The Thinker

Two brief movie reviews

The Maze Runner

There have been a number of books and movies where cruelty to children is the main theme. The Maze Runner is sort of a combination of the book Lord of the Flies mixed with The Hunger Games. As sickening as The Maze Runner is at times, you might say it is a lite version of both this book and these movies.

The premise though is kind of interesting, if more than a bit disgusting. In case you missed the trailers, about fifty adolescent boys seem to be trapped in the center of a large maze. In its center, which doesn’t look like it is more than a square mile, they can live a Spartan sort of existence based on mutual cooperation. Except for one gap in the wall, which closes with sundown they are trapped inside. This gives them incentive to explore the maze during the day. This maze though does not stay static and changes daily. If you don’t make it out by sundown, you are presumed dead. The concrete walls of the maze press together, killing anyone unfortunate enough to be between the walls at the time.

Once a month a new male teen is delivered via an underground elevator, his past conveniently erased. He is forced to join the tribe. The latest one is Thomas (Dylan O’Brien) who quickly has to fit in among the established pecking order. Things have been scary but sort of all right in the center of the maze, but Thomas’s arrival seems to upset the apple cart. A teen gets “suckered” (goes crazy in the woods) nearly killing Thomas. Huge cyborg spiders that hang out in the maze begin to do so during the daylight, making going into the maze all the chancier. Thomas joins the elite group of runners of the maze and quickly decides they must confront their worst fears and the spiders inside it and actually escape. The unusual delivery of a girl Teresa (Kaya Scodelario) with a note makes this perfectly clear. Just in case they don’t take it seriously, a cyborg spider attack occurs during the day, which kills most of them. This makes actual escape an imperative.

The movie is well done, the acting is generally good and the premise is creepy. It’s pretty obvious though that they are the rats in this maze and their days are numbered. The only real question is who is inflicting this misery on them and why? Your curiosity will be rewarded at the end of the movie, but your patience may be tested when you get to the end you realize this movie is first of what looks like many more.

Being inhumane to children seems to be a new profitable Hollywood theme as actual child abuse is against the law. This movie is simply another one and actually less grisly than the many Hunger Games movies. My sensitive stomach found it hard to watch anyhow. It’s well done, it just doesn’t really satisfy the itch for a satisfying conclusion. 3.2 out of 4-stars.

Rating: ★★★¼ 

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

How much you like this last movie in the bloated three-part movies based on JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit will probably depend on what you thought of the first two. This is more of the same, but is actually reasonably entertaining. It’s just that it is not too easy to reconcile the movie with the actual book, if you have read it.

Thankfully, it has been thirty years or more since I read The Hobbit, so I forgot many of the details, thus I didn’t mind too much that so many plot points had changed. What you really get of course is Peter Jackson’s interpretation of Middle Earth and that requires entertainment and you get plenty of that. So it’s showy, bloated, way over the top, full of CGI and gives plenty of screen time to ancillary characters that never appear in the book itself, including more interspecies love between dwarf and elf, something of a father-daughter relationship between Legolas and Tauriel, and battle scenes that I admit are at least as compelling as the siege of Minas Tirith from The Return of the King. You also get little Peter Jackson signature items, like the invincible Legolas and his amazing abilities to defy gravity as well as lots of collapsing stone pillars, towers and bridges. Clearly these were constructed with low bid contracts because it doesn’t take much to turn them into rubble. You get to witness the awesome power of a dragon (Smaug) as he lets loose his fiery mouth on the town of Dale and watch Thorin descend into gold fever once Smaug is gone and those hordes of treasure are his.

The best parts of the movie though have nothing to do with these massive, mostly CGI-generated battle scenes, but those that are not part of the book itself, such as when an imprisoned Gandalf is rescued by Saruman, Elrond and Lady Galadriel at Dol Goldur. There we get to see the Ringwraiths again and watch Saruman (a near ninety-something Christopher Lee) kick some serious ass back when he was still a force for good. Most of the rest though is formulaic but at least comfortable as you pretty much get exactly the sort of Peter Jackson experience you expect. Jackson’s many movies now feel homey. They may be bloated but they are at least familiar.

Your feelings about Jackson are unlikely to change from watching this movie, but if you watch this last movie you at least get your money’s worth and see Jackson come close to reviving his best efforts from the original movies.

3.3 out of 4 stars.

Rating: ★★★¼ 

 
The Thinker

The rationality of altruism

It’s Christmas time so this being America of course there are going to be people who will object to it. One such person is Peter Schwartz. On December 19 he wrote an op-ed published in The Washington Post. Schwartz was bemoaning the whole charity thing as something evil. If only we could celebrate rational self-interest instead, he opines. Being a distinguished fellow at the Ayn Rand Institute, of course that’s what Peter would prefer to do:

A “season of trading” would make better sense than a “season of giving.” The central principles could be summarized as: Give when it’s in your interest to do so. Give because someone deserves it, not simply because he or she needs it. Don’t sacrifice yourself for others, and don’t ask others to sacrifice for you.

I don’t like to repeat myself too much about Ms. Rand, since I have written about Objectivism a couple of times, here and here among likely other posts. The good news is that Mr. Schwartz does appreciate the holiday season in his own way. Schwartz writes:

I love to see the twinkling lights adorning our houses and streets, the delightfully inventive displays in store windows, the Santas greeting enthusiastic children. I wholeheartedly join in when yuletide songs are being sung. I’m happy to attend parties that evoke the holiday spirit.

Ain’t that sweet of him. But rather than celebrate the virtue of selflessness during the holidays, which Schwartz considers a flaw, he would rather celebrate a “season of trading”. So, of course, did Wall Street this week, which is celebrating rational self-interest by having the DJIA pass 18,000. From Schwartz’s perspective, that’s the true meaning of the holidays.

I guess Schwartz and I have different criteria for rational self-interest. I would think using his criteria that there would be no rational reason to donate blood. It will almost certainly go to someone you don’t know. Worse, you won’t get paid anything more than some cookies for donating a pint of your precious bodily fluids. Should I need some surgery I could perhaps pay some people to donate their blood. That would be in our mutual self-interest. Given enough lead-time I could even donate my own blood and have it thawed out for the date of surgery.

