Saturday


So how many hits will I get as a result of using a photograph of Kim Kardashian? It will be an interesting experiment. And it suggests another experiment: Ms. Kardashian is single again, so there is hope for all us sorry, single bachelors. Imagine how many hits Grand Strategy would receive if we tied the knot! Now there's a promotional campaign worth pursuing...

Today is the third anniversary for Grand Strategy: The View from Oregon! Happy Anniversary to me!

I began back in November 2008 with…

Opening Reflection

…celebrated my first anniversary in November 2009 with…

Grand Strategy Celebrates One Year!

…and kept the celebration going in November 2010 with…

Grand Strategy Celebrates Two Years!

Thanks for your readership. I appreciate each and every hit I receive. It has become a great amusement to me to track my hits through StatCounter, and to see what exotic locales around the globe have chanced upon this forum.

In the past year I had a new high day of more than 2,000 hits, and I passed the half million hits mark — still far short of those who write about fashion or Kim Kardashian’s brief marriage or other “trending” topics, but not bad for a philosophical commentary of geopolitics, cosmology, and issues of strictly theoretical interest.

Come back soon!

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Moon among the trees

9 October 2011

Sunday


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Headed Back to Portland

3 October 2011

Monday


I am headed back to Portland after having come to Florida for the 100 Year Starship Study public symposium in Orlando. I’ve chronicled my reactions to the symposium in three posts that I wrote on the evening of each day of the symposium while the events were still fresh in my mind: 100 Year Starship Study Symposium Day 1, 100 Year Starship Study Symposium Day 2, and 100 Year Starship Study Symposium Day 3.

I certainly learned some important lessons. If I ever get the chance to make another presentation, my first question will be, “How much time do I have?” My second question will be, “Do you have any limit on the number of slides that I can use with my presentation?” These are the parameters of public speaking. On a blog one can write as much or as little as one likes. The format is as flexible as one’s inspiration of the moment. When the personal time of others is involved, however, one’s degrees of freedom are constrained. That is a valuable lesson.

While I will not get a second chance to make a first impression, the ideas that I incorporated into my presentation will get a second chance, as one of the requirements for speaking at the 100YSS was to submit a paper, with the intention of the paper to be published in some future number of the Journal of the British Interplanetary Society.

While I was working on my paper and my presentation I conceived a great many ideas that I could not include in my paper, and it would only take me a few months to write it all up in a book-length manuscript if I chose to do so. I may do this eventually, simply because of the intrinsic interest that I have in the ideas, but an earlier lesson learned is that no one buys and almost no one reads the books that I have self-published, so I hesitate to do any more self-publishing except for definitive manuscripts that express my point of view and which I wish to be preserved in some form, regardless of their being commercially non-viable.

I will continue to work on these ideas, since it was my intrinsic interest in the ideas that made me formulate the thoughts in the first place, and this ultimately led to my being present at the 100YSS symposium. As always happens with my philosophical projects, the ideas ultimately “leak” over into other projects, and I have already found important points of connection between these ideas about the moral value of a spacefaring civilization and more general concerns I have in metaphysics and ontology. While this intertextuality of my projects makes it extraordinarily difficult to finish any one project (which is a disadvantage), it also gives a robust philosophical context to any one idea, so that if I am able to give expression to a given idea, I also have a great deal of background material that gives consistent theoretical underpinnings to my work (which is an advantage).

Note added later

In so far as I filled fourteen pages of my notebook during my flights back from Tampa through Atlanta to Portland, the influence of having attended the symposium seems to be “jelling” in my mind and proving fruitful so far. We shall see if any really first class ideas come out of it.

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On my way…

29 September 2011

Thursday


By the primitive expedient of a jetliner I am on my way to the 100 Year Starship Symposium, which will be held this weekend in Orlando, Florida. I will be making a presentation on “The Moral Imperative of Human Spaceflight,” and will also write about whatever else I happen to encounter at the symposium. The symposium has a comprehensive agenda (I suspect that most will view the “religious and philosophical track” as a sideshow), so I looking forward to hearing what others think about the future of spaceflight, and especially the ambitious agenda of travel to the stars.

I expect the other participants will be as eager as I am to see the expansion of life and civilization in the universe, and no doubt there will also be something of an air of impatience with living in a time when this dream is yet beyond our capacity. I would suggest as a motto for the symposium a famous line from Bobby Burns:

Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?

