Monday, January 14, 2008

Oh Mama!


In the comments section for my last post I was asked what I thought of Barack Obama. To which I reply:

Barack Obama is a 46 year old first-term senator from the state of Illinois. He is a light-complexioned African-American male whose father came from Kenya and whose mother came from Kansas. He is running for President. He is six feet two inches tall.

...

Oh, I gotta say more? Sigh.

The problem with Obama is that everything I've ever read about the man tells me he has no great ideological conviction besides a commitment to the broadest platitudes. He has the soul of a moderate. It's probably necessary, because as tricky as it is for an African-American male to try to reach across color lines to white voters, it's also necessary that said African-American male be as "presentable" as possible: i.e., not a firebrand. It's a necessary impulse in a politician but that doesn't mean I have to be excited about it. He's a great orator, or as close to great as you're likely to find in our degraded political culture. I think that makes him seem more revolutionary than he really is, considering there is very little substantively different from his opinions than those of his Democratic opponents.

He is a damn fine speaker, though. Listening to him talk, he seems uniquely poised to capture the enthusiasm and ability of youth, to be an avatar for exactly the kind of change he so assiduously assures his audience he personally embodies. He really does seem capable of inspiring the kind of inspirational loyalty that has so long been missing from the political stage. But... after the speeches are over, I can't help but reflect on Socrates' critique of Gorgias, and the inherent immorality of oratory and rhetoric when put to the purpose of persuasion. I can't think of a single good reason to distrust Obama, besides the fact that he wants so very badly to assure us of his trustworthiness. I like him, I'd certainly vote for him, but the gap between his inspirational ambition and his actual capabilities is an unknown quantity in my mind. There can be no doubt: he is an inspirational figure. A friend of mine pointed out recently that progressives are by definition always resurgent, and Obama seems to understand this instinctively. Whether or not he can channel the righteous indignity of enough Democrats and Independents to sway the nomination is another matter.

Hillary is hardly the perfect candidate. She voted for the war, and the only explanation for such a vote is pure and simple cowardice, based on the raw political calculation that being wrong about a good war would be worse in hindsight than being right about a bad war. Of course in a perfect world politicians would not make such calculations based merely on ruthless tactical considerations. And I certainly can't defend her vote, or the odious realpolitik instinct from which it springs. But if you were to ask me who I thought would be more effective, an inspirational speaker with doggedly centrist convictions or a ruthless political machine who tacks to the center despite what are almost certainly deep-seated leftist impulses? Well, that's not necessarily a choice I want to make, not on those terms.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Requiem for a Lightweight

Richardson, Richardson


You know, it doesn't really matter that Bill Richardson's platform reeked so strongly of mewling DLC anti-populism, there's still something a bit sad about the fact that he was unable to gain any traction. Just listening to him during the debate last Saturday reel of his voluminous list of accomplishments, it was a little bit surreal, to realize someone with all those wonderful qualifications couldn't get arrested for dog catcher of East Podunk. Richardson is one of the least sexy candidates I've seen since the heyday of Dick Gephardt's quatriannual exercise in 0.5% futility. But does the fact that he is probably the most qualified candidate from either party mean anything, or were people not even paying attention?

I like Hillary, I really do. I don't care if she's one of the DLC's mainstays, I don't care about "dynasties" - dynasties work pretty well for Southeast Asia. Can't we at least try to aspire to India? I notice that Hillary's idea of semi-formal wear usually revolves around some kind of Nehru jacket, so it's obvious she's aware of the connotations. Her rather eclectic clothes send a very clear message to the electorate: if you vote for me, I will promise not to drink my own urine. Mike Huckabee, however, probably starts every day with a big tall glass of man pee.

I like just about everything John Edwards says but I can't muster up any enthusiasm for the man himself. I look at Edwards, and I think, is it even possible for a Muppet to get flop sweat? I want to see the man who has his hand up Edwards' ass.

