I love the use of the word "kicks." It's almost as if our little lady is getting in some of those drugs we've been reading about as the Summer of Love rolls in.
The mid-calf skirt is suddenly a mini skirt, but it's only 1967, and if you're as old as I am, you know what that meant — your stocking tops and even your garters might show:
ADDED: The anti-drug song "Kicks" was a hit in 1966. If you ever worry that you don't know how to dance, I guarantee you that 20 seconds into this "Kicks" video you will be able to dance as well as Paul Revere & the Raiders.
“In the last four years you’ve cut permits and licenses on federal lands and federal waters in half,” Romney charged, turning to his opponent and hacking at the air.
“Not true,” Obama called out, eyes blazing. Then he looked away.
“How much did you cut the licenses by?” Romney continued, stepping closer to Obama. His finger jabbed the air. Obama tried to cut him off. Romney kept coming at him, and Obama got out of his chair, his head high and tilted back a bit, which felt like a silent taunt. (Say it again — I dare ya.)
Romney stepped forward, staring at Obama. The two men locked eyes.
You held your breath.
Obama looked away, and you let it out.
Time and again, as the tension built, Obama defused it with his eyes. It was a successful technique. He seemed to have decided that he would match Romney move for move, going so far at one point as to step toward moderator Candy Crowley’s desk so he was exactly the same distance away from it as his opponent...
Obama... didn’t match his opponent’s chilling gaze. Romney wanted a staring contest, but Obama didn’t take that bait. He shunted it aside, cutting his eyes to the audience. Or he’d diminish the threat with a joke...
Obama made a show of avoiding his opponent. He looked to Crowley with a grin, widened it to show his teeth, let out a chuckle. Finally, in a smooth legato, he delivered a crippling zinger: “You know, I — I don’t look at my pension.” He shot Romney a look, and just as quickly glanced away. He addressed the punch line to the audience:
“It’s not as big as yours, so it doesn’t take as long.”
It’s not as big as yours, so it doesn’t take as long. Great line, taken out of context, in a who-is-more-macho contest.
But Obama knew, perhaps intuitively, perhaps by virtue of a lifetime of guardedness, how to avoid escalation.
He simply looked away.
Obama has a problem maintaining eye contact. Romney proved his dominance over and over. And the dance critic says Obama won with his dazzling grin and pirouetting away from confrontation.
That's the heading for a short bit of text by Kurt Vonnegut in "A Man Without a Country," which I just downloaded in Kindle because we were talking about punctuation in the comments to the "phony balance" post and I half-remembered something he said about semi-colons. The short bit under the heading goes like this:
First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you’ve been to college.
And I realize some of you may be having trouble deciding whether I am kidding or not. So from now on I will tell you when I’m kidding. For instance, join the National Guard or the Marines and teach democracy. I’m kidding.
We are about to be attacked by Al Qaeda. Wave flags if you have them. That always seems to scare them away. I’m kidding.
If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
Is he kidding?
Here a list of worst college majors for making a living. All the art ones are in there. You don't have to work.
Here's where we were talking the other day about the teacherspeak word "creative."
And here's last night's reminder that Theodore Sturgeon said "90% of everything is crud," which (I say) teaches respect for bad art — even/especially when it stirs al Qaeda attacks (in reality or in the minds of flag wavers).
And here's something about what dancing is doing to us right now.
In the United States, the song, and its corresponding Macarena dance, became popular during the same week as the 1996 Democratic National Convention. The song was frequently played between activities, and large groups of delegates and other attendants would be seen doing the Macarena dance. The song and dance became such a part of the convention that Vice President Al Gore, having a reputation for stiffness, made a joke about doing the Macarena dance during his speech. He asked, "Would you like to see my Macarena dance?" He remained motionless for a few seconds, then asked, "Would you like to see it again?"
I tried to find that Gore thing on YouTube, but I only found this:
When the Macarena was the craze, the President was reelected. He beat Bob Dole, whose tagline was "Where's the outrage?" And the answer was "Heeeeey Macarena AAAhAA!" The Democrats danced their way through the convention, and the old man asking for outrage was so out of step with the times.
And now, if you're wondering why Americans aren't outraged — about the economy, about the murder of the ambassador, about the brownshirts that knock on the filmmaker's door at midnight — what is your problem? And the answer is:
I’m a guy A guy who seems calm but plays when he plays A guy who goes completely crazy when the right time comes A guy who has bulging ideas rather than muscles That kind of guy
"It's a horse-riding dance," Psy explained... "So there is an invisible horse, and you're on it."
Invisible horse... empty chair... don't you see? Where's the outrage? There's no one there!
I’m a guy A guy who is as warm as you during the day A guy who one-shots his coffee before it even cools down A guy whose heart bursts when night comes That kind of guy
We love the guy! Obama! The dance craze tells the story. You read polls, tea leaves, whatever. I'm reading the dance craze. The hilarious, silly dance craze says we don't care about our our troubles. Where's the outrage? Heeeey... AAAhAA.. Eeeey... Oppa... eeeh... oh oh oh oh...
The United States doesn't participate in the process of adding "intangible heritage practices and expressions" to the list, but it's not hard to think about what we might suggest — the blues and square dancing, perhaps?
Oh, let's not re-embed ourselves in American things so quickly. Check out that whole list and click through to some videos. I'm experiencing temporary immersion in the Pansori Epic Chant... just a happy consequence of a random click.
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