In Tenure Veritas: Libations From The Ivory Tower

 I have never really been a fan of the Grateful Dead.  There's an old joke.  (OK, there are many old jokes, but here's one among many).  What did the deadhead say when he ran out of drugs?  "Wow, these guys suck."  Too harsh, yeah, but I'm not really a fan.  That said, there was an amazing band called "Jazz Is Dead," consisting of the great Jimmy Herring on guitar, along with several other luminaries, playing jazz-fusion versions of Dead tunes.  Actually... good.  I recommend their albums.  The Dead?  Not really my thing.  That said, I always approved of their ethos.  Not the drugs, of which I have never partaken.  However, they toured constantly, improvised, and encouraged bootlegging.  Any true fan would go to their shows, and no, that's not a "no true Scotsman" fallacy.  Count up the negatives in that  sentence!  Anywho, I approved.  The Allman Brothers could play circles around them, but I approved of their ethos.  Once upon a time, mus

 So.  Today is Christmas, for those who care.  I am, of course, inclusive, so my message is this.  May we all be touched by the noodly appendage of the Flying Spaghetti Monster!  Regardless, take a look outside.  Depending on where you live, the weather outside may be frightful.  Or delightful.  What is it supposed to be?  A couple of years ago, the weather was so delightful that I fired up the grill.  I put a nice spice rub on some Cornish game hens, threw some wood chips into the smoker, and that was the centerpiece of Christmas dinner.  (Chinese food here sucks.)  This year?  Kinda rainy, but temperature-wise, were it not for the rain, I'd ditch the oven and fire up Ye Olde Smoker again.  Um... this is not supposed to happen.  I live in a nice, little multicultural neighborhood, so there's no part of this year's consumerism-day that will be white.  (According to actual  white supremacists, I'm  not white.  Go read about "concept creep.")  There's suppos

 We are learning more about what happened with Manchin and the social spending bill.  Manchin claims that he was alienated both in personal terms, and that his policy demands were not being met.  So two things.  First, the Democrats are being fools if they don't understand that Manchin runs the show.  This is what we call the "median voter theorem."  The Senate has 100 members.  Manchin is pivotal.  He is the effective median.  He runs the game.  He gets what he wants.  The left doesn't like it?  Tough shit.  There are 50 to the right  of Manchin who really don't like the idea of any  of this stuff passing, and you know what?  They count too. Manchin also bristled personally.  Policy should not be personal.  As the saying goes, if you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.  That said, if you alienate the pivotal voter, you're a moron.  Biden has been playing nice with Manchin, in a lot of ways, but you know what?  What the White House actually needed to do wa

 Sen. Joe Manchin (D[ish]-WV) announced yesterday that he will not support the Democratic social spending bill.  I was surprised.  Honestly, I thought he would support something , force the Democrats to give in to his every whim, and then take the win.  I was wrong.  Of course this would, had it passed, been an electoral albatross around the necks of every Democrat who supported it, and Manchin represents a particularly red state, so it is not exactly the shocking-est shocker that ever shocked a shock victim.  If I act too shocked, I'm just a "learner" in the Milgram experiment, and he wasn't really as meticulous with his data and methodology as you have been led to believe.  He wasn't as much of a fuckin' liar as Zimbardo, but still.  Anywho, that happened.  So a few assorted comments.  I may ramble.  I'm done grading, so I'm allowed. First, he did it in the douchiest way possible.  If you are going to turn around and say no, take the White House call

 Let's just do this today.  As I have said, you know you dig a book when you can't stop thinking about it, and I suppose that means I dig a book when I can't stop writing about it.  Perdido Street Station .  Read it.  I won't rehash the plot, nor world description.  I covered that in last Sunday's post.  This week, let's dig into some political philosophy.  Specifically, that of the garuda of the Cymek.  The garuda are basically bird-men.  Human-sized/human-shaped beings with big-assed wings, beaks, and a few other anatomical differences, but bird-men.  And... bird-women.  The Cymek is a desert in the southern region, and it is unclear how unique the political philosophy of the Cymek's garuda is, but it seems distinct from the garuda living in the city of New Crobuzon, where the novel takes place.  It is also the catalyst for the events of the novel, in many ways. The garuda of the Cymek have one crime:  choice theft.  To deny another choice .  To steal is t

 There is a very strange argument circulating throughout the political commentariat and the political left regarding the filibuster.  In short, the argument goes like this:  if there can be a filibuster carve-out for the debt ceiling, why not for "voting rights?"  Yes, I am using sarcasm-quotes for "voting rights," because the only real issue associated with the term remains the certification of an official tally, but I'm not going to rehash those issues this morning.  Instead, let's deal with the filibuster.  Again.  What happened with the debt ceiling is very different.  Let me explain why.  If that sounds condescending and pedantic, well, I am a little tired of explaining the filibuster.  This one may get a little rant-y.  I shall try to refrain.  We'll see. Here is what happened with the debt ceiling.  Recall, first, what the debt ceiling is.  It is the statutory limit on the value of outstanding bonds, which the government uses to finance deficit sp

 Just something great.  A live performance of "Footprints," from Miles's second quintet.

 I have been intending to write about China Mieville's Perdido Street Station , as I indicated.  It took some time to gather my thoughts on a sprawling and complex book.  In fact, one post ain't gonna do it.  That means I'll either break the Mieville posts up with some comments on Arkady Martine's A Desolation Called Peace  next week, or just delay that one a bit.  However, Perdido Street Station  is a fucking great book.  There are flaws in it.  When even the flaws are interesting, though, you've got a really cool book.  I heaped similar praise on Mieville's The City & The City  relatively recently, so I think that means I just really dig this guy's books.  Read China Mieville.  Let's get into this.  It'll probably be a two-poster.  And there are two sequels, which I have yet to read.  More fun! So here's the deal, spoilers abound.  The novel takes place on the world of Bas-Lag, in the city-state of New Crobuzon.  It's a steampunk/magic

  How about a nice game of chess ?  No, I'm not changing my name to Joshua, although if you have not met me in person, you cannot be certain that I am not an AI.  Have I passed the Turing test?  I digress.  Regardless, I will regularly implore you to consider the implications of chess.  So, consider.  Suppose we are playing chess, and you realize that you have the option to put me in check.  Do you?  If your answer is an unquestioning  yes , then that answer identifies you.  A douche?  Well, really just a chess novice.  Chess, after all, is a zero-sum interaction.  Your victory is my loss, and vice versa, so to call a move a " dick move" may actually be to call it a good  move.  Yet, a reflexive impulse to check is more dick  move than good  move.  After all, unless we add a clock, chess ends three ways: checkmate, draw/stalemate, or resignation.  There is no judge's scoreboard, wherein you acquire points for each "check," and even those "points"