This hypothetically perfect system would break down though if I had some sort of major accident where I was wheeled into an emergency room unconscious. My life would literally hang on the charity of others. It’s for these sorts of reasons that I happily donated blood. I’d still be donating today had the standards not been tightened. In 2002 I was told they detected Human T-cell lymphotropic virus (both I and II) antibodies in my blood. I most likely got it from my mother during breastfeeding since I don’t use illegal intravenous drugs and am not known for sleeping around, but it now disqualifies me from giving blood. But if everyone practiced rational self-interest the way Schwartz does, there would be a lot of unnecessarily dead people.

Today being Christmas somewhere nearby, probably in Reston Virginia, an eight year old boy has opened his presents. Among them will be a soccer ball and a little toy helicopter, which came with alkaline batteries that I inserted into the box (they were not supplied). I will never meet the boy but I do know that he would not be getting these presents that he had asked for had I not signed up for the Secret Santa program at my church. I was out about $50 for these presents, and since I am on a fixed income this was certainly not in my rational self-interest. But crazily, I did it anyhow, did so gladly and plan to do so again in future years, as I have done in many previous years too.

I do it in part because having some poor child be more miserable on Christmas of all days strikes me as cruel. While I am no distinguished fellow of the lofty Ayn Rand Institute, it strikes me that cruelty is a concept Objectivists simply don’t get. To get cruelty, you first have to understand empathy, and if you are incapable of empathy unless it affects your rational self-interest, then it must be something of a hypothetical concept. It must not be something that millions of people experience on a daily basis and which causes them great pain and suffering. It’s either that or you do get it but just don’t care, which to my mind is much worse.

It was perhaps in the rational self-interest of my many teachers to teach me skills that made me successful. After all, they earned a salary. But it was not in any of my teachers’ self interest to go the extra mile with me, to impart their love of learning or to help me persevere in my studies when I wanted to give up. Yet it was particularly these teachers that imparted true learning because they connected the outside world with the person I am on the inside. They personalized and tailored learning so that I could succeed. I am inexpressibly grateful to these teachers for helping me succeed. I simply could not have done it by myself.

In real life of course that’s how people succeed. It is based not on just how hard they work or how creative they happen to be but on how well others have communicated the learning and the relational human skills that allowed them to succeed. There is a reason it is harder for those from poor families to work their way into the middle class or genuine prosperity. It is because they exist in environments that overall are not nurturing. Parenthood is the ultimate experience in altruism. An altruistic parent spends a good part of twenty years or more and substantial amount of their treasure to help someone succeed. No one has a child to live off his or her earnings.

We give to those who have less because it complements our better nature. We all succeed on the backs of others and their willingness to carry us, at least for a time. This happens not from rational self-interest, but from exercising the unseen muscle called caring and empathy and their many dimensions. These include caring not just for family but for all, even those we cannot help directly. I believe that doing so is entirely rational: we end up with a world less hurtful, more vibrant, more whole, more human, more just and more enriching than if we only looked out for Number One. Jesus taught us this (and he was one of many) more than two thousand years ago.

It’s a lesson though that won’t seem to take in the minds of those like Peter Schwartz, and that puts a sad note for me on this Christmas morning.

 
The Thinker

There and back again: a three-day nerve-wracking adventure in house hunting

It’s been a while since I have put out a post. When that happens it is usually because I am busy. Retirement is supposed to be less busy and more restful. So far that hasn’t proven to be true. Of course, most retirees don’t start their retirement actively working to move 500 miles away. We are moving of course to simplify our lives, but at least for a year or so it will make our lives much more complex.

Case in point was last Wednesday through Friday when we made a whirlwind visit to our future home in western Massachusetts. We had to go to pick a home. A confluence of events made a trip a necessity, but it all boiled down to my wife’s great desire to move into a new house. New houses don’t grow on trees, although it takes a lot of trees to make one. A new house takes six months, sometimes more to go from plot of land to house and it starts with the hassles of picking a plot and a style house at a negotiated price and then financing the deal. So we were there to look at a few final candidate-housing sites and hopefully make a selection. All this right before Christmas and after being delayed for a few weeks while my wife recovered from another cold from hell.

It could have been delayed again by winter weather, always problematic in December. But the weather gods were benevolent this time. We dealt with cold weather but no precipitation during our drive from Northern Virginia. We try to avoid the New Jersey Turnpike, which also allows us to dodge most Washington area traffic. So this meant sneaking out of town the back way, up U.S. 15 past Gettysburg, around Harrisburg on I-83, then I-81 to I-78, and then about forty miles of I-287 in New Jersey until we slipped into Connecticut on I-84. The only toll on this route was $5 to cross the Tappan Zee Bridge over the Hudson River. Traffic congestion was not too bad either: some roadwork on I-287 and some delay getting through Hartford during rush hour. Otherwise it felt surprisingly speedy, just 8 hours and 45 minutes with minimal stops. We arrived in Holyoke, Massachusetts in darkness and wended our way back to the now comfortable D Hotel where we had stayed in August. The affiliated restaurants at the hotel were jammed with locals there for holiday parties, but the hotel itself was largely empty, which was how we could get a room there for $68 a night at a Hotwire rate.

In the winter the Northampton Massachusetts area remains pretty but definitely looking different than in the lushness of summer. The trees of course are largely bare and the days are very short with near total darkness by 4:30. There was no snow on the ground except in a few piles in parking lots, but the temperature was at or below freezing most of the time with stiff breezes. It’s a beautiful area even in the winter without snow, but one thing I noticed in this trip is that it is obviously less prosperous than Fairfax County where we live. All the money in our county buys large houses that are newer in general but also meticulously well maintained. Fairfax County also has stricter zoning: no ugly billboards to view driving down the road. In Northampton there are quite a few shabby houses, shabby mostly due to age (many are a hundred years old or m ore), but also because people earn less there. Northampton has pretty good zoning laws, but go outside the city limits to places like Hadley across the Connecticut River and it quickly turns ugly. No place is perfect.

Thursday was decision day and it was as challenging as you can imagine. Next to deaths in the family, divorce and losing a job, buying a house out of state must be the next most challenging event in life. In August we had scouted lots of neighborhoods so we knew what we liked and where. In January there is not much on the market. But if you are going to have a house built it’s a bit past optimum time to place your order. Ideally you make these decisions before the foundation is laid but it took months of discussion for us to get this far. This late in the year it is problematic but still possible. Wait too long and groundbreaking is likely to occur April 1.

We looked at a new community being built in Hatfield, a bit north and east of Northampton. The houses we looked at were large and quite fancy, not to mention an excellent value. It’s just that no one was actually living there yet, and only one plot of the 12 had been sold. Two units had been finished, and one was under construction.

