Alex and I have waited ’til now to watch LOST. We’ve watched several episodes, and her crackpot idea was to write a haiku about each one. Her crackpot ideas tend to be awesome.
Anyway, here are the first seven, plus a limerick I wrote out of the normal sequence, and an extra haiku she wrote. I’ll post the rest as we go.
Charlie’s got the shakes
The signal thing worked somehow
(moth is symbolic)
Withdrawal sure sucks
And so does being useless
So Go Charlie Go!
Supplementary Items
Me:
Alex
One survivor for each demographic
(not one of which, so far, is Sapphic)
the sex is just flirting
the violence just hurting
but the plot exposition is graphic
Hurley, we love you!
When do we hear your story?
Will we like you less?
Flickr has a weakness: it allows photographers to title their own photos. This is often a bad thing. Let me demonstrate:
Exhibit 1: a lovely photo. Simply great. It’s got a wonderful balance of color, some excellent use of depth of field, and really nice composition. Title: “Enchantment.” Now I’m forced to experience intrusive images from bad fantasy novels when I see the picture. Not even good fantasy; bad fantasy.
Here’s another one. Not as stunning as the first, but still, interesting point of view, nice visual lines, etc. And then a title that wrenches my mind toward bad 1990s Lifetime Network movies: “Follow Your Own Path.” Plus, in the description the artist says s/he “literally kissed the sun” in that spot. No, you did not. Back to my original point, the title is not good.
This one I really like, too. Great plant shot. While you’re enjoying the juicy green, look at the title. LOOK AT IT! Now wash your eyes out at the hazmat station for a minimum of five minutes. Follow workplace standards for contamination with caustic substances.
It goes on and on. Titles like “Freedom,” “Faerie-House,” “True Enigma” (these are invariably self-portraits), “Indescribably Luscious,” “Ultimate Escape,” etc. etc. etc. (got tired of sifting through the bad titles). And I’m not even talking about the pictures people take of their pets and children. No, these are good pictures, art-wise (IMHO), that have horrendous titles. I breathe sighs of relief when I see titles like “Jan 27, 2008″ or “IMG_2452″ or the ever-appropriate “untitled.”
People should maybe think of hiring someone else to do their titles. Also, Flickr should let me browse title-optional. Yes, I crave no-title browsing. Because this hurts my brain.
…NO! Did I write a one-word-per-line villanelle about anhedonia? Yes! Yes, I did!
*
WAH
by me, bobbyfiend, the Great Villanelle-Writing Poet Guy
Bleah.
Whine.
Wah.
Yeah;
I’m
blah.
Ska
line?
Wah.
Slaw
time?
Bleah.
Bra
line!
wha…?
Nah.
I’m
blah.
(Wah)
~
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll be here all week.
(p.s. In case you’re wondering, I’m really not in a rotten mood; it was all about the juicy rhymes. This is variously called “Poetic Licentiousness,” “Terminal No-talent-itis,” or sometimes “lame-a&& hip hop”)
The web, she is a harsh mistress. This week, she has hurt me and tickled me and hurt me again. She is not a nice girl.
1. As I have said all along (and as young Catherine Vogt has just learned), associating oneself with a candidate who talks about diversity and tolerance doesn’t mean one actually has a clue about what those words mean.
2. Vanity Fair has written a snarky little piece about Thomas Kinkaide’s involvement in what sounds like the most horrendous movie ever made. It’s a movie based on a Thomas Kinkaide painting!!! The VF article is titled “Thomas Kinkaide’s 16 Guidelines for Making Stuff Suck.” :D
3. Andy Borowitz, a humor writer with the Huffington Post (or “HuffPo,” as some people call it… the people who are still upset that they never mastered the slang of the moment back in high school) has written about President-Elect Obama’s controversial and confusing use of complete sentences.
4. Richard Renaldi is a Canadian photographer with a strangely moving series of photos in which he asks complete strangers to touch each other while posing for the shot. “Giovanni and Deborah” is my favorite.
5. Second to last: This is absolutely without doubt a classic example of that “road to hell paved with good intentions” idea. This is Orwell’s 1984 in embryo. It is a very, very horrible idea. Just read the last sentence in the Globe and Mail article. Ick. Ick. Ick.
