Chen Guangcheng Comes to America

By Meg Curtis

Imagine experiencing the United States of America as a blind Chinese refugee. Try describing a Chinese American restaurant to a Chinese national. Try explaining why Americans take vacations on Labor Day. These challenges pale beside encountering a nation of 313,573,431 people without being able to look them in the eye.

Chen is scheduled to land in the Newark Airport on Saturday evening, May 19, 2012. From there, his announced itinerary will take him to New York University. In one fell swoop, he will speed from the Garden State to the Empire State, with no reasonable explanation for either term. “Where are the gardens and empires?” he might ask if he could see.

Particularly since the advent of videos, DVDS, computer gaming, and Facebook, America has become an enormously visual experience. Most recently, an orphan even found himself by researching his personal history on the internet. Yet this international orphan cannot now see himself as Americans commonly inspect their reflections.

He cannot then speak to them in their own visual language, no matter how eloquent or crude his English—unless there’s an app for that, too. Nevertheless, his status in the United States will confound more than diplomats. Should Americans consider him “disabled”? Not a word has come out of China supporting the conclusion that Chen is a hair less than extremely able.

In fact, if he runs a school for activists here, he just may activate a whole new school of thought. What exactly does an “activist” do? If Chen’s an “activist,” what is the rest of the human race? And, while he was speeding from Shandong Province to Beijing, did it occur to him to check his self-image? Maybe that’s how one becomes an “activist”—by neglecting mercurial mirrors.  

Sources

The New York Times covers Chen’s departure in detail here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/20/world/asia/chen-guangcheng-set-to-leave-china-for-united-states.html

The United States Census Bureau runs its US and World Population Clocks here: 

http://www.census.gov/main/www/popclock.html

The remarkable story of a Philadelphia man finding himself on the internet appears here: 

http://abcnews.go.com/US/philadelphia-man-finds-missing-childrens-site/story?id=16235200

Hollywood, Move Over! Here Comes Chen Guangcheng!

Hollywood, Move Over! Here Comes Chen Guangcheng!                                                                                      

By Meg Curtis

When Chen Guangcheng escaped house-arrest in China, with a brilliant scenario he leapt ahead of Hollywood’s Great Escape writers. On April 22, 2012, he managed his daredevil act while blind. He even broke three bones in his foot—and still outfoxed every hostile pursuer in a population of 1.3 billion.

Right now, Clint Eastwood is probably wondering: Why didn’t I think of that storyline? I could have starred in it, too! 

Chen will surely count among the greats in updates to Steven Novak’s “History’s Ten Greatest Prison Escapes” (http://blog.koldcast.tv/2010/show-news/historys-ten-greatest-prison-escapes/).  Never mind that China considered him a criminal, while the US lauds him as a hero. That double role lies at the heart of Novak’s compelling tales from Nazi death-camps, a Confederate prison, and even Stalin’s gulag.

This self-taught lawyer’s history as a civil rights activist in China also pushes him past the tawdry ingenuity of characters like “Bucky” Phillips. That American escape artist left jail by opening the tin roof of a kitchen with a can opener. “Bucky” was convicted of committing murder while staking out his former girlfriend’s residence (http://www.amw.com/fugitives/case.cfm?id =39219).

By contrast, Chen managed to produce TWO in-wedlock children in a country which outlaws excessive fertility, defined as ONE+. His latest adventures are available here: http://online. wsj.com/article/SB1000142405270230 3630404577387961407270728.html. But this question lurks in the future: If Chen comes to the US, is America ready for a creative thinker this successful at outwitting everybody and his communist brother?   

Cats and Secret Service Culture

Cats and Secret Service Culture

By Meg Curtis

Does your cat mind his own business?  My cat Chopin decided from the beginning that my business means HIS business—and he means business.  Forgive me for using the same word four times in two lines, but this tuxedo cat could teach the Office of Homeland Security their entire business in just a night or two.

That’s exactly how long it takes him to secure my dwelling.  Since he took over, not so much as a gnat walks into this place without Chopin’s prompt notification.  He found one securing a foothold on the wall, and called my attention to this invisible invader immediately.  He signals by waving his white-tipped tail as he simultaneously digs into the molding.