The salesman with a ring in his ear told us his husband was the architect and was currently out of state. (I mentally noted how completely banal gay marriage was in Massachusetts. It is so institutionalized that no one gives it a thought.) While I loved the house, Hatfield did not agree with me. It is filled with mostly old houses, very large and many not well maintained, often with a farm in the backyard. There was no bike path, no restaurants to speak of and no place to buy groceries beyond a corner store. My wife really liked the community but I couldn’t see myself spending the next thirty years in a community that did not appeal to me, no matter how nice the house. It was not yet noon and already we were in arguing.

So it was back to the 55+ community near Northampton that was the reason for our visit. Armed with our buyer agent realtor Craig, we met again with the realtor selling the property to go through available plots and other issues. Our realtor took us through a nearby park and we ate lunch at a local diner while we argued and tried his patience. Eventually we sent our realtor back to his office while we went back to the hotel to hash through all the options and then drive through both neighborhoods again.

We took a break to meet a client of mine living in the area. We met him at Joe’s Pizza in Northampton, so popular that even on a cold Thursday night there was a significant wait for a table. But the pizza at least lived up to its reputation. My client Roger turned out to be a really nice guy and we all got along great. Count one future friend in my future neighborhood. Roger helped take our mind off the impending decision and we agreed to sleep on it. Sleep was somewhat restless as we weighed in our own minds the size of our decision. Having a new house constructed would most likely mean we would close on the sale of our house first, so we’d have to endure temporary housing in the area. We were not thrilled with the alternative, but it’s the price to be paid when you make the decision to go for a new house.

Morning though at least brought clarity: we wanted a particular lot in this community in Florence, which is on the west side of Northampton. We ate breakfast at Sylvester’s in Northampton while trading calls with our realtor. Mostly though we needed to get back on the road for home. The greyish skies suggested snow and/or ice but nothing happened. The weather improved the further south we went. We tried a different route going home by taking I-84 through southern New York State and northern Pennsylvania, then connecting with I-81. It turns out it is just as quick as our other route, much less used and thus much less likely to be affected by traffic accidents. We made great time. Driving time was about eight hours.

Once back home we immediately started trading emails with our realtor and chatting with him on the phone. Yesterday we went back and forth on the wording of an offer. It was declined, not because they don’t like us, but because the seller wants a guarantee that we will buy the house even if our current house doesn’t sell. So more paperwork remains and our credit union will get a call in the morning.

Three days. There and back again. More forms to fill out. More paperwork to file. More decisions to be made. More house to clean and prepare to show. The house decisions at least is made but waiting to become more concrete. A new year approaches. 2015 looks like it will end a whole lot different than where it will start: in our new home in New England.

 
The Thinker

Liz Warren for president?

Moveon.org members are convinced: Massachusetts’s senator Elizabeth Warren is their overwhelming pick for president in 2016. They want to convince her to run although so far Senator Warren is proving tone deaf. When prompted by NPR recently she didn’t say she would never run, but kept reiterating she is not running for president. Her groupies may take this as an encouraging sign. I won’t be reading too much into it.

Senator Warren is one of a number of boutique candidates or candidate possibilities of interest to various groups. Often the most interested ones are the potential candidates themselves. They are already out there preening and posturing, and that includes soon to be ex-governor Rick Perry of Texas who is hoping his new ugly black framed glasses will look presidential this time around. It also includes “Mr. Sweater-vest” and former anemic Pennsylvania senator Rick Santorum, but also quite clearly Jeb Bush and so many other Republicans in waiting that it’s hard to list them all.

On the Democratic side until recently there has been no one willing to challenge Hillary Clinton, should she announce her candidacy for president. Despite her public hedging, there is little suspense about if she will run, just when she will announce it. My former senator Jim Webb apparently wants to run, or is at least working on an exploratory committee, which is the first step. There is also the soon to be former governor of Maryland, Martin O’Malley that is thinking maybe he should run, particularly if Hillary looks vulnerable or if by running he might be on her ticket. And then there are the boutique candidates who really have no chance but want to promote their issues. Vermont senator Bernie Sanders, who is actually a socialist and caucuses with the Democrats, is considering running to call attention to the problems of the middle class. Warren’s supporters, and there are many of them, want her to do the same thing.

Watching Warren speak is interesting. She is a compelling speaker. Unlike most politicians, she speaks from her heart. She is genuine and weirdly enough she actually cares passionately about her issues, which is mostly the transfer of wealth from the poor to the rich and the oversized influence of Wall Street on our lives. Most recently she made the news criticizing the recent “cromnibus” bill that funds most of the federal government through fiscal year 2015, in particular the provisions slipped in to ease the ability of banks to invest in derivatives. Her mixture of authenticity, scholarship and passion is definitely unique at the moment, and it doesn’t hurt that she is a woman as well.

But Liz Warren for president? She seems to be smart enough to realize her own limitations, which speaks well of her. She is working hard to restore America’s middle class, but she is going up against institutional forces that are likely to defeat her. Still she keeps at it, and it is heartening to see her not lose hope in what seems like a lost cause. She makes most progressive Democrats feel downright tingly. She connects with us in a way that we haven’t felt since Barack Obama entered the national stage.

Liz Warren has many wonderful attributes, but she is no Barack Obama, at least not yet. Liz is focused like a laser on addressing the problems of the middle class. The problem with focus though is you tune out all the other stuff about governing. It’s not fair to say she is disinterested about things like defense spending, terrorism or race relations. She probably knows quite a bit about these things. She just chooses not to open her mouth much on them. That was not the case with Barack Obama. While he may not have had much experience in these areas, he certainly understood them and gave thoughtful, analytical and nuanced positions on all these issues. He looked and sounded like presidential material because someone who is going to be president should see the big picture. Rarely has our national chessboard been so complex. We need someone who has the political skills to handle the multifaceted, 24/7/365 aspects of being president.

Liz Warren simply hasn’t demonstrated this. Progressive Democrats’ hearts may skip a beat when she opens her mouth but that’s not a particularly good reason to nominate anyone for president. She is passionate and persistent, but was she to be president she would face most of the same issues President Obama has struggled with. She would likely be dealing with a Congress controlled by Republicans. To govern she would have to make deals, assuming anyone on the other side wanted to make a deal. Lately Republicans have been all about obstinacy. It’s all well and good to stand up for your values, but being president requires compromise. It means selectively sticking up for certain things and giving up on others. She makes noise in the Senate but so far she hasn’t done much to effectively cross the aisle, not that it’s an easy thing to do when your opposition basically won’t concede anything.

