Farewell, Lincoln.

I moved to Lincoln in 2008 for college. Somehow, six years have passed since then.

Residents of bigger cities love to brag about their extraordinary places -- the museums, performance halls, architectural masterpieces, and culinary institutions that are known around the world. And extraordinary places are certainly a wonderful thing to have, especially when out-of-town visitors come calling. We all like a little helping of bragging rights.

But after the novelty of extraordinary things wears off, the vast majority of our time is spent in ordinary places. Places like coffee shops, 9-bucks-a-plate restaurants, grocery stores, and neighborhood sidewalks.

Lincoln has a modest handful of extraordinary places. The Capitol Building, most notably. Memorial Stadium, if you’re a native Nebraskan. But Lincoln will likely never have a truckload of things that knock your socks off at first glance. It’s just not that kind of place, and no amount of shiny arenas will change that.

What Lincoln does have is a wonderful richness of ordinary places.

After six years in Lincoln, I’ll miss being able to take a rambling walk to Cultiva on a Fall day, or stopping by Open Harvest to pick up a walnut scone. I’ll miss afternoons spent wandering through the Vietnamese markets on 27th street, searching for a missing ingredient. I’ll miss the chubby koi fish in the Sunken Gardens, and sweltering summer picnics in Pioneers Park. I’ll miss the sheer weirdness of walking through the Near South, with its turn-of-the-century mansions, mid-century apartment monstrosities, and elusive, fluffy cats lurking on furniture-cluttered stoops.

If you’re planning your summer vacation, I can’t say I’d recommend Lincoln. When you've only got a week, you might as well go somewhere big. Somewhere extraordinary.

But if you've got six years to spend somewhere, you could do a lot worse.

The Five Articles You Meet In Hell.

1. The Urgent / Meaningless Science Scare.

Example:

First Sentence: New research shows that consuming blueberries results in chronic baldness and / or death!

Buried at the Bottom: scientists involved in the research stress that these results are preliminary, and in no way support that thing we said in the first sentence.

Science is complicated, and complicated things are hard to turn into click bait. I understand. But please, stop doing this.

2. The “You Should Make The Same Life Decisions As I Made” Op-Ed.

Example:

I... (a) married early (b) married late (c) got pregnant young (d) got pregnant old (e) got a liberal arts degree (f) dropped out of college ... and so should you!

Also, I have two other anecdotes that illustrate why my choices are right for everyone!

Congratulations! You’re about to be reblogged by hundreds of supportive or outraged people. And you’ve managed to do it without injecting anything helpful into the public sphere.

3. The “Cool Church” Story.

Example:

Pastor Bob Whatshisface isn’t your ordinary preacherman. He wears jeans, is into coffee and skate culture, and often injects pop culture into his sermons! And he’s attracted a large congregation of young people who enjoy homebrewing and skinny jeans!

What’s next? A CEO who wears casual clothing in a downtown loft where young people work in offices decorated with quirky Japanese toys? Modern life is craaaazzzy!

4. The “Important Trend” Piece.

Example:

Five young moms in Brooklyn have started a cat/baby yoga club in which their babies do advanced yoga positions with the help of cats! A sociologist at CUNY says this has something to do with millennials.

A couple of people a friend of your friend knows, deciding to do a thing, does not make that thing a thing. It’s not a thing.

5. The “Twittertroversy” Story.

Example:

After the events of Wednesday, at least five people on Twitter said things that were offensive and bad. A spokesman for some organization was very offended by these offensive statements.

“The offensive comments produced by some people on Twitter, and also the comments section of YouTube, were highly offensive, and clearly show that society is super bigoted and terrible. Everyone should get very mad at this.”

Because any statistician worth his salt would tell you that some people saying some words online are always representative of the views held by the population at large. This has lead many experts to predict that the 2016 election will be dominated by the debate over whether a tiger or a lion is “the best animal.”

Search for “Lion vs Tiger” on YouTube for further reading.

Welcoming Our New Algorithmic Overlords.

The Atlantic recently published a great piece on the increasing role of data analytics in human resources. You should read the whole thing.

In summary: American corporations are developing algorithms that can uncannily predict a potential employee’s performance based on data they’ve generated. Think Moneyball, but applied to waiters, programmers, and even corporate management. Old metrics like previous experience and education are starting to give way to fine-grained data analysis that probes into extremely specific factors that can make an individual right for a job. And for employees who are already on the job, additional analytics can provide objective performance metrics in real time. If these practices continue to spread, it could change almost everything about the way companies and their employees interact.

The author of the piece expresses a hopeful view of the data-driven job market. Sure, there’s something unsettling about your future being largely determined by machines, but on the balance, the system will be untainted by human bias.

On its face, this seems like a fair assessment. Many of the things that currently affect the success of job applicants are beyond their control, and at times, utterly discriminatory. Things like age, height, looks, and race are undeniably factors in the world of gut-level hiring decisions. When oh-so-fallible human beings are given the reigns, they tend to pick people who are a lot like themselves, or fit into their mental image of what a certain kind of employee should be.

Maybe it’s time to trust the machine.

And yet, trusting the machine is hard. Even if dumb ol’ Homo Sapiens are biased and inefficient, there’s something that’s nearly impossible to accept about ceding so much control to a meticulously-researched piece of code. Once you read up on the data, it’s easy to see why computerized hiring could be great for a lot of people, but it almost doesn’t matter. It seems wrong.

This feeling is probably due to the fact that hiring based on impartial data analysis involves a shift in our entire perception of what it means to be human. Even if we don’t have a life that fulfills us, it’s always nice to think that in some sense, we’re free to change, and do whatever we want. The person across from the desk during your job interview may toss your application out because he doesn’t think you have enough hair, but he could also accept you for an equally irrational reason. That human element gives us the hope that there’s always a chance. Even if, in reality, that chance is virtually non-existent. Meanwhile, when an algorithm chews up your personal data and spits out a LOW POTENTIAL message, you don't even have a fool's hope to cling to.

The idea of having your behavior constantly monitored for performance clues is even harder to swallow. As with the previous case, there are plenty of good things advocates can point to. Analytics-enabled employees will always know where they stand, and can be given clear instruction on how to improve. Without hard data, performance reviews can be laden with human error. Bad employees can evade detection, while good employees can be maligned, based on faulty perceptions. The computer, on the other hand, only sees the facts. And once it shares those facts, you can improve! Everything works smoother than a greased wombat.

However, this raises a question: how much are we willing to give up for a fully optimized career? Constant data analysis could result in more productive, happier workers, and more profitable companies. But once again, it also involves completely altering our perception of human life. Once we view ourselves and others as sets of metrics, things start to change. Like pro athletes or Pokémon, we'll have to become obsessed with getting our stats up if we want to stay relevant. The fact that personal factors can have a huge impact on our job performance further complicates the picture. It's not a stretch to assume that data-driven optimization at work will require data-driven optimization at home.

(“Sorry kids... you’re really cutting into my weekly numbers.”)

At a certain point, it might be worth considering how much we should really value absolute economic efficiency. If the dreams of data scientists come true, and every company is full of employees who are able to generate the maximum amount of revenue-per-hour, what then? In some ways, people might be happier. In other ways, they might be less happy. And eventually, everyone will have to grapple with the meaning of life in ways that no piece of software can comprehend. Big changes in the future are almost inevitable. Whether those big changes are also big improvements in the long run remains to be seen.

Fragments: 2012 - 2013

I don’t post on this blog a lot. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not writing. I love writing, and do it often. I just don’t finish what I write. My Google Drive is chock full of large, complicated pieces that I’ve had ideas for, began writing, and then abandoned. Which is a shame, because some of them are fairly promising. Theoretically, I’d like to finish most of these pieces. But, it seems wasteful to just let the words go stale in my digital pantry. So, I’m releasing them. At least, some of them.

