, some things come with puberty, but my social vulnerability was cut in the halls of Quaker Ridge Elementary School and the bunks of Camp Timber Tops. Kids are amazing in some ways, and again I stress, they are in some ways vulnerable and need our protection because of that, but they're not these perfect creatures who can do no wrong. They may still be learning, but they know exactly when they're hurting people, and they do it constantly.
And on that vulnerability: do we really know what's best for kids? Most of the time we have no clue. There's this big "don't experiment!" attitude, as though we have a system at this beautiful unstable equilibrium, and if we stick to tradition, everything will turn out hunky-dory, and if we don't, we run the risk of careening into the fiery pits of Hades. I think both prongs of this are wrong: We're not so great at raising kids now, and there's no reason to expect a little bit of experimentation will be horrible. Philip Larkin's poem This Be The Verse is wise, indeed. Parents will, inevitably, mess up their kids in some ways. And kids, for the most part, seem to be resilient enough that most of them get a little messed up but not too messed up. I have two of the greatest parents in the world, and my sister and I are both totally awesome and a little messed up. It happens. I'm sure there is a robust statistical correlation between certain kinds of non-traditional parenting and certain kinds of problems. But I don't really care how robust this correlation is; I care how big it is. And my guess is that for most things, it's not big enough to flip out about. Like, I'm sure this kid will be just fine. A little messed up. But fine. Quirky but non-abusive parents make the world go 'round.
What gets me most worked up about this stuff, though, is that because people have put kids and their version of proper treatment of kids on such a pedestal—nobody questions thinking of the best interest of the child—it has become a free excuse to openly hate on people. This mother column is one good example. Generally, you wouldn't start yelling at a stranger you thought was being slightly rude, but because it's for the children, you can feel completely righteous as you act like a total jerk. But the most extreme expression of this hateful attitude is toward pedophiles. Now, I am happy to salvage my dead-in-the-water political career right here, right now, by coming out against pedophiles! Woohoo! But let me clarify: I'm coming out against pedophiles who actually abuse children. I am not coming out against pedophiles who have the constant urge to abuse children (a pedophilic orientation, you could say) but spend their whole lives successfully restraining themselves. I am perfectly happy to come our for these people. They have been dealt the worst hand in the world, and they have to struggle every day to fulfill an obligation. And if they do, they're heroes. At the same time, they get no choice. Once they fall, they have committed a serious, serious offense. But this is only an offense because it's one of the few things we know does really mess up kids. It's not a serious offense because the person is seriously lacking a moral center. It doesn't take a horrible character to give into a desire you know is very, very bad. But that's also what makes pedophiles so dangerous: They don't have to be otherwise evil to pose a horrible threat. They may deserve an unusual amount of restraint or even, in some cases, forced castration, but they need this for instrumental reasons, not because they deserve our condemnation.
Gah, and I meant to talk about climate change, too. Suffice it to say I'm glad we haven't forgotten about the Earth, even in "these trying times of crisis and universal brouhaha."
Sheesh, this post is totally coming down after the summer. 'Night, all.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
All I'm Asking For Is Change
Two types of change, today:
Change One: Slovenian merchants, waiters, and the like, are really, really reluctant to give you change. Not that they want to cheat you, or anything...they just get so annoyed if you give them substantially more money than is required. I know this happens in the U.S. too, but here are a couple of examples: I bought a 2,50 € hot chocolate at a cafe and all I had was a 20. The waiter gave me a look like, "Are you kidding me?" and asked if I had anything smaller. He proceeded to dole out the change, muttering and shaking his head the entire time. Today I bought a 1,20 € ice cream. I had a two euro coin. "Do you have twenty cents?" the ice cream seller asked. "No, I just have fourteen cents." She motioned for me to give her the fourteen cents. She would rather be sold short six cents than, heaven forbid, have to give 80 cents (three coins!) in change. I wonder if this is related to the problem they're having in Argentina with monedas. Supposedly, Argentina is so short on change ("How short on change are they?"), that coins are worth more than bills of a nominally higher value. It's pretty much the craziest thing I've ever heard. Anyway, it sometimes feels that way around here.
Change Two: I'm in my new apartment! It's on the top floor of this great old building on Dalmatinova ulica. I'm in the red room (one wall is painted red, although you can't see it in the picture), and I have a skylight and plenty of space and a bed underneath a low wall, which is kind of fun:
I spent a little while this evening talking to one of my roommates. His name is Bogdan, and he's a Romanian student here for an electronics/telecommunications research internship. His favorite television show is Seinfeld, which speaks highly of him. The internet, however, blows. Supposedly it's in a slump tonight, which is good, because if it were this bad all the time, I'd never be able to watch the Daily Show again (until August).
