I spoke to two classes of communications majors today about digital PR and social media marketing. It was a wonderful experience. The University of Maryland undergraduate course was called Comm350:  Public Relations Theory and their communications professor, Sahar Mohamed Khamis, was amazing generous and welcoming, basically handing me the reins to her class, sight unseen.  The class is described as:

The historical development and contemporary status of public relations in business, government, associations and other organizations. Application of communication theory and social science methods to the research, planning, communication and evaluation aspects of the public relations process.

Everybody was super bright and super nice to me. One thing I was concerned about is that in both classes I taught today, both Comm350, only a couple people had Twitter accounts and I think there were just a couple folks who have a blog or who had every blogged.  And these are our future PR professionals.  Of course, when I asked, 100%  of the students in both classes were on Facebook.  Natch.

Well, I presented my A Guide to Blogger Relations slide show and then took questions.  I told them that blogging, Twittering, and participating in the wider conversation would almost guarantee them a good job at a local or national agency after college.  I told them that they should all, separately or in concert, start writing a blog about their take on communication, on advertising, on popular culture, on television, on PR, on social media — that the thing they learn in class every day would be interesting to the blogosphere, seen through their young eyes.  That there is no doubt in my mind that you can really and truly write yourself into the job of your dreams and if they didn’t blog, all of them, they were darned fools (well, maybe I didn’t say it — it was implied).

I receive quite a thank you note from one of student from the first class, Miss Chelsea Clark, who not only asked a question but also said the following nice things — a mixture of review, testimonial, and, I dare say, her first blog post once removed:

I walked into my Comm350 class on Tuesday expecting to sit there taking notes for an hour and a half like usual. Instead, our professor announced we were  having a guest speaker. I was thinking to myself that this could go one of two  ways: really interesting and way better than cramping my hand taking notes, or  really boring and put me to sleep.

Our guest speaker took the floor and introduced himself and described what his company does. I’ve learned about blogs in PR before, but I was never really able  to link the two together. Yeah, so blogs are a new media outlet, but how does  that help clients? How do businesses personally benefit from random people  around the country writing about their hobbies and interests? I never really  understood the connection until Chris’ presentation.

He described how he would have his team search for blogs that were written about topics that relate to his clients and then send out mass emails to the  bloggers to ask them to write about his clients. He was worried that we would  think he was a spammer, but, having made many annoying calls and emails to  reporters myself, I knew how he felt. He then showed us results of actual  bloggers that wrote about his clients. He got so excited! We all recognized this  feeling, for being PR people ourselves, we know how satisfying it is to have free  publicity.

I thought that Chris did a really good job with his presentation. I followed what he was saying the whole time and enjoyed some of his nerdy antics. I think  some of the people in the class were less interested or maybe didn’t follow what   Chris’ company is responsible for, either because they were pretending to take  notes while really checking their facebooks or because they are still a bit  unfamiliar with PR and got a little bit confused.

For me, the presentation was enlightening, exciting, and interesting and showed me new ways of getting publicity without necessarily resorting to TV and  newspapers. I would definitely recommend him to other PR college classes that  are looking for guest speakers!

That, Chelsea, really made my month.  I appreciate the kind words and thank you, again, to professor Sahar Khamis

who will soon be coming out with a really compelling new book you should all pre-order on Amazon,  Islam Dot Com: Contemporary Islamic Discourses in Cyberspace.  I look forward to it.

Also, if you’re curious as to the content of the slide show and the presentation I did, here it is inline for your enjoyment… however, I need to record one with my insight, wit, and wisdom one of these days soon:

Po la`i e, po kamaha`o,
Maluhia, malamalama
Ka makuahine aloha e
Me ke keiki hemolele e
Moe me ka maluhia lani
Moe me ka maluhia lani
Po la`i e, po kamaha`o,
Oni na kahu hipa e
I ko ka lani nani no
Mele na `anela haleluia.
Hanau `ia Kristo ka haku.
Hanau `ia Kristo ka haku.

Po la`i e, po kamaha`o,
Keiki hiwahiwa aloha e,
Ka lama la`i mai luna mai
Me ka lokomaika`i makamae.
Iesu i kou hanau `ana.
Iesu i kou hanau `ana.

Direct Translation

Peaceful night, wonderful night,
Peace, light
The beloved mother
With the holy child
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Peaceful night, wonderful night,
The shepherds come
With the heaven’s beauty
The angels sing hallelujah.
Christ the Lord is born.
Christ the Lord is born.

Peaceful night, wonderful night,
Beloved sacred child,
Light of peace from above
With goodwill and purity.
Jesus for your birth.
Jesus for your birth.

This is one heck of a cool bassinet, made by ooba, and part of its Nest series of baby stuff.

Ooba’s Nest Bassinet was born from the desire to have a bedside sleeping option for babies. This room-sharing solution brings peace of mind to parents, so they can rest soundly knowing their baby is safe and comfortable next to them.

Includes slip cover, mattress pad and cover and two fitted sheets. Ships within 2 – 4 weeks.

specs

materials:
shell: bent plywood with rich wood veneers
base: chrome metal
slip cover: 100% brushed cotton
mattress: 100% polyurethane foam pad with moisture resistant Tyvek cover
bedding: two (2) 100% cotton fitted sheets

dimensions:
36″ w x 25″ d x 31″ h

notes:
Patent Pending
Requires simple assembly. Approximately 25 lbs with integrated handles for convenient carrying. Safely holds up to 50 lbs.

Made in the U.S.A.

According to an online quiz on Details, “Are Your That Guy,” I am totally that guy: a total douchebag, apparently.

1 You initiate fist bumps.
Yes
No

Someone told me that high-fives are passe so I have replaced them with bumps and regular, manly, handshakes.

2 You order foreign dishes in an accent.
Yes
No

I ask for foreign dishes, yes, properly. If the dish is French then I order it in French and if it is Mexican, I pronounce it in Spanish. And in Germany, I sort of need to order it in German. If you do it right, you don’t really draw much attention to yourself.

3 You shave your head at the first sign of balding.
Yes
No

I would totally either shave my head or crop it close if I started balding.

4 You use any word Stephen Colbert invented.
Yes
No

I use as many words as I can remember if they were coined by Stephen Colbert.

5 You have an elaborate bedtime ritual on planes—with neck pillow, sleep mask, and noise-canceling headphones.
Yes
No

People with sleeping rituals of any kind need to lose their guy card immediately.

