Labeeb Ali worked as an interpreter for Americans in Iraq. That means he is a target for anti-American groups.
For that reason, lawmakers in the US made it possible for him to move here, providing the visa which allows him to leave the danger of Iraq, a danger magnified immensely by his association with Americans. So he has passed months of background checks, acquired that visa, has a current passport (not always easy in his part of the world), and he had a plane ticket on a flight from Qatar to Dallas. Once his visa application cleared and his plans solidified, he tied up loose ends in Iraq and sold virtually all of his property.
Thanks to the president’s indiscriminate, irrational, and quite possibly illegal executive order, Labeeb Ali was not allowed to board his flight.
Because the president couldn’t be bothered to consult with government agencies who know something about these issues or to take the time to develop immigration policy that has a chance to achieve his purported goals, his executive order blocks anyone — regardless of circumstance — from seven Muslim countries from entering the US. And that includes people like Labeeb Ali.
Never mind that if this man actually were a terrorist, he has already had ample opportunity to commit heinous attacks on large groups of Americans. And never mind that he faces a very real threat of violence from terrorists, tragically ironic considering he’s being prevented from entering the US because Trump and his supporters claim banning him is necessary to prevent acts of terrorism. Trump doesn’t care that this man is about as far from a terrorist as someone can be. Because he can’t be bothered to tell the difference between terrorists and all Muslims. They all look alike to him.
Trump picked seven Muslim countries where he doesn’t have business interests, and where we don’t have particularly deep diplomatic ties that could gum up the simple black-and-white of his plan. He banned immigration because his supporters are scared of “Islamic extremism,” though they aren’t concerned with how it might be a threat, nor do they want to be bothered with realistic solutions for preventing an attack on our soil. No… Trump just needed to show them that he’s keeping the Muslims out, as promised.
But here’s the thing: Our country made promises and commitments to folks like Labeeb Ali. It’s disgusting and dishonorable to leave them hanging — perhaps literally, it’s sad to say — because they’re in the way of Trump’s steam-roller of executive orders.
But it’s going to get worse. The word’s going to get around that America turned its back on commitments to people like Labeeb Ali. When Trump decides to send troops to fight ISIS, they’re going to have a hard time finding people willing to put their lives on the line to help Americans for a promise that they can resettle stateside. And that’s a reality that could very well cost American lives.
In the meantime, it’s a reality that is hurting people who deserve much better than the closed doors with which we’re greeting them.
“They have killed my dream,” Labeeb Ali told The Washington Post. “They took it all away from me, in the last minutes.”
Sometimes the president needs help signing his name, so he’s hired the ghost of George Harrison to help.
(I know. You didn’t think it was George Harrison at first. It’s confusing because at first glance it does look a lot like Eric Clapton in the picture. Common mistake. It’s definitely Harrison.)
I used to go to a lot of movies, mostly because I really like movie theatre popcorn. Since kids, I get to two or three movies each year, at least in the theatre. I’m not sure what the last movie I saw in the theatre was, but it might have been Star Wars: The Force Awakens.
Though I loved that movie, I also felt like they spread on the just-for-nostalgia pieces a little too thick, and that there were entire scenes, and characters, and even aspects of the narrative that seemed to serve no larger purpose other than to evoke fond memories of a time when Star Wars existed but Jar Jar Binks did not.
And in that case, I didn’t mind the nostalgia that much for three reasons: First, it had been awhile since we had seen the Millenium Falcon, Han, Leia, Chewy, and Luke. We wanted to see them and feel reassured that the franchise was back on track after the disaster of eps. 1–3. Second, The Force Awakens was the first of a trilogy, and as such I’m ok that it gave in to that nostalgic indulgence because it felt like it was establishing itself — a new trilogy from a new director telling a new story — laying the groundwork so that the next films don’t have to be so overtly referential/deferential. Third, the Star Wars films (by which I mean, eps. 4–6) were never particularly subtle or mysterious in their allusions to each other, references to classical motifs, and willingness to use cheese and even camp. So I felt like Abrams’ over-indulgence in nostalgia was forgivable from a film that was so much about establishing the connection to the earlier series.