Work today was fun...not especially work-ful, but not boring either. I spent nigh three hours chatting with another woman in the department about whether the Court acted as a positive legislator in a number of cases. That conversation quickly devolved into differences between Slovenia and America (namely that large corporate entities aren't actively trying to screw you over in Slovenia, like telecommunications companies and health insurance companies do in the ol' ZDA). Then it re-evolved into a discussion of Slovenian law in general.
I found out that Article 55 of the Constitution does indeed give women an affirmative right to have an abortion. No messing. In your first trimester, you can walk into a state hospital, and they do it for you, no questions asked. Apparently after the first trimester, you need to appeal to some government board and they have to approve you (and they almost certainly do). I thought it was kind of strange that you had to go to a board to exercise a right that's affirmatively granted in the constitution, but Katarina said nobody's ever complained. Perhaps they could use some of that American complaining spirit.
The real political battle is apparently over single women getting in vitro fertilization. The church is super-opposed to IVF for women without husbands, and since the right is much better at turning out the vote than the left, they've managed to keep it illegal. (I think I'm recalling this all correctly.) And the issue of surrogacy has never come up in their courts, but Katarina expects it will soon.
All right, moving (even across the street) is exhausting, and I need to catch some mad z's. There are more things in the news and NY Times op-ed page that I wanted to write about—people being openly critical of mothers, climate change, Ricci—but I'm tired, and the internet's too slow to call up the articles within a reasonable timeframe.
As government officials say to each other before signing their letters (which I found out today doing my proofreading duties), please accept the assurances of my highest consideration. I'm not sure it means anything, but I hope you feel important now.
Change One: Slovenian merchants, waiters, and the like, are really, really reluctant to give you change. Not that they want to cheat you, or anything...they just get so annoyed if you give them substantially more money than is required. I know this happens in the U.S. too, but here are a couple of examples: I bought a 2,50 € hot chocolate at a cafe and all I had was a 20. The waiter gave me a look like, "Are you kidding me?" and asked if I had anything smaller. He proceeded to dole out the change, muttering and shaking his head the entire time. Today I bought a 1,20 € ice cream. I had a two euro coin. "Do you have twenty cents?" the ice cream seller asked. "No, I just have fourteen cents." She motioned for me to give her the fourteen cents. She would rather be sold short six cents than, heaven forbid, have to give 80 cents (three coins!) in change. I wonder if this is related to the problem they're having in Argentina with monedas. Supposedly, Argentina is so short on change ("How short on change are they?"), that coins are worth more than bills of a nominally higher value. It's pretty much the craziest thing I've ever heard. Anyway, it sometimes feels that way around here.
Change Two: I'm in my new apartment! It's on the top floor of this great old building on Dalmatinova ulica. I'm in the red room (one wall is painted red, although you can't see it in the picture), and I have a skylight and plenty of space and a bed underneath a low wall, which is kind of fun:
I spent a little while this evening talking to one of my roommates. His name is Bogdan, and he's a Romanian student here for an electronics/telecommunications research internship. His favorite television show is Seinfeld, which speaks highly of him. The internet, however, blows. Supposedly it's in a slump tonight, which is good, because if it were this bad all the time, I'd never be able to watch the Daily Show again (until August).
Work today was fun...not especially work-ful, but not boring either. I spent nigh three hours chatting with another woman in the department about whether the Court acted as a positive legislator in a number of cases. That conversation quickly devolved into differences between Slovenia and America (namely that large corporate entities aren't actively trying to screw you over in Slovenia, like telecommunications companies and health insurance companies do in the ol' ZDA). Then it re-evolved into a discussion of Slovenian law in general.
I found out that Article 55 of the Constitution does indeed give women an affirmative right to have an abortion. No messing. In your first trimester, you can walk into a state hospital, and they do it for you, no questions asked. Apparently after the first trimester, you need to appeal to some government board and they have to approve you (and they almost certainly do). I thought it was kind of strange that you had to go to a board to exercise a right that's affirmatively granted in the constitution, but Katarina said nobody's ever complained. Perhaps they could use some of that American complaining spirit.
