Snakes

Hello,

I went for a hike on the Mountain Lake Scenic Trail, about 20 miles away from the Virginia Tech campus, on Sunday. While walking through the woods we came across a fellow who said there was a rattler under a rock at the edge of the hill, where we got a fantastic view of the valley for miles and miles. When we arrived there, we did indeed see a snake under a rock. However we could not see its tail, therefore maing it difficult to distinguish this snake as a rattler. The snake just lay there, barely budging, our entire time there.

Perhaps the person who informed us of a rattler's presence had seen the tail when he was there. Or maybe he has an advanced knowledge of snakes and could identify it based on other characteristics.

But I have a hunch that bias would make him assume it was a rattler.

Why?

Rattlers are poisonous.

And based on how people feel about snakes, they might as well all be horrible, venomous rattlers waiting to strike at any moment's notice.

It is this bias against snakes, this horrible bigotry that we humans feel toward our scaly reptile brothers, that I take offense to.

In all walks of life, a snake refers to someone evil, vile. In the arts too. Of course there's Adam and Eve story. In Huck Finn touching snake skin turns to bad luck. In Harry Potter snakes represent Slytherin, the most evil house ever. And please don't get me started with Snakes on a Plane.

It's simply not fair.

Snakes are some of the most beautiful creatures alive. The textures on their scaly skin are riveting. The way they slither. Breathtaking. The way some swallow their prey completely whole. Unbelievable I write this post to ask all of you, when you see a snake next, show some respect. Snakes forever!

I leave you now with a link to a certain snake expert's esteemed opinion on the matter. Perhaps he can help you understad better than I.

The Virginia Tech Shootings and a Journalist's Identity

Hello,

What I'm going to talk about today is not exactly timely at this point, but then again I only have a blog now. It's something that I wanted to get off my chest before, and now that I am in the blogsphere, I will do so.

As you know, on April 16 at Virginia Tech, Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 people and himself. I don't think I need to mention that this was an atrocity. I'm nowhere near good enough a writer to adequately describe this type of emotion.

Having said that, as a writer and in the ballpark of what one might consider a journalist, I took a special interest in the controversy of NBC and Cho's videos. As you know, Cho sent NBC a sort of manifesto, and NBC aired some of the package on April 18. As a Virginia Tech student, I can tell you that this was met with much anger on campus. People thought that NBC was insensitive in airing these videos. They thought they were giving Cho what he wanted.

Well at this point, it is not my goal to simply decide whether or not publishing these videos was correct. Rather, I want to ask a question that I feel deserves more consideration: why did NBC publish this? The broad question is what really motivates a journalist in publishing?

Sure journalists will go on and on about the importance of informing the public. And I certainly agree that an informed public is perhaps the most important thing in democracy, and a journalist has an obligation to meet that end. The best pure reporters (there is a difference between writer and reporter) are those who don't accept that status quo and investigate to unearth problems that need to be addressed and taken to heart in our society. Absolutely this is true.

But at its core, it's an issue of the journalist's identity. Not publishing just doesn't compute with it.

Imagine you're a journalist, and you go home to your significant other, who asks you, "How was your day?" When you talk about your work, you're supposed to talk about it with pride, take pride in it. You're supposed to accomplish things that you're proud to go home and talk to your significant other about. So if the journalist goes home, and tells his significant other, "I chose NOT to publish something," how much pride do you think would go with that?

The fact is that we are a society that emphasizes pride in individual identity. Furthermore, that identity is often found in what you do for a living. How many times have we heard conversations between strangers start off with the question, "What do you do?"

And for a journalist, not publishing something goes against their identity. It goes against what they're all about.

I know this because I have gone through a bit of journalistic education, and throughout it all, we are endlessly taught the importance of publishing. I almost never had any time of lesson of when it might be the right thing not to publish, for reasons such as privacy or sensitivity. Journalists are bred to think that withholding material is a sin.

It was fascinating to read a bit of the coverage on South Korea after the shootings and how many people in the country took it personally. There is more of a sense of group identity and less of a sense of individual identity. When people think about group identity, they often think about people blindly following the leaders or blindly following a group's tradition. My favorite short story of all time, The Lottery by Shirley Jackson, swims brilliantly through this latter topic.

But doesn't individual identity cause us sometimes to do the same thing? Identity as a tough guy getting in the way of solving a confrontation peacefully. Identity as a cutthroat businessperson laying off bunches of people in order to make the company more profitable. Identity as a suave lawyer going for the win in spite of what really happened. Individual identity can be dangerous.

Not to say that it was necessarily wrong to publish some of Cho's videos. I have mixed feelings about that. Sensitivity aside, I think we need to know as much about this person as possible in order to try and solve this puzzle of why this kind of thing happens in this country much more than any other first world countries.

But there was reason to publish the videos other than what was good for the public. It was so those who published it could look at themselves and feel that they have lived up to the standards that their individual identity has laid out for them.

