The Vast Wasteland, Again

If you grew up in the States in the 1960s, you watched television. You might remember hearing of Newton Minow’s speech declaring television a “vast wasteland.” 

I doubt most Americans remember anything else from the speech other than that famous tagline.

Well, here is a snippet:

“You will see a procession of game shows, formula comedies about totally unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism, murder, western bad men, western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more violence, and cartoons. And endlessly, commercials — many screaming, cajoling, and offending.” 

Damn, but with hundreds of channels and streaming, nothing much seems to have changed. Luckily for me, there is public radio.

Does the set blare ” game shows, formula comedies about totally unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism, murder, western bad men, western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more violence, and cartoons” in my house? Well, yes. Every evening, my wife, a night shift nurse, unwinds and relaxes. She does this to fall asleep for a few hours before going to work. If she is watching the one show I will watch (NCIS), I might join her for an episode. Otherwise I pass by quietly if she has drowsed off, and note which unsolved murder mystery show is on.

The unsolved show I hate worst I hate on technical grounds. I shoot and edit video for a hunk of my living. So I am tuned into how a show is assembled – the musical interludes, visual transitions, and such. 

I look at those things as a system of punctuation. They are the periods, commas, and exclamation marks. These elements transform a show from assembled video and audio clips into a watchable show. This series went minimalist and uses the same sorry tinkly piano interludes show after show. Fake phone conversation audio filters and visual devices are also stock and repeat endlessly.

Ick. I am flaccid and disgusted—a Vast Wasteland compressed into one show.

I suspect that Newton Minow is spinning in his grave.

The Judo Lesson

“What do you want? There is enough empty posturing in the world without making dangerous threats.”
“What do you mean dangerous threats, old man?”
“I mean that not all that danger resides in physical threats – breathing your foul breath on people. Or verbally abusing them.”

He crunches his knuckles, smiles, and growls, “Showtime!” Then he draws back to strike. He doesn’t see the subtle step to one side. Or the gentle force applied to the wrist that propels him groundward.

On the ground, he wonders how the little older man defeated youth and vigor. Off to the side, he hears someone speak—”Sensei, did you hurt him?” The reply from the white-haired gentleman is, ” Only enough to teach him a lesson.”

Onward

I get excited walking down a street and seeing a plain space transformed by public art. It makes an ordinary town or city unique and brightens a blue day.
It can be little details.

Or right in your face.

It creates demand for more art and culture and generally enriches civic life.

Like the dragon head prow on this boat, it propels life onward

An Elegant Solution

My 1960s self is reasserting itself. I am a bit to the left, but not a radical group left. In those days I could still have sane conversations with my peers about the same amount as me but to the right.
We often didn’t agree on much. But we did agree that the truly radical left and the genuinely radical right were the problem. Those of us, mildly left or right, often had a grip on the issues. We could even dialogue on possible answers. The knives and bludgeons did not necessarily come out at the end of spirited discussions.
I remember one discussion that ended with us agreeing on an interesting course of action. We would put all the extreme radicals of the left and right in a locked ballroom. Then, we would throw the key and return a day later to see who survived. They’d probably all die of excess political diatribes. Or they would succumb to toxic and extreme stupidity. They’d also suffer from Hypoxia (oxygen shortage) brought on by all that screaming and yelling.

It’s an old suggestion, true, from a gentler and milder time. But perhaps its time has come around again.

A Model City

I’ve given up on real cities. In the model railroad city of Passamygaskeag, the trains run on time. The kittens go looking for tasty little people in the streets. And all is well…if you are a cat.
“Come out, come out, from wherever you are!”

I’ve got a quarrel…

I have a grudge against multi-level interlocked bureaucracy. You might think, “He’s talking about government!” But no, it’s not just a government issue. I quarrel with it, whether in the private sector or the government. However, my experiences with it were when I worked for the government.

In the little out-of-the-way part of the government where I worked, my staff had an exhibit to create. It pretty straightforward until I was told that the concerns of “cooperating agencies” had to be considered. Design meetings no longer were three people. They grew large. Simple things became a matter of appeasing someone’s pet peeve. And, of course, the cost grew terribly and trebly.