The real political battle is apparently over single women getting in vitro fertilization. The church is super-opposed to IVF for women without husbands, and since the right is much better at turning out the vote than the left, they've managed to keep it illegal. (I think I'm recalling this all correctly.) And the issue of surrogacy has never come up in their courts, but Katarina expects it will soon.
All right, moving (even across the street) is exhausting, and I need to catch some mad z's. There are more things in the news and NY Times op-ed page that I wanted to write about—people being openly critical of mothers, climate change, Ricci—but I'm tired, and the internet's too slow to call up the articles within a reasonable timeframe.
As government officials say to each other before signing their letters (which I found out today doing my proofreading duties), please accept the assurances of my highest consideration. I'm not sure it means anything, but I hope you feel important now.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
LjubljanaPride2009Wooooooo!
The truth must be told: There are no floats with drag queens in feathers and boys in thongs dancing to Heather Small's Proud at Ljubljana Pride. I went out yesterday to catch the parade about an hour and a half after it was supposed to start, and my timing was shockingly good. Just as I was wondering where the parade was, standing in Prešernov trg, I heard whistles blowing and drums drumming. They slowly got louder until I realized that they were coming from Miklošičeva cesta. So I walked up the street...and there was pride! Coming right toward me! Ahhhhh! Run for your lives!
It took the entire parade, oh, about four minutes to pass. But they were loud, they were enthusiastic, they were colorful, and they had great signs, some in English. Some rhyming in English.
Yeah, everyone's better at foreign languages than we are. There was also no shortage of balloons, no shortage at all.
The spirit of pride may have been intensified this year by the crazy attack on a prominent Slovenian gay activist this week. It's pretty messed up, especially for a country that generally seems pretty moderate on social issues. They have registered partnerships for same-sex couples (which doesn't afford them exactly the same rights as married couples, but a number of political parties are looking to broaden the law), and they allow gay people to serve in their military (like, oh, almost every other decent country in the world).
The greatest spectacle yesterday actually had nothing to do with Pride. It was a big night for bachelor/bachelorette parties in the old town, and it seems like people take them much more seriously here than at home. Like, they all have matching t-shirts and stuff. The fellow below was amusing sidewalk cafe patrons all over town by land-skiing down the cobblestone streets, pulled by his friends.
The skis were actually sparking on the stone. It was kind of spectacular. And I don't know why the theme shirts all had "69" on the front. Maybe I don't want to know.
Today started off as all Sundays should: with a trip to the awesome "random stuff" market that appears every Sunday morning. Don't knock it...the random stuff is great!
I finished off the morning with a trip to a restaurant with what I can only assume is a beautiful, traditional Slovenian name.
Oh, world. You rule.
It took the entire parade, oh, about four minutes to pass. But they were loud, they were enthusiastic, they were colorful, and they had great signs, some in English. Some rhyming in English.
Yeah, everyone's better at foreign languages than we are. There was also no shortage of balloons, no shortage at all.
The spirit of pride may have been intensified this year by the crazy attack on a prominent Slovenian gay activist this week. It's pretty messed up, especially for a country that generally seems pretty moderate on social issues. They have registered partnerships for same-sex couples (which doesn't afford them exactly the same rights as married couples, but a number of political parties are looking to broaden the law), and they allow gay people to serve in their military (like, oh, almost every other decent country in the world).
The greatest spectacle yesterday actually had nothing to do with Pride. It was a big night for bachelor/bachelorette parties in the old town, and it seems like people take them much more seriously here than at home. Like, they all have matching t-shirts and stuff. The fellow below was amusing sidewalk cafe patrons all over town by land-skiing down the cobblestone streets, pulled by his friends.
The skis were actually sparking on the stone. It was kind of spectacular. And I don't know why the theme shirts all had "69" on the front. Maybe I don't want to know.
Today started off as all Sundays should: with a trip to the awesome "random stuff" market that appears every Sunday morning. Don't knock it...the random stuff is great!
I finished off the morning with a trip to a restaurant with what I can only assume is a beautiful, traditional Slovenian name.
Oh, world. You rule.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Metelkova Mesto
And to think I had almost given up on finding the cool place in Ljubljana. I had seen all of the bars—indoors, outdoors, divey, classy, casual, fancy—and I knew there were clubs, but these are all standard issue things. They're great, of course, and I will return to the cafes and bars on a daily basis. I had also seen BTC City, the enormous shopping/entertainment complex a short bus ride out of town. And so I kind of figured teenagers and families hung out at BTC, and couples and college kids hung out at the bars, and most people probably spent a bunch of time at home, too. But clearly I was missing something: What about the people who will inevitably, in any city, in any town, gravitate toward something different? Bear with me.