6. Last, but oh no siree bob definitely not least, you HAVE TO SEE THIS VIDEO. Especially if you like Rock Band/Guitar Hero. :D
The cat, not the update, is the unexpected part. He’s at the vet now, until tomorrow. He is a he. His face is indeed messed up. The tissue covering his lower jaw was almost completely torn away. One vet guy said it might have been an old wound, while another said it could have just gotten infected very quickly (it’s pus-infested and reeks to high heaven). He is only running a slight fever (as assessed by the usual uncomfortable method), and one vet said this is a fairly common kind of wound. I note he didn’t say it’s easy to fix.
The vet (Dr. Garza, in Edinburg; I’ve visited him before, and he seems to do a fine job) said that they would probably use something like stainless-steel wire to sew the flesh that used to cover his chin back where it should be, anchored in place by wrapping it around his lower fangs. Weird, and Franken-cool. I’m massively relieved that something is being done by someone who knows what to do. I guess he’s my cat for about 2 weeks, while his face attempts to heal (no word on how likely that is). I’m actively seeking another owner. He’s not my cat. I keep repeating that, like a mantra.
After many months, I just received word from my first grad school advisor (my relationship with whom has never been untroubled anyway) that the article I wrote and sent him is not suitable for publication. He cites several reasons, some of which I agree with, and some I don’t, and I still want to think that the work that went into this can be salvaged somehow, but his name is on the manuscript next to mine, and I can’t really just cut him out of the process. Plus, he’s a very good professional resource, and he still indicates he’s willing to collaborate or help out in other ways, which is nice…
So, that’s flat-out-rejection #2. I know rejections come with the territory, but they’re highly demoralizing. When other researchers talk about developing “rhino skin” from all the critical comments, I think they refer to articles that are potentially accepted, if the criticisms are fixed. So far, my batting average is .000
Over at Mother Jones, there’s a highly informative article revisiting 18 of the more egregious inconsistencies and blunders the mainstream media in the U.S. have been responsible for, since the start of this whole “war on terror” thing1.
I freely admit that my views of the U.S. political machinery and the war itself have changed, as things have gone along. But the Mother Jones article was a wake-up call, nevertheless. How quickly we forget the weasely words of the people in the magic box.
Second favorite:
The day before the invasion, Bill O’Reilly said, “If the Americans go in and overthrow Saddam Hussein and it’s clean, he has nothing, I will apologize to the nation; I will not trust the Bush administration again, all right?”
As if we needed more evidence that Bill O’Reilly was an especially heinous, right-wing-ratings puppet. And, though it’s more of a mockery of the media, rather than a media blunder, per se, here’s my favorite:
Stephen Colbert’s routine at the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner in April 2006 is remembered for the in-his-face mockery of President Bush—but he also spanked the press, perhaps one reason his mainstream reviews were mixed at best. Addressing the correspondents directly, Colbert said, “Let’s review the rules. The president makes decisions; he’s the decider. The press secretary announces those decisions, and you people of the press type those decisions down. Make, announce, type. Put them through a spell-check and go home. Get to know your family again. Make love to your wife. Write that novel you got kicking around in your head. You know, the one about the intrepid Washington reporter with the courage to stand up to the administration. You know—fiction.”
Yeah.
The democratic machinery of the nation, by its very nature, is always “broken” to some extent, but there are functional measures of how much it’s broken. Currently, I think a strong case can be made that it’s more broken than it’s been in ages. Mainstream media organizations have often been the Bush Administration’s willing minions in this process.
It will take a long time to fix what we’ve broken in the past couple of decades (especially the last 7 years). Assuming we ever get around to fixing things.
It just occurred to me… is a “War on Terror” pretty much the same as “Attacking the Darkness?” Surely someone else has seen this parallel of meaningless abstraction in nomenclature before now [↩]
For some reason, I have spent the last many years identifying cool band names when they come up in conversation or other places. I have generally been remiss in remembering these amazing band names. Oh, ,the hard-rocking, soul-swaying names lost to my imperfect memory! So, I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m going to write some of them down, right here. If you name your band one of these completely awesome names, please give me credit in the liner notes of your first album, and send me a free copy. The names are listed by genre.
Alt/Indie
Everybody’s Amber. This is my favorite, and the front-runner for many years, should I choose to make a band. Which I might do. Shut up.
Alas, Earwax! Come on, you know this is awesome.
Funk/R&B/Soul
Ill-Gotten Booty. This is my personal choice for a funk outfit. Get it? ‘Booty’ is a double-entenderay.
