The Contrarian

Give Ben Stein Money. . . By Jebson Interlandi

"Darwin said nothing about how life originated."

Who wants to have some fun today? The above quote is from Ben Stein during his appearance on the Glenn Beck show back in 2007. Stein, famous for his classroom-cameo monotones (and speeches for Nixon), released a film in February called Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed. The "documentary" argues for the inclusion of "Intelligent Design" discussions in the public realm, particularly in the classroom.

Although I've yet to see the film, Stein's primary objective seems to be questioning Darwin's Theory of Evolution. Stein suggests that since it hasn't yet explained the origins of existence, Intelligent Design should be entertained as an alternate hypothesis.

Nothing seems to illicit as much bitter back-and-forth as Creationism vs. Evolution, but no one ever talks about how fundamentally STUPID and INEFFECTIVE the entire dispute is. In fact, actual debate between these two worlds is simply impossible. Supposition and science are totally different things.

Now, I'm not an expert. But from my understanding, a theory is an argument that can be falsified through processes of experimentation. In some cases, a theory becomes law, such as the Law of Gravity. Intelligent Design is a claim stating supernatural power(s) deliberately created all Life. It is not a theory, since it can neither be proved or disproved. It's merely somebody's assertion.

Of course, some in the scientific community posit that Existence is the result of a Big Bang, Cosmic Egg, or Electrical Bolt to the Mud Puddle, but these are only guesses. Frankly, this is all anyone can do. Yet there are key differences between empiricism and assumption. Intelligent Design is a conjectural activity with a supernatural worship agenda. Evolution is a theory regarding an ongoing process of adaptation and survival. Evolution utilizes a different critical framework than Creationism, rendering debate between the two futile.

Stein is troubled that Darwin didn't answer how life began or how cells came to be, and his counter-proposal is Intelligent Design. On a recent Bill O'Reilly segment, Stein claimed that supporters of ID are failing to be heard. Hey Stein, guess what? Since at least the days of Thales, every fucking thinker has been discussing and speculating about the supernatural or natural origins of life. The mythological arguments have been made and are certainly well known. They continue to be claims and guesses; that's all they will ever be.

To be fair, Stein is mostly concerned with modern frames of discourse. Scientists and other professionals do run a risk of  harassment if they voice religious beliefs. Freedom of speech still stands, but pointing out the possibility of God or Tiamut is frowned upon in the scientific community, mostly because it's irrelevant to their work. The aim of experimentation and research is to achieve results, and simply saying the world may have been created is unnecessary.

I've said it before: if Intelligent Design wants a place in the classroom the teachers better be prepared to address every single Creation Story known on this planet, as they are all equally possible and impossible. You say Jehovah, I say Uranus.

O'Reilly asks: "Why can't you just mention in Biology class, or whatever class you want, that there are theologians who believe a higher power was responsible for first life?"

Most children do, in fact, know there are theologians who believe in higher powers. Hell, even Secular Progressives are aware of the concept. If you are wondering why public schools don't educate on supernatural primogenitors, it's because we have churches for that. So if you want spoon-fed answers to the unanswerable, you've got a place to go, and plenty of flavors to choose from.

I've heard it suggested that Stein is only in this racket for the money. By rallying for controversial Creationism, Stein is guaranteed attention, publicity and a fatter wallet. Now that's a decent theory.

Wesley Crusher Gets Political.

Remember Wil Wheaton from Stand By Me and "Star Trek: The Next Generation?" Of course you do.

Well, Wil is all growed up and is now something of a wonk. And of course he's got a blog. I bring this up because he recently posted an excellent summary of our current Hillary Clinton problem. It's a lot like what I've been writing, but the white-knuckle rage is a bit more subdued. Check it out.

And here's the Madatoms post that got Wil all worked up: "Hillary Clinton: The Psycho Ex-Girlfriend of the Democratic Party."

Good stuff, ja?

GTA Comes Alive!

Note: click here for the clip.

Our friend MFK lives in Boston, more specifically, Allston. He just sent me a video of an amazing hit-and-run car crash straight out of Grand Theft Auto. He thankfully avoided the pandemonium by randomly taking an alternate route to work this morning.