Tomorrow is Ljubljana Pride, so I looked up the parade trajectory and found that it ended at Stari trg (no surprise, it's the south point of the old town), but started at this place called "Metelkova City." "What's 'Metelkova City?'" I asked myself. And then I asked Google.
First, a brief digression on cool places. In New York City, as far as I can tell, there are two ways to make a cool place: (1) You can find a more-or-less safe industrial area and carve out underground clubs, bars, restaurants, galleries, and music venues in its hidden corners until you get SoHo, or you get the Meatpacking district, or you get DUMBO; or (2) you can find an ethnic or cultural enclave, take advantage of its immigrant-low prices and safe streets, and slowly invade with post-college kids and artists until you have Williamsburg or the Lower East Side or Greenwich Village. In both of these circumstances you take something that was built to be functional and you exploit the natural beauty of that functionality. And that works for factories, and that works for middle class ethnic neighborhoods.
But factories and ethnic neighborhood can't hold a candle to 19th Century Austro-Hungarian military barracks.
Yes, Metelkova Mesto is an experiment in what happens when you let a pristine, medium-sized city's alternative community take over barracks just outside the city center and run free. And the result is, frankly, one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.
Yes, it's ridiculous. It's a mix of gorgeous mosaics that glisten in the rain and violent graffiti. It's a complex that looks like it could withstand wars but wash away during the next thunderstorm. And its inhabitants are middle aged hobos and 40 year old black men with Che and Bob Marley posters and teenagers (oh, the teenagers!), goths, punks, skaters...anyone who's willing to wear the color of the hour.
I walked over to Metelkova Mesto tonight unsure of what I'd find. I grabbed a half-liter of the cheapest beer in town (only €1,50 for a Laško;!) and sat on a picnic bench and read my newest novel. This one's the result of walking into a bookstore and saying, "Hi, do you have any Slovenian books in English?" Thus far the book is entertaining enough; we'll see how it shapes up. So I read outside for a while, and moved under a roof when it started to rain. Then I wound up talking with Thomas, an extremely drunk and high Slovenian who told me that he used to work in a Duty Free shop on a cruise ship until he got off in Los Angeles with a joint in his pocket and was immediately sent back to Slovenia.
Speaking of joints, I was shocked that it took me over an hour to catch a whiff of pot in this place. For an open-air alterna-teen's paradise it was surprisingly low on drugs. I also realized that I really like the smell of marijuana. Not because it's an especially beautiful smell (although it's wholly inoffensive), but because I associate it entirely with good things. I'm in a dorm room and my friends are smoking up. I'm at a concert on a field and people are smoking up. I'm in some crazy alternative neighborhood on a summer night in a strange town and people are smoking up. The smell of people smoking pot a few feet away from me now gives me a visceral feeling of mellowness that has nothing to do with the actual mood-altering properties of the drug. Clearly this plant is going to be more wily in its plan for world domination via relaxation than we ever anticipated.
Tomorrow: I report on Pride.
Tomorrow is Ljubljana Pride, so I looked up the parade trajectory and found that it ended at Stari trg (no surprise, it's the south point of the old town), but started at this place called "Metelkova City." "What's 'Metelkova City?'" I asked myself. And then I asked Google.
First, a brief digression on cool places. In New York City, as far as I can tell, there are two ways to make a cool place: (1) You can find a more-or-less safe industrial area and carve out underground clubs, bars, restaurants, galleries, and music venues in its hidden corners until you get SoHo, or you get the Meatpacking district, or you get DUMBO; or (2) you can find an ethnic or cultural enclave, take advantage of its immigrant-low prices and safe streets, and slowly invade with post-college kids and artists until you have Williamsburg or the Lower East Side or Greenwich Village. In both of these circumstances you take something that was built to be functional and you exploit the natural beauty of that functionality. And that works for factories, and that works for middle class ethnic neighborhoods.
But factories and ethnic neighborhood can't hold a candle to 19th Century Austro-Hungarian military barracks.
Yes, Metelkova Mesto is an experiment in what happens when you let a pristine, medium-sized city's alternative community take over barracks just outside the city center and run free. And the result is, frankly, one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.
Yes, it's ridiculous. It's a mix of gorgeous mosaics that glisten in the rain and violent graffiti. It's a complex that looks like it could withstand wars but wash away during the next thunderstorm. And its inhabitants are middle aged hobos and 40 year old black men with Che and Bob Marley posters and teenagers (oh, the teenagers!), goths, punks, skaters...anyone who's willing to wear the color of the hour.