Metal/Industrial
Lovelily. I know this might go under Alt/Indie, but seriously. Much better if it’s hardcore. And bonus points if the lead singer’s name is (or can be changed to) “Lily.”
Nerdy Psychology Bands
Stereo Type Threat. Yes. You want this name.
Regression 2 Mean. A good, solid name. Nothing wrong with naming your band this.
c.Diss. It stands for Cognitive Dissonance, but that was a little too nerdy.This way, you get to say “diss,” as if you were some kind of hardcore 1990s street punk, and the punctuation is vaguely reminiscent of a computer virus.
Theory of Mind. The music would be heavy, but also, you know, heavy.
Semi-Sober Jam Rock
The Holy Goats. Dyslexia sometimes makes for some righteous monikers.
Phantom Honkers. This was inadvertently suggested by my sweetie pie in a comment on someone else’s Facebook wall.
Looks like Kubrik’s monolith, don’t it?1 And we are the monkeys dancing at its base :). It’s half of what I considered to be a wonderful — and even powerful — piece in the same park as the Chicago Mirror Bean. This was set at one end of a tiled plaza about fifty meters long, with a matching one facing it from the other end. I’m sure there’s an artist’s statement somewhere about what it’s supposed to represent, but I just enjoyed standing between two huge faces. I was surprised at how much of a visceral impact I felt when I stepped between them. The faces changed every few minutes, and each face shifted expressions every so often. After the jump, a few more pictures, including a close-up of the surface, which looks like bazillions of LEDs behind glass brick. Continue reading →
That’s the Mirror Bean, a sculpture at the South end of the “Magnificent Mile” of Michigan Avenue in Chicago. Amanda says it’s a butt. I find it very cool1. More pics after the cut.
Detlev Grundig is going on two centuries old. His social life is subpar, he is thirty kilos overweight as someone else’s fashion statement, and his third marriage (to the same woman) is a bit stale. He is also being followed by some guy for unclear reasons.
Ja doesn’t quite fit in with her family, her friends or her clan. Sure, she’s as lethal with a sling as the next woman, and even kind of attractive (in a nerdy sort of way), but she likes scrolls and books and numbers. What’s a girl to do? Join a suicidal mission to a deadly, ancient fortress, that’s what.
A Cure for Magic (short story – Coming Someday)
Genetic treatments have made mental illness a largely historical concept, but Freddy seems to have slipped through the cracks. Lucky for him, there’s a researcher who is looking for brains like his (bad ones, that is).
Lia (novelette – Almost Certainly Coming Eventually)
A down-and-out public defender’s unrequited childhood love shows up on his doorstep, asking him to hide a few things for her. She’s a genius with a troubled past and ties to a mysterious biotech organization. He’s a guy who once won a contest for hiding a dummy.
Charles (non-sci-fi flash fiction – Coming At My Whimsy)
With something this short, a description might be longer than the actual story…
NOTES ABOUT THIS PAGE:I’m new at this whole “writing” thing1, but I’ve found it is a very effective way to avoid doing other things2. I’d like to get better, but I’m not sure how to improve. So, I’m screwing up my courage3, letting it all hang out, and seeing where the chips fall, even if it’s to their deaths. Poor chips. They never had a chance.Mostly I write pulpy science fiction of the “social” or “soft” variety. Exceptions will be noted. All comments, criticisms, thoughts, diatribes, etc. are welcome, but if you have something particularly hurty to say, and you are my friend, relative or Mom, I suggest you put a fake name (like “GWB”) and fake email (like “GeorgeBush@Whitehouse.gov”) in the comment form. This will help save my tender feelings while still giving me important feedback.
kthxbye
Tragically, when I get new ideas, the innocent people — you, for instance — suffer. [↩]
Grading papers, doing research, calling my Mom… things like that [↩]
The internet is, apparently, the sticking-place [↩]
Another year has come and gone, and here I am writing another online Christmas letter to everyone instead of sending cards like considerate people do. Oh well. I married Alex so she could compensate for such deficits in my personality. (Note: Since writing this, I have migrated my photos to Flickr, so the photo links are all broken. Maybe I’ll fix them, someday).
Here’s how this newsletter works (feel free to skip sections that do not interest you):
Christmas Message
Things that have happened this year.
Note that you can click the text links or the pictures for extra information. Clicking names of places usually takes you to a map. Clicking pictures will take you to the large version of the picture. Pictures will open in a separate browser window.
Confused? Just click some stuff and see what happens.