My First

Hello,

I'm happy to announce my entrance into the blog world, a place where even the most incoherent ravings of the most insignificant person can be published. I am honored.

Basically, I'll be doing a good bit of writing this summer in many different fields. Here is a place where you people can read it at your leisure and tell me how great it is.

I might also just do a post about something random. For example, I know not many of you love the Sopranos, but surely you have been unable to escape the endless rants in the news about how gutless the ending was. For those who don't know, the last scene of the show took place in a restaurant and was building towards something bad happening (ominous looking people gazing at Tony), when the scene fades to black. It was a hard ending to accept, but in its own way it was magical. I'm thinking more along the lines of how sad it was for the series to end. The greatest television show, probably ever.

Anyway, to start things off, I will post two links, both from Planet Blacksburg: one is my review of Mr. Brooks, the other a piece about a concert I went to. The concert one isn't that great, but it's not like you could do any better.

I also have an unedited copy of my latest review of "Ocean's Thirteen." Not too bad of a movie I think. Pretty soon I will edit a short story I just wrote and post it, and we'll go from there.

Enjoy.




Las Vegas is the ultimate glamour fantasy. In a way, it’s the opposite of Ellis Island, a place that symbolizes the spirit of making it through hard work. Vegas, meanwhile, allows us to imagine what it would be like to wake up one day and have everything we ever wanted thrust upon us for no apparent reason. Or maybe that we can make it happen just by concocting a little zany scheme.

The thrill of “Ocean’s Thirteen” is not just the success of the zany scheme, but the fact that it was a zany scheme of such a large and glamorous scale. It doesn’t get any more glamorous than staring down and Las Vegas hotel and casino.

Because of the scheme’s complicated and grandiose nature, the movie was a bit hard to follow before everything clarifies itself. They’re trying to weave in, among other things, a workers riot in Mexico and a man-made natural disaster into this ridiculous undertaking. I had to slap myself a few times to remember why certain things were taking place.

But as events unfold according to plan for conman Danny Ocean (George Clooney), you can’t help but marvel at how complicated everything is and how it all fits together so perfectly. It’s just a load of fun to say, “Oh, that’s why they did this,” or, “I can’t believe it worked that way!”

When ambitious hotel tycoon Willy Bank (Al Pacino) screws one of Ocean’s friends, Reuben Tishkoff (Elliot Gould), out of a hotel deal, Ocean enlists his crew to help sabotage and completely destroy the hotel’s opening. For this they plan to rig the games, thwart an impeccable security system and make a hotel inspector’s life a living hell.

Organizing and presenting every aspect of this conspiracy as it unfolds proves to be a bit difficult for director Steven Soderbergh. A veteran of handling unorthadox unfoldings of plot with films such as “The Limey” and “Traffic,” Soderbergh nevertheless makes it difficult to fully grasp each aspect of the scheme, as he jumps around without giving enough thought in one scene to give an adequate grasp of what’s happening. Maybe that’s the point though. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to experience that magical moment of clarity at the end if we could figure out beforehand what was supposed to happen. It’s a sacrifice Soderbergh made, and it does pay off.

Our characters here waste very little time talking about anything other than what they’re trying to accomplish. Believe me, this is a major plus. “Ocean’s Thirteen” is a movie that does not force its characters to look beyond the immediate scope of their actions into the realms of understanding so few people achieve, such as the meaning life and the definition of happiness and the morality of what they’re doing. It’s remarkable how many movies do this without considering whether or not their characters can handle it. I’ve always felt it awkward, but the way “Ocean’s Thirteen” runs without helps me realize how silly it truly is.

Willy Bank is no different than any other greedy, backstabbing businessman one might imagine. What makes Bank great is that he is played by Al Pacino, an actor who always adds fire to a character whenever he speaks. “Ocean’s Thirteen” being one of the few big name movies he’s done lately, Pacino handles it with care, not one to overshadow the extravaganza that’s going on in Ocean’s realm. Still, he lowers the boom better than anyone, as he does in the beginning when he tells Reuben to go jump in a lake. His best days may remain in the 70s, but one thing no one can ever deny about Pacino is that he packs a wallop.

George Clooney proves successful as Bank’s low-key adversary. He’s that cool, calculating, suave personality that blends with Pacino’s intensity. Elliot Gould impresses in his cameo as Reuben. Everyone else is really just there. Pitt and Damon basically play poor man’s versions of Clooney’s Ocean, although Damon gets a chance to shine in his seduction of Abigail (Ellen Barkin), Banks’ straitlaced assistant.

All of this being said, it occurs to me that perhaps the biggest reason I like “Ocean’s Thirteen” so much is that I didn’t see “Ocean’s Eleven” or “Ocean’s Twelve.” Seeing the entire trilogy might get a bit tedious, what with each supposedly ‘greatest heist ever” getting topped again and again. Yes, the world of “Ocean’s Thirteen” is probably a lot like a Vegas casino; if you’re there too long, you’ll wonder why you wasted so much money.

Grade: B+