What’s a heaven for? Heaven is a receptacle into which we pour our dreams and visions and ambitions and prophecies. It is a warehouse of hopes… but not merely hopes and dreams. Now, the heavens are more concrete — and more concretely accessible — than ever before. Whereas the heavens were once nearly exclusively the province of mystery, now the skies are an object of knowledge.

For classical antiquity, and possibly before then back into our prehistoric past, the heavens were a place, one place among other places. It was an inaccessible place, but it was a home of the gods who lived more grandly than we do, but still they lived recognizable lives in a recognizable setting. Then western civilization entered its long twilight in which all knowledge was organized theologically, and much that had once been concrete became abstract, ethereal, and almost unimaginable. The heavens were lost to us. All things solid had melted into air.

After the scientific revolution, and especially the work of early cosmologists like Copernicus, Galileo, and Kepler, the heavens once again became solid and concrete. The heavens were still a realm of hopes and dreams, but they also became in addition a real aspiration that was to be fulfilled in the fullness of time. This process continues today, and so it is with concrete hopes and dreams that we can look to the starry heavens above as our future abode.

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There was an article in the New York Times about the 100 Year Starship Study symposium: Offering Funds, U.S. Agency Dreams of Sending Humans to Stars

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Wednesday


Today is the birthday of Jorge Luis Borges, one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, so I wish a very happy birthday to the shade of Borges. The kind of writing that Borges did is a rare treat. He was not only a good writer, an entertaining stylist, and wrote fun stories, but his stories were based on intriguing ideas. When you read a Borges story you are likely to encounter an idea that you would never have thought of on your own, but once you have the idea in mind, it insinuates itself into your thoughts.

Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo, 24 August 1899 to 14 June 1986

This, at least, is what I experienced when I first read Borges, at the urging of a friend who would not let up until I read a Borges story. I am glad in retrospect for his persistence. The first Borges story I read was Funes, The Memorious. This is not among Borges’ better-known stories, and in fact I read a review (I think it was in Time magazine some years ago, so consider the source) of Borges’ collected works in which the author of the review singled out Funes as among the least interesting of Borges’ stories. But it was the first one I read, and therefore it has had an ongoing influence on my thought.

I found it curious that Borges specifically assigned Ireneo Funes an infallible perception of time prior to his acquisition (Is that what we should call it?) of an infallible memory. There is, of course, a relation between time and memory, but, in a sense, an inverse relation. I would think (making of it a thought experiment) that if one had an infallible memory, one would lose track of time, as so much would be noticed that the moments otherwise flying by would be laden with perceptions and associations, so much so that time would drag. Since no one of whom I know has actually had a perfect and infallible memory, this must remain speculation. I have often come back in my thoughts to this Borgesian connection between time and memory (which, I suppose, is also a Proustian connection), and I think that there is much more to be said about this.

At the same time that I read the Funes story, I was reading a book about Homer. The author’s theory in this book was that Homer, traditionally blind (as was Borges), was among the last practitioners of a great tradition of recitation from memory of epic poetry. The author suggested that Homer, in a last, great gesture, expended himself in an especially detailed recitation of the traditional epic that was then taken down for posterity by an amanuensis. Therefore, Homer was blind and illiterate, but through dictation this tradition was preserved just at a time at which oral culture was disappearing due to the advent of literary culture, which would have eventually doomed the tradition that Homer represented.

In Book II of the Iliad, immediately before beginning the recitation of the assembled forces (often called the “catalogue of ships”) — a particularly difficult feat of memory that entails many proper names and fewer of the stock phrases (like “the wine-dark sea”) that made oral epic poetry possible — Homer invokes the Muses for assistance, as he does at the beginning of the epic. Only the immortals, it would seem, have the capacity for such feats of memory.

Robert Greenberg of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music (and serial lecturer for The Teaching Company) says that contemporary listeners don’t know how to understand or appreciate polyphonic music, that they have lost the talent through disuse, and that if one is going to comprehend Palestrina or Bach today, one must school oneself in hearing the intertwining melodic lines. Similarly, literary man has lost the talent of oral epic poetry after the tradition of Homer. But Funes has exceeded Homer. Funes has gone even farther than the Lockean thought experiment in substituting proper names for general concepts, farther than this unworkable conception of thought, which would make language impossible.

