The “Holy hell, that’s a lot of Emperor” edition

Friday Random Ten

  1. Emperor • Grey
  2. Emperor • The Source of Icon E
  3. Ben Christophers • Where the Road Bends
  4. Ermine • Motel
  5. Embodyment • Cruise Control
  6. Grails • Smokey Room
  7. Tin Hat Trio • March of the Smallest Feet
  8. Emperor • Of Blindness and Subsequent Seers
  9. Silverchair • Leave Me Out
  10. Cave In • Innuendo and Out the Other


Write a letter to yourself about yourself:

  • Faux Real, Tho (good kids are wonderful things)
  • The Smedley Log (After this week’s FRT, I too know something about repetition)
  • Winter Spring Summer (Vista = Garbage, but A-Ha = Win!)
  • The BM Rant (I still remember the first time I ever heard Kid A—that was a hell of a thing)
  • ThirtyDinosaur (I’ve never been able to get into Johnny Cash—though goodness knows I’ve tried)
  • Apartment 2024 (Sarah McLachlan is one of my secret vices)
  • Educe Me (You and I are in the same end-of-college boat)
  • Feministe (I’d just like to point out that Justin Timberlake has no business being in the same list as Nick Cave)
§1841 · April 27, 2007 · 2 comments · Tags: , ,

A History of the World in 6 Glasses A History of the World in 6 Glasses by Tom Standage
Publisher: Walker & Company
Year: 2005
Pages: 320

I came to this book by way of my brother. Were I a regular reader of The Economist, for which Standage is a tech writer, I might also have come across it by association. The premise alone was enough to intrigue me, not just because I am a fan of recreational beverages of all sorts, but because the anthropology aspect called to me—and the book promised to be a good deal more, uh, fun than, say, Jarred Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel

Although I’ve thought about it, I cannot quite decide what Standage’s premise is. It seems likely one of two (perhaps both):

  • Certain beverages, whose popularity peaked in a particular age of human history, provide suitable loci for a look at the economic, political, and cultural forces that shaped these eras
  • The role of beverages is more closely tied to human development than we may suppose

Standage’s book takes us from back to the dawn of civilization, discovering “beer” by soaking cereals in water; to the immense popularization of beer in ancient Egpyt, as well as the various and sundry Mesopotamian empires; to the eventual affordability of wine and the immense role it played first in Greek civilization and then in their spiritual successors, the Romans; to the rise of distilled spirits, the invention of brandy, rum, and grog, and the bitter legacy of slavery that they left; to the roots of coffee qua beverage in 16th-century Yemen; to its eventual popularity in Europe, where it fueled New Academia and even provided a boost for the French Revolution (it began in a coffeehouse….); to the displacement of coffee in Britain by the Next Big Thing™, that is, tea; to the unprecedented stretch of the British empire that the global trade of tea both caused and funded; finally, to the invention of Coca-Cola and its parallel of the United States’ growth as a major world power.

Let’s be clear: this book is the briefest of overviews, touching upon history only where it intersects with these beverages. For example, the section on coffee is ≈50 pages: compare that with the 500+ pages of Uncommon Grounds. Clearly, there is a lot more to be said than will fit in the scope of this book. Still, I think Standage does a pretty good job tracing the influence of these various beverages. And it’s also bursting with trivia.

There’s something that bugs me, though, about Standage’s writing. Perhaps it’s the bitter curmudgeon in me, but his lively prose always seems so…. I’m not sure, perhaps “credulous”? “Jingoistic” isn’t quite right, either. Perhaps he’s simply drunk too much of his own Kool-Aid. For an anthropological work, it has a relative paucity of data, but you’d never know that based on Standage’s tone.

§1838 · April 25, 2007 · 3 comments · Tags: , ,

Alternatively, read the PDF format

Several weeks ago, the War in Iraq entered its fourth year—despite the official “end of major combat” that the codpiece-sporting President announced mere months after it began—and the steady sectarian violence pursuant to the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s Baath Party shows no encouraging signs of abatement. It has been a busy four years, with opponents of the war criticizing its planners for the endless stream of seemingly empty motivations, the President and his closest associates maintaining the need to finish stabilizing the region, regardless of cost, and a growing swell of political moderates noting the sour taste that the whole affair has left in their mouths. To a reader in 2007, it seems silly—almost masochistic—to read accounts like Anne Garrels’ Naked in Baghdad: the book chronicles the NPR correspondent’s time in Iraq from just before to less than a month after the United States’ invasion, and its message seems congruent with the cries that have been heard since 2003, the truth falling somewhere in between the most stringent rhetoric from either ideological side. This is old news—no pun intended.