What follows are fragments. Bits and pieces of unfinished writing, exploring a whole lot of topics. If anyone is interested in me completing any particular piece, feel free to let me know. Otherwise, I’ll just get to them whenever I get to them. Or, maybe just keep them in the pantry, while I spend my time looking at pictures of cute animals on the Internet.

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Part of an in-depth series on the built environment: 
In this great land, there are lots of things we like to question and critique. We are, after all, Americans. If our fries don’t deliver the combination of deep-fried crunch and lightly salted flavor we crave, we shame the local greasy spoon with a one-star rating on Yelp. If a Pakistani has the gall to answer our tech-support questions, we vent our anger on talk radio. But one thing -- an absolutely inescapable and essential part of life -- seems to avoid this treatment on a regular basis. We largely take it for granted, despite the fact that it defines most aspects of our existence.

I’m talking about the built environment. The spaces we live in, work in, and travel through. The physical reality behind almost every experience in our lives. The elevated highways, parking lots, lawns, drive-throughs, elevators, and living rooms that contain us every hour of every day.

The whole kaboodle.

Criticism of “suburbia,” the most dominant form of built environment in America, isn’t new. Academics have generated volumes of detailed criticism of every element of suburban life since the post-war age began. Even a few suburbanites occasionally voice misgivings about their own way of life.

In some ways, I’ll be continuing this grand tradition of sophisticated suburban criticism*. My thinking on this subject has been shaped by a number of other writers, and I won’t pretend like my ideas emerged from a vacuum. But I think the issues go much deeper than a simple dichotomy between the city and the suburb. Given that the population of almost every metropolitan area in America is overwhelmingly suburban, scoffing at single family homes and wondering why everyone doesn’t want to live in Manhattan is unproductive and silly.

What I’m really attempting to do is to convey two simple ideas: the built environment matters, and it isn’t static. Most of the spaces we inhabit are very new, and the way Americans live and work have been radically transformed in a relatively short period of time. Things can, and will, change again. And because the built environment is such a key part of our lives, the way we organize human existence in the physical realm has moral and spiritual components. This isn’t a subject that should be pushed the periphery. Whether we acknowledge it or not, the question of where we choose to live has massive implications for how we live.

Part of a related essay on the effect the pattern of suburban development has had on our conception of the church:
 For individual congregants, there are certainly benefits to choice and competition. Separating church from any physical community allows modern Christians to select congregations that fit their preferences for worship, theology, preaching, and fellowship. The problem is that this choice inherently subverts our conception of what church is. Choosing a church the way you might choose a grocery store or a dry-cleaner leads to a consumer mentality among churchgoers. Rather than being a people who belong to the church, we are people who go to a church. Young pastors talk in the capitalist language of growth, and even congregations with similar theological persuasions often have no meaningful communion with one another. What was established as a unified body has become something more like the competition between Burger King and McDonalds.

There are no easy answers to the challenges the church will continue to face in the age of urban sprawl. But perhaps the best lesson to learn is that place matters. The physical organization of life in America has been almost entirely transformed in the last century. Changes like this come at a price. But the story is far from over. Unlike many other countries, America is still growing. The form of our cities and towns will likely change, in one direction or another. During the transformation of American in the 20th century, the church was a largely absent player in the conversation. (Although, to be fair, the conversation itself was often absent, outside of left-wing intellectual circles). Recognizing that the form our cities take have implications for our spiritual lives is a good first step to avoiding these mistakes.

Part of an essay on how modern conservatism doesn’t seem that interested in conserving anything in particular: 
Conservatives have long held that many things that are theoretically legal are nonetheless bad, and should be discouraged, and vice-versa  -- albeit not necessarily at the level of government. For example, it isn’t a legal requirement for parents to spend quality time with their children, and pass on their values, but it's a good thing. But in the brave new world of modern conservatism, bad choices are celebrated, and common sense is derided as elitism. Are big boxes stores transforming small towns into homogenous wastelands, and erasing centuries of tradition and history? It’s legal, so it must be awesome!

The problem is that if conservatives wish to shrink government, they must be far more vigilant when it comes to their choices. Federal regulation can be a pain, but most are borne out of neccesity. The EPA didn’t come into existence because some “environmental wackos” wanted to control our lives -- it was created because America was so polluted that a freakin’ river was on fire.

Thoughts on the smartphone wars: 
When Android first came out, it was a laggy, incoherent mess compared to iOS’s sparkly polish. Today, Android is a much smoother experience. Bugs remain, but it’s clear that things are progressing at an exponential clip. In the long run, it’s a pretty safe bet that Android will end up more than a match for iOS’s speed and polish.

That doesn’t mean the iPhone will somehow die out, as rabid fandroids would hope. Apple makes excellent products, and millions will continue to buy them. In the end, both sides bring a lot to the table, and push each other to excellence. The iPhone was an incredibly well-designed product from day one, and it’s perfection continues to inspire other phone makers to reach a higher level of polish. Meanwhile, the sheer diversity of the rapidly innovating Android ecosystem is a huge playground for new features and form factors, giving people choices that open up new possibilities.

And ultimately, these are just phones. They are tools for communication, and not holy relics to be worshipped. If you think the kind of phone you have makes you a better person, get over yourself.

Part of a critique of the “food movement”: 
Ethical considerations should, of course, come into play in practical decisions. In the case of industrial farming, the most common complaints surround the manner in which meat-producing animals are grown. I, like most good white people, have watched Food Inc., and seen all the the terrors of coops practically bursting with obese hens. These are then contrasted with the proud, free-range chickens, which strut their stuff through glorious meadows. They are, we are meant to believe, happy chickens.

But, to be honest, those free-range chickens don’t really seem any happier than other chickens. They just seem like... chickens. Chickens who will be killed once they become delicious enough.

(Sidenote: chickens are mean, and I don’t really like them on a personal level. So, I guess that’s probably why I wrote this whole thing. Just a personal chicken vendetta).

The big problem with the fight between locavores and big ag is the either/or assumptions. Big farms aren’t very nice to animals, and grow too much corn, therefore, everyone should buy kale from some bearded guy who lives 30 miles away. What if, for example, big farms still raised lots of chickens in big barns, but gave them a little more space? Or if we subsidized corn less, and encouraged more diverse, healthy crops, taking into account their effects on long-term soil quality? What if instead of getting rid of big farms, food activists focused on making big farms better? Like it or not, little farms aren’t that efficient, and most people dont want to be farmers. Big farms will continue to produce most of our food. Making the perfect the enemy of the good isn’t a recipe for positive changes in agriculture.

Part of a complicated foreign policy piece: 
More than any other president in recent history, Obama seems to lack any sort of clearly articulated vision for America’s role in the world. On the balance, this is probably a good thing. I’d much rather have a lack of vision than a destructive one. But unfortunately, Obama seems to be bent on continuing the worst of the Bush years (rampantly overrunning the sovereignty of other nations to fight an objective-less war against shadowy terrorist organizations), without any sort of comprehensive rationale behind it.

All of this brings us to a single question. It’s a question that our leaders don’t seem interested in answering. But it deserves to be considered.

(It’s also kind of a long question. Deal.)

What is America’s obligation to the citizens of other states, specifically regarding violations of what we believe to be human rights and the resolution of violent conflict? Here’s the crux of the issue: the world is a big, messy place. America is one medium-sized (but powerful) slice of it. Bad things are happening all over the place, all the time. There are tyrants, and terrorists, and warlords. Our response to these issues has been all over the map. We’ve tried to establish democracies, while simultaneously partnering with dictators. We’ve allied ourselves with terrorists when it suited our interests, and then declared war on them later. We’ve insisted on staying out of foreign conflicts, but then mourned when we failed to prevent genocide. We support international justice for war criminals, unless they happen to be American. We’re damned when we do, and damned when we don’t.

