Handicapping

How strong would a Gore-Obama ticket be for the Democrats in 2008? Obama isn’t seasoned enough to win right away, I think, but he’ll strengthen any ticket on which he appears. Gore won in 2000 before the Bush legacy was as manifestly catastrophic as it is now. He’s used the interim to shore up his image; unlike Kerry, he doesn’t have “loser” plastered all over him, and he shows a genuine sense of chastened humor about the whole debacle. If he ran on the platform of “This time, let me help you out of this mess,” with the charismatic Obama as his running-mate (Obama for President then in 2012 or 2016), wouldn’t that look like a shoo-in for the Democrats? I don’t quite understand why they’re bothering with flirtations from Evan Bayh, Hilary Clinton, or back-from-the-dead John Kerry (thanks for the link, Kevin! I voted for the boys).

Temps Trouvé

So yesterday I reconnected with Mike and Jeneane, and today I’ll pick up a couple of threads with David and Tom. All that’s lacking would be a stinging observation from the Tutor and an argument with Mike Sanders.

So to return to Tom, the challenge (he politely calls it a “quibble”) that he poses at the end of his review submits that “it’s safe to say that there are many, many features of written language that can be identified, logged, quantified, in a manner that most (one can’t say “all,” ever) people would find nothing to disagree with. We can count the “Q’s” in a poem and arrive at a total – and, pace AKMA’s pains to assure us that one never reads the same Q twice, there’s a literal identity that subtends the manifestations of that and every other member of the alphabet that cannot be elided by attending to differences such as whether the Q is in print, or handwritten, etc.” On the basis of this premise, he reminds me that “there is reason to have faith in the utility of a distinction between description — as per the Trivium — and interpretation”

My response will probably not, alas, set his mind at ease. I’m entirely comfortable distinguishing description from interpretation, and proposing examples of each that contrast sharply with one another. I’d still argue, though, that the distinction I proposed was not more durable than the consensus that backs it up. Since as Tom allows, “one can’t say ‘all,’ ever,” what do we make of the dissenters who claim that there are two “Q” in “Not Ideas about the Thing
but the Thing Itself
”? Well, we can start by saying they’ wrong, but we already knew that we thought that, and so did they; that doesn’t advance our understanding of anything (even if it be true). Rather, we can learn by noting the scope and characteristics of the set of all people who believe there is but one Q in “Not Ideas. . .” and comparing them to the scope and characteristics of the set of all people who think there are two. Such comparisons, often not worth much more time than a few seconds, can justifiably issue in claims such as “As far as we’re concerned, there just plain is one Q in ’Not Ideas. . . ,” and there’ an end on’t.” or even “It’s a fact.” But where people disagree over what a fact is, we have to come back to acknowledging that our claims about facts aren’t self-authenticating; they differentiate “us” (for whom it’s a fact) from “them” (who for whatever reason, delusion, insanity, blinkered pig-ignorance, or sometimes an uncommon insight, dispute our claim). So yes, sure, there’s a difference between description and interpretation. But precisely where we want it to do some work for us, when we want to explain to some confused person that we’re describing and they’re interpreting, the distinction does us no good.

On a related note, I was emailing back and forth with David while he was preparing this morning’s post, and at the same time as he was writing “Nature is just about all joints. How we carve depends on our interests, intentions and culture,” I was emailing him the following questions:

If Everything is Miscellaneous, doesn’t that mean that taxonomies aren’t intrinsic to things? And if taxonomical tags don’t subsist in things, but they’re taxonomized based on relationships that people imagine and (by acting upon) put into practice, might one not apply the same reasoning to. . . words and meaning?

David sees a difference in the cases, a difference foretold by his qualifying “just about all joints.” Maybe after he gives his presentation, and I finalize my course proposals for Seabury’s new improved curriculum (with mostly the same courses extended to a semester each, but which require all new course proposals), we can clarify the ground we don’t share.
Continue readingTemps Trouvé

Blessings!

I confess that as my network of acquaintances in Blogaria expanded, and as the frequency with which Mike Golby blogged declined, I lost track of him — dropping by only on those rare occasions when I worked systematically through my bookmarks or blogroll. You young’uns won’t remember some of the long, dark nights of the soul through which Mike narrated us, but take my word that Mike has been there and back, more than once, and he brought us along with him (and with him we survived South Africa’s deadly traffic out there on Highway 61).

