IMAGE OF THE WEEK

A “reflection nebula” in the Orion constellation.

The Orion Nebula is one of the better-known astronomical objects. Less well-known is this secondary nebula to the Orion Nebula’s north. It is called a “reflection nebula” because, rather than glowing by reflected starlight, the nebula is actually glowing by the reflected light of another nebula. I love the colorations of this image.

(Shamelessly filched from Short Fat Guy, a nice blog that I would visit more often if the images forming his left-hand sidebar didn’t make me hungry every time I look there.)

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The rather fawning profile of our war-time President is making the rounds. The passage that bothers me is this one:

Bush believes he was called by God to lead the nation at this time, says Commerce Secretary Don Evans, a close friend who talks with Bush every day. His history degree from Yale makes him mindful of the importance of the moment. He knows he’s making ”history-changing decisions,” Evans says. But Bush doesn’t keep a diary or other personal record of the events that will form his legacy. Aides take notes, but there’s no stenographer in most meetings, nor are they videotaped or recorded.

It’s not Bush’s religious visions that give me pause here — although, quite frankly, they do; I’ve never liked being around people who are so certain of God’s opinions — but the whole bit of secrecy involving the Presidency that is at the heart of this administration. True, no President really likes the press, and generally administrations try to keep their cards hidden at all times; but the degree to which this administration wants to keep everyone in the dark as to what’s going on is truly awe-inspiring. Historians are going to have a hell of a time chronicling the years of Bush the Younger, between Bush’s decision to keep Presidential papers off-limits indefinitely and his obvious lack of introspection that leads him to reject even the most standard types of record-keeping.

Hell, Bush’s own father — Bush the Elder — kept diaries and notes during his Presidency, and later generated at least one book (A World Transformed) about the seminal events of his years in office. Somehow I can’t see Bush the Younger ever being interested in history enough to put his own pen to paper, and he doesn’t seem sympathetic at all to the other people who will have such interests.

I think it’s going to be fascinating, twenty or thirty years from now, to see what Presidential historians make of this man.

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Another memo to self: When attending a science-fiction and fantasy convention, don’t annoy author Jo Walton. (Or, I suspect, get into a discussion with David Brin.)

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Memo to self: I need to read TBOGG more. I’ve visited him sporadically for a while — mainly when Atrios cites something there — but having read this post, I just have to admire the dark sense of humor that obviously holds sway in a person who can morph Peggy Noonan into a character from a Shirley Jackson story.

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About ten days ago a warm spell arrived in the Syracuse region, which melted off most of the winter snow and made some of the grass turn green. Along with the arrival of spring came the flocks of seagulls. (And now, by virtue of merely typing those three words, “I Ran (So Far Away)” is going through my head. Ah, the hell of having come of age in the 1980s….)

But then we got a last-gasp blast of wintry weather, with a few inches of snow the other day; this resulted in the comical sight of seven or eight seagulls sitting hunched atop every streetlight in the area. (Comical for me, that is. I’m sure the gulls themselves saw none of the humor in it; they’re probably thinking, “What the hell?!”)

Well, it’s still cooler than the warm spell, but the snow has again melted and the gulls are picking at that muddy stuff that exists in between the “permafrost” ground of winter and the green, green grass of summer. And they’re occasionally scurrying to avoid the rabid golfers who insist on playing in weather that puts them in mind of a quick tour of the links but which puts me in mind of “The Hound of the Baskervilles”.

If Spring is your favorite season, then don’t move to Upstate New York. Spring here always sucks.

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The eyes of the boxing world my focus this June on Buffalo, if a set of fights involving Lennox Lewis and Mike Tyson (although not against one another) are successfully scheduled. Ralph Wilson Stadium — home of the Buffalo Bills — would likely host the event, which could feature Buffalo’s own local boxing star, Joe Mesi, in one of the bouts.

As an affirmed Buffalo-chauvinist, I’m always in favor of putting a little national spotlight on the Niagara Frontier for reasons other than snow (although, hey, snow’s fine too), so a big boxing event would be neat. I’d love to see Buffalo get into the act of hosting bigger sporting events; the HSBC Arena, for example, would be a great place to hold the NCAA Final Four, for example, or the World Figure Skating Championships. I’ve never thought that Buffalo does enough to attract big-time attention to itself, so a big boxing event could work.

(Although, as far as boxing itself goes, I can’t say that I care all that much. It’s not my favorite sport, not by a long-shot. My take on boxing is swiped from a stand-up comedian I saw on TV years ago, whose name I can’t recall: “You have to wonder about a society that considers masturbation ‘self-abuse’ and boxing ‘a sport’.”)

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In the time I’ve been reading SDB faithfully — since before I launched Byzantium’s Shores, which was in turn almost fourteen months ago, and I still read him pretty much daily — I’ve noticed that SDB chafes when people try to label him in certain ways. He doesn’t like being characterized as a conservative, a right-winger, or a libertarian, among others, and he can generally cite some of his personal beliefs that illustrate his dislike of whatever label is in the offing. He’ll actively endorse other labels for himself, though — Jacksonian, for example, or “ethical cynic”. But for the most part, SDB seems to cultivate a general dislike for labels, and for grouping people together except for matters of pure convenience.

