It’s a comic called Tanner & Peebles, about two aliens that traverse the universe in a series of silly misadventures, prompted by a mysterious desire to leave home and to find purpose, wherever that may take them.
It’s really been a labor of love.
Anyway, I still intend to post on this blog. But a lot of creative energy will be going into these comics. So if you’d like to follow along the journey, check us out 🙂
Today, September 28, 2018, at 1:30PM, the Senate will vote whether or not to confirm Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court.
This has obviously been a very large and newsy type issue with many think-pieces flying on all sides; some having gone so far as to declare the Kavanaugh hearings and impending nomination a watershed moment in American politics. At the very least current news events of this magnitude tend to take on a form that is larger than life. They are, dare I say, symbolic.
I spent a good deal of time watching the hearings yesterday. More time than I probably should have.
First, Christine Blasey Ford, Kavanaugh’s accuser, came forward with allegations that when they were teenagers Kavanaugh drunkenly pinned her to a bed and attempted to rape her but was thwarted in his attempt by another boy, Mark Judge, a friend of Kavanaugh’s, who jokingly jumped on the two of them and toppled the group of them onto the floor, giving Ford time to escape the room, which had been locked.
Ford’s testimony was emotional and heartfelt—obviously symbolic for many women in America who have undergone similar experiences.
Then it was Kavanaugh’s turn. Kavanaugh had previously and unequivocally denied Ford’s allegations, plus those of two other women, Deborah Ramirez and Julie Swetnik, each with their own stories of Kavanaugh’s behavior, but with less consensus in the media as to their credibility.
Since the hearing there seems to be more discussion of Kavanaugh’s testimony in the media, more disagreement as to its merits, as to what it symbolized, etc. Kavanaugh, a usually very mild-mannered person in his many years of public life, was, as you might expect, visibly shaken and angry—either because he was an innocent man wrongly accused of heinous acts or a guilty man rightly accused of heinous acts, on the grandest and most public stage imaginable.
Today the internet is a broiling cauldron of spicy hot-takes in re the Kavanaugh hearings. If you want to find an opinion out there on the internet that matches your own, surely you know where to find it. Or if you want to do some rage reading that calls out all the bleating zombie sheep on the other side, you know where to find that too.
I am not as interested in what the Kavanaugh hearings represent as I am in how the media talks about big events, and how the average viewer or reader’s access to these events is conditioned by the selective use of information or lack of information, and how the internet reinforces over and over the perpetuations of memes or story-lines which are marketed to us based on our taste for certain brands or flavors of media.
In 2014 Pew Research put out one of my favorite charts of all time. It’s a snapshot of the ideological makeup of some of the world’s largest and most influential media outlets:
I decided to do a little experiment after the Kavanaugh hearings. Rather than pour through every article across the ideological spectrum and painstakingly piece together the logic of each position, usually with futile results, as is my usual wont, I decided to simply take the leading headlines and corresponding pictures of Kavanaugh, following the chart above, to see how each spot on the ideological spectrum was telling the story at a visual, gut level.
The results were… interesting.
2. The Blaze
4. Fox News
5. The Wall Street Journal
6. NBC News
8. New York Times
11. The New Yorker
Is it just me or does Kavanaugh become more meek the further right you go and more menacing the further left you go?
I don’t know what the overall takeaway from this experiment is. Surely it adds little to the specifics in re the allegations against Kavanaugh, or his impending nomination.
But probably that’s up to you to decide.
Maybe it surprised you. Maybe it didn’t. In either case, it’s interesting to see how editorial decisions are made, how a public personae can be molded to fit a narrative through images so that, wherever we lie on the continuum, we can rest assured, thank goodness, that we have the one true gospel.
Interested in how the media works and want to support the site?
WHEN FORMING ANY VALUE judgement my goal is—although I rarely live up to my own standards—to condition said judgement with the right amount, or the right kind, of perspective.
Let’s say I’m at work, quickly typing up some report, when all of the sudden I spill a piping hot cup of coffee on my lap.
The first reaction I will have to this will be instinctive, with an accompanied dose of curse words and negative emotion. More than likely this will be one of the most eventful happenings of the day. I will text my wife with frustrated emojis, OMG, of course these things always happen to ME. But after cleaning up, I might tell the story to a friend over a coffee break, recounting it with enthusiastic hand motions and displaying the brown spot on my pant leg with some good humor. And then, after work, my wife and I will have a good laugh about it at dinner.
There are probably very many complicated reasons why this is a normal way to process an inconvenience. We respond to events in real time with what our brain naturally intuits as the right or justified amount of any given emotion or thought—which sounds simple, but when you stop to think about life as a continuum and our experiences, every single one, assuming either large or small significance along that continuum, it then becomes very foggy just how our brains distinguish between something that is either very important or just medium-important, or not important at all, or just barely important, etc. Not to mention the subtle gradations that run along those axes, those pesky value judgements. Good, bad, etc.