I almost felt the same way about Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. In fact, I felt even better about it — that the narrative and the filmmaking were referential and deferential while at the same time making much of the opportunity presented by being just a little outside of the main, (dare-I-say) sacred core storyline.
And then the last shot happened.
(If you haven’t seen it and you don’t want me to ruin the worst, most craptacular surprise ever… stop reading now.)
My problem is the cartoonish CGI/live-action mashup of a certain beloved character, and the fact it was visually dissonant (not to mention creepy-looking).
But my problem is also that it ruined the tone of an otherwise solid third act. The narrative arc had done its job: having sat on the edge of their seats for the entirety of the final battle, the audience watches in delight and horror as a cavalcade of heroes overcome an almost-impossible series of circumstances in order to set in motion the well-established heroism of Episode 4 (and beyond), only to face the inevitably of death with the certainty that the sacrifice was worth it. That final act — right up to and including the anonymous heroism of Vader’s light saber victims passing the thumb drive (that’s what it was, right?) along to its obvious eventual recipient — draws on the operatic essence of Lucas’ originals, while at the same time inhabiting a darker, more realist sensibility in which even honorable death is horrible and sad. The film was succeeding. We were there. I hadn’t closed my mouth or sat back in my chair in 20 or 30 or however many minutes it was.
And here’s the thing: we all know what’s going to happen with those Death Star plans. We don’t need reminding. And in case we do (even though we don’t), Jimmy Smits announces that he’ll send someone he trusts on a mission to find a certain desert-dwelling Jedi in hiding — a female someone based on his pronoun choice — and since pretty much the only thing (relevant) we know about his character is that he’s Leia’s adopted father, we know exactly who someone is.
At that point, with the Death Star plans on a ship that we’ve seen before, about to be in the hands of the person we know will put them into a certain short and beepy droid, the film could have ended. We’d seen what we needed to see. Of course, overstating the obvious is a hallmark of this franchise, so the story had to go one scene further.
They still could have pulled this off without ruining the movie. They could have shown the back of a female character garbed in white, and we could have even heard her voice. The camera didn’t need to show her face. We didn’t even need entirely original dialogue — our about-to-be heroine could have been preparing (or even beginning to record) her message to Obi Wan, taking us right up to the scene where we met her in 1977 (or whenever we were old enough to meet her for the first time).
But the scene we got instead was troubling on multiple levels.
Most obviously, the visual effect didn’t work. No matter how well Disney’s digital artists can pull off their CGI magic — and they deserve credit for all the ways they succeeded in this movie — there was no way we were going to feel good about an animated version of a character who we first meet moments later (timeline-wise) as a flesh-and-blood actress rendered on actual film. I won’t belabor this point as it has been well-trodden by reviewers, and because I suppose the degree to which the (semi-)animated character was (not) effective could be a matter of opinion. I mean, I supposed someone could have felt like it didn’t look horrendous.1
Second, I take issue with Leia being played by anyone other than Carrie Fisher. Sure… if they ever want to show her at an earlier stage in life then I’m ok with a young actress playing the part — people change over time and I could live with the idea that a well-cast young Leia grows up to become Carrie Fisher’s portrayal. But Rogue One’s Leia is not a younger Leia. This is the Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan we know, traveling on the very ship and wearing the very dress she was wearing when we first met her, and on the very mission where she hides the Death Star plans on R2 and stands up to (our first encounter with) Darth Vader. That Leia will always be played by Carrie Fisher, and I cannot accept any other portrayal of her, even one animated to bear an uncanny resemblance to Her Highness, daughter of Anakin Skywalker and future general of the Resistance (and future wearer of metallic swimwear).