Part of a bulleted list of things I like about living in Lincoln, Nebraska: 
- It’s cheap. This is actually kind of a big deal. If you’re a poor kid who is in college, or just got out of college, you can afford your own place. Elsewhere in the United States, living in your mom’s basement is basically your only option until you start making a six-figure income. That would suck.

- It’s safe. Even if you live in a sub-$400 apartment in a sketchy neighborhood, you will likely not be murdered. I’ve never been crime-ed in any way. Crime-ed is totally a word.

- The people are pretty okay. Generally, I reject the whole “people are friendly” description people tack onto cities they like, as there are friendly people and jerks everywhere. But, there are good people here, and I know some of them.

- It isn’t too big for its britches. Neighboring Omaha exists under the delusion that it is the Next Big Thing in the midwest. Unfortunately, every other similarly-sized city in America believes it also the Next Big Thing. Eventually, they will probably battle to the death, before realizing that they are still medium-sized cities whose importance will always be regional, rather than national. Lincoln, as a whole, seems to be more content to be Lincoln. Anyway. Moving on.

- It’s kind of cool. No, really. Local coffee shops are abundant, the music scene is diverse, and if getting drunk on the cheap is your thing, Lincoln is your place. The fact that Lincoln is a college town keeps it from being too conservative, and the fact that Lincoln is in Nebraska keeps it from being too liberal. It’s the perfect balance between redneck and pretentious.

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So, there you have it. Many written things. All of them unfinished. Perhaps someday, I’ll develop the attention span to finish stuff.

How To Understand Every Internet Discussion About Health Or Food

THEY SAY:

“I did some research on (common activity and/or food) and found (some shocking discovery about how this thing is secretly killing everyone)! People need to educate themselves!”

TRANSLATION:

I did a Google search, clicked on the top results, and did not weigh the information I found against opposing viewpoints, or research the credentials of the information sources. I am now an expert on this topic!

Vinyl, Cities, And Why Smart People Are Often Wrong.

A few weeks ago, I was at an educational technology conference, listening to a presentation on the evolution of consumer tech. The speaker used props extensively, showing off relics like 5” floppy disks, and 8-track tapes.

At one point, she held up an LP, and firmly stated, “if you’re under 30, you have no idea what this is.”

Of course, if you’re someone under 30, you know this is crazy talk. While vinyl records aren’t the mass medium they once were, they’ve become extremely popular with a large crowd of young, mostly well-educated people who enjoy the sound of analog music. In many cases, young people are dusting off their parents’ unused record heaps, and giving them a second life.

This may turn out to be a fad. At the very least, it doesn’t mean that digital music is declining, or that the traditional record industry will suddenly be the titan it was in the ‘70s. But it’s an interesting phenomenon nonetheless.

It’s interesting because there’s not really a quantifiable reason for the resurgence of vinyl. Massive, physical records are no practical match for the millions of songs Spotify can magically stream to your laptop. The fact that the revival of a seemingly-ancient format has occurred in tandem with the continued growth of digital music is a delightful paradox that cuts against the linear march O’ technology narrative the speaker was trying to present.

And it’s a testament to the power of the intangible.

We live in an age of data, enthralled by technocrats who can gaze into the future through massive sets of numbers. We’re meant to believe that anything significant about human behavior can be reduced to spreadsheets assembled by economists and statisticians.

One of the most immediate consequences of this laser-focus on data is a continuity bias.The purpose of most data analysis is to identify patterns, like historical trends and correlations between data sets. So, when we discover these little gems, we can only rationally assume that these patterns will hold. And, viola! We have a little portal to the future --  and for writers, a harvest of click-ready headlines:

The End Of _____ !

The Future Of _____ !

The New ______ !

Why What You Think About _______ Is Wrong!

The Upcoming ______ Disaster!

For a while, these predictions seem correct. But then, shifts take place. And the roots of these shifts can usually be found in different realms: the realms of preference, belief, and other mental constructs that can defy numerical analysis.

Take the state of the American city: 40 years ago, any number of experts in the field of urban policy would tell you that the American city was dead. The suburbs were rapidly growing, inner-cities were zones of hopelessness, and the streets of downtown areas were empty. Rationally, this made sense. People wanted space, privacy, and personal mobility. The suburbs offered all those things, and the old city cores didn’t. Their death was a necessary, but inevitable, tragedy.

Today, things have changed. The suburbs are still large, and in some places, still growing. But dense urban cores have replaced suburban areas as the center of the elite class's aspirations. Neighborhoods in and close to downtown areas have experienced massive influxes of wealthy, mostly white, residents. The very people who were expected to continue to seek out more space in the leafy-green sprawl around the edges.

The changes that made this possible were changes in the ideals of the affluent generation that had been raised in the space, homogeneity, and safety of the suburbs. The qualities that had such a great pull on their parents and grandparents no longer held the same appeal for them. New qualities -- authenticity, walkability, excitement -- became their touchstones.

Urban economists can point to an increasing amount of data that shows that density is correlated with a number of positive goods, like the amount of economic innovation, but the fact that these benefits exist is besides the point. The educated people who make up the burgeoning urban class aren’t moving downtown because of metrics that show that patent applications increase based on the amount of people per square mile. They’re searching for a “vibe,” or a “community,” or maybe just some really good coffee.

Numbers are useful, but, they have their limits. There’s a lot that numbers can tell us about a place, a group of people, or a certain trend. But all these things are made of more than just measurable metrics.

Another case in point: every year, certain magazines compile lists of the “best” places/towns/cities, which provide another form of headline fodder for over-worked journalists. Interestingly enough, the places that fill the top of these lists are almost never the cities where millions of people actually choose to move. Inevitably, it’s a string of relatively obscure burgs that look fantastic on paper.

The small Nebraskan city I live in, Lincoln, was recently rated the happiest city in America. Now, I can attest to the fact that Lincoln is a pleasant place. And yet, there aren’t millions of people rushing to the Great Plains to experience the marvelous happiness therein.

In the real world, the places tourists flock to, and ambitious youngsters leave their hometowns for, are often pretty poor based on a number of metrics. Things like unemployment rates, and commute times are an important part of the urban puzzle, but so are things like the “feel” of a street, the “energy” a business community, or the way the sunset looks in a certain park. If you ask a newly-minted New Yorker about why he chose to live there, he probably won’t tell you that he ditched everyone he knew and decided to share a studio apartment with five strangers because Once Prestigious Magazine told him it was #45.5 on a list of places for recent college graduates.

Ultimately, the problem isn’t with the data itself. The trouble lies in the conceit that numbers can provide us with an objective and complete view of the world, detached from interpretation and human experiences. In truth, the widespread availability of data about our lives has provided us with incredible tools. But the usefulness of any tool depends on the hands that wield it.

So, go ahead: use numbers. If you must, make predictions, and lists. Numbers are interesting, and can tell you a lot. But at the same time, be human. Listen to people, and search for the interesting cultural events that happen around the edges, where others aren’t looking. And maybe, when reality capsizes the conventional wisdom, you won’t be so surprised.

The Distant Future. The Year 2016.

In honor of Obama’s second inauguration, I humbly present my predictions for the next four years of our nation’s history. The predictions are in a bulleted list, because those are easy to read. And fun. Bulleted lists are fun!