Going back to perspective. What helps me during times of crises, at least on the emotional front, is thinking about what perspective I can assume to make the emotion better. So, the coffee example. If I am tempted to let the spilled coffee ruin my day, a zooming out of perspective will almost certainly help. This mess is only one moment out of the day, after all, and maybe a few minutes of cleaning up. I will most likely have some good moments during this day which will at least partly make up for my own stupidity. Also this is just one day I’ve lived out of many—thousands of days! I’ve spilled coffee on myself before. I got over it then. I’ll most likely get over it now.
This is a neat little trick you can do with almost anything.
A FEW MONTHS AGO my wife and I watched Ken Burns’ The Vietnam War, a new PBS documentary covering the entirety of the Vietnam War, complete with archived news reels, videos of combat, and extensive interviews with both American and Viet Cong, veterans and non-combatants alike.
The documentary is remarkably even-handed in its treatment of this embattled time in American society. A different film-maker who happened to be a highly motivated political idealouge, even a well-meaning one, would’ve been tempted to tamper with the effect it has on the audience because the sores and boils the Vietnam War dredged up have never really gone away. We are still playing essentially the same game of chess. The political lines that were drawn during that period of our history remain, not exactly the same, but true to their point of origination; I can’t think of a more relevant period in our history to survey in order to gain more perspective about the present moment.
A good piece of history-telling has the effect we were speaking about earlier, of zooming out our horizons to consider conditions beyond the bounds of our own lives. History can be therefore powerfully emotional in its impact because it allows us the chance to see our own lives for what they are—pretty small scale, bound up in tragic situations far beyond our own control, and ultimately mysterious.
One scene that touched me deeply was a series of late-stage student protests organized at airports to intercept veterans coming home, to taunt, humiliate, and even assault them so that the first thing these soldiers experienced on their return from fighting was an attitude not only of unwelcome, but open hostility.
This moment encapsulates Vietnam as a socio-political American tragedy (the Vietnamese have their own version of this).
The parts of the tragedy are as such:
1) Working class men are drafted into a war they don’t understand, which is spiraling out of control, quickly garnering mass public disapproval.
2) The war is handed off from Johnson to Nixon, who had promised to end the war, but it only grows worse. The draft threatens to balloon to include college-educated men, i.e. the middle class. Protests then reach fever pitch.
3) What motivates the protests? The instinct of self-preservation? Righteous indignation? Both?
4) In any case, middle-class hippies, basically correct in their critique of the war, direct their anger at those less fortunate than themselves, i.e. largely working class draftees.
5) Therefore those who have already suffered the most (from the American standpoint) suffer even more—as so often happens in tragedy—some having lost friends in combat, some maimed themselves, most unaware of the larger social and political implications of the Vietnam War and the dark shadow it would continue to cast over American life.
Two protesters who participated in this drama are then interviewed, one woman and one man, now in their mid to late sixties. Recalling her harassment of soldiers, the woman begins to cry and apologizes into the camera, to any veterans she may have hurt. She regrets her part in it and now considers the youthful vigor in those particular protests misdirected, although she doesn’t regret being against the war itself. The man, on the contrary, says that extreme measures had to be taken to send a message to Washington that under no circumstances would the public tolerate further aggression in Vietnam, the only option being a swift and direct pulling out of the war. And since tepid communications had not worked, the only option was something that would get people’s attention.
AS WE PROGRESS DOWN the tunnel of history in our own time, and events take on significance, both large and small, political and not, we are fooling ourselves if we think examining our own histories will not help us hang on to some semblance of sanity—even helping us to deal with the emotional side of politics and current events. Otherwise our perspectives will be conditioned only by the present moment, tricking us into thinking that very unimportant things are important, and vice versa. Again, a wide perspective, more information rather than less, can teach us just how similar we are to other time periods, just how beholden we are to the same human passions that have directed the winds of time since the beginning.
You may be forgiven for thinking that the elephant in the room behind all this pontification is Donald Trump or the so-called times of political polarization we live in. But it isn’t. Watching the Vietnam War documentary and reading more about the period helped me to realize that we are no more polarized now than we were then. We are being sold an old line dressed up for a new age, and people on all sides are guzzling it down like their life depends on it.
To me, I’m not sure Trump is a new coffee stain on our pants. I think Trump just reminds us of the stain we’ve had on our pants for a while now. This causes me to view him and his administration in a certain light, not a light amenable to any one side of the debate re: Russian Hacking, Border Policy, General Bombastic Attitude, etc. because both sides of the debate are conditioned by an apocalyptic absurdity with every action and re-action. And all of this is made worse by the usual suspects. Click-bait, social media.
To every journalist out there: before you write an article, read a history book, will you?