Funes, in a sense, then, is like a return to a lost, pre-literary, even pre-conceptual Eden, in which men actually noticed the things they saw because they did not reduce them to words or concepts. (Perhaps Ireneo Funes knew that to see is to forget the name of the thing one sees.) By means of language and then literature, we have been expelled by an angel with a flaming sword from this pre-predicative world, and now must earn our experience by the sweat of our brow. What Adam had for the taking, we struggle to grasp. The reduction of numbers to proper names is a return to a pre-conceptual mathematics, to a tallying of details, an Adamic mathematics. Whether the Fall from Adamic innocence and virtue to explicit and formal knowledge is indeed a Fall, or if it is instead a condition of progress, is in a sense the same question as whether Funes has fallen from our present state of sophistication, or whether he was restored to the mind’s Eden. The Borges story is silent on this point.

Unlike the Funes story, almost everyone is familiar with the Borges story about the universal library (La biblioteca de Babel), as entertaining as it is intriguing. Having heard the idea, one can scarcely stop oneself from occasionally musing on the very thought of it. Quine in his Quiddities calls the universal library a “melancholy fantasy” and goes on in the finest tradition of reductive analytical philosophy to prove that the idea amounts to nothing more than the fact that information can be encoded, and that all we have written down could ultimately be expressed by appropriate concatenations of the dot and dash of Morse code.

Quine is right, of course, but his “explanation” does not dissipate the mystique of the library described by Borges, and anyone who loves libraries will find his mind wandering back to those labyrinthine corridors even after having read Quine. And so it was, musing on this melancholy fantasy, that I hit upon a paradoxical notion. While the universal library is impossibly large, it is nevertheless finite. In a finite library it would seem that there could not be any books of infinite length. However, any long book can be broken into multiple volumes. What is to prevent a book from having an infinitude of continuing volumes, and thus being a book of infinite length?

At some point, the volumes would have to repeat themselves, since possible finite combinations of symbols would be exhausted. But how would the volumes be identified? Each volume would end, “continued in volume such-and-such,” but eventually the number of the volume would be inexpressible within the finite dimensions of the books in the universal library. At this point, alternative conventions for naming numbers could be established, and this puts us in mind of the above-mentioned Funes, the Memorious. The project of Ireneo Funes, a “vernacular superman” (as Borges calls him) with a perfect memory, was to construct a number system with proper names for all numbers, which the narrator of the tale identifies as the opposite of a system of numeration.

On an exhaustive formulation, the vast majority of books in the universal library would consist of gibberish. What would make the library more interesting would be a librarian charged with the task of eliminating volumes of gibberish. However, this task would become controversial. The librarian could safely throw away volumes in which not a single coherent word appears, but one would hesitate to formulate more robust directives, which would force the removal of works by Lewis Carroll and Edward Lear.

Beyond the mere elimination of volumes containing too many (however many that may be) non-words, the task of eliminating volumes in which the arrangement of the words was incoherent would be even more controversial. We could safely exclude volumes containing “too many” failures of syntax (Again, how many are “too many” failures?), but we couldn’t go as far in this regard as we could in eliminating nonsense words, as we would risk excluding point of consciousness narratives. The work of the librarian would reach its apogee of controversy in any attempt to exclude works of semantic or pragmatic incoherence, for any claim in this arena would generate counterclaims ad infinitum. And so, although the universal library is finite in regard to the number of volumes it retains, we can safely predict that it would be infinite in regard to the correspondence it would generate.

¡Feliz cumpleaños Borges!

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Saturday


A couple of years ago I made it to my favorite beach (well, at least one of my favorite beaches) on the Oregon Coast on the very day of the summer solstice, and I called this my Oregon Coast Summer Solstice Celebratory Picnic. I even made a video of the day and put it on Youtube. Last year I wasn’t able to celebrate the solstice on the beach, and this year I’m a bit late, but not too late to enjoy a gloriously sunny day on the Oregon coast.

The beach at Cape Meares is a great place for a picnic because it is covered with the bleached bones of our ancient coastal forests. If you pass through the Coast Range on the way to Tillamook, on the way to the Three Capes Scenic Loop, on the way to Cape Meares, you pass through these forests.

During our heavy winter rains, some trees fall in the forest, and some of these trees fall to the bottom of canyons. Among those that fall to the bottom of canyons, some are caught in a sufficient torrent to drag them them to a river. Among these that float down as far as the river, some are taken further out to the ocean, and among some of them that make to to the ocean, some of these are flung back up on to the beach by the tides.

