MICHAEL O. ALLEN

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The Nation magazine

I'm with Greider

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Since reading his ‘Who Will Tell the People’ back in 1993, I’ve been a disciple of William Greider. He is a visionary, an astute observer/analyst of public policies and their consequences. This piece in The Nation magazine is no exception.

Economic Free Fall By William Greider,The Nation, July 30, 2008

Washington can act with breathtaking urgency when the right people want something done. In this case, the people are Wall Street’s titans, who are scared witless at the prospect of their historic implosion. Congress quickly agreed to enact a gargantuan bailout, with more to come, to calm the anxieties and halt the deflation of Wall Street giants. Put aside partisan bickering, no time for hearings, no need to think through the deeper implications. We haven’t seen “bipartisan cooperation” like this since Washington decided to invade Iraq.

In their haste to do anything the financial guys seem to want, Congress and the lame-duck President are, I fear, sowing far more profound troubles for the country. First, while throwing our money at Wall Street, government is neglecting the grave risk of a deeper catastrophe for the real economy of producers and consumers. Second, Washington’s selective generosity for influential financial losers is deforming democracy and opening the path to an awesomely powerful corporate state. Third, the rescue has not succeeded, not yet. Banking faces huge losses ahead, and informed insiders assume a far larger federal bailout will be needed–after the election. No one wants to upset voters by talking about it now. The next President, once in office, can break the bad news. It’s not only about the money–with debate silenced, a dangerous line has been crossed. Hundreds of billions in open-ended relief has been delivered to the largest and most powerful mega-banks and investment firms, while government offers only weak gestures of sympathy for struggling producers, workers and consumers.

The bailouts are rewarding the very people and institutions whose reckless behavior caused this financial mess. Yet government demands nothing from them in return–like new rules for prudent behavior and explicit obligations to serve the national interest. Washington ought to compel the financial players to rein in their appetite for profit in order to help save the country from a far worse fate: a depressed economy that cannot regain its normal energies. Instead, the Federal Reserve, the Treasury, the Democratic Congress and of course the Republicans meekly defer to the wise men of high finance, who no longer seem so all-knowing.
CONTINUE . . .

'Barthelmismo'

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Here’s a bit of Donald Barthelme’s “The Big Broadcast of 1938”

“Tell me about your early life,” she said.

“I was, in a sense, an All-American boy,” Bloomsbury replied.

“In what sense?”

“In the sense that I married,” he said.

“Was it love?”

“It was love but it was only temporary.”

“It didn’t go on forever?”

“For less than a decade. As a matter of fact.”

“But while it did go on. . .”

“It filled me with a somber and paradoxical joy.”

“Coo!” she said. “It doesn’t sound very American to me.”

“Coo,” he said. “What kind of an expression is that?”

“I heard it in a movie,” she said. “A Conrad Veidt movie.”

“Well,” he said, “it’s distracting.””

–From deviantART

There are reviews galore of new collections of Donald Barthelme. I’m offering (as if it’s mine to do so) a couple here:

Where Now? Let’s Go! by JOANNA SCOTT, The Nation, the April 28, 2008 issue

I don’t think Donald Barthelme would have minded being called a confusing writer. Confusion was a favorite subject for him in his essays and reviews, and it’s enacted in his fiction in a mishmash of dizzying incongruities. “The part of the story that came next was suddenly missing,” one of his narrators admits in a signature Barthelmean moment, and what follows is a hodgepodge of what could be said, what won’t be said and a series of “good-quality” lies spun on a whim. Not that all the details are important. We can’t count on any incident having lasting significance, nor can we trace a reasonable relationship between cause and consequence in these stories. Events rarely follow logically, and with all the bewildering pronouncements that Barthelme’s fictional spokesmen make about the state of the world, it’s hard to decipher any coherent idea.

But it’s important to consider the different meanings of confusion in order to discuss its effects. While the word denotes disorder and perplexity, in its early usage it also described the physical action of mixing elements to create something new. Through the fusion of fluids, of thoughts, even of people in friendship, confusion was understood as a process that could generate coherence, if only temporarily. Put these different meanings together, and we get the kind of confusion that Barthelme conjures up–an experience that can be as productive as it is unsettling.