McCain - why does nobody else seem to notice the slurring and the palsy? I mean, besides the fact that he's one of the most despicable figures in the entire spectrum of American politics. The man is 72 years old - he'd be one or two years older than Reagan was. And honestly, exaggeration aside he really does seem like he's slowing down: whomever in the GOP wants to see McCain go the long haul in a torturous months-long general election campaign must really like the spectacle of old men embarrassing themselves. And I know that the bread & butter GOP voter really likes voting for surrogate Daddy figures, but seriously, if McCain is your daddy than your mom is some weird trophy wife who had no problem having sex with a senior citizen in order to inherit some huge fortune. So, basically, McCain's natural constituency is Tony Randall's kids.

(And seriously, just how despicable is John McCain? People used to think he had conviction. Then he got railroaded by the Bushes in North Carolina in 2000 in the dirtiest election in recent memory. I mean, seriously, race baiting and everything. And what did he do? He rolled over on his back to let W. rub him on the tummy like a good little Golden Retriever. At this point, about the only good thing I can say about the man is that he doesn't seem to reflexively loathe his Democratic colleagues and opponents. It was notable at the midpoint of Saturday's debates that he was pretty much the only Republican who didn't act like a deer in the headlights when they brought out the Dems to shake hands and say hi. But if the best thing you can say about a candidate is that he is halfway to meeting the bare minimum of being a decent human being, well, shit, you got problems.)

And good old Mitt? He's the absentee dad who makes his kids call him "Sir", and only really speaks to his children on holidays when he gets a few bourbons in him and starts complaining about how much a disappointment they all are because nobody wanted to follow in his footsteps with the family business. The family business is probably asbestos or something else that causes cancer. Then he gets blind raging drunk after someone mentions whichever kids daddy disowned because they moved to San Francisco or whatever, breaks his glass over the fireplace mantle and threatens to break his his wife's back with the fire poker. I have known many Mormons in my life and they are all really nice people, but Jesus Christ would I not want any of them to be President, ever. If you went to high school with me, nod your head sadly.

So yeah - give me Hillary. When it comes to the President, I want to vote for someone who looks like they could break walnuts by staring hard enough. I'll say one thing for her: she's got more will than Bill does. I anticipate that if she gets elected she will be a centrist Margaret Thatcher. The only saving grace for this formulation is that the center has moved slightly towards the left in the last few years. There really isn't anything that liberal-progressives can get too excited about, but hey, maybe she could stab Justice Scalia at some kind of state function? Rip his liver out during the State of the Union and pass it around to the party leaders so they could absorb his power?

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Help Me, Help You


Normal (non-promotional) blogging will resume probably tomorrow, but I want to make another appeal to my regular readers not simply to take a chance on "RAW YOUTH" but to help me spread the word about the book throughout the blogosphere. I've set up a new website devoted specifically to previewing the book, consolidating the eleven preview chapters previously available here into one place.

I've prepared half-a-dozen small buttons which can be placed into the sidebar of your blog or website, which link to the preview site. If you've ever liked this blog or anything I've written, please think about taking the thirty seconds necessary to cut-and-paste one of these VERY simple HTML tags onto your website code:


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Monday, January 07, 2008

Brand New Day



I would like to take a few minutes out of your day to talk to you about the New Amazing. No, not the new Amazing Spider-Man, about that I could care less . . .

If you direct your eyes to the top of the left-hand sidebar, you will see a new advertisement, in the place of honor previously devoted to humping hamsters, "Rachel Ray Must Be Stopped" and the ever-popular "Have Fun Jackin' It". What you see has been in the works for quite a while, and I'm pleased to be able to bring the news to you now, in the first week of the year 2008.

"RAW YOUTH" is my book. It was finished, roughly, sometime in the year 2005, and it has waited patiently for the right time before being loosed upon the unsuspecting world. You might recall that for a while I was serializing chapters of this book on the blog - you can still find about the first fourth of the book, online, for free, beginning with chapter 1 and proceeding in order throughout chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11. Even though the book is now available for sale I have no plans on taking these excerpts offline, and will probably be placing permalinks to these preview chapters onto the sidebar soon.