I walked over to Metelkova Mesto tonight unsure of what I'd find. I grabbed a half-liter of the cheapest beer in town (only €1,50 for a Laško;!) and sat on a picnic bench and read my newest novel. This one's the result of walking into a bookstore and saying, "Hi, do you have any Slovenian books in English?" Thus far the book is entertaining enough; we'll see how it shapes up. So I read outside for a while, and moved under a roof when it started to rain. Then I wound up talking with Thomas, an extremely drunk and high Slovenian who told me that he used to work in a Duty Free shop on a cruise ship until he got off in Los Angeles with a joint in his pocket and was immediately sent back to Slovenia.
Speaking of joints, I was shocked that it took me over an hour to catch a whiff of pot in this place. For an open-air alterna-teen's paradise it was surprisingly low on drugs. I also realized that I really like the smell of marijuana. Not because it's an especially beautiful smell (although it's wholly inoffensive), but because I associate it entirely with good things. I'm in a dorm room and my friends are smoking up. I'm at a concert on a field and people are smoking up. I'm in some crazy alternative neighborhood on a summer night in a strange town and people are smoking up. The smell of people smoking pot a few feet away from me now gives me a visceral feeling of mellowness that has nothing to do with the actual mood-altering properties of the drug. Clearly this plant is going to be more wily in its plan for world domination via relaxation than we ever anticipated.
Tomorrow: I report on Pride.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Happy Statehood Day!
Today is Statehood Day here in Slovenia, which was totally apparent from the...occasional closed cafe. Really, I didn't see a darn thing to indicate that this was their equivalent of the Fourth of July. Several times during the day I wondered if I was actually supposed to be at work. Then I remembered nobody would notice if I didn't show up for a day. And all was well.
So I spent the day finishing a Fiss article I'm reading for the paper I still have to write, eating and drinking around the town, and adding some small JJD3-recommended changes to my EL&E paper before I throw it to the wolves (read: HenHan and the Olin prize committee).
Speaking of the law paper prizes, a point of clarification: If you would like to submit your paper for the Edgar Cullen Prize for the best paper written by a first-year law student, send it to Professor Fiss. If you would like to submit your paper for the Edward Cullen Prize for the best paper written on the subject of law and sexy teenage vampires, send it to me. Papers should be a maximum of 500 words and need not have been written for the 2008-2009 academic year.
Last night I watched a few TED videos, which of course led me to the John Hodgman TED video, which of course led me to watch tons of John Hodgman videos. I have to point you to this one, which has one line that cracked me (and Jon Stewart) up more than I can remember anything doing in recent memory. So simple. So brilliant.
And it's been a great week for thinking about sexism! First, on the sister subject of racism, we got this jaw-dropper from Dick Nixon, which, as people have been pointing out, came more than a couple of years after Loving.
Then the Times published an article on a study by an overachieving Harvard undergrad exploring bias against female playwrights. One of her big results was that there is significant bias against female playwrights, but all of it comes from female artistic directors and literary managers. To me this is totally unsurprising...I am fully aware of my biases against women, and in general female-female encounters seem more, well, fraught than male-female or male-male encounters. There's just much more judgment there. It's creepy. And as Ayres mentioned in one class this semester, there are plenty of circumstances where you can observe that blacks are biased against blacks or Jews are biased against Jews to the same (or greater) extent as whites or goyim are, respectively.
Finally, there's this whole Mark Sanford scandal. While I have decidedly mixed feelings about William Saletan, I really, really appreciate his point here. The way fallen politicians treat their mistresses is completely disgusting, and Sanford should be commended for acknowledging that this woman is a person worthy of caring and respect. Sure, she did something immoral, too, but that doesn't mean she deserves complete dismissal and disgust. And then after we commend Sanford, we should boo him as "just another politician with a conservative mind and a liberal penis." Thanks, Jon Stewart. You always know just what to say.
UPDATE: Apropos of the Sanford affair, I post this link to a blog post I wrote about four years ago. My views and worries haven't changed (unless you count being slightly more pessimistic about finding a husband in the first place).
So I spent the day finishing a Fiss article I'm reading for the paper I still have to write, eating and drinking around the town, and adding some small JJD3-recommended changes to my EL&E paper before I throw it to the wolves (read: HenHan and the Olin prize committee).