Along with being the indefatigable force behind the University of Houston Creative Writing Program for many years, Barthelme is the author of more than seventeen books, including four novels, a children’s book and several collections of stories. John Hawkes called him “one of our greatest of all comic writers.” Thomas Pynchon coined the phrase “Barthelmismo” to describe the unique “transcendent weirdness” of his work. With Barthelme’s death in 1989, we lost one of our most admired–and confusing–writers. Now the independent publisher Shoemaker and Hoard has brought Barthelme back to center stage and given us a chance to reconsider his influence. Flying to America is a collection of unpublished and previously uncollected stories, as well as stories that were left out of his two earlier compendium editions, Sixty Stories (1981) and Forty Stories (1987). In addition, Counterpoint has reissued two volumes of criticism, The Teachings of Don B. and Not-Knowing, which gather together Barthelme’s essays, reviews and interviews.

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Buckley's splendid eulogies

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I come late to the William F. Buckley eulogy party, a full week as a matter of fact. I was going to skip it entirely but I finally read my Newsweek magazine, which devoted precious newshole to the passing of the conservative icon.There was the long retrospective on his career by Evan Thomas, accompanied by a couple of respectful appreciations by Katrina Vanden Heuvel, editor and publisher of The Nation, the country’s premier liberal magazine, and Michael Gerson, George W. Bush’s exceptional speechwriter who sups now at the trough of several publications, Newsweek and the Washington Post included.Before I go any further, I should get this out of the way: among his many admirable qualities, Mr. Buckley was a very charming man and he gave great parties.Douglas Martin began his obituary in The New York Times this way:

William F. Buckley Jr., who marshaled polysyllabic exuberance, arched eyebrows and a refined, perspicacious mind to elevate conservatism to the center of American political discourse, died on Wednesday at his home in Stamford, Conn. He was 82.

No purpose will be served rehashing all the encomiums Buckley’s passing garnered. He was a great guy. A great writer. A great wit. Founded a magazine. He was the father of the conservative movement.Some of his eulogizers lamented what has become of the conservative movement he founded. Current crop of conservatives just don’t have the style, the civilized manner of Buckley. David Brooks, a protégé of Buckley who now occupies valuable real estate on The New York Times op-ed page, lamented the return of the haters and rabble rousers long after Buckley thought he had banished them from his movement.Brooks and others, as quoted by Newsweek, on Buckley:

For more than a half century, William F. Buckley Jr., who died last week at 82, largely inspired and held together the conservative movement that is collapsing today. The Wall Street Journal editorialized: “Several generations of conservatives grew up (in more than one sense) with Bill Buckley. Now they have—well, there is no one like him.” “He changed the personality of conservatism,” Brooks says. “It had been sort of negative, and he made it smart and sophisticated and pushed out all these oddballs and created a movement.” More recently, says Brooks, conservatism has “lost something.” In the conservatism spawned by talk radio and TV, the haters and know-nothings are back, ranting about immigrants and liberals. “It was a lot more philosophical under him,” he says. At those nightly salons, Buckley liked to talk and argue about ideas and literature and the nature of man; politics was rarely mentioned. “The new conservatives are not as intellectually creative as those dealing with communism and socialism,” says Brooks. Buckley tolerated some disreputable ideas, including segregation; but he had the capacity to change.

And vanden Heuvel had this to say early in her appreciation of Buckley:

And while he ceased to argue that Africans will be ready to run their own affairs “when they stop eating each other,” neither he nor his magazine ever fully repudiated the poisonous role it played in stoking white supremacists’ anger against the civil-rights movement.

The same Mr. Buckley called author Gore Vidal a “queer” and threatened to punch him out on his television show, The Firing Line. Charming indeed.

I’m sorry, Mr. Buckley might have had nicer manners but how is this any better than any of Rush Limbaugh or Ann Coulter’s serial assault on common-sense and decency?

