Recently, Going Out Guru Julia reviewed the Borf show, The Consolation of Ruin, running through this weekend. The show, in an empty building on North Capitol Street, exhibits graffiti and multi-media stuff.
I usually like reading the GOG column, and while this piece was interesting, I couldn’t help but think that Julia was overly impressed with the whole Borf thing. She seemed infatuated with the “anarchy” of it all, and all but thrilled that she had to be blindfolded and led into the building.
That’s all okay with me. No accounting for taste. But then she writes that the show contains, among other things, a “pretty cool riff on the famous Eddie Adams execution photo made out of smiley-face stickers.”
I had to read that again to make sure I understood: yep. She said it. A “pretty cool riff.” Cool? COOL? COOL? Julia, what the hell is wrong with you? There is nothing romantic or cool or funny or ironic or anarchistic or radical or chic about this picture, about this death. The Borf Brigade appropriated it to use in their little side show of naval-gazing suburban angst because they are ignorant and self-centered. Julia, you should be ashamed of yourself for giving it any kind of credit.
So what’s this Borf show all about? Unless you’ve been under a rock for the past few years, you know who Borf is. John Tsombikos was arrested in 2005 for spraying paint all over DC, and now owes DC twelve thousand bucks. The Borf Brigade hopes to raise money to help him pay his fine.
Tsombikos (and his Borf Brigade friends) is an artist. What’s more, he’s a protestor, and an anarchist, with important thing to say! Things like “grownups are obsolete” and, as the Washington Post reported in 2005, Borf “…doesn't believe in the state, capitalism, private property, globalization. Most of all, he doesn't believe in adulthood, which he considers ‘boring’ and ‘selling out.’”
I’m not sure if by “doesn’t believe in” he means that he doubts these are real things (sorry, Borf, they do exists), or he simply doesn’t like them.
I suspect it’s the first, because it couldn’t possibly be the second: Borf grew up in Great Falls, pays (or did) to attend the Art school at the Corcoran, apparently eats food and wears clothes, and even drives a car, and the spray paint he uses doesn’t grow on trees. All these things, plus the huge amount of free time and the freedom to come and go as he pleases, are all the products of “the state, capitalism, private property, globalization,” and yes, most definitely, “adulthood.”
Sorry, Borf (and your brigade), you’re a hypocrite.
Like all anarchists, Borf wants to believe that he supports the oppressed and down-trodden, the workers and the poor. But these are the very people who do things like go to work every day at places like spray paint factories so he can have something to steal from paint stores, where other working people work. You know why they work? So they can eat. And pay rent. (Steal enough paint, Borf, and they won’t have jobs any more.) Not everyone grew up in Great Falls, Borf.
And then people like me and the Metro bus driver and the bar tender and the bookstore owner and the minister and the paper seller and the packer truck driver and everyone else who lives in DC (but ironically, no one who lives in Great Falls) have to pay to have Borf’s spray paint washed off or covered up.
Borf Brigade, why not go out and study drawing and painting, and maybe a little history and literature while you’re at it, and then spend a few years working really, really hard learning to make the best art you can while trying to earn a living. Or, is hard work and studying and paying your own goddamn way also things anarchists don’t believe in?
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Senator Coo-coo Bananas Hates Rachel Carson
Senator Tom “Coo-coo Bananas” Coburn, who, according to Wikipedia, has said that he favored the death penalty for doctors who perform abortions and that homosexuality was the biggest threat to America, and said that television had sunk to “an all-time low” when NBC decided to air Schindler’s List, “with full-frontal nudity, violence and profanity,” describing it as “...irresponsible sexual behavior...I cringe when I realize that there were children all across this nation watching this program”, has threatened to block a bill to honor Rachel Carson, author of Silent Spring and advocate of environmental protection.
Now, suddenly, Coburn has concern for 2 million people that die each year from malaria, which, he claims, could be wiped out by DDT. He squarely places blame for all these deaths on Carson.