What this means for the aspiring picnicker, is that the beach has a lot of wood debris, and a lot of that wood debris is sitting high enough up on shore that it is quite dry and perfect for a campfire. The wood debris is also broken up into lots of different sizes, which is also convenient for building and maintaining a campfire.

Cape Meares beach also has a great quantity of stones, out of which one can easily and readily build an area to confine one’s campfire, as well as to provide material to holding up whatever grill or food you attempt to balance over your campfire. An additional virtue of Capes Meares is that, while it has a lot rounded beach rocks, the rocks don’t extend all the way to the ocean (as at Ecola Park, where my parents often took my sisters and me when we were children). There is an enormous expanse of sand, especially when the tide is out, that is great for a long walk on the beach. For this reason, among others, I give five stars to Cape Meares.

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Tuesday


Happy summer solstice!

Today is the first day of summer in the northern hemisphere, when the axial tilt of the earth is most steeply inclined toward the sun.

In Oregon we have been having a wet, rainy, and cool spring. The past part of spring in June before the solstice people expect to begin seeing summer weather, and sometimes they do, but mostly they don’t. Sometimes we even have a cool summer, too. I can remember summers from my childhood when it poured down rain on the 4th of July, spoiling the fireworks in the process, which is the sort of thing that children remember.

Since Oregon’s population has grown rapidly over the past decades, and much of that population growth has come from people moving to Oregon from warmer, sunnier states south of us, there is not a little grumbling to be heard in the late spring when it is still raining and with no sign of the sun. The local newspaper even makes sport of the weather, referring to the “strange orange disk in the sky” when the sun does make an unexpected appearance, but this kind of humor does encapsulate a certain feeling of the sun as an alien presence.

I often tell people that they shouldn’t expect good weather until August. September is often very nice here, and there have been days in early October that I have been to the beaches of the Oregon coast and it was sunny and bright. So, if you should come to Oregon, and you want to see the sun while you’re here, I would recommend August. Don’t expect to show up in June and to see weather like southern California in June.

All the same, this year has been particularly wet. Just yesterday it was overcast most of the day, but for the first summer day itself we have a beautifully sunny day. It is, in fact, a summer day that looks like a summer day.

To celebrate the first day of summer I went canoeing.

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The red skies and steel gray waters of the North Portland Harbor, taken a few days ago from the deck of my house.

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Ernesto Sabato, R.I.P.

30 April 2011

Saturday


Ernesto Roque Sabato, 24 June1911 to 30 April 2011

“Lo admirable es que el hombre siga luchando y creando belleza en medio de un mundo bárbaro y hostil.”

Ernesto Sabato, 24 June1911 to 30 April 2011


Living just short of a century, having been born in 1911, Argentine writer Ernesto Roque Sabato has died at the age of ninety-nine years. Here is the BBC story on his passing: Argentine writer Ernesto Sabato dies, age 99. Here is the story from the Buenos Aires Herald: Sabato: a living legend dies, at the age of 99.

While not well known in the Anglophone world, Sabato’s novel The Tunnel (El Tunel, 1948) has been called an “existentialist classic” and was praised by Camus.

Like many saddled with the “E-word,” and despite the persistent claims of Anglo-American philosophy that existentialism is/was amoral, Sabato was deeply engaged with the life of his times and of his nation, and this was a moral engagement. He was appointed to lead the commission (CONADEP) charged with investigating disappearances and other crimes of the “Dirty War” during the period of Argentina’s military dictatorship.

Sabato’s fame rests primarily upon three novels, but he also wrote essays of a Borgesian flavor, replete with recondite philosophical references. His longish essay, Uno y El Universo, is available online. In fact, Borges and Sabato were brought together by the journalist Orlando Barone in 1974 for an extensive exchange which was published in Conversations à Buenos Aires.

Like many South American writers — and I am not only thinking here of Borges and his Cantorian references, but also Comte de Lautréamont, who invokes mathematics throughout Les Chants de Maldoror — mathematics plays a symbolic role in Sabato’s thought, as though the roughness of the wilderness and the frontier that Sarmiento saw as a challenge and an affront to civilized life invites one to contemplate its antithesis in the refined precision of mathematical concepts. Sabato wrote:

“Existe una opinión generalizada según la cual la matemática es la ciencia más difícil cuando en realidad es la más simple de todas. La causa de esta paradoja reside en el hecho de que, precisamente por su simplicidad, los razonamientos matemáticos equivocados quedan a la vista. En una compleja cuestión de política o arte, hay tantos factores en juego y tantos desconocidos e inaparentes, que es muy difícil distinguir lo verdadero de lo falso. El resultado es que cualquier tonto se cree en condiciones de discutir sobre política y arte — y en verdad lo hace — mientras que mira la matemática desde una respetuosa distancia.”