Please notice the advantage that Chopin brings to the practice of his profession.  He doesn’t demand prostitutes.  He accepts the rule they can’t hang out here.  He doesn’t drink alcohol.  He lives onsite, and NEVER charges for airline passage.  He doesn’t fly—unless leaping from  counter to refrigerator counts.  He accepts Purina Fancy Feast as pay, and never complains. 

On the other hand, his coverage of security here shows a remarkable resemblance to the weaknesses of his human counterparts in the US Secret Service.  He’s not secret about his activities.  In fact, you can find him any time you want—getting into trouble.  He hangs out with my dog, and snatches any items not cemented to the counter as a treat for his buddy.

Chopin’s criminal history began with a light bulb.  I awoke to the sound of squeaking teeth on glass.  EEk!  That sound shivered my nervous system!  I turned to look for the source: The dog lay next to me working on his claim to a bright idea.  The more he gnawed, the more I wondered.  He couldn’t have climbed the shelves.  Some scavenger gave that dog a light bulb!

Chopin continues to scavenge through the trash.  He’s not out for garbage—just for plastic that crinkles when he carries it around like an extraordinary mouse, by the tail, of course. He could care less what I place in the trash unless it provides a toy he knows he shouldn’t request.  Then, he thinks economy:  Wouldn’t his tribe serve best where they ask for least?    

Should we call this behavior “Secret Service Culture”?  The two of them work hand-in-glove.  First, the cat identified the stopper in the garbage disposal as a trophy which the dog could chew without killing himself.  Second, the cat stole that stopper every stupid time I turned my back.  Third, the dog wouldn’t return this new benefit of his profession without a fight.

I restrained the dog, applying his choke collar.  I grabbed that stopper and secured it in a drawer which the cat can’t open.  There, I have also secured the dog’s talking ball toy, which won’t shut up until it’s still as a mouse which the cat hasn’t discovered—yet. Taken together, these two toys supply more than enough provocations for incidents which might draw neighbors’ attention.

Chopin’s latest trick involves chocolate—another South American no-no for creatures treated like pets.  He and the dog immediately dive into the groceries, which they check for poison the minute I drag the bags inside the door.  The cat waits until I place the chocolate milk containers on the counter.  Then he attempts to remove the caps—until I secure the contraband in the refrigerator, the Forbidden Land.

So, I know from experience that Secret Service Agents need supervision.  They’re dynamite on the enemy—when the enemy isn’t THEM.  All their skills mean that, at any moment, they can turn into double agents.  They can blackmail me for treats.  If I don’t supply them, you don’t have to worry about prostitutes.  Cats and dogs themselves will raise the roof!

Believe me, Janet Napolitano receives my sympathy in grappling with scandals involving US Security agents in the Homeland or God-knows-elsewhere.  Nevertheless, she doesn’t need to pay two-legged rascals when four-legged security experts go begging at Rescue Missions.  The latter work nearly for free, and know how to be ashamed of themselves.

Lil Red Riding Hood: Update

By Meg Curtis, PhD

The woman stared out of the advertisement at me:  I recognized her immediately.  Piercing eyes and a wicked smile dared me to write what I know about grandmothers and wolves.  The famous folktale drags Lil Red Riding to Grandma’s house relentlessly, where the child expects to find somebody waiting for baked goods—ill and helpless.

Before this story begins, please note that the current Queen of the United Kingdom—Elizabeth II—could brag if she wants about grandmother-hood. I haven’t seen it in the press, if she does.  What achievement does grandmother-hood represent, aside from adding her genes to a pool?  Her own mother—the Queen Mother—never waited for baked goods, so far as I can recall.

So we come to Lil Red Riding Hood skipping along through the woods. First, she’s wearing red to alert every hunter within shot-range that this tourist must not be confused with wildlife.  That’s still the practice, isn’t it, for tourists in wildlife preserves during hunting season?  Only this little girl takes no chances with camouflage—she’s covered from head to knee in the color of blood.

Now, let’s consider the back story villain:  Lil Red Riding Hood’s mother.  Why didn’t she go herself to visit her own mother?  Visits to relatives may be notoriously painful, but that’s no excuse for sending a granddaughter on a mother’s mission.  If this particular grandmother had been ill abed, that woman would have flown there, if need be—assuming Grandma loved her.