Third, cartoon Leia’s dialogue is unforgivable. The film is, up to that point, about sacrifice. And in forcing us to watch its protagonists’ deaths one after another, it puts a fine point on it. Truly tyrannical evil cannot be defeated by self-interested individuals (like the cowardly rebel leaders who initially balk at the idea of going after the Death Star plans). Rather, the Dark Side’s vulnerability is only exposed — literally in this case — when people come together, setting aside their individual needs (up to and including their individial need for survival) in the interest of the greater good. Those heroes, we come to understand, may die as martyrs, but despite their demise as individuals, they collectively live forever in the legacy they share. This film, then, justifies its own existence as a documentation of that heroism, bearing witness to the actions of the previously-nameless souls who perished so that Luke, Han, Leia, and Chewy can save the day and get the credit.
So when cartoon Leia shows up and announces that the point of the whole thing is “hope,” it does a disservice to the immediately preceding narrative. I suppose one could say that hope is the point, and that Jyn’s pre-battle pep talk on that topic is a statement of the movie’s central message. But other than those two mentions, this film isn’t hopeful — though they successfully get the Death Star blueprints to the Rebels, our heroes all die — because this is the story of Rogue One’s ill-fated martyrs, not the story of Princess Leia, her secret twin, and their estranged biological father.
Indeed, Leia’s story (or, the one in which she is a principle character) is very much about “a new hope.” And its fine to connect the final moments of Rogue One to the opening scenes of Episode 4. But we didn’t need her pithy line (or her cartoon face) to draw the connection — it had been drawn already when we saw the guys in the familiar helmets on the familiar ship, and again when we saw her dress from behind.
Leia’s face and her stupid line ruin an otherwise great Star Wars film. It’s fun to watch, well-paced, well-enough acted. It is composed in virtually every way as worthy of the Star Wars franchise. That’s most evident in the attention paid to the operatic score, the artistry of the sets and establishing shots of planetart landscapes, the sound effects of the battle scenes, and all those tiny details George Lucas trained us to notice (blue milk, pilot call signs, particulars of Rebel and Imperial ships, etc.). I even didn’t mind the CGI version of a character previously played by a now-deceased actor, or the unnecessary (and maybe poorly-timed) comic-relief cameo from a certain pair of familiar droids. Neither diverted from the narrative’s established direction, and the former example was less visually problematic than cartoon Leia because that character always had a certain dark cartoonish quality to him.2 So his now-computerized presence felt less arresting in comparison to Leia, whose familiar softness and “realness” felt missing from the abomination we found in her place.
Point is: great movie until the last 10 seconds. And maybe a great movie despite them. I continue to be excited for what’s in store next, both from the films that will open with scrolling text and from this series of tangential “stories.”
Of course, no one sane would think that. But I imagine it’s possible that some aesthetically misguided and/or very mentally-ill person could. (back to footnote in text)
The “uncanny valley” hypothesis — pointed out in Kelly Lawler’s critique in USA Today and Noah Berlatsky’s on qz.com — is right on with its suggestion that “human replicas that appear almost, but not exactly, like real human beings elicit feelings of eeriness and revulsion.” It works for the Grand Moff Tarkin character because he is eery and revolting. (back to footnote in text)
Nice piece in Haaretz on Trump’s choice for ambassador to Israel. The author is a prolific and talented writer, capable of deftly wielding fact-based argument as an antidote to ignorance and extremism.
But in this case, he didn’t need much of his trademark intelligence or rhetorical flourish. Rather, he only needed his computer’s “copy” and “paste” commands. Because that’s all it takes to show that David Friedman is poorly qualified for the job to which he has been appointed and dangerous to the US and Israel due to his propensity to use both half-truths and slanderous lies as means to his partisan, extremist objectives.
(Friedman’s readers’ apparent inability to tell the difference between his falsehoods and the actual truth is troubling as well, though perhaps unsurprising.)
Gruber posted on Monday about how the non-traditional TV “networks” are whooping the likes of ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox, at least when it comes to broadcasting high-quality, award-worthy content.