If he’s so concerned with the loss of innocent life, why doesn’t he, a U.S. Senator, use his power and influence to do something about it? There are innocent people dying every day all across the world, from car bombs and rockets and small arms fire and starvation and genocide to HIV/AIDS, dysentery, and malaria. Take your pick, Senator, and propose something!
Instead of blocking a bill that honors a respected writer and scientist, he should propose legislation to end poverty, the biggest contributing factor to malaria. That’s a tall order, but for someone who knows everything and is morally correct on all issues, it should be simple enough.
And his argument about DDT and malaria is ridiculous. We used to have malaria right here in DC, but it’s been gone for a long time. A clean environment, sanitary conditions, suitable housing, clean drinking water, a reliable food supply, pavement instead of mud-puddles, are what help eradicate malaria. DDT can be part of that strategy (even Rachel Carson saw a use for DDT), but it’s disingenuous to think that only DDT is necessary.
Coburn doesn’t like Carson because he sees her as a left wing environmental crusader whose book helped bring about the Environmental Protection Agency, stricter environmental laws, and the U.S. ban on the use of DDT. While he’s a medical doctor, Coburn doesn’t believe in science, instead allowing his right wing political agenda to cloud any small amount of logical thinking his brain may be capable of. (To his credit, but only a small amount of credit, he did call for the firing of Alberto Gonzales.)
I don’t think it matters whether the senate honors Rachel Carson or not. Her work speaks for itself. Coburn makes himself look foolish, and only makes Rachel Carson’s calm reasoning, clear writing, and good science look even better by comparison.
Now, suddenly, Coburn has concern for 2 million people that die each year from malaria, which, he claims, could be wiped out by DDT. He squarely places blame for all these deaths on Carson.
If he’s so concerned with the loss of innocent life, why doesn’t he, a U.S. Senator, use his power and influence to do something about it? There are innocent people dying every day all across the world, from car bombs and rockets and small arms fire and starvation and genocide to HIV/AIDS, dysentery, and malaria. Take your pick, Senator, and propose something!
Instead of blocking a bill that honors a respected writer and scientist, he should propose legislation to end poverty, the biggest contributing factor to malaria. That’s a tall order, but for someone who knows everything and is morally correct on all issues, it should be simple enough.
And his argument about DDT and malaria is ridiculous. We used to have malaria right here in DC, but it’s been gone for a long time. A clean environment, sanitary conditions, suitable housing, clean drinking water, a reliable food supply, pavement instead of mud-puddles, are what help eradicate malaria. DDT can be part of that strategy (even Rachel Carson saw a use for DDT), but it’s disingenuous to think that only DDT is necessary.
Coburn doesn’t like Carson because he sees her as a left wing environmental crusader whose book helped bring about the Environmental Protection Agency, stricter environmental laws, and the U.S. ban on the use of DDT. While he’s a medical doctor, Coburn doesn’t believe in science, instead allowing his right wing political agenda to cloud any small amount of logical thinking his brain may be capable of. (To his credit, but only a small amount of credit, he did call for the firing of Alberto Gonzales.)
I don’t think it matters whether the senate honors Rachel Carson or not. Her work speaks for itself. Coburn makes himself look foolish, and only makes Rachel Carson’s calm reasoning, clear writing, and good science look even better by comparison.
Friday, May 18, 2007
How to Shop for Wine
The thing about buying wine is that you’re not drunk yet when you’re doing it. This makes it rather difficult to grab whatever rot gut is cheapest and go on your merry way because your unaddled brain allows reason to cloud your judgment: “If this bottle is only $2.95,” you say to yourself, “there’s a good likelihood it contains something I would rather not drink, like antifreeze. Or goat urine.”
A $4.99 bottle might only contain rat hair or cockroach antennae, you reason, not as bad as the cheaper bottle, but still not pleasant. You continue reasoning on up the price scale: $6.99 probably just has dirt in it, $8.99 might be reasonably poison free but it’s probably made from something other than grapes, $10.99 must taste like gym socks, etc.