Which brings me to (gulp) France.

SDB really doesn’t like France. I mean, he really doesn’t like France. Of course, he’s got a lot of company in the America of “Freedom Fries”; but SDB has been railing against France for a lot longer than most other Americans have been burning down laundromats which their owners decided years ago to call “French Cleaners”. SDB hated France before hating France was cool, to the point where his post on the first anniversary of 9-11-01 was — you guessed it — a diatribe on how much he dislikes France.

So in the last week, he’s engaged in a bit of conspiracy theory about French motives in opposing the Iraqi war; it turns out there’s some French company that would benefit by the war not taking place, with said benefits also accruing to President Chirac and others in the French government. This may be so, but I’m a bit nonplussed by the general warblogger position that of course France opposes the war on motives of pure economic gain, but to suggest even slightly that the Bush Administration favors war even in part on such similar motives (Halliburton? Bechtel?) is, well, dumb at best and “America hating treason” at worst.

And then, there’s SDB’s response to the vandalism and desecration of cemeteries where the British and American dead were interred after World War II and various other conflicts. To desecrate such a place is one of the most cowardly and odious things a person can do, and I agree that whoever did this is utterly, spectacularly vile. But to then go on, as SDB does, to interpret this act as indicative of the entire nation’s beliefs is utterly absurd. He says:

There can be no greater demonstration of the blackness of the French soul than this desecration.

It certainly demonstrates the blackness of somebody’s soul, to be sure. But every Frenchman or Frenchwoman? Come on. And no, polling statistics on French attitudes don’t make the connection between that country’s anti-war attitude and this specific act of desecration either, despite this claim to the contrary:

I would suspect that the majority of the French will deplore this vandalism. But they won’t disagree with the fundamental opinions of those who committed it. They will deplore the means by which the message was delivered, but not the message itself.

This kind of “lumping of everyone together” into one gigantic political tent has not been a pleasant development in American politics, and I don’t think it bodes well for international affairs, either. The entire nation of France should not be held accountable for this desecration any more than the millions of Americans who oppose abortion should be considered accessories to James Kopp’s murder of Dr. Slepian; this desecration no more demonstrates “the blackness of the French soul” than does the acts of a couple of hillbillies in Jasper, Texas demonstrate “the blackness of the Texan soul”.

(BTW, I have little doubt that if there were a French military graveyard somewhere on American soil, it would have received some similar desecration by now. There’s always some boob out there willing to go that extra mile to make his beliefs known. Witness what happened to this poor laundry owner.)

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You know, I’m just about ready to give up trying to figure out where 24 is going. I mean, I have no intention of not watching it; I am as hooked on this damned show as much as I’ve ever been hooked on anything. But whenever I read or watch an espionage thriller, I tend to expend a lot of effort trying to figure things out. (Not that I’m all that successful, all the time….) But now, I’m totally at a loss as to what’s going on. What started with a simple race-against-time-to-stop-the-terrorist-scheme has become, rather audaciously in my view, a race-against-time-to-stop-World-War-III. The closing moments of last night’s episode, in which yet another rogue group seemed to show up, just sealed the deal. I have absolutely no idea where they’re going with this. They could have the 24th episode of this year be a montage of shots depicting the world ending in nuclear holocaust, and I wouldn’t be any more surprised than I would be if everything wraps up next week and Jack Bauer spends the remaining eight episodes or whatever soaking in a bathtub with scented salts and oils.

As for The Misadventures of Kim Bauer, I’ve come to almost see her storyline as comic relief as she gets herself into one scrape after another. Maybe next week she’ll get tossed into a lockup cell with Nina Myers….

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An update on the St. Bonaventure University basketball scandal: the Atlantic-10 Conference has decided to allow SBU to remain in the conference, while also levying some hefty fines for the basketball team’s forfeiture of its final two regular season games following an eligibility gaffe (that’s putting it mildly) in which a player was strong-armed through the admissions process by the head coach and the SBU president, despite his very obvious lack of eligibility. The president, Robert Wickenheiser, has already resigned, while the head coach and several others are still on administrative leave (which basically means, “You’re done, but we’re trying to figure out a way to get rid of you without having to pay your entire contract”).

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Maintenance notes and Meta-blog entries abound:

:: I’m supposed to be on hiatus for moving purposes starting today, but I’m not, I guess. Things are moving smoothly enough that I may limit my hiatus to this Friday until next Wednesday. Or so. Of course, I shall keep everyone informed.

:: I’ve just noticed that I’ve been permalinked by The Rittenhouse Review, which is a very pleasant surprise. Thanks, Mr. Capozzola!

:: I finally got around to updating Reverie and Passion today. (For newcomers, this is a side-project of mine, a blog pertaining to classical music in general with a specific focus on this year’s bicentennary of my favorite composer’s birth, Hector Berlioz.)

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