DURING THE NEXT FOUR YEARS:

• Republican in congress will oppose several bills Obama supports.
• Charges of “political posturing” will be made.
• Marco Rubio will continue to be Hispanic, and Republicans will continue to be excited about that.
• If you have guns right now, you will continue to own them.
• Obama will say, “let me be clear,” in various contexts.
• He will be accused of not actually being clear, in various contexts.
• You won’t have to worry about obeying "Sharia law."
• You still won’t know what "Sharia law" actually entails.
• You might still be kind of worried about obeying "Sharia law" at some point in the future.
• America will still be killing people we don’t like, and people who happen to be near them, using deadly robots.
•  We probably won’t care that much about the robot thing.
• Corn syrup will still be in stuff. Because it’s frickin’ delicious.
• Ever had pecan pie? It’s not delicious because of the pecans.
•  (It’s because of the corn syrup).
• (Pecan pie is basically all corn syrup).
• Michele Obama will remain a controversial figure, due to her insistence on talking to kids about eating right and exercise.
• The nerve! Also, she has muscles!
• That makes some people uncomfortable!
• Rush Limbaugh will say something that some people will interpret as racism.
• Some people will continue to listen to Rush Limbaugh.
• Cupcakes will no longer be a thing. 
• Conservative cupcake lovers, if there are any, will blame Michele Obama.
• Others will just acknowledge that cupcakes were always just normal cakes, but smaller, and move on.
•  I will still make cupcakes, though.
• Obama will scarf down some type of classic American food on camera.
• (Perhaps a burger.)
•  Conservatives will refer to this burger-scarfing as “liberal hypocrisy." 
• Obama will pose with some type of adorable animal on camera.
• (Perhaps a koala.)
• Conservatives will refer to this koala-hugging as "liberal hypocrisy."
• Global warming will continue to wreck havoc on the globe, while simultaneously not existing.
• This will continue to be super confusing. 
• Network morning shows will go for an entire week without a special report on "sexting."
• A day of feasting will be proclaimed.   
• The feasting will be short-lived.

A Lack of Control.

After the unspeakable tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary, many Americans finally got the conversation on gun control they’d been waiting for. For a while, it seemed like it would never happen. As the last few years rolled by, the dark list of high-profile shootings kept stacking up. And every time, the call for tighter restrictions on guns was met with deafening silence from law-makers.

Now, the silence has been broken. Shortly after the slaughter, ideas for curbing gun violence were being openly discussed on Capitol Hill, from closing the “gun show loophole,” to banning high-capacity magazines for semi-automatic weapons. Yesterday, president Obama gave a speech endorsing a set of policies that would put many of these restrictions in place. Even some Republicans have squirmed out of the grip of the gun lobby to offer support.

For some, this is a hopeful moment in the wake of tragedy. But I’m not so sure.

None of the proposed policies are bad in and of themselves. They might do a little good, and they certainly wouldn’t destroy legitimate gun-ownership in this country. If you’re looking for someone to call for a revolt against the gun-snatching tyranny of Obama, look elsewhere.

There’s only one thing that bothers me: any new regulations on guns are highly unlikely to prevent the horrific mass shootings that inspired them in the first place. Support the regulations, if you like. Just don’t pretend that the president’s signature can stop tragedies like Sandy Hook from occurring.

I don’t doubt that laws can create positive changes in society. But public policy is most effective when it targets a broad problem. Changes in laws, and their enforcement, can alter general patterns of behavior in a population for the better. In recent memory, massive policy overhauls in cities like New York have helped to radically reduce crime rates. But in the case of mass shootings, policy-makers are setting out to combat what are still rare, highly individualized events. In the overall landscape of crime in America, these massacres are unusual exceptions, not the rule. Which makes it a lot harder for new rules to put an end to them.

Mass shootings are well-publicized, so it makes sense that Americans feel like they’re facing an “epidemic of violence.” This is true, in the sense that every murdered child is one too many. But from a purely statistical point of view, things are more complicated. Murder rates across the country have been dropping for decades. It’s likely that the America your children inhabit today is far safer than the one you or your parents grew up in.

Seen in this context, mass shootings aren’t a sign of a violent culture spinning out of control. Instead, they’re strange outliers that mask a long-term trend of declining violence. In raw numbers, mass shooters make up a microscopic slice of the violent criminals who take innocent lives every year. And the monsters behind most mass shootings aren’t your garden-variety murderers. They tend to have few or no past offenses, and come from middle-class, white families. Many acquire their weapons through legal means. Mass shooters also tend to be highly intelligent, and plan their massacres over long periods of time.

To prevent another Sandy Hook in any given year, a new gun law would have to change the behavior of fewer than a dozen extremely determined individuals in a country of 300 million. Needless to say, that’s an extremely narrow problem for a broad set of regulations to solve.

I don’t want to be a cynic when it comes to protecting our nation’s children. However, it’s important to recognize that there are limits to what our laws can save us from. Even if that’s something we’d rather not see.

After all, no one wants to face the nagging thought that we might just be helpless. That we might just have to accept the risk that terrible things can happen to us, or our children.

Which is strange, considering that we do this all the time.

Every second of every day, your life is at risk. There are an infinite number of opportunities for others to commit acts of violence against you. There are thousands of little things that could go wrong, with fatal results. You’re far more likely to die in a car accident than at the barrel of a gun, but that probably doesn’t stop you from stepping behind the wheel every morning.

If new restrictions on firearms are passed, I hope that some lives are saved as a result. Even one fewer murder would be a cause for celebration. But I’m also aware that we live in a broken world, where tragedy can always come when you least expect it. If you want to find something that can give you hope for a future without violence, legislation isn't the place to look for it.

A Balancing Act.

For those of us who don't see the debate over the size and role of government as a cosmic battle between good and evil, there was a glimmer of hope in Romney’s debate performance last week. In front of millions of Americans, the Republican candidate for president made a shocking admission: government regulation is not inherently evil:

From NPR's debate transcript: Regulation is essential. You can't have a free market work if you don't have regulation. As a business person, I had to have — I needed to know the regulations. I needed them there. You couldn't have people opening up banks in their — in their garage and making loans. I mean, you have to have regulations so that you can have an economy work. Every free economy has good regulation.

This shouldn’t be that surprising, considering that few Republicans want to do away with all government regulation. But, they often make it sound like they do. Railing against the tyranny of federal regulation is a well-worn page in the conservative playbook.

Frustration with government regulation isn't without cause. For every sensible rule that benefits the marketplace, there's sure to be one that has unintended consequences that more than offset the intended good. But the conservative instinct to dissolve government’s regulatory function, and let corporations roam free, is ultimately destructive. Even more, it reflects an incoherent view of human nature.

Traditionally, conservatives have held a dim view of the human capacity to handle power. Conservatives believe that if too much power is concentrated in the hands of government leaders, it will inevitably be abused, regardless of any good intentions that may be present. Seen through this lense, the inefficiency of America's constitutional government is a feature, not a bug. Better a gridlocked congress than a charismatic leader with the ability to strip away our rights.

The conservative aversion to concentrations of government power is perfectly reasonable. But is government power the only power that can become dangerous? Conservatives may believe that people tend toward corruption in the context of government, but they simultaneously hold that unbridled power in the corporate world will only lead to affordable toasters and joy. This, we are told, is thanks to the power of the marketplace to harness greed for the common good.

In thousands of cases, this works. But what if a factory can save millions of dollars by dumping chemicals into a local river? What if the CEO of an investment firm can make millions in the short term through practices that will likely lead to disaster after he leaves the company? These aren't just rhetorical questions -- companies in the pursuit of profit have done bad things. Sometimes, really bad things. And it's not un-American to acknowledge the reality of capitalism's dark side.

Greed is sometimes good. But, as some guy once said, it can also lead to "all kinds of evil." Neither CEOs or congressmen are angels, and both can wreck havoc if left completely unchecked. The conversation we need to be having isn’t about whether all power should reside in the hands of the public or private sectors, but rather, how genuine public good should be balanced with economic freedom. We don’t need burdensome regulation, but we do need some regulation. Focusing on cutting the size of government alone distracts of from the real question: what regulations are a beneficial and proper exercise of the government’s power, and how can they be enforced in the most efficient way possible? Simply deriding the ineffectiveness of the federal government, and then gutting staff and budgets across the board, is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Romney seems to get this, and that makes me kind of happy. Although that might have more to do with the brownies I just pulled out of the oven. BRB.

Downtown!