One can reasonably argue that the broadcast networks have always produced mostly garbage, but the real change is that the broadcast networks have completely missed the boat on the megamovie revolution — shows that “take television seriously as a medium”. That’s obviously true for dramas like Game of Thrones and Westworld, but I think it’s true for comedies, too. Consider the elimination of the laugh track.
He’s not wrong, except with the implication that the broadcast networks ever had a chance not to “miss the boat.” I’m not a TV-industry guy, and my understanding of that economic world is limited to having lived in Los Angeles for 30+ years, but it seems to me like the big three/four can’t be expected to compete with “networks” that play by different rules.
The broadcasting paradigm is based on a single foundation: revenue is dependent on ratings. That’s because revenue comes from ad revenue, and broadcasters’ ad rates are dependent on their ratings. The trick of the broadcast network’s economic model is to charge advertisers more for ad time than they spent to generate the ratings required to charge the advertisers those rates.
That model results in decision-makers who are risk-averse. Why take a chance on a new product that has a decent chance of failure — even when it’s a new kind of content, or even a little change like laugh track elimination, that you actually believe in — when you have a sure-thing that’ll be good enough?
Furthermore, the broadcast networks’ revenue model tends to reward popular taste (and its cousin, low-brow proclivity) over critical quality. How many episodes of CSI and its seventeen spinoffs did CBS air? (I’ll tell you: way too many.) Were any of the CSI franchises ever considered by anyone to be high-quality drama worthy of critical acclaim? Nope. But they kicked ass in the ratings for a long time, so they made CBS a huge amount of money.
And that’s why networks only care about Golden Globes and Emmies if winning them generates buzz, higher ratings, and (therefore) higher ad revenue. (And maybe because actors/directors/producers like winning awards, and happy actors/director/producers are theoretically good for networks, at least to a point.)
But that formula isn’t a guarantee. Plenty of critically acclaimed shows have been ratings duds. If NBC or ABC or CBS has a choice between an extra point-and-a-half in a key demographic and ten Golden Globe nominations, they’ll always pick the former. And that’s why they air the content they air, and they’ve conceded the trophies to Netflix, Amazon, and the cable networks that can (or at least hope they can) make money on high-brow.
None of this is news. This was the case back when HBO was raking in award hardware for The Sopranos. At the time, plenty of people let themselves believe that HBO was at an advantage because content creators could depict violence, nipples, and curse words. But their real advantage was always that they could afford to take a risk on serious episodic drama, which had the potential for a massively lucrative pay-off for them in the long term (in the form of subscribers who were hooked). The networks play a short game in which last night’s ratings matter right now. While this isn’t universal, and (I’ve been told by friends in the industry) it often isn’t quite so simple, this paradigm is still at the core of how the broadcast networks operate.
Gruber might be able to relate. He loves to tease the Android makers (and more so ignorant Wall Street folks) who go on and on about market share, and who bash Apple’s low performance in that particular metric. He’s observed all along (before anyone else really noticed) that Apple’s eyes aren’t on how many handsets or laptops they ship, but on how much money they make on the ones they do. (Because you can sell lots of phones if you don’t charge much for them. But that also means you won’t make much money.) So Apple is happy not to race to the bottom of the profit barrel in search of market share, because that market share doesn’t make them enough — or any — money.
Jon, here’s the thing: the networks may have missed the boat on the latest and greatest trends in TV. But their execs don’t care, because their eyes aren’t on Golden Globe statuettes, but on how much money they’re making for their networks. And spending a ton of money to make a show that isn’t a definite weekly ratings winner isn’t a smart play for them.
(For the record: I hate this economic model because I like quality programming. And most of my favorite shows right now are on Netflix or Amazon. I’m just saying that it the network broadcasters “missed the boat,” they did so because they made a conscious decision to stay on dry land. Is that cowardly of them? Sure. Does it result in bland, boring network television? Generally, yes.)