6 You have a downloaded ring tone.
Yes
No

I am quite amused with classic, normal, default ringtones; however, I really enjoyed sporting the “bring out your dead” skit from Monty Python.

7 You wave someone along even though they have the right of way.
Yes
No

I think I have forgotten who actually does have right-of-way at 4-way intersections, so if I feel like I arrived a millisecond later than another, I will wave and wave.

8 You say the name of the town where your Ivy League alma mater is located instead of the name of the school.
Yes
No

If I had actually gone to an Ivy League school, I would totally say New Haven or Boston or wherever.

9 You own a Manchester United jersey.
Yes
No

No, I am afraid not. I almost bought a Norwich Canaries jersey but decided not to.

10 You quote Borat, Zoolander, or Anchorman, or reference “TPS reports” and “pieces of flair.”
Yes
No

I don’t have the best memory for these things but I made a Zoolander reference just the other day — a Blue Steel reference.

11 You put your BlackBerry on the table when you sit down at a restaurant.
Yes
No

Yes.  In fact, all of my friends deBerry and dePhone the moment we sit down for food — not to show off but because I always have too much shit in my pockets.

12 You talk baby talk to your girlfriend on your office phone.
Yes
No

I don’t have a girlfriend presently but all indicators point to “yes.”

13 You offer to buy a cigarette from people outside bars.
Yes
No

No, I have too much of a problem with entitlement — I would never offer to buy.

14 You order “off-menu.”
Yes
No

Food isn’t really my bag and restaurant-going isn’t my bag, and I am pretty much omnivorous, so, like a diesel, I can run on anything.

15 You own a reptile.
Yes
No

Spike, God rest your little soul

16 You say “My bad.”
Yes
No

I hate that I say this. My bad.

17 You describe your relationship status by saying “It’s complicated.”
Yes
No

With me, it always is.

18 You say “We’re pregnant.”
Yes
No

I would love to say this — I will totally be that guy, if that guy says, “we’re pregnant.”

19 You have destination-related car stickers like MV, NTK, PVT, HMP, or NPT.
Yes
No

I might actually get myself a vanity plate. I never have, yet, but I aspire to.

20 You make a show out of tasting wine.
Yes
No

I tried to make a point of being fussy over coffee and cheese, but what’s the use.

21 You preface statements with “spoiler alert.”
Yes
No

I am Mr. Online and have been beaten down by spoiling, so I have learned my lesson.

22 You don’t wash last night’s admission stamp off your hand.
Yes
No

I am not likely to scrub off the thing.  Does that mean I am preserve it or am I just dirty?

23 You use abbreviations like TBD, ASAP, and BFD in conversation and sign off e-mails with “thx” or “cheers.”
Yes
No

I have been signing emails with “Cheers, Chris” forever.

24 You wear flip-flops, Croakies, Crocs, or board shorts in the city.
Yes
No

My only excuse here is that I grew up in Hawaii and I never used to wear flip-flops (rubber slippers) in the city until it because ubiquitous.

25 You have a nighttime wardrobe that includes a going-out shirt, concert merchandise, or limited-edition sneakers you bought in Tokyo.
Yes
No

I pretty much wear a uniform, no matter what the situation. I have “dressed up” and “dressed down” and “dressed up with jacked.”

26 You say “I need my Starbucks.”
Yes
No

It might sound a little prissy until I tell you that most of the coffee you drink, especially from Dunkin’ Donuts, is really a lot lot worse than Starbucks. You may think Starbuck’s coffee is “burnt” but the truth is, you just have poor taste in coffee. You’re decidedly “truck stop” class.

27 You refer to the woman you’re casually hooking up with as a “friend with benefits.”
Yes
No

28 You pretend not to know who Spencer Pratt is.
Yes
No

I actually don’t know who Spencer Pratt. How do I answer? Yes or no?

29 You offer advice to women on their “form” at the gym.
Yes
No

30 You call friends and colleagues by their last names.
Yes
No

I call David Gelles “Gelles” — but one is enough. I should start colling Andrew Curry, “Curry,” but I don’t.

31 You refer to a date/girlfriend’s having done some “print work.”
Yes
No

I am not much of a modelizer.

32 You describe anything good as “sick.”
Yes
No

I have referred to things as “sweet,” — where does that fall?

33 You refer to your wife as “the ol’ ball and chain” and say “I’ll take the request to management.”
Yes
No

I might never refer to my wife as my wife.  She is “Stephanie” or “Michelle.”

34 You refer to a trip to the gym as a “legs day.”
Yes
No

35 You go to a show to see the opening band.
Yes
No

If I like the opening band, I go to a show for the opening band.

36 You think Hayden Panettiere is hot.
Yes
No

As a huge Heroes fan, who in the hell wouldn’t think that  Hayden Panettiere is hot?

37 You put your kid in a Che Guevara T-shirt.
Yes
No

I love Che.

38 You include the names of your kids and pets in your home outgoing message.
Yes
No

I would, the moment I can find a woman who might be willing to breed with me.

39 You refer to money as “Benjamins,” “dead presidents,” “ducats,” or “coin.”
Yes
No

I like to be as colloquial as possible when it comes to coin.

40 You bitch about your contractor at parties.
Yes
No

I totally bitch about my contractors, who are actually employees!  Not a lot of bitch about these days — they’re a well-oiled machine, yo.

41 You talk about a record “dropping.”
Yes
No

I am actually old enough to remember when you would stack records on a record player and they would drop down, get played, and then another would drop, and it would be played, too.  The “record” version of a multi-CD player.

42 You half-tuck your shirt.
Yes
No

I think the half-tucked shirts look cool but I am not cool enough to pull it off.

43 You have a goatee.
Yes
No

I am either clean-shaven or I have a beard — sometimes, just scruff.  Never a goatee. Back in the day, though, my girlfriend Michelle demanded her beoyfriends have goatees (what’s up with that) and I complied.

44 You refer to anything as “small-batch” or “artisanal.”
Yes
No

Like I mentioned before, I was well into cheeses and into hams and into other foodie things and I was very much into getting as many whole milk cheeses as possible. And, when you want to get whole milk goat cheese of and elite quality, you need to go “artisanal.”

45 You refer to any last-stop bar as “the 19th hole.”
Yes
No

I refer to as many things as possible as “the 19th hole.”

46 You’re a Caucasian with a tattoo in Asian lettering.
Yes
No

Tatoos appal me.