Speaking of the law paper prizes, a point of clarification: If you would like to submit your paper for the Edgar Cullen Prize for the best paper written by a first-year law student, send it to Professor Fiss. If you would like to submit your paper for the Edward Cullen Prize for the best paper written on the subject of law and sexy teenage vampires, send it to me. Papers should be a maximum of 500 words and need not have been written for the 2008-2009 academic year.
Last night I watched a few TED videos, which of course led me to the John Hodgman TED video, which of course led me to watch tons of John Hodgman videos. I have to point you to this one, which has one line that cracked me (and Jon Stewart) up more than I can remember anything doing in recent memory. So simple. So brilliant.
And it's been a great week for thinking about sexism! First, on the sister subject of racism, we got this jaw-dropper from Dick Nixon, which, as people have been pointing out, came more than a couple of years after Loving.
Then the Times published an article on a study by an overachieving Harvard undergrad exploring bias against female playwrights. One of her big results was that there is significant bias against female playwrights, but all of it comes from female artistic directors and literary managers. To me this is totally unsurprising...I am fully aware of my biases against women, and in general female-female encounters seem more, well, fraught than male-female or male-male encounters. There's just much more judgment there. It's creepy. And as Ayres mentioned in one class this semester, there are plenty of circumstances where you can observe that blacks are biased against blacks or Jews are biased against Jews to the same (or greater) extent as whites or goyim are, respectively.
Finally, there's this whole Mark Sanford scandal. While I have decidedly mixed feelings about William Saletan, I really, really appreciate his point here. The way fallen politicians treat their mistresses is completely disgusting, and Sanford should be commended for acknowledging that this woman is a person worthy of caring and respect. Sure, she did something immoral, too, but that doesn't mean she deserves complete dismissal and disgust. And then after we commend Sanford, we should boo him as "just another politician with a conservative mind and a liberal penis." Thanks, Jon Stewart. You always know just what to say.
UPDATE: Apropos of the Sanford affair, I post this link to a blog post I wrote about four years ago. My views and worries haven't changed (unless you count being slightly more pessimistic about finding a husband in the first place).
Monday, June 22, 2009
Post Post, etc.
Hey, we have a new dean! I don't have any deep, Siegelian knowledge of the ways of Post, but he's a powerhouse scholar, and the faculty apparently loves him, so he sounds like a good choice. Some have said he might not be a great fundraiser. Who cares? This is TYLS. We don't need money! Our school runs on justice! In any case, I'm sure it will all be good.
Today was very law-oriented (shockingly enough). There's the dean news, the "what do you mean I voted to grant cert?" SCOTUS decision on the VRA, and the debut of the Constitution in 2020 blog. I used my self-made lunch break to check out some of the inaugural posts. First, there's Tom "I visited 2020, didn't like the Constitution I saw, and came back to transform it via blog" Wolf's substantive welcome defining the Constitution by how we relate to it, written in that tone that only a true labor of love can conjure.
Then there's the first volley in Daniel "Not that Daniel Winnick" Winik v. Jeremy "My birthday suit was tweed" Kessler: A Roaring Cage Match Where Two Law Students Beat Each Other To Death With Branches...OF GOVERNMENT. They're arguing about whether marriage equality should come through the courts or the legislature. I tend to lean toward Jeremy's side on this—the courts are actually the appropriate place—but I'm definitely convinceable, and Dan makes some good points. I'm not sure whether Roe is a better analog than Brown for when courts have stepped in to do the unpopular thing, though...then again, maybe Brown's outcome wasn't ideal, either. It's verboten to stand for segregation today, but our country's also completely unable to discuss race in an intelligent way, and racism is still deeply pervasive. So who knows. And I agree that legislators should be doing their constitutional duty, and that active incrementalism would represent "a democratic embrace of the constitutional mandate for equality," but I find something deeply troubling about the idea of waiting to grant rights until the relevant constituency is ready to see them for what they are. (I should note here that Daniel and Jeremy are taking sides for the sake of argument and may both have mixed feelings about the issue.)
Finally, the great Adam "Donohue doesn't know it yet, but we're co-teaching Empirical Law & Economics next year" Chandler argues for randomized policy changes so we can figure out with some degree of rigor which policies work. I'm, of course, totally for this, especially when it comes to issues where we have no idea what policy is best and there's minimal risk of extreme harm from either the experimental policy or the control. I doubt there would be serious equal protection problems with this plan, especially if states/counties/municipalities consented to be in the experiment. I don't think there's ever been a case where a control group in a government-sponsored medical study has sued (certainly not one where they've sued successfully), so I think that indicates that consent would be good enough. And even if they didn't consent, I think the policy would be rationally related to a legitimate government purpose, namely, complying with the roll of the dice for the sake of a study that would benefit all future Americans.