Liz is guilty of being popular, but being popular does not mean that someone is presidential material. I like Liz a lot. I expect in 2015 when my wife and I move to Massachusetts that she will be my senator, and I will be glad to call her my senator. But she is not yet presidential material. It seems that she understands this too, which speaks highly of her. So I don’t expect her to be a candidate, no matter what the members of MoveOn.org want, because she has too much common sense.

I’d rather see her move the needle where she can and continue to be a top fundraiser for Democratic candidates. I want her to be our chief cheerleader, because we will need plenty of enthusiasm from the rank and file to win in 2016 and maybe take back the Senate. Absent evidence I don’t yet see in her, I hope she won’t run for president. If you are one of her supporters, I hope you will see that she can be far more effective for our side right where she is.

 
The Thinker

Misery loves company

My eyes: they are burning. My nose: it is itching and it is sending occasional signals to my lungs to make me sneeze which I do explosively, usually three times in a row, followed by blowing my nose several times until inevitably the cycle repeats itself. In short I have a cold, or perhaps just cold symptoms. The former is more likely because for nearly two weeks my spouse has been under the weather too. She had one of these two-week killer colds last year about this time, and it is back. Until two days ago I had resisted acquiring whatever she had. It’s likely I have something else, but in spite of the regular sneezes from hell that hurts muscles in my back, this is actually a good sign. For me anyhow the cycle rarely varies. The explosive sneezing phase lasts a day or two, but it comes at the end. It takes a few more days for my voice to recover.

One can love one’s spouse while secretly wishing we weren’t sharing so much of our intimate space this way. The last two weeks have been like this, but not because I find my wife particularly grating. I’m used to her and her ways but when she suffers, which is about half the time, she won’t suffer in silence. She’ll let me know and I can’t do much but fetch things for her, offer sympathy and make occasional suggestions that get largely ignored (“why don’t you see a doctor?” “oh, it’s just a cold. there’s nothing they can do.”) until the misery reaches some unbearable zenith and then she is off to the urgent care clinic. Colds come and go but she also gets persistent migraines and other forms of headaches, as well as other chronic issues which effectively mean she spends what seems to me to be half her life, maybe more, in some form of misery. Doctors rarely give relief. She bears it as stoically as she can, which is not much. And so another day ends, a new day begins, and the pattern is likely to repeat.

We go through boxes of tissues at alarming rates but otherwise soldier on. Retirement is supposed to be about enjoying leisure but so far there hasn’t been too much of it. I go to bed later and wake up later, but the business of preparing our house for sale consumes much of my working day, otherwise I am doing consulting when there is work in my inbox. The consulting remains mostly pocket change, if $6000 so far this year is pocket change. The preparing the house for sale task though keeps going on, but there are signs of the edge of the forest. The kitchen gets repainted tomorrow and that is likely the last room to get a full coat of paint.

Between moaning in misery about her own condition, my wife chastised me today for working on the house when I am sick. Experience suggests I will spend the day sneezing regardless, so my feeling is I may as well work, which today involved mostly laying masking tape along edges of floors and cabinets in the kitchen, and painting the baseboards in that room. It’s what I do. I just sort of soldier on because if this is a cold then it’s a minor one, so I might as well keep going. It beats dwelling about how I don’t feel great. The fix up list keeps expanding somehow, but I also know our clock is running out. With my wife out of commission so much, I must take up her slack and that usually means painting something but occasionally involves some minor carpentry, shuffling off donations to places that will take them, or two nights ago, installing some new blinds in our front windows.

Despite the continuous minor construction, the house is looking good. I feel good about all the work and the $7000 or so in direct expenses so far since I retired trying to make the house look new instead of 30 years old. Yesterday I was touch up painting. A new carpet went down in the basement a couple of weeks ago. It looks good and for the first time in the 21 years we’ve been in the house, the basement actually feels warmish in the winter. The house is sort of battened down now with curb appeal, but inside there is still clutter that needs to be sorted through, windows that need cleaning, and more painting to be done. I am guessing we are about 85% done at this point. The hard stuff is largely behind us.

It sometimes seems surreal that we are likely to be moving within three to six months. We had our realtor at our house yesterday and penciled in March 1 as the date to list the house, but maybe February 1. It all depends on decisions not firmly made yet, and one involves whether to have a house constructed near where we plan to live near Northampton, Massachusetts. If so groundbreaking will have to wait until spring thaw, which is usually April 1, and construction will take about six months. House selling though is best done in the spring. It’s peak market and selling at other times of the year is problematic. This means temporary housing is likely in our future, something we are not looking forward to but will likely have to deal with. On the plus side it’s relatively easy to move 5 miles instead of 400.

Our Christmas lights are up on the porch for the last time. The tree will go up at some point too, largely because my daughter will expect one when she visits us on Christmas morning. My wife has done her Christmas shopping. I haven’t started it yet.

I taught my last class at Northern Virginia Community College last night, somewhat challenging as the cold symptoms had kicked in. The final exam is next Tuesday and that should end my fifteen-year off and on again teaching as an adjunct at the college. Teaching there feels comfortable now, so leaving this part of my life leaves me feeling wistful. I’m not sure if I will be able to find teaching opportunities where I end up. I may be closing this chapter in my life.

In retirement I thought I’d have plenty of time to exercise, but it’s challenging getting it in. Working around the house takes up much of my day, and involves a lot of moving around. I figure it counts. I walk around the neighborhood when I can but lots of rain has made walking outside problematic. The gym is still an option, but it’s hard to find the energy to go. Lately I’ve been going only every other week or so.

So that’s basically my life, at present.

 
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Craigslist casual encounter weirdness: December 2014 edition

It’s that time of the month for me to survey the underbelly of Craigslist, at least here in Northern Virginia where I live. It’s the first Friday of the month and based on my previous experience it’s also likely to be a great day to find the weirdest morsels of entertainment from the Craigslist community, courtesy of my regional casual encounters section. With a weekend ahead of them, there are people aplenty on Craigslist who believe that their odd or kinky sex will be served to them their way, and multiple times before they go to work on Monday.