On Daily Kos, David Waldman suggests an outlandish way of getting Garland onto the Supreme Court in the brief period when outgoing Senators are gone and incoming Senators haven’t been sworn in. I initially blew it off as a silly fantasy. But…
Maybe the Vice-President and Senate minority leadership should be considering it. Why? Well. It’s been awhile since Dems didn’t at least have the presidency, but let’s do our best to try and remember the difference between the way Democrats and Republicans have behaved in recent memory when in the minority:
Under W, Democrats basically moped around, complained a lot, penned thoughtful and analytical op-eds, and in Congress they tried to be a thorn in the president’s side.
Under Obama, the GOP didn’t settle for being a thorn. They utilized every option, and stopped at absolutely nothing, to block the president and his agenda. Thorns? More like giant tire-popping spike-strips across the highway. They played the short game by blocking budgets whenever possible, and they played the long game by focusing on local and state elections, which allowed them to gerrymander themselves into a lasting majority in the House. (Indeed, as has been pointed out in a number of places1, the Republicans are numerically in the minority, with an ideology that’s less popular than ever, yet they have managed to win both houses and the presidency and they’re walking around saying they have a “mandate.”) They have played the game — short, long, and everything in between — better.
They utilized a strategic and disciplined approach, and it’s paid off. Nowhere is that clearer than with the Garland appointment. And that’s why I think that Dems in the Senate should consider not dismissing the suggestion that they use some complicated procedural maneuvering to get Garland onto the bench.
Trying to move any other agenda item using this technique ruins the purity and genius of it. Only the Garland appointment allows the Democratic leadership to shrug across the aisle and say, “Well, you failed to do your Constitutional duty so you left us no choice. We tried to play fair.” And let’s also not forget: Obama appointed an older, fairly moderate jurist because he was indeed trying to play fair, and to appeal to moderate Republicans to buck their party’s leadership in the interest of the greater good. (Turns out “moderate Republicans” are an extinct species inside the Beltway.) So the Garland appointment has the additional virtue of being less purely partisan.2 Dem lawmakers would be throwing a Hail Mary to get a moderate on the bench, not a hyper liberal.
And they can also say: “We just wanted to give Justice Ginsburg the opportunity to retire on her own terms without having to worry quite as much about the influence of the fascist bible-thumper who will replace her.”
GOP lawmakers’ actions in the past couple years certainly opens them to the accusation that they put party before country.3 Maybe Dems might not want to emulate that behavior. But here’s the thing: that stuff didn’t hurt Republicans at the polls. And more importantly: They now have both houses and the presidency, which places on them the burden of leadership. That burden, as the GOP proved when in the majority, is not incumbent on the minority, whose lack of power leaves them with no choice but to resort to extremes. (Unless the majority actually cares about partnership. Ha.)
Nonetheless, this won’t happen. Even after the Republicans had the chutzpah to sit on a Supreme Court nomination for the better part of a year, Senate Dems won’t have the chutzpah4 to beat them at their own game.
Anyway, I’ll stop pontificating and get to the point:
I can think of no better way for Biden to kick off his 2020 run — and to set the tone for standing up to Trump/Ryan/McConnel for the next four years — than to go out having had more influence as vice-president in his last few days than any who has ever held the office did in their entire terms.
If there’s anyone who can pull it off, it’s Joe.
While also being totally, completely, unambiguously partisan. It’s a Supreme Court justice who’d be a tie-breaking vote for chrissakes. This is about abortion, Citizens United, marriage equality, and tons more. Of course it’s partisan. (back to footnote in text)
See: the budget maneuvering that put the country’s credit rating at risk. (back to footnote in text)
Or the extremists. The Tea Party did the GOP a big favor by doing the dirty work and letting the main party establishment stay insulated. See: Ted Cruz. (back to footnote in text)
Tablet’s editorial board says AIPAC fails to represent both the left and the right when it comes to advocating for Israel on American Jews’ behalf.