In any event, I highly recommend checking out the blog: the four students who've blogged thus far are among the most brilliant of my brilliant classmates. They're also, if I'm up-to-date (and I may not be), four of my class's most eligible bachelors. The phrase "most eligible bachelor" always sounded to me like it should be more of an indication of availability than desirability (with six weeks to the wedding, Ray is the law school's LEAST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR), but these dudes are all catches. So, yeah, I never thought I'd say this, but: ladies, visit the unparalleled meat market that is the Constitution in 2020 blog.
And bloggers: Let me know if this is coming up in Google searches and embarrassing you. Or serving you really, really well.
Today was very law-oriented (shockingly enough). There's the dean news, the "what do you mean I voted to grant cert?" SCOTUS decision on the VRA, and the debut of the Constitution in 2020 blog. I used my self-made lunch break to check out some of the inaugural posts. First, there's Tom "I visited 2020, didn't like the Constitution I saw, and came back to transform it via blog" Wolf's substantive welcome defining the Constitution by how we relate to it, written in that tone that only a true labor of love can conjure.
Then there's the first volley in Daniel "Not that Daniel Winnick" Winik v. Jeremy "My birthday suit was tweed" Kessler: A Roaring Cage Match Where Two Law Students Beat Each Other To Death With Branches...OF GOVERNMENT. They're arguing about whether marriage equality should come through the courts or the legislature. I tend to lean toward Jeremy's side on this—the courts are actually the appropriate place—but I'm definitely convinceable, and Dan makes some good points. I'm not sure whether Roe is a better analog than Brown for when courts have stepped in to do the unpopular thing, though...then again, maybe Brown's outcome wasn't ideal, either. It's verboten to stand for segregation today, but our country's also completely unable to discuss race in an intelligent way, and racism is still deeply pervasive. So who knows. And I agree that legislators should be doing their constitutional duty, and that active incrementalism would represent "a democratic embrace of the constitutional mandate for equality," but I find something deeply troubling about the idea of waiting to grant rights until the relevant constituency is ready to see them for what they are. (I should note here that Daniel and Jeremy are taking sides for the sake of argument and may both have mixed feelings about the issue.)
Finally, the great Adam "Donohue doesn't know it yet, but we're co-teaching Empirical Law & Economics next year" Chandler argues for randomized policy changes so we can figure out with some degree of rigor which policies work. I'm, of course, totally for this, especially when it comes to issues where we have no idea what policy is best and there's minimal risk of extreme harm from either the experimental policy or the control. I doubt there would be serious equal protection problems with this plan, especially if states/counties/municipalities consented to be in the experiment. I don't think there's ever been a case where a control group in a government-sponsored medical study has sued (certainly not one where they've sued successfully), so I think that indicates that consent would be good enough. And even if they didn't consent, I think the policy would be rationally related to a legitimate government purpose, namely, complying with the roll of the dice for the sake of a study that would benefit all future Americans.
In any event, I highly recommend checking out the blog: the four students who've blogged thus far are among the most brilliant of my brilliant classmates. They're also, if I'm up-to-date (and I may not be), four of my class's most eligible bachelors. The phrase "most eligible bachelor" always sounded to me like it should be more of an indication of availability than desirability (with six weeks to the wedding, Ray is the law school's LEAST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR), but these dudes are all catches. So, yeah, I never thought I'd say this, but: ladies, visit the unparalleled meat market that is the Constitution in 2020 blog.
And bloggers: Let me know if this is coming up in Google searches and embarrassing you. Or serving you really, really well.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
My Mother Is Now A Woman
No no, this isn't some Jerry Springer story (see here @ 1:17). Yesterday my mom, along with the rest of the members of her adult B'nai Mitzvah class, had her Bat Mitzvah. She's from the generation where not too many girls had B'not Mitzvah, so she wanted to do it now. She had a great experience learning some Hebrew and learning more about the Torah, so she may continue to study. Plus, she was chosen from her whole class to read her d'var Torah (a sort of interpretive sermon) on the big day in front of the congregation. I did some editing of the d'var Torah, so in that way I got to be a part of the experience. And Natalie and I got her the bracelet that was a kind of standard Bat Mitzvah present when we were in middle school (Natalie's brilliant idea). Still, I wish I could have been there in person. It sounds like it was all very lovely.