47 You Evite.
Yes
No

I have Evited people for years and year by now. I love it.

48 You own a wine Rabbit.
Yes
No

I am a huge fan of the very basic “Waiter’s Friend” or the Laguiole knife/wine opener.

49 You proselytize about carbon footprints.
Yes
No

I am very anti-climate change hypocrisy.

50 You name your kid after a character in To Kill a Mockingbird.
Yes
No

My son or daughter will surely be named after some character or actor. I am a huge film-lover and also have a degree in American Literature with a minor in creative writing. It is bound to happen.

51 You use the phrase flyover states.
Yes
No

52 You use the word bicoastal.
Yes
No

Yes, but when I use the term bicoastal, I mean American and Europe; Washington, DC, and Berlin, Germany.  Bicontinental, I guess.

53 You pretend to like country music.
Yes
No

I actually do love country music, especially bluegrass.

54 You wear DJ headphones.
Yes
No

Nope. Just simple buds.

55 You use a Bluetooth headset.
Yes
No

I drive in Washington, DC, and do most of my conference calls enroute. I own two bluetooth headsets: a Motorola and a Jawbone.

56 You call muscle groups by shortened versions of their technical names, like “lats,” “traps,” and “pecs.”
Yes
No

I used to be a wrestler and also a college rower, so you sort of just do call them traps, quads, lats, pec, etc.

My firm, Abraham Harrison, and I are helping the Fresh Air Fund place 200 inner-city kids from New York City into country homes for a free summer vacation this summer.  Please help me out — help me share the opportunity far and wide! The Fresh Air Fund has provided free summer vacations to New York City children from disadvantaged communities since 1877. This is your summer to help! The end of July is growing closer and we still have 200 children who need to be placed with host families for this August. If you want to jump on it immediately, please Email Angie, angie@freshair.org and she’ll speed you through the process!

Here’s the SMNR we developed for the campaign:

Remember your summer vacations? Doesn’t every kid deserve that kind of fun? We have over 200 children scheduled for Fresh Air trips this summer and need your help to host or find hosts! The Fresh Air Fund has provided free summer vacations to New York City children from disadvantaged communities since 1877. This is your summer to help! The end of July is growing closer and we still have 200 children who need to be placed with host families for this August Unless all prospective host families are screened and vetted by the end of July these 200 children may miss out on an invaluable experience Please host a child or help us get the word out that we need folks who can welcome a child from the city into their homes next month One last thing that is actually very important. We are looking for families who want to extend an invitation to a 9-12 year old. We really need more families who want older children and boys Please Email Angie, angie@freshair.org, immediately and she’ll speed you through the process! Or, you can call us at 1-800-367-0003 (212.897.8900) — ask for Angie If you want to help but don’t live in these areas – BLOG about this program, tell your friends, recommend someone, or DONATE There are trip dates set for August 2008 for over 200 children and we need host families to volunteer to host these inner-city children. The dates and locations are as follows: 8/11-8/21 New Jersey: Warren County, Bergen County, Union County, Somerset County, Morris County, Hunterdon County 8/11-8/22 Pennsylvania: Lancaster, Akron, Christiana, Denver, Donegal, East Earl, Elverson, Lititz, Manheim, New Holland, Quarryville New York: St. Massena, Ogdensburg, Potsdam 8/12-8/22 Harrisburg, Pa 8/15-8/22 Central Massachusetts: Acton, Hopkinton, Lexington, Marlboro, Wayland 8/15-8/25 New York Western Fingerlakes: Canandaigua, Canal Towns, Dansville Central New York: Fulton, Marcellus and Oswego Massachusetts: Cape Cod Pennsylvania: Doylestown, Upper Bucks, Lower Bucks, Chalfont 8/25-9/1 New York: Columbia County Red Hook/Rhinebeck (Dutchess County) Albany County Quicklinks: Help Now! | News Facts | Fresh Air Children | Fresh Air Fund Friendly Town Program | Friendly Town Host Families | Fresh Air Fund Camping Program | Career Awareness Program | About Fresh Air Fund | Donate | Contacts | Multimedia Elements | Social Media | Tags News Facts THE FRESH AIR FUND, an independent, not-for-profit agency, has provided free summer vacations to more than 1.7 million New York City children from low-income communities since 1877. Nearly 10,000 New York City children enjoy free Fresh Air Fund programs annually. In 2007, close to 5,000 children visited volunteer host families in suburbs and small town communities across 13 states from Virginia to Maine and Canada. 3,000 children also attended five Fresh Air camps on a 2,300-acre site in Fishkill, New York. The Fund’s year-round camping program serves an additional 2,000 young people each year.   Fresh Air Children Children are selected to participate in The Fresh Air Fund Friendly Town program based on financial need. Children are from low-income communities. Fresh Air youngsters are registered by more than 90 social service and community organizations in all five boroughs of New York City. Fresh Air Fund Friendly Town Program Fresh Air children, boys and girls from six to 18 years old, visit over 300 Fresh Air Friendly Towns in the summer. Fresh Air children on first-time visits to Friendly Town host families are six to 12 years old and stay for 7-14 days. Most families have such a great summer with their Fresh Air child that 65% invite the child back the following summer.   Friendly Town Host Families Fresh Air Fund volunteer host families open their homes to inner-city children for two weeks or more in the summertime. Each Friendly Town community is supported by an experienced local volunteer. There are no financial requirements for hosting a Fresh Air child. Most hosts simply want to share their homes with inner-city youngsters. Host families are not paid. The Fund has a program for placing children who have special physical or emotional needs.   Fresh Air Fund Camping Program 3,000 New York City youngsters, ages eight to 15, attend five Fresh Air camps on a 2,300-acre site in Fishkill, New York. Camp Hidden Valley is for boys and girls with and without special needs, eight to 12 years old; Camp Tommy is for 12- to 15-year-old boys; Camp Anita Bliss Coler is for girls, nine to 12-years old; Camp Hayden-Marks Memorial is for nine- to 12-year-old boys, and Camp Mariah is a coed camp for 12- to 14- year-old career campers. Additionally, 2,000 young people participate in year-round weekend camping experiences. Special features shared by all camps include a planetarium, model farm, wilderness trail and ropes course. Camp Tommy is named in honor of Board member/designer Tommy Hilfiger for his dedication and support of Fresh Air children.   Career Awareness Program The Fresh Air Fund’s innovative Career Awareness Program is designed to help New York City youngsters understand the relationship between school and work and how to make choices that will determine their futures. In New York City, 12- to 14-year-olds participate in job shadowings that offer close-up views of business and a career fair. The year-round program includes weekend camping trips and an intensive three-and-a-half week summer session at the Career Awareness Camp – Camp Mariah. The career camp is named in honor of Board member/singer Mariah Carey for her dedication, support and commitment to Fresh Air youngsters. Career awareness graduates continue to receive support through the PreOccupations Club and benefit from the guidance of volunteer mentors.   About Fresh Air Fund In 1877, the Reverend Willard Parsons, minister of a small rural parish in Sherman, Pennsylvania, asked members of his congregation to provide country vacations as volunteer host families for children from New York City tenements. This was the beginning of The Fresh Air Fund tradition. By 1884, Reverend Parsons was writing about The Fund for New York’s Herald Tribune, and the number of children served grew. In 2007, close to 10,000 New York City children experienced the joys of summertime in Friendly Towns and at five Fund camps in upstate New York. Donate Every year, The Fresh Air Fund gives thousands of inner-city children the priceless gift of fun – and opens the door to a lifetime of opportunities. Whether it’s a two-week trip to the country to visit a volunteer host family, or a fun-filled and educational stay at one of our camps, our programs make for unforgettable memories – and open a world of new friendships and fresh possibilities. We are a not-for-profit agency and depend on tax-deductible donations from people like you to keep our vital programs flourishing. Donate online now Join Our Monthly Giving Program For a few dollars a day, you can have a tremendous impact on the life of an inner-city child. Sign up to be a monthly donor today – easy, convenient, automated and life-changing. Sign Up Now Printable Donation Form If you’d like to fax or mail in your donation, please print out a form and follow the directions below. You can fax a completed form (with your credit card information) to (212) 681-0146 or mail one (with your check, money order or credit card information) to: The Fresh Air Fund 633 Third Avenue, 14th Floor New York, NY 10017 Make checks payable in US dollars to: The Fresh Air Fund. Open a Printable Form Donate by Phone To make a donation by telephone, call us at (800) 367-0003. Please ask to speak with the Development Department. Press Contacts Sara Wilson, Outreach Coordinator sara@freshair.org Jenny Morgenthau, Executive Director (212) 897-8898 Kate Brinkerhoff, Public Relations Director (212) 897-8890 Andrea Kotuk, Andrea & Associates (212) 353-9585 Multimedia Elements Download the Fresh Air Fund logo Social Mediadel.icio.us | Digg it | Google Bookmark | reddit | StumbleUpon | Twit This Tags Fresh Air Fund | Children | Charity | Children’s Charity | Kids | Outdoors | Summer Activities | Summer Camp | Sleep Away Camp | Fun | Inner City | child | Volunteer | Non-profit | Vacation | Campnet | Friendly | Camping