Christmas Message
As most of you know, Alex and I are Christian, so Merry Christmas! But if you’re celebrating Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Pagan Winter Feast, or just Many Days Off Work, we wish you fondest and warmest times, as well.
In Algonguin, no one can hear you smirk
Although we recognize that Christ was probably not born in December, and we are skeptical of the reality of elves, we are happy for the opportunity to join with others in celebrating Jesus’ life and acts. And we’re glad, in general, for the chance to just pause with the rest of the world, Christian or not, and enjoy a few days with friends and family.
So, Happy Holidays. If you’re reading this, we love you. Lots.
Year In Review
We were not exactly being very serious here
The year has been busy, and full of bad news, good news, and just news. Some of the bad news is that Alex and I still do not live together. She lives in Hamilton, Ontario (just north of Buffalo, NY), and I live in Edinburg, TX (just south of everything). We are working very hard to get in the same place this year, but jobs, education and citizenship issues make this a sticky business. We’ll try to keep you informed. For updates (inconsistent, sometimes incoherent, but often with pictures), just check this website from time to time: www.bobbyfiend.com. It’s my personal blog and I try to give some sort of account of what’s happening in my life, on a semi-regular basis. Of course, if that’s not the kind of thing you want to read about, I recommend staying away from this website.
5 minutes from my house, almost at the freeway
Winter and Spring
Alex in Newfoundland
January is always a little depressing, as Alex and I have to separate after a month together. We got to see each other a couple of times before May, and I was even in Quebec City for a conference, but that was without Alex (it’s surprising how far apart some of these cities are). I was as sick as a dog the whole time, so it’s just as well. Alex got to go to St. Johns, Newfoundland (which is a million miles from anything) for a different conference, and brought back enough pictures and stories to make me want to go back with her, someday. During the summer. Not the winter.
Night of the Iguana, with Amanda and Alex!
The semester kept me busy. I seemed to be traveling every other weekend. I made about half a dozen trips, what with visiting Alex and academic responsibilities. In between, I tried to keep my classes and research moving, which is not as easy as I had always imagined it would be. My sweetie, during this time period, was working on her dissertation, (a process I can sympathize with) and also c0-starring in two plays: The Night of the Iguana and Oedipus Rex. Later, in the summer, she and I both helped out (she as an actor and I as a stagehand) in a community production of Good Night Desdemona, Good Morning Juliet.
Green Room for Good Night Desdemona, Good Morning Juliet
At the end of Spring, I flew up to Canada (as is my wont), breathed a huge sigh of relief, and settled in for a summer of teaching and hanging out with my wife–something I’m not taking for granted, quite yet (give me another year or two…).
Summer
Alex and Darrin: Oilers!
Summers for the last two years have been my relief periods. Not because of the work load, although it’s reduced somewhat, but because I get to spend three months with my wife. This year, like last, we hung out in her un-air-conditioned third-floor apartment while the temperature inside climbed to about 100 degrees sometimes. Odd that I’m hotter in Ontario during the summer than I would be in my fully-air-conditioned apartment in Texas.
We both enjoyed our academic work (I was teaching an online class and doing research; Alex was still slaving away on the dissertation), and enjoyed just being around each other. We even played some hockey, which was a definite first for me. Good times.
Alex and John, celebrating their No-Goodery
The last half of the summer was a crazy round of travel. We spent a week at Alex’s parents’ lovely cottage, about 3 hours north of Toronto, with our friends Amanda, Scott and Brad, as well as Alex’s brothers, sister, their significant others, her in-laws, niece and nephews, and parents. It was a wonderful time, and it’s hard not to fill this entire page with photos from that experience. While we were there, we played disc golf (hooray!) at a course in South River, and spent a day paddling a canoe in Algonquin Park. I’d go back in a second.
We are wildness [people]!
it's like when you see an ant carrying an entire leaf
don't look... he's totally taking our picture. I said don't look!
pose like a poseur
Scott and Lisha, together at last!
After Northern Ontario, we drove quickly back to Southern Ontario, then flew to the wedding of my friend Scott and his bride, Lisha, in the mountains near Pike’s Peak, Colorado. It was gorgeous up there! Alex and I are keeping an eye out for academic jobs in the area ;).
Sharon and her little boy. And her little fetus.
