Recently in Culture Category

After a week of decompression, I can start to encapsulate the Burning Man 2008 experience. Reading through my journal entries, it's interesting the number of times I started a sentence something like: “Maybe that's the lesson to be learned from Bman.” I went into it with the determination to get as much out of it as possible, to endeavor to be part of the scene, to participate. It's not surprising, then, that I was looking to bring something back.

So, what were these numerous, yet singular, learnings? A sampling:

* We really do make our own reality. If you come out to Black Rock City and have a great experience (and that's “great” in the “impactful” sense, not the “party” sense), regardless of conditions, that's a powerful illustration.

* I now have a true appreciation of the structural utility and elegance of the ball bungee.

* In a raging dust storm, if you don't have a vehicle to retreat into, you might as well pull up chair, get a straw for your cup, and have a cocktail. You're not going to stay any cleaner in your tent anyway, so you might as well be “in it.”

* The raw unpleasantness that can permeate life on the Playa is a great tool for appreciating the simple pleasures of your life at home (yes, my default life is “home”). By the time you've decided to face the exodus, you don't mind spending how ever long it takes in your comfy car seat.

Those are all valuable, but after some time to reflect, I believe the most meaningful experience/lesson learned, the one that will make me pause next January to consider heading back to the Playa, is this: at it's best, the spirit of Burning Man is one of expansive generosity. It makes me smile to remember how I was kind of stressing out before the event about the money I was burning through, getting ready. I realize now that at least some of that investment was a kind of municipal contribution to Black Rock City. Like many, I over-packed for my own needs (and in anticipation of catastrophes that luckily didn't materialize), and instead found myself transferring that slack, that investment to my fellow citizens. Need extra ball bungees? Here's a dozen. Trying to build shade? I have extra tarps and rope you're welcome to. Having trouble getting your structure set up? Here, let me help.

How cool is it to have something as simple as attention, a hug, a beer, be a valued and appreciated gift? Yes, those things are often appreciated in the default world as well, but I submit that those gestures are amplified in a the commercial quiet of the Playa. Other gifts remind me of the broad definition of “treasure” we have when we're kids. One of my valued treasures from this year is a beautiful polished stone that I was given in return for helping a couple register their camp at Playa Info. I'll think about how nice they were, and what a sweet gesture of gratitude the stone is, every time I look at it. What a gift.

More to follow...

moar humorous pics

But there's never more than a few minutes without a good laugh or a gratuitous huge explosion, and the plot wisely avoids any moral messages, parallels with the 9/11 tragedy or anything else that might get in the way of the machine-on-machine carnage.

Oh yeah. I'm there.

For a single page with comments, I was immensely entertained by this. They even have a CafePress shop already.

And yes, I also fornicate with my actual genitals.

The Dixie Chicks completed a defiant comeback on Sunday night, capturing five Grammy awards after being shunned by the country music establishment over the group's anti-Bush comments leading up to the Iraq invasion.

Sweet. Got my fingers crossed for Al; the wind just may be blowin' his way.

What needs saying -- what it seems nobody has yet said -- is that when she was able to suppress her demons enough to pull herself together and look her best, she was fabulously gorgeous. Numerous red-carpet moments, the footage of which we now run over and over again like a televised rosary in order to understand her death, reveal this. Anna Nicole was a star because she possessed an unusually large amount of beauty. At her best, she didn't evoke Marilyn Monroe so much as Anita Ekberg in "La Dolce Vita" -- the strapless black dress, mounds of white flesh, piles of blond hair. She was indelicate, but an unstable element nonetheless -- not so much a candle in the wind as a bonfire in a hailstorm. But the real similarity between Anna Nicole and Marilyn was their shimmering tension -- an unsettlingly powerful physical beauty, collapsing irresistibly in real time beneath the frailties of its hostess. She was entropy porn at its finest.

Our fascinated gaze was her real addiction -- and the humiliating media tractor pull between our disgust and our attraction for her was, in all likelihood, both her lover and her murderer. Fame, the only chemotherapy available for the desperate toxicity of narcissism, proves once again that it is deadly enough in its own right to be avoided.

Cintra Wilson cuts through the barely disguised glee most media derived from reporting the untimely demise of Anna Nicole Smith, finally presenting it for what it is, the sad story of a beautiful woman gone before her time. Another girl from a small town, making good on the "dream" of fame and wealth so many Americans see as the most noble of pursuits, chewed up by the machine of tabloid culture.

One of the joys of my current on-line existence is the Fake Steve Jobs blog. The reasons behind my infatuation? Here's one.

So, so wrong yet so, so right.

Whilst on my journeys in NZed, I would occasionally run across the menu item "Bubble and Squeak." What is this strange dish, I would ask myself. It was usually listed as an accompaniment to the main dishes, but I wasn't intrepid enough to order it without some idea as to what I was getting myself into.

One theory was that "bubble" could refer to some kind of cooked egg, while "squeak" could reference a pork or other animal product, but there was no way to be certain. As it appeared this was a dish from NZed's English heritage, I dared not explore further.

Now back in the land of plentiful wi fi, I finally decided to look this up. Just look at this photo (the dish in question is on the left. Why, or why would one want to conjure such a combination and, further, who would wish to voluntarily ingest something that looked like that? Geez Louise. What's wrong with taking those cold potatoes and making some nice latkes with a side of apple sauce? Do we really need to bring brussels sprouts into this? Have you no decency?

Eeewww.

Just got an email from Steve Forbes:

I want to acknowledge your communication with us on the article “Don’t Marry Career Women.” Sensitive issues demand sensitive treatment. The piece that appeared on Forbes.com this past week was intended to be part academic and part humorous. Instead, it profoundly offended hard-working career women everywhere. We deeply regret having done so.

Steve Forbes

President and Editor-in-Chief
Forbes

Yeah, yeah. Still won't make me sign up for Forbes.com or re-subscribe to their rag.

So, Scientology, you may have won THIS battle, but the million-year war for earth has just begun!" the two said in a statement that seemed to parody Scientology as science fiction. "Temporarily anozinizing our episode will NOT stop us from keeping Thetans forever trapped in your pitiful man-bodies. Curses and drat! You have obstructed us for now, but your feeble bid to save humanity will fail! Hail Xenu!!!"

My admiration for Matt and Trey knows no bounds. Tom-boy is a tool and a buffoon, and it's sweeter than the finest nectar that he's been repurposed into a publicity juggernaut for our boys in Southpark.