From Drew B’s Take on Tech PR via Nixon McInnes:

“Only 18% of TV ad campaigns generate positive ROI”

“The average person is exposed to 3000 advertising messages a day”

“36% of people think more positively of companies who have blogs”

Good night and sleep well!

An excerpt from my never-to-be-completed and never-to-be-published self-amusement novel, Hill Mole, about how perfect being a doc is for both getting away with affairs and spycraft — and how worthwhile they are as recruits as spies. From the chapter Doctors Have Been Known to Lose Patients:

In spycraft, there is no better recruit than a doctor. Since he has plenty of money and no time, the only way to secure a doc is through extortion. A doctor’s discretion belies quite a lot of indiscretion. Even when there’s so much to lose. Reputations are very fragile. Just blame hubris and a god complex.

Why do doctors make such brilliant spies? Doctors can compartmentalize their lives better than anyone. What a doctor does in a fit of passion away from his family has nothing at all to do with his wife (although it is more commonly a fit of boredom, opportunity, desperation, or frustration). A total disconnect.

Along with this impenetrable bifurcation, you have a spy who can make himself scarce at a whim and then blame the hospital. Good for both illicit affairs and covert ops. It would never be suspicious to anyone — friends, family, even neighbors — for a doctor to noisily open his garage at one AM and drive off, gone until morning.

I met an old married couple. Ira, the husband, was a retired surgeon. After chatting for a while, Ruth, his wife, looked seriously at me and said, “if you ever consider marrying a doctor, remember this: you will never know whether that phone call is the hospital or a mistress.” The usefulness of docs never ceases to amaze me.

They never sleep, they’re self-disciplined, self-motivated, they are discrete, and their entire community trusts — and confides — in them. Whats more, docs are generally disgruntled and bored even with their spicy other woman. Many doctors are exceptionally flattered when you offer intrigue into their sad, boring, bourgeois princehoods. If you land one, he will never get caught. He will never be made. He will be forever loyal (he won’t know how not to). It won’t occur to him to blab his mouth. All the different lives lack any semblence of integration.

Even today, the general population trusts their doctor as god. Actually, the best thing about recruiting doctors is that they can make mortal errors. If a doctor loses a patient… well, its been known to happen.

I know that special forces and elite forces have been caught in a catch-22 with regards PTSD and mental illness. Most elite anyone is a little crazy, but the stigma associated with seeking psychological help if you’re in Delta or Force Recon is to basically admit that you’re broken.

Psychiatric help is available but you will rue the day you took advantage of it. Damned if you do or damned if you don’t. I know that some folks go to private doctors and pay out of their own pocket to make sure their perceived fitness level is never compromised. Very sad, really.

Well, I don’t know about the actual battlefield or elite forces but, according to the Drudge Retort, service men and women are now allowed to take “daily doses of antidepressants to calm nerves strained by repeated and lengthy tours in Iraq and Afghanistan:”

For the first time in history, a sizable and growing number of U.S. combat troops are taking daily doses of antidepressants to calm nerves strained by repeated and lengthy tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. The medicines are intended not only to help troops keep their cool but also to enable the already strapped Army to preserve its most precious resource: soldiers on the front lines. Data contained in the Army’s fifth Mental Health Advisory Team report indicate that, according to an anonymous survey of U.S. troops taken last fall, about 12% of combat troops in Iraq and 17% of those in Afghanistan are taking prescription antidepressants or sleeping pills to help them cope.

There is no cause so noble that you should sacrifice your children to its altar. Shame on you.

After 15-years in DC, I have noticed that those noble activists who are saving the world have yet to save themselves, their marriages, their families, and their children.