Directly on the heels of this trip–meaning we didn’t even go home first–we flew to Washington and visited my delightful cousin Sharon and her family, then headed to Idaho for the Rogers Family Reunion. We were, honestly, a little concerned at the somewhat low attendance, but within an hour we were enjoying ourselves immensely. Especially fun was playing with our nieces and nephews, most of whom Alex had never met, and all of whom had grown up tons since the last time I saw them. I love them all dearly, and hope to get to hang out with them more, in the future. So, my siblings need to visit me in Texas more often. And bring your kids.
your human powers are useless here.
snuggly and breathless at 9,000 feet
llama, llama, there's a llama...
I miss you guys. really.
As you might have guessed, after the Colorado-Washington-Idaho trip, it was back to Ontario, whirlwind unpacking-then-packing, and down to Texas to start the school year once again, and lose my wife for another semester.
Fall
cheesy, I know... but *I* took this one!
yet somehow the beach muggers missed us
Fall is exciting and depressing at the same time. Academics like Alex and I tend to have a hopeful, happy feeling at the beginning of every school year, but we also have to leave each other after three months spent getting used to living together (almost like real married people!). So, to ease the pain, Alex goes down with me to Texas and hangs out for a couple of weeks or more, and we get to be a normal husband and wife for a little longer. This time, we got adventurous (her idea) and camped on the beach at South Padre Island. It was a wonderful experience, although I’ve heard since that it may not be entirely safe, despite the fact that it’s a state park. So, deep sigh, we probably won’t be doing that again any time soon, at least just the two of us. But we enjoyed the experience immensely, and we love the beach. We found great peace in putting our folding chairs in the shallow breakers and zoning out for hours while the waves tickled our feet.
Go Down, Moses
It seems that right after Alex left I got a new cat. Sigh. Not that I needed one. His name is Moses (because he came out of the reeds), and I found him near a reservoir outside Edinburg. The whole story is explained if you click here. Anyway, now I have two cats. And they both live with my sweetie in Canada, because it’s impractical to get care for them when I leave for a week or a month or a summer. Despite his unplanned appearance, I still like Moses. Good cat. And I miss both my feline monsters when I’m in Texas.
Red-Tail Hawk on the way to South Padre
Work is work. I’m finally collecting data on a project that should have been done half a year ago, and I’ve applied for two more grants–one small and the other very large (10 universities, about 100 investigators, and tens of millions of dollars from the Department of Homeland Security). I keep busy with our little Psychology Department’s hopes for a PhD program, advising students, teaching classes, and working on my research. It’s a little more than your average full-time job, but I don’t mind. I’m trying to build up some momentum that will carry me a while when Alex and I finally live together and I feel like having true 40-hour work weeks for a bit.
Edinburg in the afternoon... really, not as small as it appears here
Cerro de la Silla (Saddle Hill) from near Monterrey Tech campus
In October, I was invited to be part of a university expedition to Monterrey, Nuevo Leďż˝n, Mďż˝xico. About 20 of us met with some officials of a couple of universities down there, and that is turning into an interesting collaborative experience. I hope I get to do some cross-border research, cause Monterrey is a very cool place. I’m looking forward to going back.
Alex and I are on the job market, and it’s an unpleasant experience. Academic politics are active, sometimes irritating, and often confusing. I’m reminded of my father, quoting Napoleon, telling me not to assume malice when incompetence is the more likely answer… We don’t know if Alex will get the job she has applied for at UTPA (where I work), or if we will both be offered jobs at one of the half-dozen places we both applied to, together. I love my work, but I’ll give it up if I can be with my wife. If none of our plans pan out, we’ll be thinking fast. Plan C might be a bit creative. We’ll have to wait and see.
Alex has stayed busy, trying to regulate her very disobedient sleeping schedule, working tirelessly on her dissertation, playing hockey, and even rehearsing for another play (she’s Lady MacBeth). I think she’s at her best when she’s got a few irons in the fire. We have kept in touch as much as possible, visited once or twice this semester, and are now together for nearly a month, which is lovely. Phone calls and seeing each other once a month don’t really cut it, sometimes.
It’s the winter holiday season, now, and that has always been a time to try to reconnect with family and friends I don’t talk to very much. I’ve always been terrible at keeping lines of communication open, so I hope you’ll forgive me for the generic flavor of this message, and know that I still care about you. Happy Holidays.
