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I’ve been considering buying the new album by the Dixie Chicks, and not because one of them said something mean about President Bush. Truth is, I don’t care about that. I’m not a fan of what passes for country music these days — the “rockabilly” stuff that seems to me to be closer to Madonna in tone than Patsy Cline — but I’ve heard enough of the D.C.’s music to want to hear more, and I thought their simple, three-part harmony version of “The Star Spangled Banner” at the Super Bowl was the best rendition of the National Anthem that I’ve heard yet. Their political views, as far as I can see, have nothing to do with their music or the quality thereof. But of course, some folks don’t agree.

I’ve never understood the whole business of boycotting a particular artist because of that artist’s political views. Maybe it’s because I grew up listening to classical music, an area where if one selects the composers whose works one will listen to on the basis of their views in life, one would have a pretty short playlist indeed. I doubt, frankly, if any artist has ever been more of a lout in his beliefs and behavior than Richard Wagner, and yet Wagner’s operas form one of the grandest peaks in any art. Wagner’s name ranks with Shakepeare and Michelangelo, in terms of his art, which seems all the more incongruous because in terms of his personal politics, Wagner’s name ranks with Hitler’s. (Literally. Wagner’s views were Naziism, seventy years too early.)

Even though I don’t air my political views much in this space, I make no secret that I’m pretty much of a liberal. But I see no reason at all to base my choices in terms of art and entertainment on my political beliefs. I didn’t suddenly stop watching Magnum, PI when Tom Selleck introduced Nancy Reagan at a Republican National Convention; I’ve watched movies featuring Charlton Heston since I found out about his conservative beliefs; and so on. So why is it that so many people on the right in this country are so willing to either (a) boycott an artist or entertainer who publicly supports liberal causes or (b) play the “Just shut up and entertain me” card, as if by virtue of being a liberal entertainer or artist, they should abandon any public voicing of their beliefs? I find this phenomenon incredibly odd, every time it comes up. And no doubt it will again this coming Sunday, when I’m sure some Oscar winner will say something not terribly pleasing to the conservative crowd.

I have to say that I find this attitude at once goofy — think of the great films and books and musical works we’d never hear if we limit ourselves to that subset of artists with whom we agree politically — and, frankly, hypocritical. “Shut up and entertain me” was never much of a concern if Ronald Reagan was the actor doing the talking, and it certainly seems odd that on the one hand the ravings of talk-radio personalities like Rush Limbaugh are apparently not to be taken seriously (“He’s just an entertainer!”) while the ravings of other people who actually are entertainers are to be treated with enormous gravity.

This post probably isn’t very coherent, which I’ll chalk up to the DayQuil. I’ll leave off with this: owning a copy of Thriller doesn’t make a person a nut-case, plastic-surgery-fetishizing weirdo with an unhealthy love of children. If you’re a conservative, watching The West Wing is not the equivalent of sticking a “Martin Sheen for President” bumper sticker on your car. And if you’re a liberal, enjoying T2: Judgment Day doesn’t require you to religiously trace every negative event in world history since January 20, 1993 to Bill Clinton.

There’s an old adage that I try to apply in my fiction writing: “If you want to send a message, use Western Union”. I think the reverse applies as well. Let’s stop limiting ourselves.

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Stupid cold. Ugh. I’m torn between being annoyed that I’m sick on the first instance of nice weather in Syracuse since, well, September and my desire to take a big-ass drill bit, jam it into my sinuses, and spin it away.

I think I’ll just make some tea and watch a few more movies. I already watched Say Anything, which just happens to be the best teen romance ever filmed. “I gave her my heart; she gave me a pen” has to be the single most succinct expression of total heartbreak ever uttered in a movie.

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Just some very brief stuff today, because I’m nursing a cold.

:: Ah, Spring in Upstate New York — when the ground enters that most beautiful intermediary state, between “snow-covered” and “grassy green”. Otherwise known as “muddy quagmire”.

:: We drove to Buffalo yesterday to do some apartment hunting. It sounds incredibly geeky, I suppose, especially given that we were gone for all of six months, but it was really good to see our once-and-future-haunts again.