“There is a widely held view that mathematics is the most difficult science when it is actually the simplest of all. The reason for this paradox lies in the fact that, precisely because of its simplicity, false mathematical arguments are immediately seen as such. In complex questions of politics or art there are many factors involved, and because of the many unknowns and subtle factors, it is very difficult to distinguish the true from the false. The result is that any fool is thought to be able to discuss politics and art — and indeed we do — while looking at mathematics from a respectful distance. ”

Here mathematics goes proxy for the absolute — it is, in fact, a concrete, accessible, and vividly present absolute — and thence symbolizes all purely theoretical endeavors. In one of his last works, Antes del Fin, Sabato wrote of the absolute:

“La dura realidad es una desoladora confusión de hermosos ideales y torpes realizaciones, pero siempre habrá algunos empecinados, héroes, santos y artistas, que en sus vidas y en sus obras alcanzan pedazos del Absoluto, que nos ayudan a soportar las repugnantes relatividades.”

“Harsh reality is a desolate confusion of beautiful ideals and clumsy achievements, but there will always be some diehards, heroes, saints and artists who in their lives and works attain the absolute, which helps us to support the repugnant relativities.”

This is a deeply charitable way to characterize the human achievement so far — beautiful ideals and clumsy achievements — and a writer (equally and no less the thinker) must first of all be charitable to the world in order to learn from it and to reflect the world back upon itself, which is the task of the literary art.

What is charity? In the tradition of Christian civilization, charity is love. To be charitable to the human condition is to love the human condition for what it is. Love of the world is the condition of all elevated thought, often wrongly understood as thought that has rejected or surmounted the world. Thus the absolute seized by a few diehards, heroes, saints, and artists is not attained in spite of the harsh realities of the world, which we accept in the spirit of charity, but because of them.

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Monday


What’s a philosopher to do, alone late at night, with The Absolute on one hand and The Void on the other hand, wracked by existential despair and feeling just a little bit sorry for himself? Well, of course, he should formulate his top ten list of hair metal guilty pleasures. If you don’t know what hair metal is, then don’t ask. You don’t want to know. But I find that after I have indulged I have usually laughed until I have cried, and possess a better appreciation of the ultimate absurdity of the world. For that select fellowship aware of this particular guilty pleasure, and perhaps themselves guilty of past participation, here is my list, in reverse Lettermanesque fashion:

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No. 10 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Vixen’s Edge of a Broken Heart. Girl bands were important in 80s metal, and indeed I saw Girlschool live in Portland, opening for Iron Maiden and the Scorpions. While Girlschool had the music down, they don’t quite qualify as Hair Metal, whereas the girls of Vixen look exactly like the men of Hair Metal bands.

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No. 9 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Aldo Nova’s Fantasy. Now, I’m not certain that Aldo Nova counts as hair metal, and Aldo Nova himself has more like a Princess Di bob than the flowing, permed locks we expect from hair metal, but I include him here as exemplifying the spirit of the times — the leopard-print jumpsuit with cowboy boots guarantees that. Watching Aldo Nova is the metal equivalent of being “RickRoll’D.”

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No. 8 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Masi’s God Promised a Paradise. Alex Masi is a serious guitar player, so I don’t mean to demean his work by calling it hair metal, but one comment on Youtube nails it: “OK, I really like this song, and I’m not knocking it. If you’re into metal or hard rock, you expect a certain level of cheese. Hilarious: 2:36-2:43. First the hair flip, then the ultra-earnest closeup. It’s great!”

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No. 7 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Loverboy’s Turn Me Loose. I must admit that while Loverboy was at the height of their fame I didn’t take them seriously and regarded them as a “puff” band, but this is of course an essential constituent of hair metal. Frontman Mike Reno doesn’t qualify as a hair metal maven, but he does manage a very respectable scream in Turn Me Loose, and the other members of the band sport the requisite hair to qualify.