Aha!  We now discover the principle of the Double—the shape-shifting at work in both early and sophisticated narratives.  The German Doppelganger, an exact double of a person with usually sinister motives, waits in that bed for that little girl, who does not know what her mother knows.  Grandma may or may not be sick, but she also may be as wicked an enemy as Elizabeth I.

These two queens—Elizabeth I and II—serve as the perfect illustration of doubles.  Both exist over time, but the first proved to be the most powerful monarch in English history; the second preserves the monarchy by never showing her teeth.  Monarchs can be grandmothers, too—but, first and always, they function as symbols of national unity.  Bow or return home.

Skipping along with her basket of goodies, the child covered in blood has already met her future.  She expects to find a pleasant old woman in that bed, lovely with the grace of age.  Instead, Lil Red Riding Hood encounters the truth:  Ancestors rarely go gently into that good night, as Dylan Thomas reminds us in “Do Not Go Gently into that Good Night.”

In fact, Thomas prays that they don’t. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light,” he begs his father in his famous poem.  Children prancing around in the bewilderment of woods, though, do not expect to come smack up against the realities of death and age.  On the contrary, if they do a good deed, they expect reward—a cookie, maybe?—and gratitude—a smile, at the very least.

The famous folktale of Little Red Riding Hood survives because it offers a double perspective, as well as a doppelganger.  Prance down that wood-path with an immature mentality—and you’ll get the surprise of your life when you reach your destination.  On her deathbed and grasping for life, Grandma may be raging, all teeth and eyes.  The wolf has nothing on her.

Walk grimly down that same path with the knowledge of the adult.  Suddenly, Grandma must surrender to the hunter in green, the color always worn by those who remain unseen in woodlands.  He knows wolves, and he knows grandmothers.  Both can be subject to change in a flash from benign to malignant.  Threaten the succession of child to adult, and he appears.

A child like Little Red Riding Hood cannot proceed successfully through the bewilderment of maturity by believing that transformation does not hit us all.  The wolf’s ferocity signals she must change her expectations NOW.  Thus love takes the strangest forms when it wishes to warn us:  Grow up or grow down.  Pack that cape and pay the hunter.  He won’t lie about what you will discover.

For more on Little Red Riding Hood, archetypes, and the doppelganger, please see http://www. wtps.org/wths/imc/pathfinders/archetypes.pdf 

For sixteen different versions of the tale, please see http://www.usm.edu/ media/english/ fairytales/lrrh/lrrhhome.htm

Charlie Sheen Does Colombia?

Charlie Sheen Does Colombia?

By Meg Curtis

Was Charlie Sheen responsible for the Secret Service’s debacle in Colombia?  This question arises because this affair has Charlie Harper’s fingerprints all over it.  Two and a Half Men seems to have turned into Twenty-Three and a Half Goofballs—but that’s only counting through Sunday, April 22. 

During the final episodes of THM’s repetitive plotline, Ladies of the Evening, Afternoon, and Whenever paraded in and out of Harper’s domicile.  Even his nephew became numb to the double entendre and sleazage.  (a new word which blends sleaze and cleavage, as only Sheen/Harper can)

The agent who set off alarm bells in the Hotel Caribe followed Sheen’s favorite routine to the letter.  He advised everyone on everything—and then got into a go-round with the spitting image of his mom.  When will America admit that Charlie Sheen needs a better agent and a better act?  Even psychotics like Rose have their obsessive limits.

It is unfortunate but not beyond understanding how two debacles could occur like anniversaries. On April 3, 2011, Reuter’s David Rooney reported “Charlie Sheen bombs in Detroit debacle.” Rooney quips: “Call it tiger blood or Adonis DNA if you will. Just don't call it entertainment.”

Just one year and eleven days later, this headline appeared in globalpost on April 14, 2012: “Bombs, Secret Service mar Obama's arrival in Cartagena for Americas summit.” America now needs to recognize that, so long as the US Secret Service imitates Charlie Sheen, they can expect similar reviews and fans’ big-time BOOS.

For Reuter’s full rehash of Sheen’s failure, please see  http://www.reuters.comarticle/ 2011/04/03/us-charliesheen-idUSTRE72U7GJ20110403

Globalpost’s full report on Colombia is available here: http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/news/ regions/americas/colombia/120414/colombia-cartagena-bombs-barack-obama-americas-summit

Sarah Palin and Peter Sellers: Some Secret Agent!