:: Today’s entrees on the liquid diet include green tea with honey, and copious amounts of DayQuil. I hope to be back on solids by dinnertime. My colds, fortunately, tend to be really rough for a single day and then I get better. I expect to be somewhat recovered by tomorrow.

:: CalPundit is on hiatus until Friday. I suppose he deserves a break. But I don’t want to give him one. Oh well.

:: Sean is a NCAA b-ball fan, and he’s got an online pool going. I’m refraining because my knowledge of such matters is so bad that I’d be tempted to write-in St. Bonaventure. But, people who are more aware on such matters might want to have a look.

:: I’m shocked! shocked! that Saddam Hussein rejected President Bush’s ultimatum. So, it looks like it’s time for bombs to start dropping. As others have noted, it’s time to hope for the best. My general position is that while I agree with the necessity of the war, I look on the people running things and imagine what the country would look like if the South had waited to secede until Calvin Coolidge was President. This Administration’s bungling attempts at diplomacy and nation-building do not particularly infuse me with confidence in what a post-war Iraq would look like — rather the reverse, actually — but the die is cast. President Bush has shown a certain fondness for poker metaphors lately, so here’s one of my own: in the war itself, we’re about to play our full house. Problem is, I can’t help but suspect that when it comes to the post-war stuff, we’ll be sitting on a pair of two’s.

:: That’s all for today. I’ll try to be back tomorrow, and hopefully with the long-awaited continuation (heh) of “Attack of the Presidents”.

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The following humorous anecdote appeared in my Inbox this morning, and I would be remiss in my duties as a blogger if I did not inflict it upon all nine of my unwitting readers. So, without ado of any kind:

:: Two Pirates, Black Jack and Capt Blood, meet up unexpectedly in a Jamaican bar…

“Blood!” says Jack, “I haven’t seen you since we graduated from pirate school. You’re looking fantastic, what with the wooden leg, parrot, hook and eye patch. You must be one hell of a great pirate, man.”

“I’ll be honest,” replies Blood. “Most of this stuff’s just due to stupid accidents, I’m not really a great pirate at all. I lost the leg trying to tie my ship up to a mooring in Plymouth. I’m such a dumb ass that I got the rope wrapped round my leg and pulled the sucker clean off. The parrot was just left to me by my great Aunt who left it to me as one of the conditions of her will.”

“What about the hook?” said Jack, “surely that’s the result of some epic battle?”

“No,” Blood sighed, “I lost the hand in the galley, helping to prepare vegetables for the crew. Nothing piratical, I’m afraid.”

“Hells Bells, man” said Jack. “But you look every inch the perfect pirate. At least tell me that you lost the eye to a musket shot!”

The Capt gave his old friend a one-eyed look of weary resignation. “Ah, Jack. I lost that eye when I was walking the fore deck at sea, looking up at the top mast rigging, where my men were setting the mainsail. A seagull did a shit right in my eye.”

“You were blinded by seagull shit?!” exclaimed Jack.

“Of course not, I just hadn’t got used to having a hook yet…..”

The persons responsible for the preceding have been sacked.

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Buffalo’s NHL team, the Sabres, fell into serious trouble when their previous owner, John Rigas, fell into serious legal trouble of his own when his company, Adelphia, went bankrupt after one of those accounting-scandals of a year ago. Adelphia was once to be Buffalo’s corporate savior, not just of the Sabres but of the city as a whole: there was going to be a big office tower built in downtown Buffalo to house the Adelphia corporate HQ, a construction project that was shrunk from forty stories to twelve and then canceled altogether. (The most recent developments have Adelphia jilting Buffalo altogether, in favor of moving to Denver.)

The Sabres were taken over by the NHL itself as a new buyer was sought; a guy named Mark Hamister was the front-runner but he wanted the city and state to pony up money for improvements to HSBC Arena, where the Sabres play. (This would have been mostly for parking, since the Arena is less than ten years old itself.) The city and state balked, and it looked as if potential owners from outside the Buffalo area — who would likely have moved the team — were going to be allowed to make offers.