The children of many of the founders of these organizations are a mess, with boys and girls as scared and abandoned as the children of their more celebrated Hollywood celebrities and New York robber barons. They are cared for by nannies and oftentimes never see their parents for weeks at a time.

All because one or more of their parents are making sacrifices for a higher, nobler cause: saving the whales. Or some similar cause celebre.

The illusion of nobility associated with saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the whales, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.

If you have all of your ducks in a row, if your children are happy and well-adjusted, if your health is good and you get enough sleep and exercise, if you still chase your spouse around the bed pretty regularly, and you call your mother, with energy to spare for yourself, then you have the right to save the whales.

Otherwise, you are chasing phantoms, you are wasting your time, and you had better still yourself enough to remember why you got married, why you had children, and whether the whales really matter to you any more or if you’re just used to saving the whales.

Otherwise, let the whales fend for themselves for a little while while you get yourself together.

If you disrespect your own family enough to abandon them for your noble cause then the whales are better off without you. Resign from your save the whales campaign immediately, move to New York, and settle in to a life on Wall Street.

If you’re going to be ignoble, you might as well do it for money. The entire order cetacea recognize hypocrisy when they see it and they don’t want any of your filthy lucre anyway.

Note: This article was previously named Don’t Save the Whales but the title was so polarizing that noone ever read the article so I am hoping and wondering if a new title will benefit the message of the article itself

Ice-Encased Mercedes-Benz, originally uploaded by Chris Abraham.

We got an ice storm in Arlington, VA, and my flight was canceled so I am sleeping over in Washington, DC, again. Sorry for the delay, darling Berlin. Pictured is a row or pretty red and blue Mercedes in the lot of American Service Center.

Ali Boyd and John Hlinko Talk Obama, originally uploaded by Chris Abraham.

John Hlinko and his Treo dropped by for a Shirley Temple. He popped by for a visit but left to get some sleep before an appallingly long run the next morning. Oh, and John was super happy because his candidate, Barack Obama, did quite well last night. John was one of the folks who started Draft Obama, so he’s in deep and committed. I hope the run went well, John!

I have had too many Big Slices and Jumbo Slices for my own good, generally after a night of drinking up in Adams Morgan, Washington, DC.  Well, I always assumed the Jumbo Slice was a variation but it is an official regional pizza style! Huzzah! At least according to A List of Regional Pizza Styles via digg

While this one sounds like it’s merely a style based on size, I’ve seen arguments for it in the comments (here and here) and over on Boing Boing.

While I’m not sure it’s going to be a widely recognized style, It’s in the interest of Slice readers to know about it, even if it, so …

Yes, the jumbo slice of D.C. is mainly known for its size. There are many competing places offering this style. The link to the article below tells about the development of the jumbo slice, the competing claims of who has the “First Oldest Original Jumbo Slice,” a laboratory-based nutritional analysis, and the fact that people only eat it when they are drunk.

Jumbo Slice Lore of D.C. [Washington City Paper]

Here’s the Washington City Paper Article (and, it is totally exactly like this):

When bars close on a Saturday night in Adams Morgan, cops usually can gauge the impending mayhem by the length of the line at Pizza Mart.

On a night in mid-October, the unruly column forms in front of the pizzeria right on cue, at 2:45 a.m., just after most bartenders have shouted their last call. Never mind that it’s the first cold weekend of the season, or that the nightlife district along 18th Street NW seems filled to only half-capacity tonight. Just about everyone on the strip has come here to bump elbows and jostle himself one step closer to a single slice. It’s so tight that served customers have to make their exit with their slices over their heads, negotiating them like clumsy waiters.

Amid the catcalls and the laughter come the night’s first genuine fighting words.

“You bitch!”

And the rejoinder: “You ho!”

The crowd forms a circle. A formidable young woman in a blue tank top lunges at her braided foe, and the pair go tumbling onto a sidewalk strewn with greasy paper plates and leftover pizza crusts. Some patrons break out of the line altogether to get a better view, and ecstatic men shout whatever catfight clichés pop into their heads.

“Rip her shirt off!” screeches an overjoyed meathead, his right hand pumping the air in a fist, his left forearm cradling a slice of pizza.

As the swaying throng bumps up against cars parked along the sidewalk, a man in a teal Mitsubishi decides it’s time to get his sporty ride out of harm’s way. He is blocked by revelers who are hanging out in the street. First, he nudges the riffraff with his front bumper. Then, unwisely, he decides to lay on his horn. Someone cocks a slice of pizza back to his shoulder and hurls it, like a circus clown in a pie fight, clipping the rear wheel well on the driver’s side. The driver brakes hard, thinks better of it, and then moves along.

Back on the sidewalk, a volunteer referee has managed to tear the women apart. But the circle hasn’t broken up just yet; now two dudes are swapping unintelligible insults and throwing wild haymakers. It’s not even 3 a.m.

There are two easy ways to find yourself in the middle of an early-morning slugfest at Pizza Mart: Hit on someone else’s significant other, or try to cut in line for pizza.

After all, owner Chris Chishti’s crew isn’t serving up just any kind of slice. His renowned “jumbo slice,” a greasy slab that requires two paper plates to handle, runs nearly a foot-and-a-half long, and weighs in just shy of a pound. Novices at the counter often have to ask how to go about eating such a beast. As any jumbo-slice veteran will tell them, you just fold it like the morning newspaper and go to work.

In the five or so years Chishti’s been dishing out his trademark, it’s become a staple for late-night bargoers who are looking to coat their stomachs before the long cab ride back to the ’burbs. As for the Tijuana-cockfight atmosphere, one can’t help but notice that the excess commotion merely reflects the excess of Chishti’s slices.

But they weren’t always so monstrous. In fact, when the Pakistan native opened his modest carryout in 1997, he had no intention of stretching his pies far beyond their initial 18-inch diameter. That is, until one of his neophyte cooks left behind a mangled dough ball after a busy night in 1999.

When Chishti strolled into his shop the next morning, he figured the misshapen mound was unusable. But then he took a fresh dough ball from another tray. “What I did, I took that dough ball and put it with the other dough ball,” says the mustachioed Chishti, clapping together his cupped hands to illustrate the epiphany. He kneaded the oversized ball, dropped it on a baking screen, and sent it through his conveyer oven dressed with cheese and sauce.

What came out the other end was jumbo indeed, and its creator saw no reason to stop there: “I said, ‘Let’s go bigger.’”