The invitation to Trump is a symbol of what AIPAC has become — an organization staffed by mid-level incompetents who disgrace our community with their evident lack of both political savvy and moral sense. Let’s be frank: Some of us would be comfortable with a bunch of back-alley political knife-fighters whose only cause is the active defense of the Jewish people, while others want leaders devoted to making sure that our communal goals embody universal morals and social-justice values—regardless of how this might play on the geopolitical chessboard. Whichever camp you find yourself in, one thing is clear: What we have now in AIPAC is an organization with the failings of both, and the virtues of neither.
Headless Community in Bottomless Spiral
This is a fascinating piece of political rhetoric. The Tablet editors are saying that both sides can agree AIPAC is a poor representative of the American Jewish community, and then make their case from each side.
If they are able to step away from the partisanship and actually offer cogent analytical insight into AIPAC’s failings on both the left and the right, then that’s admirable and useful. But the problem is that virtually no one (at least no one who is actively engaged in/with the Jewish community) is able to actually back away from the fracas and say anything that isn’t seen by one side or both as an unfair attack. In other words, I’m wondering if Tablet’s editorial team falls into the very trap into which they accuse AIPAC of falling: trying to be a voice for all sides and ending up being a voice for none.
Nonetheless, as an attempt to be analytical of AIPAC without staking ground (or, being transparent about your ideology but attempt to transcend it for the purpose of analysis), I think it’s a good try, and a thoughtful, intellectually deft, and interesting one at that.
At the same time, despite some strong language attacking AIPAC leadership (which we’ll get to in a second), the authors seem to be dancing around the point they really want to make: this is entirely about the organization’s leadership, or lack thereof. I think that’s a fair point to make, especially if you can support it with a well-reasoned argument. But a problem with the Tablet editorial is that its authors hint at having a well-reasoned argument to back up their claims, but it’s hard to believe them when (a) they don’t present much evidence of organizational chaos to support their claims1, and when (b) they take numerous cheap shots and engage in petty ad hominem attacks2 on AIPAC leaders.
It should be fair game to claim that specific people lack political savvy or that they have exhibited behavior that calls their moral sense into question, especially if you support those claims in a manner that’s convincing or at least intellectually honest. But calling unnamed AIPAC employees “mid-level incompetents who disgrace” the community that they’ve dedicated themselves (with presumably best intentions) to serving? That statement Trump-esque diss, a petty and rhetorically lazy turn of phrase that must have felt cathartic and wonderfully naughty to type into the essay’s first draft, says more about its author than its subject. It undermines the editorial board’s entire point (as do the other cheap shots sprinkled throughout), and it should have been excised before an editor clicked “Publish.”
And also, it’s mean. I believe in the important practice of a publication’s editorial board writing with one voice, especially on important issues like this. But it comes off looking like cowardly bullying when an unnamed writer (writing on behalf of a seemingly faceless editorial team) attacks a group of individuals without naming names but with a nod and a wink that says, “We’re way too classy to name names but you know who we’re talking about, right?”
With all due deference to the folks behind the publication (for whom I hold an immense amount of respect and awe-filled admiration), Tablet’s typically erudite editors should be above that kind of shoddy writing, and as a publication that endeavors to elevate public discourse (instead of contributing to the absence of discourse down in the gutter on social media), it should be Tablet’s policy to steer clear of lashon hara.
Moreover, if the point is that the root of the problem AIPAC’s staff, then the natural solution is that the membership (who the editorial claims to stand with/for/behind) should act to replace said “incompetent” staff, since it’s incumbent on a non-profit’s employees to advance the mission articulated by the organization’s membership. Of course, the editorial’s stance seems to be that the problem is with AIPAC on the whole, so the suggestion that the organization is fundamentally broken makes sense. But in that case the shots at staff are both irrelevant and misplaced, since it’s the membership who made/let it happen (and if AIPAC is broken on a fundamental level, the problems surely run deeper than some “mid-level incompetents”).
If, however, the organization’s members and mission are still worthy of support, then the solution is an easy one: Get rid of the staff who don’t get it and hire people who do. Otherwise, Tablet ought to be blaming the thousands of people who donate to AIPAC, show up at AIPAC events, and partner with AIPAC in their own communities.
