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It's A Wonderful, Terrible Life

Just for the record, I've always considered Todd Haynes to be a genius.

Sure, I was pretty down on Far From Heaven, his last film, but mostly because I thought he was better than the earthbound qualities of his homage to Douglas Sirk and the painfully closed off nature of small town America in the fifties.  Haynes is, I think, the director working now with the most boundless of imaginations; he deserves to soar, and he's good at it.  When we speak in such awed tones about Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story and its Barbie Doll players, it's because the audacity of the approach captured elements of the woman's story that a literal filming couldn't (and the one or two TV movies about Carpenter only underline the point). That film (which almost no one has or will see), his follow up Poison (based on stories by Jean Genet), the fascinating Safe and the dreamy Velvet Goldmine all speak to the capacity of film to dream, and dream big.

It's safe to say that no one, except Haynes could take all the elements that make up I'm Not There, his new meditation on "the lives of Bob Dylan" and make quite what he's made.  Six actors playing the lead, multiple film stocks, occasional music, some performed by Dylan, some by others... and yet, what emerges transcends the ordinary constraints of a biographical picture and of music on film.  I'm Not There is astonishing, brilliant, breathtaking in its scope, audacious in its approach.  And most amazingly, it is easily one of the most entertaining movis I've seen, about a subject I could never have expected to find so interesting.  In a just world, this kind of genius would be the sort that Oscars are made for.

In the real world, of course, they're not.  But when Haynes gets that Oscar - and with I'm Not There, I now know that he will, one day - we can all know that this film was the reason why.

Say Anything

One of the things that has silenced me lately, aside from all the various personal pressures (and the weird discovery yesterday as I was writing in the morning that I had managed to unplug my AirPort, creating the impression that I had no wifi available in the house), is the arrival of political silly season.  For some reason, amidst all the drama of the early campaign, I'd forgotten how absurd things can become so quickly.  While I trace it back to the "driver's licenses" brouhaha, in truth, it's probably simpler: poll data suggesting that candidates such as Clinton and Giuliani were pulling away from the pack led to desperation plays by the competition.  Jumping on Clinton for allegedly hedging on the question of driver's licenses for illegals simply made a convenient target (and, it should be noted, unleashed a reserve of anti-Clinton antipathy that the press has been waiting to unpack).

Still, since Thanksgiving, things have just imploded exponentially, with so many examples of overstatement, misstatement and just weird statement, it's hard to know where to begin.  Below, a few examples, and a general bemoaning.

Your Funny Uncle

Perhaps the best way back in after the brief hiatus is ruminating a bit on age.  I spent tonight with several women half my age, watching a sneak preview of Walk Hard, which I should be reviewing shortly.  And it got me thinking, a bit, on the questions of age and experience. 

The young woman sitting next to me is a new coworker, only recently started, early into her college career; she reminds of several women I've known, especially RedStar, self possessed and well spoken, wise, I think, somehwat past her years... but still somewhat unformed. She, and her roommate, regarded me with a discomfort that I suspect was borne out of the confusion young people have with Older People You're Not Attracted To. Without a clear sense of motive, or purpose, conversation gets stilted, silences get uncomfortable.  It's the "who is this guy, why is he here, does he expect us to socialize with him" kind of thing.

And that's the thing about getting older - you get to see this experience, if you're thoughtful, from both sides.

Come Together In Every Nation

If we took a holiday... it would probably be nice if we announced it.

For more than a year now, I have been pretty much writing continuously on this blog - with admittedly, a couple of lapses for a day or two, and a day off for Christmas.  In that spirit, and given the high intensity work of moving over the next couple of weeks, I am going to announce, formally, that we will be taking the next couple of days off.  As in, turn off the damn thing, days off.  I'd line up a guest poster (that would probably be Red, if I had planned that far ahead to ask her), but this just occurred to me tonight.  I will be back Wednesday. Have a great week.

I'm One Of The Smart Ones

Like Ezra, I too have been trying to avoid the revived examination of studying the "links" between IQ and race; unlike Ezra, though, I think I can get out with just one bite at the apple, and not wade in a second time so as to just muddle the most valuable point: the highly subjective nature of IQ testing.

In the end, the problem with Charles Murray's The Bell Curve isn't co much in the conclusions he draws (with Richard Herrnstein) as it is in his premise, relying on IQ data in the first place.  We rely on IQ as a measure of intelligence mostly because there's nothing else.  That doesn't ensure its validity, or give it some patina of credibility.  Indeed, it's mainly the sort of pseudo-science that seems plausible most to the people who find it leads to conclusions they pretty much had anyway.  This is the problem with SATs too, and with drawing too many conclusions, or basing college admissions, on a standardized test with inherent biases and statistical flaws.

It's a fool's errand to get drawn, as the otherwise sensible William Saletan has, into examining and reexamining relationships between IQ tests and race; there are different kinds of intelligence, and being smart knows no particular race, creed, or national origin, All the dollar words people use - heritability, biogenetics, etc - are really ways to dress up little more than common social attitudes about race and class, which have nothing to do with rigorous, scientific scrutiny (and which, then, leads me to my high horse about how the social sciences are not really sciences, but never mind). The point is that all of this is just so... unnecessary.  And mostly, I think, it's what happens when conservatives get a little too much free rein; suddenly every crazy idea seems to reappear, in yet more earnest form. The only winning move is not to play.