The first was just phenomenally awesome. The soundtrack was composed of old, misogynistic radio and TV ads, a Bing Crosby piece (maybe?), and something jazzy and awesome that sounded like Django Rinehart on guitar. The dancers (all female), using spinning stools as props and dressed in identical polka-dot short dresses, created a highly kinetic melange of war-era pinup poses, glamor-girl smiles, burlesque moves and what I thought were more abstracted references to female gender roles. As the piece progressed, there were increasingly visible indications of the shallowness of the facades, such as the dancers lifting and posing each other like dolls or mannequins. Oh, and there was lots and lots of sultry cigarette smoking, with some serious coughing at the end. Also they sometimes flew around, airplane style, on their stools :)
The second piece was set to the Titanic theme, and involved some fairly predictable and derivative–but sweet and romantic–choreography. There seems to be a gender-change operation in there somewhere, as well as a lesbian love affair, but I suspect (given the nature of the rest of the piece) that these are not what the choreographer was going for.
The third piece (the one of resistance, you know) was my friend Melinda Blomquist’s MFA choreography work. I saw it in an earlier form last Spring, and now it’s even more awesome. Traditional hymns with a lot of vocals, an a capella Lila Downs piece, and some other touching music with gorgeous allegorical dance involving women with a white sash. The white sash begins around their waists, and they all struggle (sometimes violently) to get it off. Lots of repeated themes: jerky struggling-type motions, progressions of one hand up the other arm (sort of reminiscent of David Byrne in his “Once in a Lifetime” period), women lifting each other up and falling back down, and too many more to remember or mention. One by one, the dancers remove the sash, and the tone of the dancing shifts from tortured to jubilant. The themes of trials, mutual support, faith, and overcoming are powerful. I get all verklemt just thinking about it. Continue reading →
But first, a gratuitous picture of my sweetie at Garden of the Gods:
So Dorothea Lange and Ansel Adams got together in a dark bar one night…
First Excellent Thing:BLDGBLOG has a wonderful, wonderful, delicious article about Michael Cook, a guy in Toronto who is an urban explorer, with an emphasis on subterranean exploring (especially Toronto and Hamilton). This means drains and sewers, largely. There are some sa-weet photos here, which you simply must see to appreciate. The article links to his blog (which has apparently crashed from the newfound publicity), and to sites of other underground urban explorers. Seriously, if I didn’t suddenly have a heightened sense of my own mortality (since, say, June 3 of last year), this is the kind of thing I’d be really, really tempted to do. It tickles my fancy in particular ways. Actually, I’m not saying I won’t do a little of it. The not-very-dangerous kind. Here’s a sample photo (click for larger size, as usual):
Toronto drain pic
Second Excellent Thing: Berkeley Breathed, author of the original Bloom County strip, has continued (with much less fanfare) to create Opus. Recent strips about Lola Granola jumping on the “Radical Islamist” bandwagon in her peripatetic spiritual journeying were immediately pulled from many national newspapers for fear of offending people. Pfft. I love Berk Breathed. He’s been shooting sacred cows on a regular basis since I was too young to understand political sarcasm. And we need to people like him to continue to help us see the absurdity inherent in the world around us. [click for the full comic]
Opus Islamic Fundamentalist strip
(note: I found out about this by way of boing boing, and also through Salon.com, who has not pulled the strip).
So, you know about light writing? Well, it has lots of names. You go to a dark place and you open your camera shutter for a few seconds (or a few minutes) and write things in the air with flashlights, candles, etc. Here are some examples of light writing that I had fun with a few years ago, after getting my Canon Rebel SLR (film version).
ritual thumbnail
cornhenge thumbnail
So, I have loved this kind of magical stuff for a while. And then I found this excellent project (link: blog – higher resolution) from some guy calling himself pikapika (hee hee). Thousands upon thousands of light-writing images, stitched together into a stop-motion movie. Joy! (the link below is the lower-resolution YouTube version).
A couple of nights ago, my friend Brad and I had a discussion. It got me thinking, as I often do, about mipatria (the United States), its role in the world, and its future on the international stage. This morning, while trying to find a citation for homicide rates as (lousy) indicators of overall crime rates, I ran into a 2005 article titled “The next 50 years: Unfolding trends,” in what appears to be a good peer-reviewed academic journal.
The article has a section titled “America’s Retreat.” He predicts the end of U.S. international dominance by about 2050, with clear signs starting a few decades ago, and becoming more apparent very soon. He cites a lot of economic indicators, such as national debt, increasingly weak currency, and huge (and increasing) trade imbalances. He has graphs (pretty ones) and apparently rigorous data analysis. Some nifty excerpts from the article, after the jump. Continue reading →