By “evidence,” I mean thoughtfully-presented factual information that supports their claims, not, “AIPAC failed to stop the Iran deal… Can’t those screwups do anything right?” (back to footnote in text)
Exhibit A: “…an organization staffed by mid-level incompetents who disgrace our community with their evident lack of both political savvy and moral sense.” (back to footnote in text)
One hundred years ago (Jan. 28, 1916), President Wilson nominated Louis Brandeis to the US Supreme Court. What followed was one of the most contentious confirmation hearings in history, due to Brandeis' religious heritage and his unabashed liberalism (especially his record of fighting big Wall Street bankers).
One hundred years later, Merrick Garland is unlikely to face anti-Semitism on the Senate floor, and he's a far less polarizing pick than Brandeis was. Nonetheless, his confirmation hearings — if they even happen — are likely to be even more contentious.
Funny how much has changed. And how little.
… it’s hard to imagine President Obama conjuring up, from even the darkest, most devious underground lab, a new justice who would be half as fierce as the four-car train of whoop ass we saw today.
It’s hard to imagine anyone conjuring up a better commentator on the Supreme Court than Dahlia Lithwick.
Her writing on yesterday’s oral arguments in Whole Woman’s Health v Hellerstedt is a beautiful illustration of why I’d rather read her than pretty much any other journalist working today.
Douglas Rushkoff is credited as the ideologue behind the “digital Sabbath.” He’s a smart guy: Professor of Media Theory and Digital Economics at CUNY; media commentator; author; first coined the terms “digital natives,” “social currency,” and “viral media”… yada yada… his whole bio is on Wikipedia if you want it.
Several years ago, he argued that people needed to take time away from digital media. And because he was into the Jewish thing at the time, that idea morphed into the notion of a “digital Sabbath.” And then something called The National Day of Unplugging was established by ReBoot. (ReBoot is an organization built on an annual gathering which Rushkoff helped to convene, initially. But he now calls it elitist.) The National Day of Unplugging exists to encourage people to take their own digital Sabbaths, all on the same day.
Now, Rushkoff says he doesn’t like the idea anymore. From the Guardian, Douglas Rushkoff: ‘I’m thinking it may be good to be off social media altogether’:
I came up with this thing which I now don’t like: the digital sabbath. It feels a little forced and arbitrary, and it frames digital detox as a deprivation. I would much rather help people learn to value looking into other people’s eyes. To sit in a room talking to people – I want people to value that, not because they aren’t being interrupted by digital media but because it’s valuable in its own right.
That’s novel, I suppose. (Though I’m pretty sure Ari Kelman wouldn’t think so.)
Today was the GOP primary in South Carolina. Jeb Bush just dropped out of the race because he failed to receive the support of primary voters in three states whose delegates — combined! — make up 3.5% (19/538) of the electoral college.
(In other words, these states are basically irrelevant in the national election, yet somehow someone gave their most extreme voters — the ones who show up for the primaries — the power to sink a viable candidate’s chances of getting the nomination in favor of a guy who is demonstrably loony toons.)
I’m by no means a fan of Jeb Bush, and a part of me wonders if it helps Dems’ chances in November if the Republicans end up letting extremist voters in small states nominate an openly racist candidate to the party’s ticket. But seriously… if this isn’t enough to give some legs to efforts to change the primary system, I don’t know what will.
Also, wondering: After the way Trump took every opportunity to publicly badmouth, embarrass, shame, and vilify him and his family, if Trump ends up being the candidate will Jeb even cast a ballot in November?
On the occasion of your naming. February 27, 2015.
Peninsula Temple Beth El, San Mateo, California
Sela Penina Mason-Barkin, or Penina Selah in Hebrew.
A big name for a very, very little girl. But we know that no matter how small you are now, you will grow into this name — this name that was so carefully chosen for you.
Sela Penina, you are named for two very strong, intelligent, loving, and beautiful women.