I had at least 215 page views on my Craigslist posts during November. These numbers have gone down in general. They used to be in the upper 200s or low 300s but at least I did marginally better than in October. Some statistics on who’s posting from the first page of posts this evening:

  • 33 men are looking for women
  • 45 men are looking for men
  • 3 men are looking for couples
  • 1 man is looking for a group of men
  • 1 man is looking for a transgender
  • 11 women are looking for men
  • 6 women are looking for women
  • 4 women are looking for couples
  • 7 couples are looking for men
  • 1 couple is looking for another couple
  • 4 couples are looking for women
  • 3 transgender people are looking for men

Time to jump into the cesspool in my latex suit, lest I catch something:

  • She’s 26, chubby and has a lot of “desi” experience. I have no idea what this is about but apparently it has something to do with prostate rubbing. Perhaps she is a proctologist in training. Not sure why there is a picture of a half bald guy with his head between a woman’s legs but perhaps that is because I just don’t understand the whole desi thing yet. Does this have anything to do with Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball?
  • Here are two ads from the same 38-year-old Reston man, as evidenced by having the same cock picture in both ads. In this ad he’s looking for a slut who puts out and is hoping she will put out with him and a group of guys, although he apparently doesn’t know any guys into this. In his other ad he’s trying to take care of that problem by advertising for a guy to jerk off with, but not because he’s gay, but because he’s looking to partner up so he can be part of his fantasy tag team. I guess it’s best to cover all bases. He says he’s single but since you must host, I’m betting he’s married.
  • There’s 420-friendly and then there’s this 26-year-old woman from Manassas looking for another woman who is brave enough to openly post a picture of herself in panties smoking from her bong. She’s apparently done this before because she is hoping Noel is out there and will reply.
  • Guys looking for other guys on Craigslist are nothing new. But a guy into guys with a foot fetish is strange. Even stranger is that this short 28-year-old guy from Dumfries wants you to step on him and presumably doing it with boots and cleats is fine. Oh, and he’s in a hurry. It’s got to be tonight! I hope 911 is on his speed dial.
  • Ladies: pregnant and horny? You are in luck because this 30-year-old dude wants something different and apparently he hasn’t bagged a pregnant woman before. What could be his real motivation? My guess since he claims to be disease free, is to have unprotected sex without worrying about any pregnancy consequences.
  • Ladies, if you are picky and will only settle for young, handsome and well endowed then this 26-year-old man can provide plenty of evidence that he has what you are looking for.
  • She’s 22, lives near Dulles and is looking for another woman. She wants her right now and she’s on her period.
  • The abbreviations and acronyms in Craigslist can sometimes be over the top, like this: “29 yo chub blk dl bttm looking for big blk dl top”. More of the same in the ad itself. I can’t quite parse all of it but at least I know he’s looking for another man. What’s with his weird black panties?
  • Here’s a 53-year-old man looking for a daughter and he’s got a very explicit scenario he’s thinking about. Since he is looking for a long-term relationship with his “daughter”, apparently making her pregnant is not out of the question and maybe something he is hoping for. Let’s hope any potential daughter has more brains and a lower hormone level than he does. Good news, dad. I think I found a candidate daughter for you.
  • Sex, drugs, a transgender woman and prostitution all in one ad from this newly unemployed 26-year-old “woman”. “She” apparently is planning multiple conquests tonight, probably because her bank account is low. If you are going to catch a deadly disease, $20 is a pretty cheap and possibly a happy way to start on your journey to hell.
  • He’s 18 years old and is home from trade school in Vermont and wants you (a woman) to take care of his virginity problem.
  • Women, if you are into urinating or squirting in a man’s mouth, this 29-year-old man wants to hear from you. He’s apparently advertised before but has gotten no responses. What’s wrong with Craigslist women?
  • It’s nice to know that at least some African American women are into us 50 year plus men. I won’t be responding but if you meet her age qualification and live near Lorton you might want to see if she actually replies.
  • This cuckolding stuff really gets deep. This 30-year-old cuckold couple from Reston (woman is dominant, naturally) is looking for another woman as a “cuckquean”. It’s hard to parse this post but I think this woman gets to act a lot like her submissive husband when the sex is over.

That’s all folks … until 2015.

 
The Thinker

Two very belated rock sequels

Now that I have a streaming music service, I am discovering plenty of new music. I am also discovering a few surprises. Within a couple of weeks, I discovered two very belated rock and roll sequels from artists I had tuned into during my formative years in the 1970s.

Return to the Centre of the Earth (Rick Wakeman)

Rick Wakeman first came to mass attention as a keyboardist, composer and songwriter for the rock group Yes. By the early 1970s he had tired of Yes and struck out on his own. In 1974 he put out Journey to the Centre of the Earth, a hard to describe but definitely unique concept album that combined the classic Jules Verne book with his moog synthesizer, the London Festival Orchestra and narrator David Hemmings captured in a live performance. I was seventeen at the time. This album fused a number of genres amazingly well. Because of Wakeman’s often over the top antics on the moog, this album got plenty of play on my record player and grew somewhat beloved. It is an arguably a noteworthy album in the genre of progressive rock. He made two other attempts at similar concept albums during these years, one on the six wives of Henry VIII and another on King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, but of the three this middle album is definitely the best.

By 1999, a full quarter century later, the moog was desperately old fashioned. This didn’t stop Wakeman from issuing a sequel that year, Return to the Centre of the Earth featuring himself again on the moog still sounding so very 1970’s-ish. This version takes us on a similar journey of the imagination that is more homage to the old album than something new in the way of story. It is also longer, somewhat better and classier. The orchestra got upgraded to the London Symphony Orchestra, and the narrator upgraded to Patrick Stewart. Listening to Stewart is like listening to Morgan Freeman: his voice is naturally compelling so you just cannot not pay attention. Despite the repetition in story, tone and music it is a fun journey of the imagination through music and a grade letter better than the original album. Wakeman also got a number of his peers to contribute to the vocals of the album including Justin Heyward and Ozzy Osbourne.

Today progressive rock seems the opposite of progressive. It seems antiquated, but for us middle-aged folk it is still quite a lot of fun. This album is actually about twenty minutes longer than the original album and proves that Wakeman’s still got it, both as a composer and a master of the moog. It’s a fitting but comfy sequel to the original album that is hard to dislike.

Update 12/9/14: Apparently the original Journey to the Centre of the Earth was re-released and extended in 2014, and even went on tour. My music service clocks this version at 1 hour and 48 minutes. You can find a number of excerpts from concerts online including this 27:41 excerpt performed in Buenos Aires with narration in Portuguese.