Three different pizza shops on the main drag of 18th Street now serve the city’s famous jumbo slice. Each proprietor asserts his own form of jumbo-slice originality:

•Chishti, owner of Pizza Mart: “I’m a pizza maker. I was calling mine the jumbo slice. Then he went over there and starting calling his the jumbo slice.” “He” refers to Jawed Khan, owner of Pizza Napoli.

•Khan: “We came in with the biggest slice.”

•John Nasir, owner of Pizza Boli’s: “I don’t know how you can ‘invent’ something….Maybe [Chishti] took the idea from one of our stores.”

As the first cook on the block, Chishti stakes the only legitimate claim. He was the first pizza maker on the block to widen his pie beyond 20 inches, and he also bestowed the now-famous moniker on his peculiar slice. But his brainchild has been hijacked over the years—by his former pizza associates, no less—so the genial Chishti gets a bit prickly over the issue of jumbo-slice legitimacy.

“You don’t need a coat and a tie to make pizzas,” says Chishti, arguing that his competitors are businessmen rather than cooks. He says a secret recipe for his jumbo slice accounts for a taste superior to the other pizzas on 18th Street. “I’ve been doing this for 23 years—that’s my experience.”

The most visible spat unfolded last year, when Nasir, owner of the 75-store Pizza Boli’s chain and a former business partner of Chishti’s, greenlighted one of his franchises to open just three doors up the street from Pizza Mart. The franchisee, Kerry Guneri, made the jumbo slice his featured product. He and Chishti quickly found themselves in the middle of a neon-sign war:

•March 2003: Guneri opens his Pizza Boli’s. He installs a neon “Jumbo Slice” sign in the window on the southern side of his store. It’s facing the Pizza Mart, where Chishti’s window holds a mere plastic “Jumbo Slice” sign.

•July 2003: Guneri compounds the insult by installing two additional neon signs. These read “Original Jumbo Slice.” Chishti decides to respond the very same day Guneri’s new signs go up. He calls Xin Guan Signs near Chinatown, Guneri’s supplier, and orders a neon sign that reads “Real Original Jumbo Slice.”

•July 2003: Guneri tells the Washington City Paper (“Pie Fight,” 7/25/03) he’s through installing the neon signs, which cost about $700 apiece. “This place is lit up like a whorehouse as it is,” he says.

•August 2003: Chishti installs a final neon sign, designed by one of his regular customers on a piece of scrap paper. It reads “First Oldest Original Jumbo Slice.”

Anyone who bothers to parse the vying shops’ respective strings of adjectives surely would see that Chishti invented the jumbo slice. But what escaped both proprietors was the fact that nobody cares. In reality, many self-proclaimed jumbo fans couldn’t tell you whether they’d eaten a slice from Pizza Mart or Pizza Boli’s the night before. It’s like trying to remember whether you stopped at an Arby’s or a Hardee’s on a road trip.

When Khan, once an employee of Chishti’s, opened up the rival Pizza Napoli just down the street from Pizza Mart in late 1999, he knew the game wasn’t about creating a special sauce or even serving a marginally better pizza. It was about making a bigger slice.

“They had an 18-inch pie and then went to a 22-inch,” Khan says of Pizza Mart. “[But] we came in here and started with a 30-inch. That was the biggest.” Chishti disputes that Khan’s pie was ever larger, but the point is clear: Size trumps everything else.

In spite of Chishti’s talk of a secret recipe for his jumbo slice, the customer demands only that his belly be full in the end. The gluttony imperative was lost on Bill Thomas, owner of the Blue Room club on 18th Street, and proprietor of the now-defunct Kung Fu Pizza, which once occupied a portion of the same building. When he opened his kitschy, martial-arts-themed pizzeria in 2000, Thomas and his team had spent months working on recipes for gourmet pies, even experimenting with spring water in their dough.

“We actually thought quality would sell, and we were stupid,” says Thomas. Kung Fu Pizza shut its doors after a four-month run. The eatery stayed open late and attracted a small following from the wait staffs of surrounding bars, but the Adams Morgan party crowd never took to the Asian finger food and modestly sized pizza. “At the end of the day, it was all about the big slice,” he says.

When your slice’s supremacy is predicated entirely on size, the only way to improve it is to make it larger. So Chishti has expanded the diameter of his pie at least five times since he opened, finally arriving at the 32-incher he cooks today.

The pies on 18th Street have stopped expanding only because there’s no larger pizza oven on the market. Khan has considered buying an oven designed primarily for large cakes; Chishti, who’s already upgraded his oven once, has started cheating with the one he has, sending his pies over the burners stretched in one dimension. This method results in slightly larger, if oval, pizzas.

Such evolution has made the slices unwieldy—and not just for the customer. Both Chishti and Khan grew their slices right out of the delivery business. Chishti decided years ago that he wouldn’t even try to bring his No. 1 product to your front door. “You put it in the box and send it, by the time it gets to the customer it’s soggy,” he says. “We don’t want that to happen to our jumbo.”

Khan, however, was more determined. He ordered custom cardboard boxes that measured nearly 3 feet across, just so he could deliver the entire jumbo pie in its original form, rather than stack the slices on top of one another in a single box. When the boxes buckled under the sheer weight of the pies, sending all the grease to the center, he looked into heavy-duty cardboard boxes that cost three times as much as the pizza itself. He even special-ordered an insulated, jumbo-size delivery sheath; it could have doubled as a toddler’s sleeping bag.

But in the end, most of his drivers couldn’t even fit the pies into their cars.

Khan had to scrap the delivery venture after just a year. Which was fine with him, because all the action comes in off the street.

Like any overhead-conscious carryout proprietor in D.C., Chishti likes to keep the inside of his business spare. The eatery includes a handful of stools and a pair of steel counters, but there are no chairs and no tables. No customer bathrooms. No artwork. And certainly no nutritional-information charts.

Even though your average clubhopper loves to crack a joke about fat content as she paints her face with tomato sauce on 18th Street, she doesn’t really want to know just how much energy is stored in that jumbo slice.

The Washington City Paper sent three cheese jumbo slices, one from each of the jumbo-pizza makers, to the ABC Research Corp., a food-testing laboratory in Gainesville, Fla. Calculated on the basis of the lab’s calories-per-gram analysis, the single slices from both Pizza Mart and Pizza Boli’s soared over the 1,000-calorie threshold.