Garrels’ fragmented narrative does not coalesce into an overarching parable about preemptive war or the human cost of conflict, nor does it fall prey to maudlin sympathies. The most important “string”—to borrow one of Garrels’ own metaphors—to be found in the story of Iraq’s fall is the similarities to the ailing Soviet Union in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Not only is Russian language and influence pervasive in the Middle East—Garrels notes this, citing the Soviet Union’s own intrusions into the region during the 20th century—but the parallels between Saddam Hussein and some of the former U.S.S.R.’s less illustrious leaders, and between the two countries’ essential dissolution into chaos and mob rule during regime change, is a pressing allusion.

Read more…


From Stirling McLaughlin comes this laughable piece of prudish propaganda.

Youths AIDS poster

Yes, I understand that they’re trying to deal with a serious issue in a “hip” way, but did you notice that there was no mention at all about “safe” sex, or any indication of multiple partners? Intravenous drug use? Anything? No, it is simply “Have sex, and you risk AIDS.”

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: abstinence is a best idea that no one practices. In lieu of that, hammering home the idea of responsible sex activity and protection is paramount. But we need to stop pretending like if we wish hard enough, everyone will be a virgin until they’re over 21 and married. It’s a laughably puritan idea that should have died long ago—and did die long ago in many European countries which now have a very open attitude toward sex (and, you may have noticed, much lower abortion/rape/STD rates than the US).

§1837 · April 23, 2007 · 3 comments · Tags: , , ,

Love, Poverty, and War Love, Poverty, and War by Christopher Hitchens
Publisher: Nation Books
Year: 2003
Pages: 475

Anyone who’s frequented my blog to any significant degree knows that I am (mostly) a fan of Christopher Hitchens. I find him an excellent journalist, as well as a man of scruples, a great lover/scholar of literature, an iconoclast of the highest order, and an all-around interesting writer. Most importantly, he neither requests nor offers any alliances except to the principles he holds dear: liberty, civil liberty, intellectual vigor, and the rooting out of corruption.

Of late, you might know Hitchens for his unapologetic support of the invasion of Iraq. He’s been a talking head on a variety of networks—FNC included—to proffer his justifications for the war. But Hitchens has been around a long time: you might recall his screed against Mother Teresa, his contempt for Bill Clinton, or his struggle to oust and prosecute Henry Kissinger for war crimes (all three of this subjects have been tackled in books by Hitchens). He’s written in a variety of contexts—more than I ever realized—and this collection of essays seeks to offer a decent cross section of that canon.

The book, as the title might indicate, is divided into three sections.

  1. Love • This section consists mostly of Hitchens’ passions—that is, reviews of famous literature or books or history. It begins with a lengthy essay about Winston Churchill (through the lens of several biographies and books and history) written for Atlantic Monthly. It continues along that vein, jumping from introductions of Huxley’s Brave New World to contextual criticism of Rudyard Kipling, to reviews of other literary criticism. It spans a wide gamut, but it’s a side of Hitchens that is rarely seen except to owners of nth-anniversary reprints of select novels or subscribers to Atlantic Monthly or a ragtag collection of literary journals. It’s not the best lit-crit I’ve ever read, but it’s still damned interesting.
    • Americana • As a postscript to the “Love” section is a series of articles dealing specifically with American culture. One long essay, I believe for Harper’s, recalls Hitchens’ journey across historic Route 66 in a Corvette, and reminds me more of Bill Bryon’s The Lost Continent than anything by Hitchens.
  2. Poverty • This section is a catch-all for any of Hitchens’ polemics that aren’t Iraq-related. A screed against Mother Teresa, for instance, as well as an extraordinarily poignant piece about an execution he witnessed in Missouri (and of course capital punishment in general). These are some of his most reflective pieces, even if they contain at points a fair amount of ire. Remember that Hitchens isn’t one to pull any punches.
  3. War • “War” is, as one might imagine, predicated entirely upon the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, although it is further bifurcated into a “Before September” section, which consists largely of early-90s pieces about the first Gulf War—and a notable argument about Montenegro during the conflict in Yugoslavia—, and an “After September,” which chronicles some of Hitchens more immediate responses to the attack, more measured pieces months later advocating military responses, and finally a few articles dealing with the invasion of Iraq.

I’m sorry to say that the final essay, for all its merits, strikes me as a somewhat jingoistic, “Iraq: A Country on the Move!” sort of fluff piece. It’s a soft end, I think, and not one that holds up well several years later, when prospects aren’t as bright and sunny as Hitchens makes them out to be. Still and all, one has to respect Hitchens’ clarity of argument—I find that my own opinions have been tempered somewhat by his writing—and the nuance and skill with which he approaches his subject. Love, Poverty, and War is a mere sampling of Hitchens’ incredible archives, but it’s the sort of compilation I’ve been looking for, since I’m not a regular reader of anything but his Slate articles. If you’re a Hitchens fan, or just want to see what he has to say, give this one a chance.