Thick as a Brick 2 (Jethro Tull)

In the early 1970s the competition was on to create the world’s most outrageous rock album. At the time arguably no album came closer than Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick, released in 1972: an in-your-face and often patently offensive screed against God and organized religion. This one-theme album is framed as music the band wrote around a poem by fictional eight-year-old child prodigy: Gerald Bostock. His poem looked brilliant until it was actually analyzed and discovered to be completely antisocial and antiestablishment. It was so over the top that Ian Anderson expected that no one could possibly take it seriously. As a work of art though it was quite compelling and the lyrics, while often offensive and even outrageous, had resonance both then and today. For example, thinking of today’s Republicans, I can’t help but recall these lyrics from the album:

Really don’t mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can’t make you think.
Your sperm’s in the gutter your love’s in the sink.

I played it many times anyhow, and enjoyed it with a rebellious glee as it coincided with my loss of faith. It was often puerile, but it was for a good cause. But mostly it was great music. Take out the lyrics and you are still left with an amazing musical roller coaster from the rock and roll talents that was Jethro Tull. They were centered, of course, on Ian Anderson and his flute, who is always the primary artistic force for the band.

A full forty years after the album’s release in 1972 came Thick as a Brick 2, which is a rumination on Gerald Bostock forty years later around the age of fifty. In tone this 2012 album has a lot in common with the original album, but this is not particularly an anti-religious screed. Rather it is an examination into Bostock’s many possible life paths: as a banker, a homosexual and homeless man, a preacher, a soldier and a shopkeeper. (I’m betting Bostock would have been the banker.) Only when examining his life as a preacher does it resonate with the original album. As a work of music though it’s a reasonably close homage to the original, full of sardonic lyrics, occasional bars from the original albums and some quite memorable songs and tracks. (I particularly like “Adrift and Dumfounded”.) The original album really had no songs. It was issued in two parts, separated only because of the need to flip the record over.

So this forty year later homage to the original album is not really a homage, but a rumination of a fictional character navigating midlife. However, it is equally as clever lyrically and musically than the original album, if not more so. It is both different and the same and worth a lot of spins even if it won’t inspire you to start burning Bibles. It’s sardonic and at times melancholy, but rarely nasty. A sixty-something Ian Anderson (with some lyrics contributed by his son) proves that a forty year later sequel can still be damned good and fun, just a lot less in your face than the original, which is good.

Update 12/31/14: Enjoy this tribute band doing the original Thick as a Brick. Except that the vocalist is no Ian Anderson, it’s amazingly faithful to the original 1972 recording.

 
The Thinker

Black Friday protest at Walmart

Remember this post? Well, probably not. Anyhow, in it I promised to try to eke revenge against the retailers of the world for the shabby way I was treated when I was a retail worker (1978 to 1980) for the now defunct Montgomery Ward Corporation which today is even worse. Now that I am retired, lack of time was no longer an excuse, so I made a note on my calendar to attend a Black Friday protest at my local Walmart (Sterling, Virginia in my case) to protest their appallingly low wages and working conditions.

Signing up was easy. I was already a member of Making Change at Walmart, the site to go if you are not a Walmart employee but want to support their cause. I get regular emails from them and have even made a couple of contributions to their strike fund over the years. I was urged to find a Walmart Black Friday protest near me, so I simply filled in the web form and marked the date and time on my calendar. For several years now, the Our Walmart campaign has targeted Black Friday for protests because it is the busiest shopping day of the year. This year a record 1600 store protests was planned.

Thus far my protesting had been confined to mass events on the national mall. This kind of protest would be a lot different. The number of protestors was likely to be small and Walmart would doubtlessly be on the lookout for us. Protest rules were pretty murky, but seemed worth whatever minor risk it entailed. This is after all Walmart: the nation’s largest, nastiest and stingiest employer. Every year they find new ways to screw their “associates”. Among their egregious tactics over the last year were requirements to buy their own uniforms, canceling health insurance for certain part time employees (doubtless few could afford it in any event), cutting the hours of workers (leading to predictably long lines at cash registers and empty shelves) and erratic schedules. All this for an average wage of $8.80 an hour and where you might get an extra dime per hour the next time your performance was reviewed.

With several weeks of notice, I wanted to see if I could convince any others to join me. Notes on Facebook did not turn up any nibbles, so I sent a note to Paul, chair of the social justice committee at my local Unitarian Universalist Church. He agreed to sponsor the protest for our church. I made sure announcements were posted in the church bulletin and hoped a few members of my congregation would join me. We have less than 200 members, so I kept my expectations modest. Fortunately for me, it got the attention of certain influential women at the church (a.k.a. the Knitting Circle, which my wife attends) who were also suitably outraged and started making protest signs. On protest day, eight of us with signs in hand were ready to protest.

However, our protest organizer weaseled out. Early on Black Friday morning we found an email from him in our inboxes. He claimed insomnia the night before and canceled the event, but he did encourage anyone that wanted to to come out and protest. We took him up on it.

I confess it was hard to get in the protesting spirit when the temperature was in the low thirties with gusty winds, but we were ready. We met in the church parking lot, collected our signs and drove out to the Sterling Virginia Walmart. As we moved toward the entrance we encountered an older couple from Illinois in town but with signs. We were it, apparently, but at least with ten protestors we got into the double digits.

Black Friday protest against Walmart's labor practices at Sterling, Virginia store

Black Friday protest against Walmart’s labor practices at Sterling, Virginia store

For 10 AM on a Black Friday, there weren’t many people going into or out of this Walmart. We stood silently outside the Walmart entrances, being careful not to impede pedestrian or vehicular traffic. Occasionally we got a toot of a horn or thumbs up, but mostly we stood and shivered. We had a feeling though that it would not be long before Walmart management noticed us. We were prescient. After about ten minutes, a Walmart security officer told us we were on private property and we could only protest on public property. He pointed us to a hill at the far back end of the parking lot. Dutifully we walked back there. This was not an ideal location, but it was convenient to incoming traffic so we stood there with our signs and waved them up and down as cars went by.

Apparently we were not far out enough. After fifteen minutes or so we found we were observed by officers in two cars from the Loudoun County sheriff’s office. Eventually an officer approached us with the Walmart store manager. We patiently explained we were directed here by their store security. But, no, we were still on private property we were told. Walmart owned all of it. Some sort of conglomerate of course typically owns shopping centers, so it is in theory all private property. It’s pretty clear that Walmart wanted us way out of the way, like outer Siberia if possible. The closest truly public property, we were politely informed, was a median strip on Nokes Boulevard, which led into the parking lot.