Pizza Boli’s trounced the field with a whopping 1,309 calories, and Pizza Mart settled for silver with a respectable 1,117. That’s roughly equivalent to two Big Macs, or, for active women and most men, about half the calories the U.S. Department of Agriculture recommends for an entire day’s intake, let alone as a Friday-evening nightcap. By comparison, Pizza Napoli’s slice made for light fare at a modest 917 calories, but it weighed significantly less than the competitors’.

None of the slices necessarily jibe with today’s low-carbohydrate diet fad, either. Each sample stored more than 115 grams of carbs alone, including the comparably dainty slice from Pizza Napoli, which had a disproportionately high carb rate. The slice from Pizza Boli’s again led the pack in fat content; its roughly 53 grams just edges out Pizza Mart’s 47.

The growth of the jumbo slice may have been foiled by the undersized ovens, but not before it became the city’s lone culinary icon, the District’s own take on the supersize phenomenon. It was an unlikely turn, given that the jumbo slice has nothing to do with America’s growing waistline. That petite, Bally’s-going little tart who comes pinballing out of the club, dying to get her hands on a slice of pizza that could probably be wrapped around her torso—she’s not the same woman buying the latest meal deal at McDonald’s four times a week.

No, the jumbo slice sprang from the very same beast that sustains it: drunkenness. Any jumbo-slice owner will tell you that the majority of his weekly sales are made over the course of about eight hours on the weekend.

“Sometimes people throw a slice on you,” says an exasperated Chishti, who tries to clock in exclusively during the daylight hours now. “They’re drunk, they fight with each other, they argue… Sometimes you’re serving pizza to guys who are so drunk they’re hard to handle.” In a painful show of irony, Chishti was once the target of a flying jumbo slice, hurled by a loaded patron who said the pizza was too large to eat.

There’s an old joke that says everybody’s eaten a jumbo slice but nobody remembers it. The joke gets told quite often, mainly because it’s true. Most people, when they consider the sheer size and uncontrollable grease, can’t stomach the thought of eating a jumbo slice during the day. Drop an open napkin on a jumbo slice and it disappears.

The sober and sensible tend to stay clear of the big slice and, for that matter, the 18th Street pizzerias altogether. Over the course of a weekday lunch hour in Adams Morgan, the staff at Pizza Mart might sell just a few slices. But once the bars close and everybody’s sauced, the jumbo becomes the centerpiece of 18th Street’s pre-dawn circus. And priced at $4 or less, it’s a perfectly affordable, even expendable, toy. That’s why so many slices wind up in the street, on top of cars, and, often, in people’s faces. It’s an insane spectacle for a neighborhood where many people still beg for change each day.

“The funny thing is, now people know about them,” says Adams Morgan resident Mindy Moretti, baffled by the jumbo’s popularity. “You see people taking pictures of other people eating them. They’re almost a…tourist attraction.”

And like any tourist magnet, these slices require their own police protection. Officers Andrew Zabavsky and Dustin Roeder, two D.C. bike cops assigned to Adams Morgan, have made the area in front of Pizza Mart something of a default post during their weekend-night shifts. Most cops would rather handle parking complaints all night than work a strip full of obnoxious, drunken brawlers, but Zabavsky and Roeder have staked it out as their beat. Riding mountain bikes, they spend much of their night dodging drunks who stagger out into the street.

“Most of the fights tend to gravitate around the pizza joints,” says Zabavsky. “Some days it’s off the hook, one after another after another.” It doesn’t matter where a scuffle has its roots—out in the street, inside a club, or way back in childhood—the fuse often gets lit in the jumbo-slice line. Roeder talks about the pizza servers as if they have the most treacherous job in town: “With the bars, at least they can send a bouncer out to flag us down for help. But the pizza guys, they’re pinned in back there.”

The cops have collared many bruisers on 18th Street, but it’s often the less violent jumbo-slice incidents that stick out in their minds. “Craziest thing I ever saw with the jumbo slice,” starts Zabavsky: “This guy up near McDonald’s drops his slice right on the ground—cheese-down and everything. He picks it right up and starts eating it like nothing happened. He’s smiling.”

On a Friday night, the sauce on your Pizza Mart jumbo slice comes out of what’s commonly referred to as a “garbage can.” There’s nothing necessarily unsanitary about this storage method; it merely indicates the massive amount of pizza that will be moved in a single night.

The volume of cheese is similarly industrial. On a Friday afternoon in mid-October, Pizza Mart receives a shipment of roughly 900 pounds of a mozzarella-provolone mix. That’s nearly half a ton.

“And I’ll probably be back on Monday,” sighs 55-year-old Thomas Carroll, a deliveryman for Nino’s Pizza Dough, sweating as he schleps the 30 boxes with a handtruck. Asked if that’s an extraordinary amount of cheese, Carroll laughs. “You see all them boxes?” he asks, gesturing to about 1,500 stacked and bundled pizza boxes on his truck, each destined to hold just a single slice. “Those are for [Pizza Mart], too.” Of the 40 or so regular deliveries Carroll makes, only a Maryland pizzeria takes in more product than Pizza Mart. And right behind Pizza Mart on the list is the Naval Academy.

Inside the Pizza Mart kitchen, there are no chef hats, no high-flung dough, and no handlebar mustaches. The rush-hour spectacle is more a lesson in ergonomics than in Italian culinary tradition. This is where, on a busy weekend night, an assembly line of cooks will manufacture upward of 800 pounds of pizza in a matter of hours. There’s nothing romantic about the process:

One guy takes a gooey dough ball off a plastic tray. Tonight there are about 80 dough balls ready to go for the late-night blitz. He kneads and stretches the dough to its 32-inch diameter, drops it on a screen, and passes it to the next cook.

This guy dresses the dough. He ladles his sauce from the plastic can with what looks to be a family-size salad bowl, and he sprinkles mozzarella-provolone mix from packages pulled from 30-pound boxes. When the pie’s ready, it makes its slow crawl through the oven on a conveyer belt, out the other side to the last cook.

This guy cuts the pie, places the slices onto aluminum-foil-covered plates, and drops them onto a metal tray with a thud. He needs to fold the bottom third of each slice back onto its upper portion just to make sure it stays on the plate. “Sometimes, during the day, they’ll say, ‘Oh, I don’t want this. You folded it. That’s no good,’” says Munir Butt, working the register on a Friday night. “But not right now.”