So when I saw that Jeneane was pointing again to Mike, with great good news of his family, I took a deep breath and revisited the halcyon days of Pagecount. It brought back a lot — the whirlwind of those early Blogarian communiques, with darts of imagination and wit flashing around the world at the speed of hyperlinks, seasoned with the strange exhilaration of discovery, of finding wild souls whose associations redefined “free.”

Congratulations, Mike — not just on the occasion of the wedding, but on all that went before it, all that it’s cost you, and all that overrides the costs and bursts forth in joy and grief and love and death and truth, oh truth, and glory. Congratulations, and thank you, and bless you, Mike. Missed you, man.

Irrecollection

I must be wrong, but I thought the reason the Democrats nominated John Kerry for President in 2004 was that he was “electable.”


After reading David’s comparison of Bush and Kerry on Iraq, I realized that I should stipulate that I’m not the least bit sympathetic with those who would distract their critics by magnifying the impropriety of whatever Kerry might have said or intended; I’m ruefully intrigued, though, by the use and effects of the term “electable.”

Most Reverend Web -2.0?

This coming Saturday, the Episcopal Church will invest Katherine Jefferts Schori as the Presiding Bishop, the U.S. primus inter pares (“first among equals”) bishop, and the Episcopal News Service will webcast the service. So far, so good.

The possibly web-retrograde element concerns the ENS’ request that interested parties pre-register for the webcast. The preregistration supposedly will not affect whether an individual can see the investiture; it’s just to help estimate how much bandwidth ENS will need.

That sounds plausible but it misses a whole array of points. First, it shifts the locus of uncertainty away from one part of the enterprise (“How much bandwidth will we need?”) to another (“How many people will want to watch the service without pre-registering?”) in a way that doesn’t diminish the cumulative uncertainty more than a hair or two — especially since the unknown number of spontaneous Saturday-morning viewers will be choosing from a variety of bandwidth options at unpredictably varying rates. And the concern that “[we] be good stewards” of bandwidth* suggests that the event coordinators have decided to spend sizeable sums on the countless different elements of the service (including a satellite uplink), but to shave costs on the webcast.

The reasoning sounds all inside-out to me; I’ll be curious to hear how the arrangements play out Saturday. Not so curious that I’m likely to pass up “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” to check the webcast, but curious nonetheless.

*This made me want to whip up a variety of bumper stickers and buttons with slogans such as “Save Endangered Bandwidth” or “Recycle Used Bandwidth.”

Dog-Eared Corner

I noted a heap of ideas for blogging yesterday on various scraps of paper — one in particular, for which my working title is “excremental semiotics,” will surely come to expression here sometime — but first I have to acknowledge the care with which Tom Matrullo read Faithful Interpretation. He gives the sort of kindly attentive and geenrous account of the book for which a writer (especially one whose efforts to think hard thoughts doesn’t always, as Frank points out, come to lucid expression) can only shout, “Hallelujah! Amen!” Not only does Tom make a marvelously helpful case for the book as a whole, but ha also gently offers to dry my socks by bringing my stocking feet closer to the fire of his critical interrogation. I promise to address your questions directly, Tom, but (for very much more than just a glowing review) I must above all else say, “Thank you, Tom, very very much.”

I Hate It When That Happens

Yesterday afternoon I went through some digital gymnastics to get my main computer back online. It turns out that the process of backing up and restoring my data with Carbon Copy Cloner somehow rendered my login account dysfunctional. I could log in to the cloned data on my external drive, but when the [same] data was transferred to my main computer, I couldn’t log in. I found a Unix hack for tricking the Mac into thinking I had never walked through the process that creates my login profile, so that it would make a new user profile for me — but the process hung in the middle, so that I suspect I had hosed the whole deal.

Wiped the hard drive, re-cloned the back-up, then this time tracked down my original install disk, found the clever option for changing a user’s password, changed my password to what I thought it already was, and hey, presto! Back in business.