Sarah Palin and Peter Sellers:

Some Secret Agent!

By Meg Curtis

042212 Where is Peter Sellers when you need him?  Can’t you just see him playing the role of a not-so-secret agent who posts his ogling routine on Facebook? Does it get any funnier than this? 

Sarah Palin didn’t think so, but she was the ogle-ee, not the ogle-er. 

Showing that leadership training which so many men doubted, on Fox News she simply said to that goofball:  "Well, check this out, buddy -- you're fired!"

Read the full report on Palin’s remarks here:  http://www.foxnews.com/politics/ 2012/04/20/palin-has-message-for-ousted-secret-service-agent-who-oogled-her/

Comedy writers attempting to spoof her response to a goofball secret agent have their work cut out for them. 

To find comparable material, they will need to return to the Pink Panther movies. There, pink didn’t stand for pretty, and it didn’t mean ditzy dame.  It immediately promised movie lovers more of their favorite Ditzy Dude, Inspector Clouseau. 

Ditzy Dude—Isn’t that the only reason a secret agent would post his eyeballing claims to fame on Facebook?

Ditzy Dude—Isn’t that the only reason a secret agent would also add his very own incomparable, original commentary on Facebook?  “I was really checking her out, if you know what i (sic) mean?"  [the agent]  wrote of his assignment guarding Palin, after a friend commented on the picture posted in January 2009.

How have we waited this long for another Pink Panther movie?  But this time, let’s get it out of Colombia, and out of the presidential campaign.  Let’s get it into the theaters where it belongs. 

With this new material and inspiration, the new one to come will surely top them all!   

Sarah Palin can play herself—if somebody can convince her this role is worthwhile.  She’s got the glamour, dialogue, and demeanor to put those goofballs in their place, just as Capucine did in the first series. 

For a list of the top ten Pink Panther movies, check here http://humor.about.com/ od/movies/tp/pink_panther_mo.htm.  Steve Martin starred in the tenth and eleventh Pink Panther movies in 2006 and 2009.

But you can vote here for another choice.  How about John Lithgow? 

Trending: The Dangers of Digital Journalism

Trending:  The Dangers of Digital Journalism

By Meg Curtis

042212 Patrick B. Pexton flashes a warning red light on digital journalism in “The Post Fails a Young Blogger.” Indicting his own publisher, the Washington Post, he reveals a world where journalists must function like computers, or hit the junk pile.

 

Bloggers appear to be in the forefront of this trend.  Pexton describes a young blogger’s work load as typically involving the production of almost six posts each day, with posts reaching a length, perhaps, of five hundred words.

Pexton’s full column appears here:  http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/ elizabeth-flocks-resignation-the-post-fails-a-young-blogger/2012/04/20/ gIQAFACXWT_print.html

According to Pexton, the young blogger’s challenge was not just length.  Plagiarism waited like a shark, ready to pick off the youngest and least experienced writers, who created aggregate articles for blogPost, the Washington Post’s own foray into covering news by blogging.    

Thus, without belaboring this second trend, Pexton reveals not only that traditional papers are under stress to meet competition from the Web, but, in fact, they already no longer exist.  Blogging has already transformed the way the Washington Post covers the news. 

Pexton’s dramatic quotations from Elizabeth Flock supply a much-needed reality check for all working journalists in the digital era.  He notes: ”She said it was only a matter of time before she made a third one [mistake]; the pressures were just too great.”

With this admission, this columnist suggests that journalism, as we know it, has already reached a dead end.  What should be a dream job turned into a nightmare. 

Aggregate sites like the Drudge Report and Slate Magazine have grown even while The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times have struggled to survive.  But at what cost are the aggregates driving the traditional hard press out of business?

Pexton does not lay this contradiction at the door of technology, but this writer will.  It may be marvelous to gape at internet resources now; nevertheless, if the result is too many work products for anyone to create or enjoy, what have we done?

Without blinking an eye, the industry is killing off its up-and-comers.  It is confusing people with machines and giving machines the leadership role which belongs to humans.  When machines can read what machines write, the loop will close.

Whether humans currently stand inside or outside that mechanized communications circle may baffle even those supposedly in-the-know.  If the literacy rate keeps falling, will anyone play the blame game and keep score?  Machines: 1  Humanity:  0