After devoting a good year and a half to trying to find either an agent or a publisher willing to take a chance on me and my book, I've decided to kickstart the process myself. Accordingly, "RAW YOUTH" is being printed by the good folks at www.Lulu.com. The decision to essentially self-publish was not one I made lightly. The book-publishing world is a different animal than comics, and while I would never want to be accused of making gross generalizations about an entire field, the fact is that for the large part of contemporary prose publishing history the idea of publishing your own work through some kind of "vanity" press operation has been seen less as a stepping-stone for up-and-comers (a description that could accurately describe the career trajectory of many popular comics creators in both the mainstream and alternative realms) than the ultimate destination of wannabes and dilletantes, the "not-ready-for-primetime-players" of the book world. The stink of the bush league has retained strong enough negative connotations that it is only very recently that we've seen these things beginning to change. The instrument of that change has been the internet. As recently as two or three years ago it would be inconceivable for a young writer, trying to make an honest stab at a career in the realm of fiction writing, to self-publish without casting serious aspersions on their abilities or potential (either critical or commercial).

But things have changed. I am in no way shape or form an expert on the publishing world - perhaps an expert of getting rejection notices on major-firm stationary. So I asked a few people I knew. The consensus seemed to be that yes, the invention of the internet had changed a lot of things, among them being the automatic assumption that self-publishing carries an automatic stigma for those trying to make a long-term career in the book world. (I'd like to especially thank John, owner of Bully and publishing muckety-much up at WW Norton [I believe?] for taking a few moments to answer my questions.) So, with that in mind, I took the plunge.

So - here's my book, for sale. I've got a copy myself - the first proof - and it looks pretty rad. I don't like the default font they used (I would have liked to use a nice Electra, the same font used for the Norton Critical Editions series). It costs a few dollars more than a comparable trade paperback from another house, but every copy you order is printed "to order", so none of the economies of scale that you get from normal book publishing apply. With all that said, I still think it looks pretty nice, myself. If you like my writing, or what I do here at The Hurting, you should really think about ordering a copy. Every copy of my book that gets bought means the world in terms of proving that there is a market for this book and my writing. And if you buy it, read it, and do like, don't be shy about it, either.

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Things Which Made Me Happy



A guy in a tunic karate chopping a robot to death, with the accompanying sound effect "SQUEEEE", in a comic book written by Jim Shooter. How many people caught that one?

You know, there's a lot of water under the bridge, and Jim Shooter certainly ain't the same man who premiered on the Legion way back in 1966. But I've always liked his writing. My love for early Valiant is well-documented, and you'd have to look pretty hard for someone who didn't love the Korvac saga, or, even, the first Secret Wars. (Yeah, it's cheesy as fuck but don't you wish more superhero comics these days at least made the effort?) Star Brand was pretty good, too, in a totally-weird-subconscious-roman a clef way. Shooter may have been an arrogant prick in a lot of ways - now isn't the time to rehash that - but his instincts as a writer of science-fiction-based superhero stories has rarely strayed him wrong. (I still can't explain Plasm.)

And sure enough - with one issue back, the Legion actually feels like The Legion again. No offense to the folks in charge of the book these past years, but there's something to be said for trying to write kids that actually act like kids, and not thirty-five-year-olds in teen drag. Mark Waid's Legion read, honestly, more like a spec script for a Star Trek spin-off, and it was all pretty damn staid for a book explicitly about teenage rebellion. It's not rocket science, people - a book about teenagers with godlike powers who live in Outer Space and want to fuck each other's brains out should not read like the minutes of a UN subcommittee meeting.

(Edit: I should probably point out that the Legion itself was never traditionally about teenage rebellion, but that was the tag line for Waid's reboot.)