However, in the last couple of days a deal for the Sabres’ ownership was finally put together with B. Thomas Golisano, a billionaire from Rochester, NY whose main claim to fame is his quadrennial independent run for Governor of New York State. He has pledged to keep the Sabres in Buffalo, and he provides the franchise with financial footing that it hasn’t enjoyed in a long time. I haven’t followed the whole thing much, so I’m not sure why Golisano wasn’t the front-runner in the first place. I’m also annoyed that Buffalo, through mismanagement, put itself in a position of having to keep the Sabres there — because Buffalo owns and runs HSBC Arena, an expensive facility that would almost certainly have failed without the NHL team’s presence on its calendar. For some reason, the Arena doesn’t host nearly enough events. I find myself wondering why Buffalo, with this beautiful arena (and it is a fine facility), can’t put together a bid to host, say, the NCAA Final Four, or perhaps the Figure Skating National Championships (or maybe even the World’s). Part of Buffalo’s problem is that they just seem too ready to settle for small, as opposed to thinking BIG once in a while.

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Random notes on maintenance issues and such:

:: I updated “Other Journeys” at left to replace a couple of blogs that haven’t been updated in many moons, and to add a few of the more heavily-frequented members of the left-wing blogosphere. I also added a link to my evil twin.

:: It strikes me as weird that I can walk into Wal-Mart or Target and, for the price of a single new, full-price music CD buy two movies on DVD, complete with extras and widescreen presentation. No wonder the music industry is in the toilet….and further evidence, from the classical world: Naxos, whose discs retail for around seven bucks, is really starting to outsell the bigger labels.

:: I’m not sure why, but I’m supposed to say Hello to a person named “Mieke”. OK, here goes: Hi, Mieke. (By the way, I like the name “Mieke” and have every intention of stealing it for a future book or story.)

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It’s supposed to hit fifty degrees today in Syracuse. Wow. We’ve melted enough snow that brown patches of grass are beginning to show up.

My question is: how much snow must melt before the golf-freaks start using the course across the street?

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It turns out that SDB is a one-time fan of the show Emergency!, that terrific 70s drama about the adventures of a pair of paramedics and their fire department, as well as the tribulations of some of the doctors at Rampart General. That was a great show, and I distinctly remember hustling home each day the year I was in second grade to catch the 4:00 re-run of the show on TV. (Which was followed at 5:00 by Star Trek.) Being that age, I had no idea that the show was partly mainstreaming the idea of paramedics. Who says TV is useless?

One of my favorite bits of Emergency! lore comes in the film Wayne’s World, which many people assume to be just a dumb teen-type comedy — but it’s full of jokes that only people of a certain age could possibly get, such as when the perpetually-drunk background character is about to “spew”, and Wayne yells, “We’ve got to get him to Rampart!” When I saw that movie in the theater, at that moment everyone over the age of twenty laughed, and the kids just kind of tittered along, the way they do when they’re in the presence of something funny but they don’t get it.

For some reason, the episode of Emergency! that always sticks out in my brain is one where the guys respond to a call where a person who has eaten something like nineteen hamburgers for a contest has passed out. One of the guys says, “Well, I guess he won”, whereupon another guy standing nearby says, “Nah, I did. I ate twenty.” The paramedic asks, “OK, how do you feel?” and the guy kind of shrugs and says, “Kind of full.”

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IMAGE OF THE WEEK





Some people want to build the item pictured here as a shrine to the Virgin Mary on Buffalo’s waterfront. This arch would become the tallest structure in Buffalo, dwarfing the current tallest building — the HSBC center — by more than one hundred feet.

Politics and the abortion debate aside (this arch is intended as a shrine for pro-life Catholics), on aesthetic grounds I oppose this thing. I can’t think of something more garish and dumb-looking than this item, looming over Lake Erie and the entire city. I don’t expect it to ever get built, but then, I don’t expect a lot of things.

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I’m going to allow my Ebay auctions to lapse until our impending move is complete. But it will be the same batch of books, so if for some unknown reason the teeming masses of Byzantium’s Shores readers are waiting to pick up one of these volumes, well, they’ll be back.

(EDIT: Actually, I’ll keep them going because I’ve just learned that the move isn’t to take place for a couple of weeks yet.)

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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