And so we shuffled out there with our protest signs, dodging aggressive traffic to do so. We got the occasional thumbs up and toot of a horn in support, but mostly Walmart had gotten us out of the way, which is probably the strategy it emulated at many other stores. Had we had more protesters, perhaps we would have been harder to dislodge. After about an hour we ended our protest and moved on.

Nonetheless we were in reasonably high spirits. Without professional organization, we didn’t know what to expect or what was legal, but Walmart’s response felt very scripted. The store manager was never angry with us, but after the event one of our crew took a few of our signs into the store, and tried to give them to the store manager. She was intercepted by an assistant manager, and told she was unwelcome in the store, and ordered to leave.

Making change at Walmart is hard, not so much for us outside protesters, but certainly for Walmart employees who join the Our Walmart movement. They frequently suffer illegal firings or reduced hours. They are much braver than we were. We were just testing the protest waters, but I think I know where I’ll be next Black Friday. And hopefully we’ll be better-organized next time, and our organizer won’t use the weasely excuse of insomnia for not showing up.

As a practical matter, real change is happening in two fronts. First, many states and communities have realized that since retailers won’t raise wages and the federal government won’t, they must. So cities like Seatac in Washington State have raised their minimum wage to $15 an hour. In Northern Virginia, $15 is a living wage, but just barely. Those Walmart workers earning $8.80 an hour or so at their Sterling store are probably working a couple of other part time jobs just to get by. They may very well be getting some government assistance, which means your taxes are subsidizing Walmart and other retailers scandalously low wages. More recently, the city of San Francisco passed a retail workers bill of rights. It requires employers to make up work schedules for their part time employees two weeks in advance, helping to give them some predictability to their schedules. This addresses the sad reality that part time work these days does not supplement other wages, but is what many workers try to live on.

Do not assume that minimum wage workers are mostly students living at home and thus it’s okay to pay the $7.25 an hour. The average age of a minimum wage worker is 35. These people are hustling simply to survive in poverty. They deserve a living wage and better working conditions and hopefully just one job so they get some downtime. It’s quite clear though that Walmart will continue to frustrate and obfuscate attempts at justice for their employees until the price becomes unbearable, i.e. it seriously affects their profits and sales. I will do my part to make it unbearable.

 
The Thinker

Review: Interstellar

Interstellar is another one of these movies that is quite good, providing that you don’t think about it too much. Don’t let this stop you from seeing the movie if so inclined. It’s not at all a bad movie and it is quite engaging. Ignorance about science actually helps, although director Christopher Nolan got plenty of scientific help to try to make the premise semi-plausible.

The premise of the movie is that the earth is dying, at least as a habitat for sustaining human life. Not much else other than corn is growing and you will see plenty of corn, at least until Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) decides to abandon his farm and family to take a trip through a wormhole around Saturn that appears to have been placed there by an alien intelligence. The wormhole has already taken some brave cosmonauts across vast distances of space and time (actually to another galaxy) to some area of space where there are some candidate planets that might support human life. Mankind needs to vacate the earth soon, which is Cooper’s reason for volunteering to command this mission. He wants to save his daughter Murph (Mackenzie Foy) from the grisly fate of slow death that all humans will face if they don’t get off the planet soon. Apparently, colonizing Mars is out of the question.

Cooper used to be a test pilot but became just another farmer after his test flying days ended. His skills were no longer required. He’s a competent but unenthusiastic farmer who frequently wakes from nightmares from his accident as a test pilot. Fortunately, there’s a gravitational anomaly on his farm. It’s not good to have one of these, but between this and the massive dust storms that regularly arrive he and Murph are reading signs in the patterns of dust in the library of their farmhouse. And decoded it sends them to a place on their handy USGS topographic map where nothing should be. When they drive out there though they find a fenced in area. Once inside, what they really find is NASA, now a hush-hush agency, and Professor Brand (Michael Caine), the genius working on the really hard problem of moving the human race off the earth, out of the Milky Way and to some far flung place to ensure the survival of the species.

This sounds like a worthwhile endeavor but goodness, what a strange set of coincidences already because Cooper already knows Professor Brand from his flying days. Brand immediately petitions him to take a spacecraft to Saturn, because he is the best test pilot he ever saw. He wants Cooper to take it through the wormhole and then to various systems and planets abnormally affected by gravitational waves to find a planet that humans can colonize. Just in case no one on earth can actually follow them en masse, each spacecraft comes complete with human incubators to restart the species on a suitable planet. It is, to say the least, a series of remarkable coincidences. But it’s just the beginning of these as well of many questions.

For me, among the questions is why some sort of intelligent species would place this prominent and useful wormhole near Saturn but not bother to give them a way to communicate. Then there is the physics on whether you could actually traverse through a wormhole and survive on the other side. Obviously, it makes for a great movie if you can. After a long trip from Earth to Saturn with his two travelling companions Brand (the professor’s daughter, played by Anne Hathaway) and Romilly (David Gyasi), they do slip through the wormhole. Cooper and Brand quickly engage in a series of literally hair-raising visits to a couple of local planetary systems. They go there to find some pioneers who went there and to see if the planets are habitable. Gravitational waves and relativity play major tricks on them, allowing them to age hardly at all while Romilly waits 23 years for their return. Meanwhile, Cooper knows that back home his daughter Murph is aging relatively much more quickly than he is and is seriously wacked out by her father’s disappearance. He promised to come home and get her, but as decades pass it’s hard to see how this can happen, particularly when none of the previous explorers have come back. Fortunately, at least one-way communications from Earth is possible. This gives Cooper many opportunities to tear up when he gets sporadic reports from Murph, who quickly catches up with him in age.

So yes, the plot is a bit convoluted and incredulous at times, but it is all portrayed quite realistically otherwise. Most science fiction and space operas don’t talk about the problem of relativity. At least this one tackles it. And the acting is quite good all around. The acting includes a supporting role for Matt Damon, who plays one of the pioneer astronauts, Dr. Mann.

The plot frequently moves across space and time, to this far-flung galaxy then back to earth, NASA and Dr. Brand’s lab where little Murph becomes one of his scientists and helps him with his complex space/time formula he can’t quite seem to finish. There are plenty of suspenseful parts of the movie. If you are having trouble feeling affected by the acting, then you can revel in the voluminous orchestration that, if you are of a certain age will sound familiar. It’s not just the organ music that feels like it’s come out of 2001: A Space Odyssey, but many of the characters as well as much of its plot. Yes, the movie feels like it is something of a homage to the classic 1968 science fiction movie, imitating it in many ways but fortunately not in 2001’s cerebral nature, divorced as it was from emotion.