On up the pricing scale you go, until you are left with a wine from some unpronounceable French maison in the most expensive Appellation of France. And you can’t afford to buy that. So you leave, empty handed.
This is the problem I constantly run into while shopping, sober, at my little wine store on U Street next to The Ellington. They have a whole array of seemingly good wines at low prices all of which I’m scared to buy because of my unreasonable fear of blindness or hair loss or premature death.
There’s only one obvious solution to this problem, but it takes quite a bit of planning on my part. First, I must keep a half finished bottle of wine on hand in our apartment, a cheap bottle I purchased previously. I call this my “priming” bottle. Since I drank half of it before with no ill effects (except, of course, drunkenness), I know it’s safe to drink. So I polish off that bottle. But I must open a second bottle, because such habits indulged in frequently quickly build up mighty tolerances. I drink off half of that bottle, and then, thoroughly sloshed, I’m adequately prepared to go wine shopping. Off I go to my wine store, buying anything I want, because my reasoning now goes like this: “they don’t know whadahell they’re doing in this-here store, they got all the prices screwed hic! screwed hic! screwed hic! wrong. Mustuv left off some zeroes or somethin’.” In my inebriation, the inexpensive bottles seem quite the deal! You might be thinking to yourself that the opposite might be true, as well, that I could just as easily buy an expensive bottle using the same reasoning, but I’ve found this not to be an issue. Even drunk, I’m still a cheap bastard. And so I buy another bottle, take it home, set out a couple glasses, and pass out.
When I again decide to buy wine, I have waiting for me my half-full “priming” bottle and a second full bottle, and the circle is complete. I must admit, it’s not everyone’s idea of a good time, and it’s not even my idea of a good time, but it beats the hell out of drinking goat urine. Or, at least I think.
A $4.99 bottle might only contain rat hair or cockroach antennae, you reason, not as bad as the cheaper bottle, but still not pleasant. You continue reasoning on up the price scale: $6.99 probably just has dirt in it, $8.99 might be reasonably poison free but it’s probably made from something other than grapes, $10.99 must taste like gym socks, etc.
On up the pricing scale you go, until you are left with a wine from some unpronounceable French maison in the most expensive Appellation of France. And you can’t afford to buy that. So you leave, empty handed.
This is the problem I constantly run into while shopping, sober, at my little wine store on U Street next to The Ellington. They have a whole array of seemingly good wines at low prices all of which I’m scared to buy because of my unreasonable fear of blindness or hair loss or premature death.
There’s only one obvious solution to this problem, but it takes quite a bit of planning on my part. First, I must keep a half finished bottle of wine on hand in our apartment, a cheap bottle I purchased previously. I call this my “priming” bottle. Since I drank half of it before with no ill effects (except, of course, drunkenness), I know it’s safe to drink. So I polish off that bottle. But I must open a second bottle, because such habits indulged in frequently quickly build up mighty tolerances. I drink off half of that bottle, and then, thoroughly sloshed, I’m adequately prepared to go wine shopping. Off I go to my wine store, buying anything I want, because my reasoning now goes like this: “they don’t know whadahell they’re doing in this-here store, they got all the prices screwed hic! screwed hic! screwed hic! wrong. Mustuv left off some zeroes or somethin’.” In my inebriation, the inexpensive bottles seem quite the deal! You might be thinking to yourself that the opposite might be true, as well, that I could just as easily buy an expensive bottle using the same reasoning, but I’ve found this not to be an issue. Even drunk, I’m still a cheap bastard. And so I buy another bottle, take it home, set out a couple glasses, and pass out.
When I again decide to buy wine, I have waiting for me my half-full “priming” bottle and a second full bottle, and the circle is complete. I must admit, it’s not everyone’s idea of a good time, and it’s not even my idea of a good time, but it beats the hell out of drinking goat urine. Or, at least I think.
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