Holiday Haze, Black Friday Blues

Sudden change of plans - I am covering a shift today, so no time to write.  Scroll down for interesting thoughts, Or study up on the meaning of Black Friday, and the retail outlook this year.  Just promise me you won't go shopping.  In the name of every poor retail peon, I beg you. Have a relaxing Post Thanksgiving Day. I won't. :)

Don't Mess With Mr. In Between

Conservative crowing this week about new stem cell research that suggests some human cells (skin cells, in this case) can be "reprogrammed" to behave like embryonic stem cells may be the most curious kind of right wing triumphalism yet.  Almost nothing in thier back-patting is quite what it seems.

For one thing, the right claims the left has "virtually ignored" this development - odd, since the "mainstream media" they criticize so much had it on America's front pages yesterday - and refuses to acknowledge the breakthrough. The latter point also makes no sense - apparently, if we're not sufficiently awed, then it's not real. Nonsense.

But perhaps the oddest thing is trying to suggest that this discovery is vindication for Bush's refusal to fund stem cell research, and that studying embryonic stem cells is now a non-issue.   

Right Here. Right Now.

Despite my liberal underpinnings and rad tendencies, I am by nature a traditionalist.  As the eldest child of an eldest child (my Mom) and the only son of an only son (my Dad), I see the importance of carrying on family traditions.

Virtually every year since we were kids, my Mom and sister and I have had Thanksgiving together.  I can think of maybe two that were not all three of us, and I'm not sure at this moment there are any I haven't spent with Mom, until now. I will move heaven and earth, drive hundreds of miles, endure all sorts of discomforts, to make sure we are together.

This year, however, things just didn't work out.  I'm broke, I'm packing up in a complicated move, and I really couldn't afford a lot of time off.  And as the family plans got more complicated, I realized I needed to simplify, and so I decided to just stay in Boston and take my chances.

Tomorrow (today, by the time this goes up, probably) I will be celebrating Thanksgiving with coworkers after working part of the day.  I've never worked on Thanksgiving; it seems sort of interesting, at least once, to try it.  As does dinner away from home and family.

No Justice. No Peace.

I have things to say... but little time to say them, because I am supposed to be helping prepare a Thanksgiving feast my store's Starbuckians are sharing in; it's a little reminder of the value of community and of sharing. 

In that vein, I'd like to urge you to go over and read RedStar's musings on racial politics right now; My favorite Irish redhead, always bright and thoughtful on racial issues, has really come into her own in the past couple of years, as she works, tirelessly (okay, well occasionally tired, but still strong) for justice and progress in New Orleans.  We've talked a lot, Red and I, on her experiences, and what she's synthesized from it, and the person she's become... well, she makes me proud to know her.

I left a long comment over there, which I am reproducing here, after the jump; I'd love for you to join in her conversation, but also feel free to share any thoughts you have on my post over here. And soon, probably tomorrow, I'll try and amplify my thoughts.  Til then, may you get safely to your holiday table and once there, share and enjoy...

Always Low... Something. Always.

With so many things to write about, I think I'll start with one from the front page of the Wall Street Journal - they led today with the news that some health insurers are chasing down accident victims for repayment of costs associated with their care should they win personal injury lawsuits. And the lead case they cite is sure to raise more hackels: Wal Mart recently won a massive judgment against a Missouri couple, Jim and Deborah Shank, after Deborah had sustained massive injuries, including brain damage, in a major car accident when she was hit by a truck (Wal Mart, where she worked, provided her health insurance; they had no involvement in the accident).

The concept at work here is "subrogation," in which insurers put a clause into policies (probably yours, too) that if you receive care for an accident that you later win renumeration for, some of the damage payment will be returned to the insurer to offset the cost of your care.  This does, in some ways, make sense: if you sue someone for causing your injuries, and ask them to pay your medical bills, which were already paid by your insurer, then you are benefiting twice. According to the Journal, this has become a fairly significant income stream for insurers:

The American Benefits Council and America's Health Insurance Plans, the health-insurer lobby, estimate health plans recoup some $1 billion a year in medical claims from accident settlements and other third parties. A cottage industry of auditing firms, benefit-recovery specialists and subrogation lawyers help them. They estimate that between 1% and 3% of health-care spending is potentially recoverable from such claims.

"In the past, employers used to think of this as an afterthought," says Tom Lawrence, chief executive of Memphis-based Benefit Recovery Inc., whose clients include Southwest Airlines Co. and hospital chain HCA Inc. HCA says it saw annual savings from recouped claims rise to $1.8 million in 2006 from just under $800,000 in 2000 after hiring the firm.

...

Until recently, employers and insurers generally didn't go after small claims. But more-sophisticated claims tracking has made it easier. Recovery companies systematically search claims for certain medical codes -- say, a sprained ankle or head trauma -- that flag a potential accident. Claims examiners then mail a questionnaire and often follow up with calls. If the injured person confirms it was an accident, the firm tracks whether the patient files an injury suit.

Of course, Wal Mart has taken this a step further.  Read On.