The tale of downtown revitalization has been a big one for the past couple of decades. Urban cores across America that had declined into post-apocalyptic chaos during the '60s and '70s have reinvented themselves as havens for the hipster swarm, called forth by their insidious overmind. Goodbye hobos, hello adorable lattes. And some new numbers from the Census Bureau seem to add weight to this trend:

Via Nate Berg at Atlantic Cities: Big city downtowns are becoming people places – again or, for some, for the first time. New figures [PDF] out from the U.S. Census Bureau show that downtown areas saw huge jumps in population between 2000 and 2010. The biggest of these metro areas, those with populations of 5 million or more, saw a collective growth rate of more than 13 percent in the areas within two miles of city hall, a stand-in measurement that, for these purposes, designates "downtown."

In all U.S. metro areas, 16.1 million people were living within two miles of City Hall by 2010, about six percent of the total metro area population of 258 million.

Combined with the populations slightly farther out, in the two to four mile radius outside city hall, the numbers increase dramatically. Together, the total metro population living within four miles of city hall is more than 54 million – almost 21 percent of America's metro population. That's 17.5 percent of the national population living within a quick car ride, 30-minute bike ride or hour-long walk of the center of a big city.
...
The report also shows that areas farther from city halls are still dominant population centers. And that's especially true in the largest metropolitan areas. While the close-in areas in these metros' downtown saw double-digit growth between 2000 and 2010, so did areas 30 miles and beyond. So while it's true that people are moving into downtowns, that doesn't mean they're still not moving out to the suburbs and exurbs as well.

As the commentator noted, the real story of downtown America isn't the death of suburbia, which is alive and well. It's likely that American cities will never become the dense, centralized places they were in the past. In most cases, downtown is simply becoming one thriving neighborhood among many, and an attractive regional destination. The end result is more choice for middle-class consumers and home owners/renters, which is generally a good thing.

On the other hand, the trends that are revitalizing downtown areas in big cities don't seem to be doing anything for the decaying inner-ring neighborhoods of mid-sized cities that were hit hardest by the changes in America's economic landscape. Pockets of persistent poverty and inequality remain the biggest challenges facing American cities. And no, these problems won't be solved by artisanal cupcake shops.

Election Thoughts.

I haven’t been writing a whole lot for the past couple of months. Or at least, I haven’t been finishing a lot of writing. Stringing together coherent thoughts is hard and tiring.

So, I won’t try to.

As you may know, there's an election going on. Better yet, it's the exciting kind where we get to pick a president! Because I graduated from college, I have many thoughts, or ponderances, when elections occur. I wrote some of these down, and am now putting them on the Internet for you to enjoy. If you don't want to read these thoughts, you can continue staring at the patriotic image above. It will undoubtedly stir the soul of all true patriots, due to its patriotic nature, and I'm very proud that I was able to find it via a simple Google image search.

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VARIOUS THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ELECTION, PRESENTED IN BULLETED POINTS

- Joe Biden’s recent campaign trail gaffes reminded me that Joe Biden is still vice president. That, in turn, made me giggle.

- Does anyone truly believe that Obama personally dislikes people who start businesses, and is actively plotting to make people dependant on the government? Inventing secret motives behind an opponent’s policy is a mainstay of American political discourse, but it still manages to irritate me. See also: Republicans don’t really care about abortion -- they want to turn women into a perpetually pregnant slave-race!

- I think most people in the media were thrilled that Romney chose Paul Ryan as his running mate. Despite the best efforts of the Democrats to paint Romney as a Snidely Whiplash, and the Republicans to portray him as an heir to Reagan, he doesn’t really incite any emotion beyond mild like or dislike. Paul Ryan is a dynamic character in our current political story, and journalists are suckers for narrative. Like 2008, this is going to be an election cycle dominated by discussion of the GOP’s veep-to-be.

- Ryan’s infamous budget plan contains big cuts to almost everything the federal government does. These cuts would be very painful, and a more reasonable approach to reducing the deficit would likely include some sort of revenue increase. On the other hand, such a tough budget would actually tame many of our entitlement-related fiscal problems. Democrats who raise hue & cry over the Ryan plan should be willing to offer their own plan to reign in entitlements. Given the size of the projected deficits in medicare, social security, and other major programs, there will likely be some painful cuts no matter what.

- I am not really an expert on tax policy or entitlements. Luckily, no one in Washington is either, so I can get away with it.

- Even with Ryan on the ticket, I expect that entitlement reform will be pushed into the background. Old people vote, and they want what the guv’mint owes them, regardless of their political philosophy.

- Commentators say that Paul Ryan’s selection shows that Romney isn’t trying to sway women to his side. Ryan’s abs say otherwise.

- Paul Ryan was (is?) really into Ayn Rand, and her ever-popular novel Atlas Shrugged. This has set many folks in the punditsphere a-twitter. As for myself, I read Atlas Shrugged a few years ago, and it was terrible. To this day, I can’t figure out why it appeals to people, since the characters, plot, and morality of the book are all equally dismal. Even the numerous sex scenes manage to be preachy and disturbing. Gross.

- The fact that Paul Ryan has been selected as VP doesn’t mean Romney has to defend all of Ryan’s policy positions. The president sets the agenda.

- Mitt Romney has never been much of a foreign policy buff. Even worse, he seems to be filling in his gaps in this area with advice from dubious Bush-era hawks. Anyone who would like to avoid the mistakes of that presidency should be troubled by this.

- Fortunately for Romney, this race has never been about foreign policy. Voters seem to prefer picking their presidents based on an imaginary role the president doesn’t actually play (magical jobs fairy), rather than the ones he actually does (commander-in-chief of the armed forces, international head of state). Pity.

- Obama hasn’t made any terrible blunders in the realm of foreign policy and national security. He also hasn’t fundamentally changed the trajectory of Bush’s overall anti-terrorism policies. It seems that Democratic foreign policy boils down to, “the war on terror is a ridiculous construct designed to oppress us, but we can fight it better than Republicans!”

- The fact that Obama has largely pursued Bush’s war on terror policies doesn’t leave Romney with a lot of actual things he can contrast his own positions with. So, it seems that Romney plans to do the same things, but in a more American and assertive manner. Obama, for example, has said that all options (including military force) are on the table in dealing with Iran’s nuclear program. Meanwhile, Romney says that all options are REALLY, TRULY, VERY MUCH on the table. I’m not sure what this means in practical terms.

- I could care less that Romney isn’t releasing his tax returns. If you’re wondering what they would reveal, I can give you some spoilers: Romney made a truckload of money, and like every other taxpayer, he paid as little as he could within the confines of the law.

- As a PR thing, maybe it would it would make sense for Romney to release his tax returns. But really, this is his choice to make.

- Note to the American public: Obama is not like you. Romney is not like you. People who become president are not normal, and that’s okay. An average Joe has no business running the most powerful nation on earth. Isn’t time we celebrated elitism? Just a little?

- "Celebrate Elitism" will be the name of an annual banquet, hosted by me, as soon as I become wealthy and powerful. If you think this sounds awesome, I'll gladly take donations to hasten my ascent to wealth and power. I accept Paypal.

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That is all, for now.

"LOUD NOISES!"

As long as people disagree with each other, there will be arguments. And as long as we have the Internet, there will be more arguments than you can shake a mouse at.

(The computer accessory, not the rodent. Unless you’re a terrible person.)

The problem is that what passes as an argument in the age of digital media and cable news isn’t always an argument. Confused?

Well, let’s say that I believe butter pecan is an excellent and delicious ice cream that should be enjoyed by everyone. (Which happens to be true). However, if given the choice, some people would rather eat vanilla ice cream. I feel this is wrong on a gut level, but to convince others, I need to provide reasons. Clearly, some sort of argument is called for.

