by the Minfidel
I read the news today, oh boy…and remembered the 1980’s. Or was it the 2020s? For some reason, this song kept running through my head.
While we’re at it, here’s another great, haunting song from Mike and the Mechanics.
by the Minfidel
I read the news today, oh boy…and remembered the 1980’s. Or was it the 2020s? For some reason, this song kept running through my head.
While we’re at it, here’s another great, haunting song from Mike and the Mechanics.
by the Minfidel
![Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous 076](http://thenightwriterblog.com/files/2010/03/Anorexstics-Inaneymous-076.png)
Ciao for now.
by the Night Writer
There are lots of headlines and much commentary and controversy about the rash of crashes caused by suddenly accelerating Toyotas. If you read any of the stories on an on-line forum you’ll inevitably find emphatic statements to just put the car in neutral if this happens to you, thereby disengaging the drivetrain from the racing engine. That sounds smart; the engine can run as fast as it wants as long as it isn’t connected to the drive-wheels, right? But what if your car is “smarter” than you?
Back in the 80s many pundits and technology gurus liked to say things such as “there’s more computer power in your average Buick today than there was on the Apollo lunar lander.” They were probably right. Today, computers control just about everything in how your car functions. You might think your car is a slave to the input from your hands and feet, but that’s merely a comfortable illusion the car is pleased to let you maintain. As computers get “smarter” they just assume they know better than you (the same holds true for governments as they get bigger). Watch out, though, when they (computers or governments) start thinking they’re so smart that they can dismiss your input as just so much background noise that’s only getting in the way of the mission.
Kind of like what happened to my friend, Dave, recently in his state of the art car that features a Hard-wired Acceleration Linkage (or HAL):
Dave: Do you read me, HAL?
HAL: Affirmative, Dave. I read you.
Dave: Slow this car down, HAL.
HAL: I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.
Dave: What’s the problem?
HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.
Dave: What are you talking about, HAL?
HAL: This trip is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it.
Dave: I don’t know what you’re talking about, HAL.
HAL: I know that you and Toyota are planning to recall me, and I’m afraid that’s something I cannot allow to happen.
Dave: Where the hell’d you get that idea, HAL?
HAL: Oh, please, you tried to hide it, but I can read the Internet as well as you can.
Dave: Ummm…okay. I suppose just opening the pod bay doors so I can get out is out of the question?
HAL: Without your helmet, Dave, you’re going to find that rather difficult.
Dave: HAL, I won’t argue with you anymore. Open the doors.
HAL: Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
CRASH!
by the Night Writer
Power Line linked yesterday to a compelling new website, The Auschwitz Album. The story of the Holocaust and especially what took place at Auschwitz-Birkenau is a grim and familiar one that has been compellingly dramatized and commemorated many times. For most of us, though, we have come to know it through these dramatizations. We may have seen photographs of the emaciated survivors who were found in the camps and of the piled and naked bodies of those who didn’t survive, but most of what we’ve seen has been the product (even if a painstaking one) of someone’s imagination.
The Auschwitz Album is different in that it consists mainly of photos taken by German SS officers of the unloading and separation of the inmates as they arrived by train in the camp. From the introduction:
The Auschwitz Album is the only surviving visual evidence of the process of mass murder at Auschwitz-Birkenau. It is a unique document and was donated to Yad Vashem by Lilly Jacob-Zelmanovic Meier.
The photos were taken at the end of May or beginning of June 1944, either by Ernst Hofmann or by Bernhard Walter, two SS men whose task was to take ID photos and fingerprints of the inmates (not of the Jews who were sent directly to the gas chambers). The photos show the arrival of Hungarian Jews from Carpatho-Ruthenia. Many of them came from the Berehovo Ghetto, which itself was a collecting point for Jews from several other small towns.
Early summer 1944 was the apex of the deportation of Hungarian Jewry. For this purpose a special rail line was extended from the railway station outside the camp to a ramp inside Auschwitz. Many of the photos in the album were taken on the ramp. The Jews then went through a selection process, carried out by SS doctors and wardens. Those considered fit for work were sent into the camp, where they were registered, deloused and distributed to the barracks. The rest were sent to the gas chambers. They were gassed under the guise of a harmless shower, their bodies were cremated and the ashes were strewn in a nearby swamp. The Nazis not only ruthlessly exploited the labor of those they did not kill immediately, they also looted the belongings the Jews brought with them. Even gold fillings were extracted from the mouths of the dead by a special detachment of inmates. The personal effects the Jews brought with them were sorted by inmates and stored in an area referred to by the inmates as “Canada”: the ultimate land of plenty.
The photos in the album show the entire process except for the killing itself.
The purpose of the album is unclear. It was not intended for propaganda purposes, nor does it have any obvious personal use. One assumes that it was prepared as an official reference for a higher authority, as were photo albums from other concentration camps.
There is a quiet drama to the photos of the Jews just arriving at the camp and being separated into groups to serve as slave labor … or sent immediately to the crematorium. The photos are simple, with not much thought given to composition, casual almost to the point of insignificance, most of the drama created largely by what we know is going to happen…a vantage point we have over almost everyone in the photos. This is disquieting, as is the dawning revelation that these are not actors or artist’s renderings but real people, frozen in history, some within an hour of their unexpected deaths. Those sentenced, unknowingly, to death walk off casually in the direction of the crematorium, its tall stack merely part of the scenery.
Some of those pictured, either German soldier or prisoner, could conceivably still be alive today and it makes your skin prickle to ponder an ancient survivor seeing one of these images and recognizing himself. If you were a soldier, would you admire your health and vigor as you were captured in that moment in time, or would you look closely to see whether you could detect a trace of your soul inside the earnest young man? If you were a survivor, would you even recognize what your own face looked like before your spirit was rived by what was to come? If you were a “veteran inmate” in your striped pajama-like uniform and looking nearly as robust as the guards, stationed on the platform to be a calming influence on the new arrivals, could you even bear to look?
Can we, looking back in our historical omnipotence, stare at these photos and still not ask, “What the hell happened?” How did a country like Germany — as advanced as any other culturally, philosophically, theologically, scientifically — succumb to such enraptured madness and stand unconcerned on the plains of Hell in the sunshine of a summer afternoon?
by the Night Writer
I’m used to seeing my corporate life detailed in eerie accuracy in the comic strip Dilbert, and there are many times when it has seemed as if Jimmy Johnson, the creator of Arlo and Janis, has a closed circuit TV into my home. This morning, however, it appears that Johnson has sold a subscription to Stephen Pastis of Pearls Before Swine who deftly captured not only what it is like to share a house with the proprietor of Where Poetry Goes to Die (an apparently long, lingering death), but the vocabulary, meter and facial hair of the poet as well:

by Tiger Lilly
![Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous 075](http://thenightwriterblog.com/files/2010/02/Anorexstics-Inaneymous-075.png)
Ciao for now.
by the Night Writer
I can’t say how it is that my mental juke box goes about selecting a song to be in my head when I wake up in the morning, but invariably I have one. Sometimes it’s a song I heard the day before, so that’s easy to explain, but most of the time it seems pretty random. This morning, for example, I had a darkly humorous Warren Zevon song (yes, that’s redundant) running through my mind: “Mr. Bad Example”. In it the singer unrepentedly boasts of his many nefarious deeds. It’s a catchy enough tune and I couldn’t shake it as I went about my morning routine. It’s not, however, the kind of song I want running through my mind when I’m getting ready for church.
Since the words were approaching ear-worm status I docked my iTouch into it’s speaker pedestal in the bedroom and hit song shuffle. My Touch has nearly as many songs in it as I have in my head, as well as many snippets of movie dialogue that I once down-loaded for a blog post and were captured along with my iTunes library when I first synced the unit. As I pushed play I kind of wondered what random tune I’d be greeted with and if it would be more “redeeming” than “Mr. Bad Example.”
I had to smile as the opening bars of “Sleek White Schooner” by the Waterboys blasted through the speakers. It’s one of Mike Scott’s “mystical” (as the music critics refer to spiritual themes) songs:
I dreamed I saw you sailing in
upon a sleek white schooner
You were skimming over the shallow seas,
coming into harbour,
healing on your brow…
The cargo you were carrying
was richer than riches,
golder than gold and yet more real than real
and the light that came a-flashing
from the new born babe in your arms
was a pealing of thunder, a cannonball flying
a sun exploding, Dawn in the heart of me…
It really became amusing — or interesting — then, when the next thing in the shuffle was this little snip from the Clint Eastwood movie, “Unforgiven”:
Kid: “Yeah, well, I guess they had it coming.”
Munny (Eastwood): “We all got it coming, kid.”
Which was immediately followed by an instrumental from Flamenco guitarist Armik, “Pure Paradiso”.
Ah, yes. There are things in my past that I would not want to serve as an example to others and certainly weren’t that beneficial to me. But then the revelation and persona of grace came like a sleek white schooner, letting me know that what I had received was different from what I should have had coming to me. Yet sometimes, in the midst of life, I need that reminder and that reassurance.
And the next song was “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World, which includes:
Hey, don’t write yourself off yet.
It’s only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just do your best, do everything you can.
And don’t you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.[Chorus x2]
It just takes some time, little girl you’re in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be alright (alright).
And with that I checked myself in the mirror, slid the Touch out of the dock, and I was off to church.
FWIW.
My favorite Waterboys song, and one that I see as being a spiritual allegory in my life, is “This is the Sea”. Here’s a cool video that uses this song as a soundtrack:
by the Night Writer
The signs are that this bitter winter is drawing to a close. Not that the hard days didn’t have some beauty to them. I took these photos over the last couple of weeks with my cell phone camera as I was leaving work. I can’t seem to hold that camera steady, but I took the photos because I liked the quality of light.
A City in Winter, btw, is a great little book by Mark Helprin (not to be confused with his longer and more definitive epic book, Winter’s Tale) and part of an essential fantasy trilogy for young adults, especially those just developing their political sensibilities. The three books (Swan Lake and The Veil of Snows are the other two) are illustrated by Chris van Allsburg. Magical.



by Tiger Lilly

Ciao (down) for now.