Ms Bingham had a reputation for being fun but also firm. The two main ingredients in her classroom philosophy were love and a well-constructed system of rules. That’s how to create the ideal learning environment. You had to take control, but lovingly. Not like her own 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Bardsky. No. There was an example of a women who was all firmness and zero fun.
On Ms Bingham’s desk was a new piece of curriculum, one that she’d helped design as part of her graduate thesis. The piece of curriculum was wrapped in shiny black plastic wrap. She opened the packet. Inside there were no papers or directions or outlines but a tightly folded inflatable doll which began to auto-inflate—a life-size replica of Adolf Hitler.
Carefully Ms. Bingham placed the doll on her desk so that it would be one of the first things the students saw when they came into the classroom. She was nervous about the potential effectiveness of the curriculum, probably it was going a little overboard, but, on the other hand, is there really such a thing as too much of a good thing? This was a fun opportunity! No boring lectures for her students! She was going to be a part of something new and exciting.
Her heart began to flutter as her first students walked in. Finally she was a real teacher. Innocently they eyed the doll standing on the desk with some trepidation. She smiled and greeted each one.
“My name is Ms Bingham. What’s yours, sweetie?”
“I love your dress.”
“What’s that on your desk?”
“We’re going to learn about World War II today.”
The rest of the class came in and sat down. The bell rang and the principal’s voice came on the intercom, instructing the school to stand for the pledge of allegiance. The students stood and Ms. Bingham tried to model what an impassioned pledge looked like: straight posture, hand over heart, and an extra enunciated voice emphasizing the right beats. But most of the students in the class couldn’t concentrate on the flag or Ms. Bingham because there was an inflatable Hitler standing on their teacher’s desk.
“Okay, class. My name is Ms Bingham, your teacher for the 4th grade. I’m very excited to have you all in class. We’re going to take attendance but first many of you may be wondering what’s on my desk. I’m very excited to annouce that we are a part of a very special group. Central Public has been selected to try a new way of learning. Does anybody know who this man is?” Ms Bingham said.
“Hitler,” one boy in the back row said.
“Rule number one in my class: we raise our hands to be called on. What’s your name?” Ms Bingham said.
“Chuck,” the boy said.
“I don’t see any Chuck on my attendance sheet,” Ms Bingham said. “Would you be Charles Ackerman?”
“Yes,” Chuck said.
“Then let’s try again. Please raise your hand for me to call on you,” Ms Bingham said. Chuck rolled his eyes. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” Chuck said.
“Then raise your hand.”
Chuck raised his hand.
“Yes, Charles,” Ms Bingham said. “Do you know who this man is?”
“Adolf Hitler,” Chuck said.
“Very good,” Ms. Bingham said. “Today we’re going to be learning about World War II, but first please make a single file line in front of my desk.” Ms Bingham placed the inflatable Hitler on the ground, and the students made a line in front of it.“Now I will call on each of you one at a time and I want you to come up towards the front of the room and name something that makes you angry. It could be anything. Has a friend ever been mean to you? That’s something you could name. Or have you ever been in trouble for something you didn’t do? That’s another good example.”
The kids looked at each other in disbelief.
“Jenny Aarons,” Ms Bingham said. Jenny walked up front. “Tell us something that makes you mad.”
Jenny stood for a moment and thought. “My dog has bad breath,” she said and the class laughed.
“Ha, ha, that’s a cute one! Go ahead and give Hitler a whack,” Ms. Bingham said. “And think about how nasty your dog’s breath is while you do it.”
Jenny closed her eyes and punched inflatable Hitler. It bounced all the way to the ground and then back up.
“Can I do it again?” Jenny said.
“Everyone gets a turn, dear,” Ms Bingham said.
The students punched Hitler while calling out what made them mad. Down the alphabet the popular themes that began to emerge were: bullies, parents, spelling tests, the war in Afghanistan, and drinking orange juice right after brushing your teeth.
Then it was Ms Bingham’s turn. She punched Hitler and called out, “Mrs Bardsky!”
The kids clapped.
When she was finished Ms Bingham smoothed out the front of her blouse and skirt with her hands, letting out a sigh.
“Now who’s ready to learn about the Vietnam War?” Ms Bingham said.
“Oh—me, me!” The students all raised their hands at the same time.
Ms Bingham took out another package wrapped in black plastic, and, once opened, it also began to auto-inflate. The figure was an old pudgy man in a suit with a long pointed nose.
“Does anyone know who this is?” Ms Bingham said.
“Lyndon Baines Johnson,” Chuck said without raising his hand.
Ms Bingham stopped. The class was silent.
“No,” Ms Bingham said. “This is little boys,” and on the note boys Ms Bingham wailed inflatable LBJ in the face, “who do not raise their hands to be called on!” Ms Bingham said.