Booted the newly-restored computer, and started up my Mail application, which I had carefully avoided using, because I wanted my mail to download to my main computer, not to download mail to my school-issued computer. I had been using the online Gmail interface for the week my main was under repair;it was clunky and slow, I fell behind in my communication because I dislike using the web interface, but I had finally gotten everything sorted out.

Then I noticed that I had mistakenly booted the backed-up version of my data, and after a week of painstaking reservation I had just downloaded all my mail to the wrong computer.

You Be The Judge

Margaret and I each had a dramatic and unexpected encounter yesterday; which was more extraordinary? You be the judge!

Margaret was sitting at the Mad Hatter, sipping her afternoon tea and studying for her comprehensive exams, when she started shooting me a series of questions. “Have you seen any pictures of Christian Laettner lately?”
“Does he have gorgeous locks?”
“He’s incredibly tall, right?”
“Would he be in Durham at a power brokers meeting?”

Yes, Margaret had a close encounter with the [apparently] devastatingly-handsome hero of the 1992 Duke-Kentucky game in the NCAA East Regionals. Apparently he and other principals in Blue Devil Ventures patronize the Mad Hatter frequently. So Margaret’s entry in this competition involves having a table adjacent to a former NBA, Olympic, and college basketball star, currently an entrepreneur/realestate developer with “gorgeous locks.”

Mine? Well, yesterday afternoon, shortly after I conversed with Margaret about her close encounter with greatness, I was sitting in the dining room when my attention was drawn to a fluttering sound above me. I looked up, expecting to see a bat — but instead, a sparrow was flying around our first-floor ceiling. It perched, first on our hutch, then the light fixture, then a window ledge, and so on around the first floor. Pippa and I ingeniously maneuvered the bird into the kitchen, then out the back boor, but until after it spent a few minutes roosting in the silverware basket — so we’re washing every blessed item from the basket. The bird got out, though, and that’s our exciting encounter from yesterday.

Christian Laettner, or indoor sparrow?
Continue reading “You Be The Judge”

Restoration

The MacBook Pro is back from the repair depot in Texas; in order to remedy my Random Shutdown syndrome, they replaced fans on the right and left sides, and gave me a new battery. That makes sense — I hadn’t heard the fans kick in for weeks. They wiped the hard drive in the process, so I’m glad I had backed it up before I took it in. Right now I’m updating the system software (I had been up to 1.4.8 when I brought it in, but it came back back-graded to 1.4.6); once all my data has been restored, I’ll testify to the efficacy of the repairs.
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Gender Vexation

I’m thinking ahead to teaching my Beautiful Theology (online)/“Meaning and Ministry” (Seabury) course, considering what I’d like us to read. The reading list poses a problem because (a) I’m inclined to want to read too much, and (b) the keystone texts I want to read are all by White men. Now, if I cared to argue about this, I’d point out that there’s nothing quite like to Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics or Edward Tufte’s Envisioning Information that I can assign to even things out.

Some of the essays in Questions of Evidence spotlight the relation of gender to communication, but none of the editors is a woman. My essays pertain, but alas! I’m not a woman either. Graham Hughes’s Liturgy as Meaning meant the world to me when I bumped into it, but whoops, he’s a man. I have’t read Sam Wells’s Improvisation: the Drama of Christian Ethics, but I have noticed that he’s notably male. René Magritte? Surrealist man. Steve Ross’ Marked and Fred Sanders’s theological comics exemplify some of what I want to say — whoops, they’re not women. Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home provides a brilliantly provocative text for our study, OK, there’s one (but not explicitly theological). I expect I’ll assign some essays by Henry Louis Gates, Luce Irigaray, Julia Kristeva, Jane Tompkins — but since one of my students assiduously counts book spines and evaluates courses on this gross but revealing index of feminist-friendliness, I’d like to connect with at least one other book that’s officially, completely, by a card-carrying woman.
Continue reading “Gender Vexation”

Continuing Shutdown

Whatever the part is that’s on order at Apple’s repair depot, it hasn’t come in yet: seven days and counting. Whether my MacBook Pro had an exotic problem for which parts are not readily available, or a problem so common that they’ve run out of parts, I’m getting fidgety.