William F. Buckley was an unreconstructed racist who comforted segregationists everywhere, including the purveyors of the long discredited policy of apartheid in South Africa. Buckley and the pages of the National Review provided ballast to the Reagan administration as it resisted all entreaties to help topple that evil regime.

That this man was welcomed in respectable society when he was alive was bad enough. That he was, on his death, further celebrated in the pages of respectable mainstream publications is both tragic and shameful.

Invitation to a boondoggle?

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It was a wet, slushy commute from NYC to NJ Friday night. I wanted to nap on the train. Instead, I opened The Nation magazine.
There was a piece by Gary Younge called Feudal Democracy about the wound the Democrats are about inflict on themselves by having the so-called Super-delegates pick their nominee for president at the Democratic Party Convention in Denver.
I began to read and came across this alarming passage:

The notion that this race might be settled democratically increasingly appears more a question of pragmatism than a point of principle. If the primaries are not sufficiently decisive, it seems that the nomination will be brokered by the “elders.” Superdelegates are slowly ceding their authority to a handful of super-duperdelegates. Al Gore and former Senate majority leader George Mitchell are the two “elder statesmen” most often touted with sufficient standing to fix whatever democracy might happen to break.

Please, not George Mitchell.
George Mitchell cannot settle anything. Muck things up, yes; settle ’em, no. Just ask Major League Baseball. They asked for an investigation of steroids in baseball. Mitchell gave them a clip job, compiling pretty much everything that’s been written in newspapers, magazines and books about the subject.
He also latched onto ongoing investigations and claimed them as his own.
He solved nothing, settled nothing, found nothing, smeared a legion of people and walked away with the loot. Baseball will not say how much money he wasted on that boondoggle.
Whatever happens at the convention, please don’t let George Mitchell in.

War Hero

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Marine Lance Cpl. James Jenkins is cornered in an apartment but, this not being Iraq, he could not shoot back.

In intense, ferocious and some of the most intimate fighting of the Iraq War in 2004, Jenkins killed more than 200 enemy combatants. He was a war hero, with many commendations, including a Bronze Star for valor for heroic actions during a fifty-five hour battle with the Mahdi militia in Najaf.

Back in the United States from a second tour, Jenkins, 23, could not sleep and, when sleep came, the nightmares were horrible. Remorse, depression and a surge of adrenaline he could not control, not to talk of the suicidal thoughts, ruled his life, getting him into trouble with the Marines. Finally, he ran for it when he was about to be arrested by the Marines for another infraction. Which was how Jenkins ended up barricaded in that apartment that autumn day in 2005, a sheriff at the door and a U.S. Marshal covering the back door.

Jenkins shot himself in the temple.

The Marines never diagnosed his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and even tried to deny death benefits to his family. Thomas Ferguson, a special agent from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service who investigated his eligibility, described Jenkins as a “salvageable marine” whose untreated PTSD had led to his suicide.

“LCpl Jenkins was a bona fide war hero,” Ferguson wrote. “Unfortunately, it is clear that when he most needed help from the military, the military failed him.”

Among the many crimes of the misbegotten presidency of George W. Bush, the one least remarked upon is the waste he laid to the lives of many young men and women in this war that he lied us into. I am not just talking about the combat dead or those maimed in battle, but the walking wounded and dead among us, young men and women who did not receive treatment for their unseen wounds.

I have been reading stories about these cases in The Nation magazine for some time now, including the current one, Denial in the Corps, but the magazine appears not to have organized its stories in one place. The first one I read was about Spc. Jon Town almost year ago. Town told of how he was wounded in Iraq, won a Purple Heart and was then denied all disability and medical benefits.

I am sure there are stories in the series I have missed and I caught Jenkins’ story by accident. Publications had piled up on me and I was thumbing through the Nation before I consign the February 18 issue to the recycling pile when I came across the story.

The Nation needs to rectify this oversight. It’s a remarkable series. It deserves to be read widely. Together they make up a chronicle of shame not just for Bush and the criminal cabal he surrounded himself with, but for our country. It is a shame because we let this happen and we’re letting it happen.