Here’s one way I could approach it:

Butter pecan is a better ice cream than vanilla, due to the sophistication and complexity of its flavors. Whereas vanilla merely offers a single tone to the tip of your tongue, butter pecan is a veritable orchestra of flavor. One key difference between the diets of humans and lower animals is that while animals almost always consume one single item at a time -- grass, an antelope, etc. -- humans are capable of combining and blending multiple ingredients with multiple flavors. This ability to understand and appreciate complexity is a bedrock of civilization. A single note does not a melody make, and likewise, a single brush stroke doesn’t form a complete painting. To choose butter pecan ice cream is not only to enjoy a better dessert  -- it’s to be more human.

This argument isn’t airtight, and other people could easily disagree with some of my premises. (We're talking about ice cream, for crying out loud.) But it is an active attempt to explain why I believe my position is the correct one. Delivering an argument, even a good one, won’t result in instant victory. It should, however, make your opponent think about what they believe, and come up with a response that deals with your assertions in a substantive way. The end result is that players on both sides of the argument are forced to develop their ideas with increasing complexity, and perhaps even cede certain points, if they must.

Unfortunately, all this complexity can be mentally exhausting. It’s almost, like, you have to think about things. This is where a second strategy comes in. A very popular strategy. This method of argumentation relies on proving something’s badness (or goodness) due to its mere association with a certain time period or group of people, and makes frequent references to either inevitable progress, or an idealized past. The “progressive” version of the argument would go something like this:

Lovers of vanilla ice cream want to send us back to the 1800s with a regressive flavor that reeks of a paternalistic society. In the last few decades, we’ve made strides toward a greater diversity of flavors in our ice cream, but the persistence of the vanilla crowd frequently makes me ashamed to be an ice cream eater. When our almost-certainly-butter-pecan-loving grandchildren look back at this moment in our history, they’ll wonder why it took us so long to give up the hatefully mono-flavored dessert that plagues us today. Stand up for butter pecan. Stand up for the truth.

The tone of this argument suggests that its author is very passionate about something, but doesn’t know why. So, reason is substituted with outrage, in an attempt to disguise the fact that there are no substantive arguments being offered. Rather than trying to attract a strong response from its opponent, the goal of this statement is to make people who agree with it feel righteous, and opponents feel ashamed about their life choices. Arguments like this also tend to be based on a painfully cheapened view of history that can only be accepted if you’ve never studied it.

In other words, it’s not really an argument at all. It’s noise.

I think it’s reasonable to believe that some things people did in ye olden times were wrong. Olden-times-people, like modern-times-people, were a little messed up, and sometimes had bad ideas. However, the very fact that a certain view was held by people in the past doesn’t make it wrong. Conversely, the fact that a certain view was held by people in the past doesn’t make it right.

So, if a liberal tells you that conservatives are wrong because they want take us back to the 1950s, or some other sinister time period, you should politely tell them that this isn’t an argument, and make them restate their case in terms of actual reasoning.

And if a conservative tells you that something is right because our leaders in the 1700s said it was, you should remind them that politicians in the 1700s were still just people, and they would probably be disappointed in such a shoddy argument.

After all, this is the 21st century! People who lean on chronological snobbery or golden age thinking will end up taking us back to the Manchu dynasty. Instead, we should return to the perfection of classical Greece, where reason and virtue reigned on jewel-studded thrones.

And we should all eat more butter pecan ice cream. It rocks in a big way.

In Good Spirits.

I’m not much of a liquor connoisseur.

But I’m definitely a liquor review connoisseur.

Liquor reviews are wonderful, because they are also ridiculous, and written by crazy people.

You see, when I evaluate something, I try to follow the Kind of Baffling First Principle of Reviewable Attributes:

Any object of evaluation shall be evaluated based on properties of an evaluatable nature within said object, with which that object may be evaluated in light of... those properties. Of the object.

For example, a review of an apple might involve references to its levels of crispness and sweetness, because those are actual things your mouth notices when an apple is inside of it.

If, however, I were to compare the apple’s flavor to, say, a rare steak or a garlic-roasted turnip, that would not be acceptable. Those flavors just don’t exist within the context of an apple.

Meanwhile, over in liqourland, such rules of reality are routinely cast aside, allowing the whiskey-soaked elite to craft odes to the distillery’s bounty that soar somewhere between the stratosphere, and Dick Cheney’s armored moon-home.

(Dick Cheney was once our vice president. If you haven’t heard much about him lately, you can probably chalk it up to his residence in said moon-home.)

To get a clearer picture of this phenomenon, let us examine one particular member of the liquor family: American bourbon whiskey.

Bourbon is the stuff you get when you distill alcohol from a corn-majority blend of grains, and let it mellow in new oak barrels for a while. It’s pretty decent, all things considered.

Taste-wise, bourbon is very, well, bourbon-y. It’s about 50% ethyl alcohol, so you have that flavor/burn going on in a big way. The barrel any given bourbon is aged in lends some flavor, usually an oakiness or slight smokiness. (Rhyming!) But basically, we’re not getting too fancy here. This is something good American farmers invented to get drunk on, because it’s sure as heck easier than wine-making, which despite California’s peculiar insistence, is for French people and Bacchus.

Bourbon enthusiasts, however, do not burden themselves with the dull physical reality that has been poured into their thick glass tumblers. As a slightly inebriated Yoda was known to remark, “luminous libations are these, not this crude whisky!”

Hiding beneath the caramel-colored surface of America’s native spirit, true bourbon lovers find... things.

Things like vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, pepper, leather, grapefruit, toffee, blueberries, mushrooms, orange rind, freshly-baked bread, and, I swear, persimmons.

Freakin’ PERSIMMONS.

To watch these flavors unfold through the written word is like witnessing a delicate ballet I do not yet understand, and likely never will.

Case in point: I recently bought a bottle of Old Grand Dad bourbon, because I wanted to make mint juleps, which in turn was because I wanted to pretend to be a fancy southern person like that guy from Gone with the Wind, or Colonel Sanders. If I were to write my thoughts on this comfortingly-retro-looking bottle of whiskey, they would be roughly as follows:

Old Grand-Dad seems pretty good to me. It didn’t cost very much, which is something I like, as I do not yet have very much money. It doesn’t burn in your throat too much, and it doesn’t have an unpleasant aftertaste. Sometimes, whiskey makes your mouth feel gross, and that wasn’t going on here. Props, Old Grand-Dad.


It made a heckuva julep, which made me feel adequately fancy, although not quite so much as I had hoped. The fanciest southern men I know of have what I refer to as “signature facial hair,” and I feel like this could be a missing piece in the puzzle. Will explore further.


Overall Score: 4 out of 5

If I were a bourbon enthusiast with a website called something like downthewhiskeyriver.com, things would be quite different:

Upon opening the bottle, I was enraptured by the heady aroma that filled my nostrils with pleasuresome vapours. It was like the calm of a field recently soaked by rain -- a well-needed respite from a drought, if I’m not mistaken. Also noted were mixed hints of a cherry pie cooling on a nearby window sill, and rich shampoo lather. After the first sip, I detected a robust flavor, like an entire grilled chicken stuffed with pine-nuts and quinoa. This was followed by the rich sweetness of a fudge-covered brownie, and the tart sting of a salt-encrusted lime. The viscosity was excellent, with a mouthfeel akin to a fresh ocean surf foaming betwixt my teeth. On the throat, I felt the soothing mellowness of a tiny cherub and his angelic cohorts massaging my uvula with gifted hands. The finish was strong, starting with a bushel of pomegranates, and then followed by the tears of a small child who has just learned a disillusioning truth about life, which left me emotionally drained, but eager for future tastings.


Overall Score: 3.8694 out of 4.94

To truly review a whiskey, one must transcend the immediate reality, and enter into a strange form of free-association poetry that reveals the deeper spiritual nature of booze some guy made from corn. The results are breathtaking, and in this writer’s opinion, should be extended to other fields.

Specifically, politics.

It’s only June, and we’re already sick of reading the same dull write-ups of each candidate’s performance on the stump:

Romney spoke to a small but enthusiastic crowd, in the wake of a new poll showing, blah, blah, momentum, etc.