Srsly, this shit is cuh-rayzee. We're talkin' full-on 'splosions and everything.

Here's a Flickr stream with some good closeups of the vehicular carnage.

It's Good To Be Wrong.

Gas Tax, gas shmax. Math says Hillary Clinton has no chance to secure the Democratic nomination. She can feel free to count Michigan and Florida, and twist the rules to raise the number of delegates needed to win. It won't work anymore. It's time for her to wind this down. Play out that hand, win West Virginia, take a short victory lap and get out.

Saint Obama is here to drive the snakes out of Washington. I couldn't be happier that my predictions were wrong.

The only thing that can stop him now is some kind of crazy scandal. But it's not gonna happen. No pictures will surface of Barack Obama chillaxin' on a party boat with a hottie on his lap. The crazy screaming black preacher man is about as bad is it could get. And Barack survived and transcended.

Barack Obama will accept the nomination of his party on the 40th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech. Can it possibly be any more historic?

Time to gather 'round the man:

Too Many Choices.

I have a lot I want to write about — the efficacy of Jungian dream symbols in regards to speculative neuroscience and unconscious revelation; how the suspension of disbelief in comic book movie narratives is directly proportional to the technological nature of the hero's abilities; why I like faux-chicken nuggets.

But it's Super Tuesday! Again!

My dear Hillary, what hath you wrought? A fractured party with little chance of healing before what is sure to be a grueling general election. But we all have our bright and shiny dreams to ruthlessly cling to past the point of logic, common sense and decency. Besides, sacrificing your principles upon the altar of political expediency is par for the course if you're an elected official gunning for the highest office in the land.

That's the conventional wisdom, anyway. Yet you don't see Barack Obama taking this tack. Which is why he could fail to lock down the nomination.

Hillary, on the other hand, is willing to talk about "obliterating Iran," making nail-biting defense policy in a lopsided debate on ABC. Save it for the Presidency, please. Or better yet, keep it in the right wing think tank where it belongs. (I'm still trying to find support for this ludicrous statement among any of the prominent defense think tanks who actually publish their findings. No go so far, but I did stumble upon this piece about how Israel's sophisticated missile defense shield and nuclear retaliatory capabilities would be sufficient to ensure its survival in the case of Iranian attack. The Iranians, however, do not fare so well in this scenario.)

Hooray for Hillary's Gas Tax Holiday, or whatever they're calling it today.  “I’m not going to put my lot in with economists," she says, when pressed that her plan gimmick won't result in actual savings at the pump. Better yet, she has zero hope of getting this kind of legislation passed this season, and, even if it managed to move out of Congress, our oil baron President would surely veto it with extreme prejudice.

Obama, as usual, sees through the bullshit and refuses to jump on the political bandwagon. But Bill Clinton's ongoing dog & pony show across rural America trumps any pretense to economic sense. "Bubba dun come to our town! He's one of us, gaw-gaw-gaw!"  Right. I'm sure you yokels get paid millions of dollars to speak on behalf of foreign trade organizations, too.

At this point I'm having trusting anything Hillary says. Do I believe her "green collar jobs" initiative, or will she further inflate the national defense budget while pursuing an incoherent foreign policy?  Who cares? All we really need to know is she's a fighter.

Maybe later I'll articulate my three-prong solution to America's energy and economic woes. Or perhaps I'll talk about Iron Man and the aforementioned suspension of disbelief in comic book films. . .  or faux-chicken nuggets. . . I guess you'll just have to wait and see.

THIS JUST IN: Obama brings peace to Niger 's Delta region. Could this be the key to lower oil prices?

Contraflow. . . By Jebson Interlandi

This week saw the release of The Fall's new album, Imperial Wax Solvent.  What, this must be their 50th or 60th album? I haven't heard it yet, but I hope to soon. I'm not a huge fan, but Mark Smith does manage to crack me up sometimes. He serves as another reminder of my potential future self — a reclusive, opine contrarian who can still handle his drink.