So, I haven't written in a few days on the theory that I'd have more interesting things to tell you now, but Thursday's already a blur. I had the world's most overpriced Japanese food (€3,50 for a miso soup!) and a much better glass of wine, and I listened to a bit of the classical music playing in the Plaza. On Friday, I went to lunch with a coworker and ordered the fish. Apparently this is one of those countries where when you order the fish, you order the whole damn fish:
It was awfully bony, but besides that it was good. Friday afternoon was Marine happy hour, which was fine, but nothing too exciting. Yesterday I did some laundry—Claudio was around and generously cut short his dryer time so I could keep my cycles on schedule; no Roberto, though—finished my novel and started working on my paper. By "working on my paper," I of course mean rereading stuff I've already read and since forgotten about. I didn't make nearly enough headway on that this weekend, but what's new.
Today I wandered to the park where they had an exhibition of blown up Hubble photographs and some pictures taken by Slovenian astronomers. Generally, I enjoyed it, but then I came to this monstrosity:
What, don't see anything wrong with it? Allow me to zoom in.
Yes, that's right. An otherwise beautiful park and lovely educational exhibit has been tarnished by that typographical blasphemy, COMIC SANS. What were they thinking!?
Ah, me. Afterward I walked over to the National Gallery and, enticed by the prospect of a Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit, I bought a ticket. The in-museum portion of the Mapplethorpe exhibit featured his flower photographs (boo), so I went to their permanent collection. I saw lots of art by great Slovenian artists, including Jožef Tominc's portrait of famed 19th Century drag performer Leopold Liechtenberg Janežič:
Ok, I actually have no idea who Janežič was, but that seems to fit the picture best. After, I walked over to the second portion of the Mapplethorpe exhibit, which featured more of what I think of as Mapplethorpe, such as this fine photograph, on the right. (NB: If you couldn't guess, link is not even close to safe for work.)
Walking back from coffee, I was stopped by a bunch of drunk Slovenian students. I told them I only spoke English, to which they all responded "Oh! Perfect! We speak English!" They asked where I was from, and I told them New York, at which point the drunkest of them all broke out into her best Sinatra, "These vegetable shoes...!"
There's a lyric that will never die.
So, I haven't written in a few days on the theory that I'd have more interesting things to tell you now, but Thursday's already a blur. I had the world's most overpriced Japanese food (€3,50 for a miso soup!) and a much better glass of wine, and I listened to a bit of the classical music playing in the Plaza. On Friday, I went to lunch with a coworker and ordered the fish. Apparently this is one of those countries where when you order the fish, you order the whole damn fish:
It was awfully bony, but besides that it was good. Friday afternoon was Marine happy hour, which was fine, but nothing too exciting. Yesterday I did some laundry—Claudio was around and generously cut short his dryer time so I could keep my cycles on schedule; no Roberto, though—finished my novel and started working on my paper. By "working on my paper," I of course mean rereading stuff I've already read and since forgotten about. I didn't make nearly enough headway on that this weekend, but what's new.
Today I wandered to the park where they had an exhibition of blown up Hubble photographs and some pictures taken by Slovenian astronomers. Generally, I enjoyed it, but then I came to this monstrosity:
What, don't see anything wrong with it? Allow me to zoom in.
Yes, that's right. An otherwise beautiful park and lovely educational exhibit has been tarnished by that typographical blasphemy, COMIC SANS. What were they thinking!?
Ah, me. Afterward I walked over to the National Gallery and, enticed by the prospect of a Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit, I bought a ticket. The in-museum portion of the Mapplethorpe exhibit featured his flower photographs (boo), so I went to their permanent collection. I saw lots of art by great Slovenian artists, including Jožef Tominc's portrait of famed 19th Century drag performer Leopold Liechtenberg Janežič:
Ok, I actually have no idea who Janežič was, but that seems to fit the picture best. After, I walked over to the second portion of the Mapplethorpe exhibit, which featured more of what I think of as Mapplethorpe, such as this fine photograph, on the right. (NB: If you couldn't guess, link is not even close to safe for work.)
Walking back from coffee, I was stopped by a bunch of drunk Slovenian students. I told them I only spoke English, to which they all responded "Oh! Perfect! We speak English!" They asked where I was from, and I told them New York, at which point the drunkest of them all broke out into her best Sinatra, "These vegetable shoes...!"
There's a lyric that will never die.
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