You get it.

It’s time to whiskey-up some real journalism:

Romney’s voice wafted like the aroma of my late great-aunt Dorothy’s famous pecan crisp bars. The crowd was distinctly Mezozoic, and one could very clearly perceive a tension in the air, like the moment before a litter of kittens is born. This comes in sharp contrast to Obama, whose recent public appearances have evoked a mixture of grass clippings and slightly-burnt sage.


Altogether, a refreshing day, but one that lacked the strongly pronounced notes of unicorn and honeysuckle so prevalent in recent weeks.

The general populace will be unable to glean any useful information from these stories, thus maintaining the status quo. But the politically inclined among us would be able to have delightful debates over whether the correct random labels were attached to events, and then offer colorful-sounding, meaningless descriptions of our own to counter them. Then, instead of dealing with boring, weighty issues, political discourse could become an endless game for the amusement of the well-educated.

Completely different from the system we have today.

I’ll let the journalist-types sort out the details. My julep’s getting warm, and this “signature facial hair” isn’t going to grow itself.

A Tragedy, Not A Talking Point.

The previously little-known story of Trayvon Martin’s death has become an inferno of controversy during the past week. It’s shocking, heartrending, and it strikes at the core of America’s identity as a tolerant nation. Like many other stories, it might also prove to be more complicated that it seems.

These are the generally agreed-upon facts of the case:

Trayvon Martin, a 17-year-old African-American boy, is walking home after purchasing some candy and iced tea at a 7-11. He’s talking to his girlfriend on the phone. George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watchman, spots him, and immediately pegs him as a suspicious figure. Zimmerman calls 9/11, and pursues the boy. A struggle occurs, and Zimmerman shoots Martin. Trayvon Martin is dead by the time police arrive. Zimmerman claims the action as self-defense, and even though Trayvon was unarmed, he isn’t prosecuted.

I first heard the story on the radio. But in my mind, I could visualize Zimmerman clearly.

White.
Probably middle-aged or older.
A paranoid racist with too much time on his hands, and an itchy trigger finger.

Later, I googled “George Zimmerman,” to find out as much as I could. His picture was one of the first items that popped up. And it surprised me.

George Zimmerman, as it turns out, isn’t white, or middle-aged. He’s a 28-year-old Hispanic of mixed ancestry. According to his family, he has many black friends and family members. Given that his town’s population is 30% African-American, that doesn’t sound like a stretch. None of those things preclude racism as a motive. But, they do raise several questions.

How does a young, middle-class Hispanic man living in a racially diverse town end up with a level of racial paranoia that leads him to snuff out an innocent life for no reason besides “walking while black”? Upon further inspection, the racial aspect of the story doesn’t disappear, but it certainly becomes cloudier.

Regardless of the circumstances, prosecuting Zimmerman is the right thing to do. Trayvon Martin’s family deserves justice. But we shouldn’t be too quick in forming simplified narratives about the motives behind the case before all the facts are known. Turning an unspeakable tragedy into an opportunity for grandstanding on the state of race relations in America is a mistake.

We should push for justice, but remain patient for the details.

The Sporting Life.

Based on the general rumblings emerging from the Internet-o-sphere, I’m aware that basketball-related events are happening right now. Basketball-related events that somehow fall under the banner of “March Madness.”

I literally have no clue what this is. None.

As it stands, my interest in sports is exactly equal to the amount of interest a porcupine has in knitting tiny hats for human babies. Which is quite low, unless you happen to be Knudsworth, The Knitting Porcupine Who Loves.

My first instinct is to ridicule everyone who thinks that sports are significant in some way. However, since everyone else on the planet falls into that category (with the exception of Knudsworth, whose legendary abundance of love does not extend to sports), I’ve since learned to suppress my instincts.

In fact, if you’re totally into sports, I respect your lifestyle. I don’t understand it, but I respect it.

You see, if you follow sports, you have a crazy amount of stuff going on in your brain. The casual sports-talk that normal Americans are able to rattle off is completely mystifying to me. Sports people know a mind-boggling number of things. They know hundreds of teams, and the players on those teams, and the records of those players, and players in the past they can compare them to. They know about coaches, league organizations, strategies, obscure lingo, and rules.

And they know all that without any sort of formal education on the subject. By any measure, that’s pretty darn impressive.

Granted, my inner-Knudsworth can only think, “Gosh, if people devoted a fraction of the brain-space they use for sports to local politics, think about how healthy our communities would be!” But I know this is a false choice. There are people who are completely savvy and politically engaged, and know millions of sports factoids as well.

Again, my tiny, non-sports brain can’t comprehend this. I don’t know how people can seemingly know everything about the constantly changing world of sports, and all the personalities therein, and also fit other information into their brain. But millions of people do.

I don’t like sports. But I respect anyone who knows many things about things, even if those things are things I don’t understand.

So, to all those who know what “March Madness” is: I salute you.

You make America great.

Now, go back to doing... your brackets... for the games. I hope Michael Jordan scores lots of touchdowns!

(And Knudsworth sends his reluctant blessing as well. He's already knitting hats for your present and/or future babies.)

Not S'Mitten.

Mitt Romney's belly-flop in the South is yet another demonstration of Romney's inability to purchase the hearts and minds of GOP voters. The delegate math is still in his favor, but votes for Romney tend to be more motivated by antipathy toward Obama than anything else. Romney isn't oozing toward a presidential nomination because he's loved. It's because he's electable.

But the logic behind the electability assumption seems a little flawed. Is a man really electable if he can't muster enthusiasm among his own supporters? If flooding media markets with absurd amounts of cash still results in narrow wins alternating with narrow losses?

A politician has a lot of jobs, and being likeable is one of them. It's not as trivial as you may think. Presidents aren't elected by a neutral council of performance analysts who sit in a dark room crunching numbers. They're elected by humans, with human emotions, and human reasons for the votes they cast. Connecting matters. Being liked matters. In races where less than half the population votes, the deciding factor is generally the level of enthusiasm behind either side.

So if Romney can't fire up his own party, what does that say about his electability? Yes, some of the things that make Republicans hesitant about Mitt -- like his moderate record -- will be assets in the general election. But let's be honest: Willard Romney will never be confused with Slick Willy. He does not regularly charm tiny birds from their nests. When Romney opens his mouth, he tends to say things that alienate normal people. No one likes his style, and activists from both sides of the political spectrum dislike his substance. If the economy continues to improve, the single issue he's based his campaign on could be swept from under his feet.

Electability is important. But being less crazy than other candidates isn't necessarily the same thing as being electable. Just ask President Dole, or President McCain.

Paywalling.

Newspapers have been grousing for years about the best way to pull in the revenue they need to survive the digital onslaught. The so-called paywall has lots of critics, but an increasing number of news sources are adopting it. It’s a pretty straightforward idea: good journalism doesn’t happen without money, so the public ought to pony up some dough to access it.

Which brings me to a handy little anecdote: after months of stalling, I’m now a paying subscriber to nytimes.com.

I’m not saying that online subscription fees are the best solution for every organization. My reluctant payment isn’t an endorsement of the business practice. But I paid nonetheless, because it was simply more convenient than constantly trying to work around the free article limit.

I read the New York Times a lot. Even if you’re a Palin-esque conservative who believes that The Grey Lady is a bastion of communism and vice, there’s no question that the New York Times produces more original journalism at home and abroad than any other single source. Every day, I visit the New York Times because I know I’ll read things there that I won’t find anywhere else. It offers a blend of opinion, hard news, and cultural reporting that I’ve relied on for years.

And that, I think, holds the true key to journalism’s survival. The digital space is still a harsh frontier for the news industry. No one knows what things will look like in 20 years. Are online subscriptions the answer? Micro-payments? Non-profit corporate structures?

Frankly, I have no idea.

