Sometimes I wish I'd stuck with my original plan to go into political science just so I could replace all those ridiculous political ads with something halfway decent.
Ninety-eight percent of tv ads insult our intelligence and, most puzzlingly, seem designed to appeal to those who've already decided to vote for the advertising candidate anyway. For example, if you're a Republican politician and your ad says your opponent is a "crazy wack-job, communist liberal JUST LIKE NANCY PELOSI," well, anyone who that ad appeals to was going to vote for the Republican in the race anyway. And if you're a Democrat and you ad says your opponent only cares about rich people and/or the oil business, you're only attracting people who feel antagonistic toward those groups-- in other words, people who were going to vote for whoever had the "D" beside their name. But almost every ad see (from either party) plays on some variation of a theme like this. Why do ads never seem aimed to attract political independents, the people whose vote an ad could possibly influence? I get that firing up your base is part of the deal, but must every election be promoted as the final battle of good versus evil?
I don't think so.
We have on other troubling aspect of campaigning in Tennessee. Political ads here seem to be a contest of who can appear to be the biggest redneck. One prominent gubernatorial candidate built a whole campaign on the fact he wears cowboy boots. Another guy appears on a tractor in every ad and uses the phrase "Plow Washington" as his campaign slogan. (Never mind the fact that he's a Democrat whose party is in power has presumably done whatever it is that he thinks needs to be plowed). Our likely next governor has an ad in which a thickly accented guy speaks in incomplete sentences (which is just as well because half of his words are incomprehensible anyway) to describe how this candidate helped get a construction project started on his behalf. And these ads are still better than his opponent's.
I love politics, and even I'm sick of these ads. I can't imagine how fatigued the average person out there is.
I voted earlier today (highlight: A 90-ish year-old woman tried to show up after the polls had closed and was turned away. In response she yelled: "Those Damn Republicans!" and walked away). I just wish voting early came with the added benefit of opting out of heaing political ads for the next 5 days.
That would be a change I could believe in.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
No Loitering
The last refuge for the weary in downtown Nashville is gone.
I'm speaking, of course, of the exquisite downtown library, which still exists, but will no longer welcome me if I'm not sufficiently productive while there.
For the past three years, the library has been my sanctuary of idleness, the place I could go to let my mind wander unproductively for 45 minutes in the middle of a stressful work day.
But sadly, those days are gone. Last week, I noticed a sign by the front door that read: "No eating, drinking, smoking or loitering."
I understand, and generally obey, the first three. The fourth is a genuine source of bafflement. No loitering? At the library? Why not?
Isn't that like a "no loitering" sign at a public park?
Why, exactly, can't I loiter at a public space funded by my tax dollars? Who is the victim if I choose to sit aimlessly in a library chair for half an hour? Why am I allowed to to go inside the library and take things for free, but not to go in and do nothing?
The policy isn't just senseless, it leaves open an endlessly perplexing list of ambiguities. For example, what level of productivity must I achieve to be in compliance with library policy? If I can't just idly stare out the library window, what if I stare out the window but have a book in front of me? Must the book be open? What if I'm not actually reading it? If I was actively reading it, how long of a break from it can I take without facing the wrath of those notorious library security goons? And if they are serious about this "no loitering" thing, why did they buy all those comfy leather chairs?
With all these gray areas, I'm not sure how they actually enforce this rule. But at least it isn't self-contradictory, like one of the others. As I mentioned, the sign by the front (and only) entrance also prohibits food. But the library's second floor, which cannot be reached without walking past through that front door, contains an outdoor square with a sign reading: "Enjoy our outdoor courtyard: a perfect place to read, relax or enjoy your lunch!"
Ok, but how do you get your lunch to the courtyard? And when does relaxing become loitering?
One day I'm going to find a librarian and ask these questions. I'm pretty sure the librarian will think I'm crazy. And then the librarian will ask me to either find something more productive to do with my time or get out of the library.
I'm speaking, of course, of the exquisite downtown library, which still exists, but will no longer welcome me if I'm not sufficiently productive while there.
For the past three years, the library has been my sanctuary of idleness, the place I could go to let my mind wander unproductively for 45 minutes in the middle of a stressful work day.
But sadly, those days are gone. Last week, I noticed a sign by the front door that read: "No eating, drinking, smoking or loitering."
I understand, and generally obey, the first three. The fourth is a genuine source of bafflement. No loitering? At the library? Why not?
Isn't that like a "no loitering" sign at a public park?
Why, exactly, can't I loiter at a public space funded by my tax dollars? Who is the victim if I choose to sit aimlessly in a library chair for half an hour? Why am I allowed to to go inside the library and take things for free, but not to go in and do nothing?
The policy isn't just senseless, it leaves open an endlessly perplexing list of ambiguities. For example, what level of productivity must I achieve to be in compliance with library policy? If I can't just idly stare out the library window, what if I stare out the window but have a book in front of me? Must the book be open? What if I'm not actually reading it? If I was actively reading it, how long of a break from it can I take without facing the wrath of those notorious library security goons? And if they are serious about this "no loitering" thing, why did they buy all those comfy leather chairs?
With all these gray areas, I'm not sure how they actually enforce this rule. But at least it isn't self-contradictory, like one of the others. As I mentioned, the sign by the front (and only) entrance also prohibits food. But the library's second floor, which cannot be reached without walking past through that front door, contains an outdoor square with a sign reading: "Enjoy our outdoor courtyard: a perfect place to read, relax or enjoy your lunch!"
Ok, but how do you get your lunch to the courtyard? And when does relaxing become loitering?
One day I'm going to find a librarian and ask these questions. I'm pretty sure the librarian will think I'm crazy. And then the librarian will ask me to either find something more productive to do with my time or get out of the library.
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