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No. 6 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is The Scorpions’ Rock You Like a Hurricane, proving that the Germans, too, can do hair metal, though it must be admitted that their hairdos aren’t quite the glorious bouffant styles that one expects from the genre, and one suspects that they need to use a different brand of shampoo and conditioner, though it can be said that it is a very European look.

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No. 5 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Whiteshake’s Still of the Night. If there’s any such thing as a “traditional” hard rock band Deep Purple would have to count as a charter member, and Whitesnake founder and frontman David Coverdale sang for Deep Purple after Ian Gillan, thereby presumably earning his bona fides in pre-hair metal hard rock, but during his Whitesnake years he exemplified the hair metal ethos as perfectly as anyone (despite said previous bona fides).

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No. 4 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Motley Crüe’s Dr. Feelgood. While early Motley Crüe isn’t hair metal in my judgment, by the time the Crüe arrived at Dr. Feelgood they were doing pretty much what the other hair metal outfits were doing, although with their own outrageous sense of “style.”

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No. 3 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Def Leppard’s Photograph. While Def Leppard started out in the vein of a quasi-traditional hard rock band, as the band’s fortunes improved they came to embody every stereotype of the culture industry, producing musical “entertainment” utterly lacking in any musical value. While the song is ostensibly about an unconsummateable obsession with a photograph of Marilyn Monroe (a potentially poignant theme), the viewer is urged to note that the “prop” girls in the video (i.e., the ones in the cages) look like the prop girls in every hair metal video, which is to say that they look like a Patrick Nagel painting and not in the slightest like Marilyn Monroe.

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No. 2 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is Guns-n-Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle. Yes, indeed, Guns-n-Roses is hair metal. Although Axl Rose is more like a unkempt version of The Cult’s Ian Astbury’s stick-straight 70s era hair, the other members of the band unquestionably deliver the hair metal goods.

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No. 1 of the TOP TEN HAIR METAL GUILTY PLEASURES is — drumroll please! — Winger’s Madalaine. Now, for the Number One hair metal spot I could have chosen something that exemplified hair metal to the point that nothing counted at all except the hair, but there is enough residual musical value here that I find I can listen to Madalaine with some level of interest. I did, after all, refer to these as “guilty pleasures” (though I had to force myself to watch a lot of less-than-pleasurable videos in order to compile this list). I couldn’t embed the original video here, so I’m putting a different video below, but if you click on the above link it should take you to the unembeddable video. It is always worthwhile to watch the original hair metal videos as they are careful to put on obvious display all the hackneyed elements you expect to find in a hair metal performance.

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Hair metal lives on courtesy Youtube! Who would have have suspected that twenty-first century technology would allow us to re-live a lapsed historical era with such immediacy, and in the comfort of our homes?

Nietzsche wrote that when he discovered Spinoza that his lonesomeness had become a “twosomeness.” It is an interesting coinage, and now applies to all of us whose only companionship is a computer and an internet connection. With that minimal connection to the world, we have an entire historical era at our fingertips.

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Nature Morte

3 April 2011

Sunday


Today I took the dogs for a walk into the woods, expecting to see (and to photograph) some signs of spring. The air was thick with the scent of skunk cabbage, and I did see them in bloom, but spring seems to be coming late this year.

It has been rather wet, though far from the wettest spring I can remember. While in Portland many cherry trees are in full bloom (I saw several blossoming trees yesterday), here in rural Clatsop County, on the other side of the Coast Range, it is both cooler and wetter and spring comes later.

Though I went looking for signs of spring, I saw more signs of death left over from the previous year (and sometimes from a hundred years previously, as in the case of the old growth cedar stumps that are still scattered around the woods) than signs of new life from this year.

The signs of death were everywhere I looked — dead leaf litter covering the ground, dead leaves at the bottom of a puddle in the road, dead branches littering the road, and a rich mass of decomposing conifer needles under the trees, slowly and silently transforming themselves in loam.

One might formulate this distinction between new life and old death as the distinction between natura naturans and natura naturata. And while I few tender shoots of new growth poked up from the death littering the ground, natura naturata definitely predominated over natura naturans.

The biomass covering the forest floor will soon feed the new growth of life. The lifeless husk will feed the next generation of life in a recursive food chain that is the true Great Chain of Being. Life comes from death; death comes from life. Natura naturans comes from natura naturata; natura naturata comes from natura naturans.

And for Chloe the outing was a pure joy.

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