More intriguing than the album, in my view, is Smith's new rant/autobiography, Renegade: The Lives And Adventures Of Mark E. Smith. From what I understand, the book contains more heartfelt convictions than tales of mud sharks or shitting oneself on an airplane and convincing your roadie to swap pants. Here are two excerpts I'm happy to endorse:

"What gets me is the lack of lyrical effort shown by bands nowadays. Me and the wife use that thing on the telly with the subtitles to read some of the lyrics. Jesus Christ! 'I'm going up the hill, you're going to leave me, I'm going to leave you, why did you leave me?' It's pathetic: all meek and self-absorbed. I'm just not interested in hearing about some lad's break-up with some college girl. . .

. . .lads today are a bit too open like this anyway: going to the doctor's every five minutes telling them how depressed and distanced they feel. I think it's because they've got too much time and space to think about themselves. You don't get lads like that in Russia. It's not part of the culture there. It's a uniform, if you ask me: an identity. You can hear the whingeing in their music. It's stale. They should stop hiding away in their bedrooms with their computers and get out a bit."

Lastly:

"Degrees have a way of warping people  — it's not good for people to spend that amount of time at university, acting like rock stars on weekdays. They get so distanced from the real world that they haven't a fucking clue what's needed. It's a luxurious prison, almost. Once they get out, once they're released, they're good for nothing other than having weekly reunions with their old housemates, getting jobs with their old housemates, or staying on to receive more educational therapy or forming piss-poor bands. And they've all got foppy fringes."

I happen to be a student, myself, for the moment. Somehow, I managed to pull the wool over everyone's eyes. I've been an enemy of University and Academia for some time. I tend to stand on the side of Education, which I feel has detached itself from those self-contained/self-justifying islands in the sky. One of these days I expect to stumble upon a School of Comparative Irrelevancies offering courses such as "Urban Planning for Gypsies or Morse Syntax" (titles stolen from Umberto Eco). For a more brutal and honest critique of the current academic arena, check my satirical novel yet to be written. Due out in a couple years.

Just for kicks, you've got to see this '80s training montage from No Retreat, No Surrender. Hold out for the black kid eating ice cream on the guy's lap. What the fuck?:

Waits Follow-Up. . By James P. Caldwell

Well, here's the goddamned awesome press conference and now I'm stomping around the apartment like a dick because the closest he's getting to NYC is Columbus Fucking Ohio. For the record, I hate everyone in every city on the list. Love, James.

Glitter and Doom!!!! Tom Waits Tour Official Monday!!!!!

FINALLY. Anti Records has announced that Tom Waits will hold a press conference Monday, May 5th, at 9am where he will reportedly announce a 2008 tour titled "Glitter and Doom". The press conference will be viewable at tomwaits.com, his long-dormant site that's set to launch Monday.

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

If you're a Waits fanatic like myself, you've been scouring, digging, cursing and throwing fits trying to find details on the tour rumor ever since that evil magazine Rolling Stone three months ago printed a blurb that a tour was being planned. David Fricke is a jerk. 

I'm already packing my survival kit for ticket camping out. Maybe I should buy a pistol. At the very least I'll need to sharpen a stick at both ends. . .

[This is James' post, btw — although I, too, dig Tom. Oh, and P-Dork says the show is on. -ED]

Why I Don't Play Live (Often).

But when I did, it looked a lot like this.

My co-worker Chhaya just published a really thoughtful post about touring (and traveling for work) over at Liquid Sunshine. Unlike Chhaya, I never felt called to a life on the road, but I certainly understand outgrowing something you previously held dear. For me, it's live performance, which so many people associate with the music, but I now find tedious. And it's not all about travel, although I definitely did my share of that back in the band days.

The driving was fine, and the company was occasionally tolerable, provided I'd had enough coffee/booze/sleep. What always got me was the waiting around. I really hated dragging my shit into the club and being basically trapped there between soundcheck (if you were lucky to get one) and set time. Sure, you could walk around town, but there's always the need/compulsion to get back to the venue. You could sit at the bar and drink, but if you have the relationship to alcohol that I have, that isn't always the best idea. (I'm a perfectly jovial drunk, but the problem is if I start, I just keep right on going. This can lead to messy performances, which I really can't stand.) So mostly you just roam around bored, every sticker on the walls confirming your understanding that there are simply too many bands out there.