Eventually, the “reinvention of government” under Clinton came along. But in typical glacial governmental style, it took two years to lay us off.

I haven’t been shy about discussing this with friends whose experiences were with large not-for-profits and commercial enterprises. So, I’ve had the opportunity to listen to their horror stories of lock-step organizations gone wild.

I’ve spent time thinking about their stories and my own experience. I’ve decided that it’s not so much an issue of organizational size. Bureaucracy by itself is not bad and serves many valuable purposes. It’s more an issue of protecting organizational “turf,” individual ego, and asserting control.
All these things also cause trouble in small organizations. The costs and potential for failure multiply when coupled with size and complexity. This is especially so when there is no strong guidance or no one who can dampen the ego issues involved.

After the government, I became a professional woodcarver. However, to maintain a benefit package for the family, I went to work for a large transportation company. The dominant philosophy was to keep management levels lean, and make people responsible for their own areas. Our parts of the company were like small businesses. And we were responsible for making them work. One day I was helping to load a trailer when a “suit” walked in. He took off his jacket and started loading with me. He asked me what problems we had and what resources I needed to fix them. Later that afternoon, I was informed that the Regional Manager had been loading with me, and he had approved a few thousand dollars of fixes for my area.
Soon, I found that “management by walking about” was a popular method of staying in touch. Over my years at that company, I found very little of the turf wars or ego fights. When management failed, they were accountable. There was little shuffling of feet or blame, getting placed on committees or the lower ranks.

It was a tough, dirty place to work. But I preferred it to the backbiting, ego-bruising stupidity of my previous job.

Oh – and we got the job, and done well, too.

Nip

Catnip…incomparable! It’s the perfect treat. No calories, not habit forming! I am in total control!

Ohhhh….

Sweet!

Baby Bogs

Around this time of year I start making berry bowls to bring in for the winter. It’s an old New England tradition I picked up many years ago in Maine. Originally berry bowls were moss, and small woodland plants with colorful berries. Made in small brandy snifters, they were a pleasant reminder in fall and winter of the woodlands in summer. They were frequently gifts for shut-ins and the ill.
Mine have evolved into terrariums of bog plants with insectivorous plants in recent years. Keep them in your kitchen, and you won’t have to worry about pesky fruitflies from the bananas or apples.

This year, I went with hardwood knots from the firewood stack. The knots start off a bit hollow and knurled. I deepened the hollow and added moss, partridge berry, and a sundew ( drosera). Being it’s a small bog, it does like to be moist. But I like the natural woodsy look of this new style.

$2.99

In a novel I was reading, there is an interlude. The protagonist sits down and questions whether his motivations are sound. He then asks himself if he should continue on this course of action. I suddenly chimed in, “Don’t be a fool. Get out of there, go back home, and get a good night’s sleep.” The character stops, looks through the page, stares at me, and says, “Hey, dummy! There’ll be no story if I do that! Who’ll save the Queral and the Snap?”
I felt like replying with a catchy line.

But then I realized this was just science fiction—and not very good science fiction. I pointed out to the character that this was his author’s first book. It is available online for $2.99, which is why I was reading it on my iPad.
With considerable dignity, the character sits up straight. He points the finger at me. He states, ” Well, you don’t have to read it if it bothers you so damn much!”, “Right!” I snarled as I reached to shut the iPad off. “Hey, wait a minute. It gets better in the next chapter. Honest! Give me a chance.”

I glance at the dark screen. Damn, how I hate uppity fictional characters in cheap science fiction novels. They lose their motivations and inhibitions so quickly and break character.

I expect more for $2.99.

The Numbers Game – number 35

Judy’s number game– and the number is… 156

Not many for this number.

The bowl was made from a piece of cherry firewood. Although smaller in size, these small bowls often have better color and wilder grain than the wider first-quality planks.

The hair sticks were a winter experiment. They were not terribly successful, once again proving that not all “great” ideas pan out.

The Surprise quarterboard was one of my sample boards for many years at boat shows.

S.S. Servia was a Cunard liner of the later 1880s. I eventually abandoned the sails seen in this picture. I took another approach using sails carved from cherry.

Louis N. Carreras, Woodcarver

Authentic Nautical Accessories, and Custom Furnishings

Skip to content ↓