Matthew McConaughey has grown up as an actor. In the past I have panned his movies. Here he gets to play a serious role rather than a pretty boy with flaxen, blow dried hair, and he does a good job with it, as does Anne Hathaway, of course as his female partner Brand. There is plenty of emotion to revel in too, which considering the weighty topic of the survival of our species seems quite appropriate.

Just don’t think about it too much. Don’t think about how they manage to survive such a long time (hibernation certainly helps) in their spacecraft, don’t think about the improbability of emerging alive on the other side of a wormhole, and don’t think about the likely lethal amounts of cosmic rays just a trip to Saturn would have given them. Presumably NASA figured out a workaround. As regular readers may remember, I don’t believe we are destined to live on other planets, let alone other solar systems or galaxies, given the daunting nature of known physics and the distances between solar systems. Earth is it for our species, I’m afraid. But if you have to dream about such a possibility, Interstellar gives you as plausible a scenario as you are likely to get. It’s just, if you have studied the science and do think about it, you realize it is still implausible.

But you probably won’t care too much. Overall the movie is too good not to ignore a lot of dubious science and major issues with the plot in general. Indulge and enjoy. Here’s one movie that is quite literally stellar.

3.3 points on my four-point scale.

Rating: ★★★¼ 

 
The Thinker

RIP Marion Barry, a man truly of the people

I was a bit surprised to read that former “Mayor for Life” Marion Barry passed away early this morning. Barry, the long-term mayor of the District of Columbia, certainly made his mark on the nation’s capital. In the eyes of many, the mark was not a good one. I confess that I, one of the many people outside the D.C. line, enjoyed lampooning the man. Mostly we whites and moneyed class saw Marion Barry as an embarrassment. It wasn’t just Republicans that felt this way. It included Democrats, and pretty much any non-black Democrat living in or around the district. We would shake our heads at his missteps and travails. In our minds he was not just an embarrassment, but had committed the unforgivable sin of not thinking and behaving like we assumed he should behave. He wasn’t white enough for us. Well, duh! Why should he have been?

His passing though triggers feelings of wistfulness in me. I had hardly arrived in the area in 1978 when he was elected as mayor. He took his first term of office in January 1979, only the second mayor in D.C.’s short history of “home rule”. I put this is quotes because as anyone who lives around here know, D.C. mayors and its city council are always on a short leash. Congress lets D.C. rule itself until the moment it decides it doesn’t like the decision of the district’s democratically elected council members, and then it overrides it. The unspoken rationalization: “We got to keep those niggers in line.”

The district is still Chocolate City, but less so than it used to be. Washington is becoming hipper, trendier and more multicultural. Many dicey neighborhoods have been gentrified since 1979, bringing in more affluent whites and Asians while moving out the poor. When blacks move into neighborhoods, people scream about property values, but when whites do it, it’s somehow okay. Blacks moved principally south into Anacostia and east into Northeast Washington.

Barry was one of many ineffectual mayors who tried to improve the lots of his poorest constituents. The difference with Barry was he was not opposed to a little socialism. He saw it as the business of government to step in where no one else would. Aside from more parks and a convention center (which was torn down a couple of decades later for a fancier convention center), Barry also invested in D.C.’s poor black youth. The city provided summer jobs for black teens, a program that got widely noticed and made Barry hugely popular as a mayor. Barry first served a twelve-year stint as mayor, over three terms, ending in 1991. It was during this time that he because known as “mayor for life” because no one could beat him. This was also during the 1980s when the District was quite a mess. Murder and violence were rampant, not to mention a huge drug epidemic. Barry might have been mayor for life had he not been caught snorting cocaine in a carefully set up drug bust. Going to prison disqualified him from office.

Those of us outside the District’s boundaries jeered when the drug bust was made public. We knew, we knew Barry was a druggie and a philanderer, and this confirmed it. But the people of the District were largely forgiving. This was because Barry was truly one of them and a lot of them were using drugs and philandering as well. He arrived in the district in 1965 to set up offices for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, a positive black power movement at the time. During the 1968 riots in the city, Barry helped coordinate the food distribution to blacks whose houses were destroyed in the rioting. Barry actually had some impressive community accomplishment prior to becoming mayor. These included organizing a bus strike and helping to increase home rule in the district. Barry was seen as a fighter for the poor and downtrodden, but in particular for the District’s blacks. He quickly was seen as one of them. D.C. voters shrugged off his conviction and jail time, and audaciously elected him as mayor again in 1995. After that one term, Barry sort of retired, and then got bored because he wasn’t doing what he knew best: practicing politics. He eventually found himself satisfied with a city council seat again representing Ward 8 (mostly Anacostia) since 2005.

Barry continued to make news, albeit with lots of snickering from those who didn’t like him, and we were voluminous. His marriage to Effi Slaughter fell apart, but after his 1993 divorce he quickly remarried Cora Masters.

But Barry cared about the District and its poor, and in that he was authentic, and his constituents sensed this. As an administrator he was so-so at best, but at least he tried. In many ways, that distinguished him. All mayors of course try to make significant changes for the better, but at least in the District they are all bound to fail, at least to some degree, simply because the city’s poverty and demographics are too great a hurdle to overcome regardless of who is in charge. At the federal level, both parties distanced themselves from him and thought he was crazy.

I now feel a bit guilty about being one of those snickering at Barry over the years. Barry was both slimy and authentic. He cared passionately about poor blacks in the city in particular and did his best to make their lives better. Unfortunately while doing so this included some minor drug use and philandering. To me, his chief virtue was that he was unfailingly entertaining. He put on a good show and helped keep the local papers full of interesting headlines. In retrospect his minuses were minor. I appreciated his general authenticity, his ability truly representing the least among us by being one of them, his sly sense of humor and for caring when most of us shook our heads and gave up on D.C.’s poor.

Within months I will be leaving the Washington D.C. region. I came in with Barry and in some sense I am leaving with Barry. He’s been a constant presence my whole time here. I’m going to miss this authentic but flawed man. In truth, he was no more flawed than any of us. It was his position and his mouth that magnified his flaws. But at least he gave a damn and cared about issues that most of us were happy to just pay lip service too.

He was a memorable character that even his detractors are going to miss.

 

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