You don't really meet the best and the brightest on the road, either. Soundguys will talk you ear off about their new compressor and how they once ran front-of-house for Whitesnake. That's if they talk to you at all; often they just mumble monosyllables. Until you spill beer into their monitors, that is. Then they demonstrate a quite colorful vocabulary.

Audiences, while often appreciative, are typically soused. They shout ridiculous shit at you (especially if you're the frontperson). Sometimes they even get up onstage and step all over your pedals. Believe me, I've been tempted to react like Jay Reatard does in this here clip. Actually, I do recall getting a little testy back in the day. (If I caused any unanticipated dental work, you have my sincerest apologies.)

Also, the pay pretty much sucks for playing live. I've found I can much more easily subsidize my gear habit by mixing/mastering other people's work. Don't get me wrong, I have been paid pretty well for shows, but I always had to split it with other people! (Plus it was the old days.) Hmm, maybe I'm just selfish.

It's true that there's something exciting about the chemistry between the right players. I've been there before, and some pretty incendiary shit came out of it. Unfortunately, it's a lot like relationships: the volatile ones usually produce the most passion, but are the hardest to sustain. Intensity can so easily slip into mutual antagonism.

The only downside to studio life these days is that there's less value to recorded music. Pricing is pretty well fucked, with major stars setting out the online begging cup. But as Don Van Cleave of the Coalition of Independent Music Stores told me just yesterday, we're only about seven years into the Digital Disruption. It will eventually stabilize. Or so we hope.

Another problem with studio work is that it really brings out your perfectionist tendencies. I still write what I consider to be interesting music that's well-played, but since I have essentially endless amounts of time to revise and re-envision, I can take forever to release anything. I thought my new record, Northern Lights, was done, but now I think I'm gonna make some further alterations. I'm like Axl Rose but without the hair extensions. And I can play everything myself, ha! 

Wow. That's a lot of blathering. But I guess that's what blogs are for.

Flame On.

The internet is a curious place. I'm equally fascinated and repulsed by the reply comments I read at various sites, mainstream and otherwise. Depending on the temperament and medication intake of those who feel obliged to mark digital territory with their grammatically-challenged offal, such comments can either provide a chuckle or make one pray for a planetary collision with a colossal meteoric object.

[An aside: Godwin's Law states, "As a Usenet discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches one." I find this to be mostly irrefutable.]

I usually enjoy the comments on Idolator. This is because the readership is, by and large, comprised of snarky musical elitists, which means I'm in good company. Sometimes I go against my better judgment and chime in myself.

The other day, Idolator scribe Dan Gibson posted an out-of-the blue diatribe against The Doors. Now, I understand that for many, appreciating the band is merely an adolescent rite of passage. Others, like myself, revere them for the giant permission slip they gave to rock 'n' roll to indulge its lusty, metaphysical urges. (But if you don't find humor in the band's stylized nihilism, you're totally missing the point.) Some, including people I respect, absolutely abhor the group. This doesn't prevent me from occasionally rushing to their defense, especially when I've passed my productivity point at work. (You know, like now.)

So if you have some time to kill, you should check out this Idolator post and its attending comments. Not only did yours truly get firsties, I also managed to land a couple of zingers. If you make it through that thread, you might wanna read today's (somewhat) pro-Doors retort from Idolator's Anthony Miccio.

Or you could just skip the whole thing, and listen to this genius song from Bruce McCulloch of Kids in the Hall fame. I'm not asking here. This is an order.

In other news, my brilliant, beautiful wife and I are taking a long weekend in San Francisco in June. Well, one day will be work-related. But after that, we're gonna visit with Arthur and enjoy us some California dreamin.' Maybe we'll even have a Democratic nominee by then. We'll definitely have a house. Did I tell you we close on May 23 — my birthday?