But I do know that if you offer something essential -- something that people can’t live without -- there’s a good chance you’ll survive. As a consumer, I’m annoyed that I have to pay for something I used to enjoy for free. But I’ll pay anyway, because I want what the New York Times has to offer.

The business side of the newsroom has a long way to go in developing sustainable business models. But unless journalists are creating content people depend on, the most innovative corporate minds won’t be able to save the industry from collapse.

In other words: make the news awesome. The money will come, eventually.

Andrew Breitbart (1969-2012)

Every morning, I head over to my inbox to skim Mike Allen’s daily Politico Playbook news summary. Today, the subject line promised something about a feud within the Cato Institute. But on the inside, I was confronted by six stunning words that appeared to have been inserted at the last minute: BULLETIN - ANDREW BREITBART DIES AT 43.

My first thought was that it was all a Tom Sawyer-esque hoax. I could imagine Breitbart gleefully watching the media’s reaction to his own death, a glass of pinot noir in hand, relishing yet another chance to humiliate the establishment he despised. But at this point, I’m not holding my breath.

Andrew Breitbart is dead.

I think there are two senses in which someone can be considered great. One is a complete, moral sense. There are great men and women who are admired for what they fought for, and how they fought for it. But there’s another, lesser sense. Some men and women have a greatness that isn't always the same as goodness. They’re great in an earthly sense, because of the shadow they manage to cast during their short time in the sun. They make a dent in the fabric of society, for good or ill.

In that sense, Andrew Breitbart was a great man.

If William F. Buckley Jr. was emblematic of the last generation of conservatives, Andrew Breitbart was the heart and soul of the current one. Buckley was an erudite Ivy League elitist, always ready to disarm opponents with a verbal flourish. He was part of an intellectual conservative establishment that at the very least seemed to value high culture and the search for meaning. Breitbart was an unabashed bomb-thrower to his core. Every action he took was animated by anger against a vast liberal elite, and those he felt had been brainwashed by them. Buckley may have scoffed at liberal protesters in witty columns; Breitbart would march right out to them and yell until he lost his voice. He didn’t just want to fight his enemies. He wanted to destroy them, in hand-to-hand combat if necessary.

And often, he succeeded. Anthony Weiner resigned in disgrace. Shirley Sherrod lost her job. ACORN was cut off from federal funding. Breitbart harnessed his anger to the anger of thousands, and used it to relentlessly push stories online until mainstream news sources could no longer ignore them. He mastered the new media to beat the old media at its own game.

By any account, Breitbart was not a particularly religious person. But the enemy of his enemy was always his friend. His Big Hollywood blog often featured voices ranging from culture-warrior evangelicals to gay libertarians. As long as you wanted to take a wrecking ball to the ivory tower, you were welcome on Team Breitbart. The battle was an all-consuming obsession for him. In Breitbart’s mind, Hollywood elites, liberal newscasters, and hippy protestors weren't just wrong -- they were at war with the country. Somewhat ironically, Breitbart’s tactics were self-consciously modeled after the left-wing radical groups of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Now that they had taken over, he felt that it was his turn to give them a taste of their own medicine.

In style and substance, I never had a whole lot in common with Breitbart. But out of all the conservative political figures in the country, I always felt he would be the most fascinating to have a conversation with. He was a colorful political oddity in a country that manufactures characters by the dozens. He may not have been Limbaugh, but he loved to talk, rambling combatively about the communist plot to take over the country, while making obscure pop culture references and praising the goodness of middle-Americans. The persona he projected was a strange combination of poise and sloppiness, something like a disgruntled think-tank fellow who had just crawled out of bed after a night of heavy drinking. Breitbart was a political conservative who didn’t care for maintaining a clean-cut image. You always got the feeling that he was the guy you’d want to have a beer -- or several beers -- with. But my own chances of grabbing a pint with Breitbart have dropped from .001% to 0.

The man is gone. The media landscape he helped transform remains.

All The Ugly People

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For the sake of your name, LORD, forgive my iniquity, though it is great.

Psalm 25:11

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I don’t like ugly people.

I’m not trying to be senselessly provocative, and I’m certainly not making a moral statement. But it is a true statement.

If you live in a normal, American, middle-class neighborhood, with normal, American, middle-class neighbors, you may not know any ugly people. What’s more, the magic of suburbia is such that it’s likely that you never have to encounter ugly people in your day-to-day life. Except, perhaps, at Wal-Mart.

In a poor, high-density neighborhood, you don’t get that luxury. Where I live, a lot of people are impoverished. Many of them are ugly. They wear ugly clothing. They have terrible hygiene. They speak with slurred, ugly voices. They didn’t finish college, or high school. They aren’t the kind of people I want to be friends with, or spend time on.

Sometimes, they ask for help. Or money. I don’t give it to them. They’ll probably just buy drugs anyway, right?

The doctrine that all men are image-bearers of Christ can be repeated to the point of cliché. I know it by heart. But even so, my heart doesn’t really know it. When I walk past a vagrant, I’m much more likely to think white trash than eternal, glorious reflection of the Creator.

In the evangelical world, it’s popular to focus on big-ticket sins you can write books on conquering. Addictions like pornography and alcohol. Social problems like marital unfaithfulness and divorce. But beneath the surface of my life, I know there’s a world of deep, rooted sin that I can’t even begin to comprehend. There’s so much pride and hatred stored up that I could spend a lifetime fighting it, and never achieve victory.

Wishing that someone would cease to exist is the highest level of hatred I can think of. But as I avoid eye-contact with the undesirables smoking on the porch of my apartment building while littering the yard with Corona cans, this unspoken wish passes through my mind. When I take an honest look at my heart, I see more Hitler than Jesus.

Even when my mind tries to mask the hate in nice little thoughts.

Wouldn’t it be nice if this neighborhood were a little more... gentrified?
Full of quirky young people who listen to Grizzly Bear and repair bikes?
What if that charming Victorian could be restored to a single-family home, with a responsible, middle-class family inside?
Perhaps there wouldn’t be so many of THOSE people here...

Maybe that’s one of the reasons I don’t like ugly people. My heart’s reaction to them reveals my true self. It shows that despite the fact that I’ve gone to church every Sunday since I was born, I’m more inclined to hatred than love. I’d rather lock myself inside and read a book about God’s grace than show grace to anyone who doesn’t reach my standard of personhood.

It turns out that I’m ugly too. Fortunately, there’s someone else who doesn’t just like ugly people, but loves them. And better yet, forgives them.

'Murican Cuisine And Other Things

I had a Taco Bell chalupa for lunch today. And it was beautiful.

Yes, I know I risk becoming someone who just writes ridiculous stuff about food.  But please, let me explain:

America's vast excesses are usually mocked. The sprawling suburbs. The ubiquitous Wal-Marts. The fried Twinkies. People tell us that Americans are destroying the world with our uncultured culture of unsustainable consumption. 

Maybe that's true.

But in all of America's absurdities, there's a terrifying beauty.

Take the chalupa, for example.

In Mexico, there is something called a chalupa. The Taco Bell chalupa is not that thing. The Taco Bell chalupa is a deep fried taco drenched in some kind of fatty sauce. But, of course, none of the tacos served at Taco Bell -- including the chalupa -- resemble a Mexican taco. The chalupa is an advanced food product scientifically developed in a corporate laboratory to appeal to your body's survival mechanisms. Nothing about it is natural. Which makes it amazing.

It's fattening. It's salty. It's a freaking chalupa. Your primal nature craves it.

On one hand, things like the chalupa will probably kill us all. But on the other hand, it's a miracle of the capitalist system.

It's an easy target for derision, but the sheer scale and ingenuity of the consumption-driving society we've built is jaw-dropping. Viewed as a panorama, the endless tracts of identical homes in our suburbs can be as arresting as the pyramids. Our big-box stores sell an array of goods unparallelled at any other point in history. And our titans of fast food produce tiny miracles like the chalupa every day.

The Titanic may inevitably sink. But until then, it's a pretty impressive boat.