Your first name, Sela, is for your GG – your Great- Grandma Selma. Sela, you are your GG’s sixteenth great-grandchild, so we know exactly how much she would have loved to meet you. Just like she loved meeting your cousins and your big brother, watching you play would have made her blue eyes twinkle and when we placed you on her lap, I know she would have chuckled deeply.
In her absence, we have given you a name that not only sounds like hers but that we also hope will inspire you live up to some of her most special qualities.
Your GG possessed a quiet strength and a grace that allowed her live an incredible and full life, even after the death of your great grandpa, Carl. At her funeral, many spoke about the ways that she contributed to her husband’s business success – and how in another day and age she would have been running the store herself. Well my little Sela, here you are – in another day and age. I know that it wouldn’t matter to your GG what your passion comes to be – whether you find yourself loving writing or music or math: but it would matter to her that you put your whole self into it. This is our wish for your, too.
Another enduring lesson from your GG that we hope you will always take to heart is the importance of family. Your GG made it a priority to make sure that family always got together, and really got to know one another. You have already begun to live this without even knowing it, when you welcomed two of your big cousins to come visit you when you were still in the hospital. Your brother Charlie and all your big cousins Zachy, Eliza, Aviva and Caleb already love you so much – and you have so much to learn from them. Your GG would have loved to know how important they already are to you, and our hope for you is that family will always come first – and that you will always make this a priority.
Your middle name, Penina, is for your Great Grandmother, Ina. We find the letters of her name at the end of yours. Your Great Grandmother was also a source of strength for her family and force in her community. She was a Dean at Clark University and valued education and learning for herself and for her family. If your Great Grandmother was still here, she would want to play scrabble with you, teach you three syllable words, and talk with you about current events. As you strive to reach your big dreams, we hope you do so with a thirst for knowledge and love of learning that would make your great-grandmother so proud.
Your great-grandmother was very cerebral, but also appreciated beauty and detail. One of her most wonderful qualities that I, unfortunately, did not inherit, was to set a beautiful table and host a gorgeous holiday meal. She always hosted with pleasure and beauty. Whether or not you love to cook, we hope that you will always strive for balance between the intellectual and the aesthetic. We want you to find beauty everywhere you look, just as we see beauty when we look at you.
Sela Penina, or Penina Selah in Hebrew:
Penina in Hebrew means Pearl. Your great-grandmother Ina had terrific taste in jewelry, and a few years ago she gave me a beautiful pearl necklace of hers, which will someday be yours. When I wear it, I think about not only the beauty of the pearls, but about the pearls of wisdom that your great grandmother would share as she tried her best to help me in the kitchen, as she set a beautiful table, or as she quizzed me on the meaning of a new word.
Selah in Hebrew means Rock. Just a few months ago, at your GG’s funeral, we remembered her lovingly as ‘the rock’ of our family. She kept us all, and continues to keep us all together as she heads the family with her loving strength. In the book of Deuteronomy, God is described as nursing Israel with dvash miselah, honey from a rock. Like your GG, a rock is strong. It is steadfast and withstands much. But like you, and like your GG, this imagery shows us a rock filled with honey: a rock that is sweet, a rock performing an act of love. This describes your GG to a tee, and so too may you be as strong as you are sweet.
Our little Sela Penina, Penina Selah, we realize these names are a lot to live up to for a little tiny baby. But there are no two women more deserving of a namesake as precious as you. Welcome to the world, we are so proud to be your parents.
Mom and Dad
From “Synagogue-based Religious Schools: A Community Responsibility,” by Lisa Harris Glass and Stephanie Hausner
We have spent a generation disproportionately focused on day schools, thereby relegating supplemental religious schools to second-class status. Our efforts have done nothing to increase day school choice in the majority of the Jewish community; but have served to successfully demoralize supplemental school education directors and decimate the bench of quality, qualified, inspiring religious school teachers. We have consigned our number one opportunity to inspire/ignite a lifelong love of Judaism and positive Jewish identity to “less than,” “wannabe” status.
Whoa. Because truth.