Finally, the slices go under the heat lamp. From start to finish, the journey lasts less than 10 minutes. Pies ride on through the oven, shoulder to shoulder, throughout the night.

Out front, three workers serve the slices and man the register. They’ll handle the slices with metal tongs, in order to keep the grease off their hands and clothes, and they’ll bang the counter with their tongs when they’re ready for the next customer. They work three, four, sometimes five people deep in the line, just to keep up with the 2 a.m. rush. A tiny fraction of the slices—maybe 2 percent—are so mutilated that they don’t make the cut. Of the slices they do serve, some look as if they’ve been sat on. Regardless, every slice will be pounced on.

“The pizza guys really have cultivated this post-nocturnal feeding frenzy,” says Scott Bennett, owner of the newly opened Amsterdam Falafelshop on 18th Street. “The way I see it, when the tide comes in, all boats float. God bless the pizza guys.”

But no one in tonight’s kitchen, nor its owner, will be getting rich off the jumbo slice. In favorable weather, a jumbo joint might sell anywhere between 600 and 1,000 slices on a strong weekend night; priced between $3.50 and $4 a pop, that might bring in somewhere between $2,000 and $4,000 in an evening. But after covering rent, ingredients, and the pay for seven staffers or more on the busy shifts, the owners will be left with pocket change on each slice.

So if you can’t pack more weekends into a year, you may as well pack more pizzerias into the city. Nasir, for one, says he may be serving his big boy out of a new Pizza Boli’s on U Street NW by the end of this month. Khan has already started dishing his own monstrosity out of his kebab house, also on U Street.

But Khan sees no reason to contain the jumbo slice within the District. Early next year, he expects to open a pizzeria in Florida. After researching locales in South Beach and Key West, he says he’s just about settled on the City Walk area of Orlando.

“It will be all about the jumbo,” he promises.

The mess left behind after the weekend pizza craze has put the jumbo slice and its purveyors at the very top of the Adams Morgan NIMBY list. Moretti, a member of the local advisory neighborhood commission, says an uncanny wind tunnel carries greasy paper plates up 18th Street, across Columbia Road, and all the way to her Adams Mill Road apartment building on gusty weekend mornings.

“Several of us have joked about going and collecting all the paper plates, putting them in a trash can, finding out where the [pizzeria] owners live, and dumping them in their yards,” says Moretti.

When bars and clubs become a nuisance, residents can force owners into line by threatening to withhold their support for a liquor-license renewal. But when it comes to the pizza joints, none of which serve liquor, the residents hold no bureaucratic aces up their sleeves. Essentially, the pizza places reap all the benefits of a nightlife business without being held to the same standards. “We can hold up against bars because of the [alcoholic-beverage] commission,” says Bryan Weaver, also a neighborhood commissioner. “But there’s no Shitty Sauce Commission where we can go and say, ‘Hey, these guys are making bad pizza.’”

The commission has supported a neighborhood liquor-license moratorium since it was introduced in 2000. Some members, resigned to fielding cheese-and-crust complaints at each monthly meeting, say they would be willing to place a similar moratorium on the jumbo, if only it were possible.

“Our hands are tied as far as the big slice goes,” says Moretti.

The public-health implications of the jumbo are on full display on a recent Sunday. In the hours before dawn, the mess on the sidewalk in front of Pizza Mart forces squeamish passers-by onto their tiptoes, hopping from one small patch of visible concrete to the next. Greasy plates and pizza boxes, too many to count, blanket the sidewalk. Maimed slices sit on top of cars and inside flowerpots. Fat pigeons peck their way through tomato sauce and cheese.

The inside of Pizza Mart looks the same as the outside, only no pigeons. At 4:30 a.m., cashier Butt shuts off the neon, locks the front door, and mouths an apology through the window to a few tardy stragglers hoping to get a slice.

The last jumbo customer of the night, now satiated, looks over both shoulders before dropping his empty pizza box between two cars parked at the curb. What’s one more bit of cardboard added to the mess? He takes a final sip from his soda, leans over, and places the empty cup on top of the box.

On the sidewalk, a bored bouncer gets his kicks by shining a flashlight on the rats that have come out to feast on more pizza than they can handle. These rats live a good life, and this is their prime feeding hour—a short window of time after the heavy foot traffic has died down but before the sprawling slices have been scooped up. Aside from the bouncer, their only company is a lonely sot dry-heaving beside a parking meter, his chin covered in spittle.

Butt says a homeless guy agreed to clean up the storefront after close tonight for 10 bucks, but by 5 a.m. it looks as if he’s a no-show. As usual, this morning’s pizza detail will fall to just one man: Anwar Tate, a 29-year-old Department of Public Works employee, who works his way up 18th Street every Saturday and Sunday morning armed with a metal rake, a heavy-duty shovel, and a ride-on vacuum. Tate’s chipper today, and he’ll need to be. He’s got only two hours to knock off the entire block before Adams Morgan’s early risers come out expecting a pizza-free street.

“You try to get it off the sidewalk as quick as you can,” he says, handling the slices with either the shovel or his gloved hands. “It’s just part of the job.”

There’s plenty of pizza refuse beyond Tate’s jurisdiction. Slices have been flung into the yards of residents along Euclid Street NW and throughout Adams Morgan. Paper plates and napkins dot a path all the way over the Duke Ellington Bridge and up to the Woodley Park Metro station, over half a mile away. And because plenty of slices found their way into cabs, surely some of the 800 jumbos dished out at Pizza Mart have traveled over the Potomac into Virginia by now.

Butt says Pizza Mart, despite brisk business, didn’t have a single fight last night. But when he turned his back for just a second during the blitz, some asshole made off with the tip jar. It was only $15 or $20, to be split among the staff at close. “Not much,” he acknowledges. “But you work hard for it.”CP

Before I start, check out Sean Connery’s costume (left). Zardoz is the most important movie nobody (I know) has seen. Forget that there is a lot of nakedness and topless women; or, that you get to see a super-buff, 1974-era, Sean Connery running around for more than two hours in a pair of underwear; this is an important movie or utopia gone terribly distopian.

Zardoz is written and played out like a Broadway musical, with lithe dancer-actors, it is presented like a play. This is not a sophisticated movie but it will surely make you think. I would say that Zardoz is both brilliant and campy; insightful and kitchy, and brutal and actually very good at dealing with the concept of balance: in order to grow as men and as a society, one cannot — must not — merely separate physically from poverty, ignorance, sickness, and death; but, rather, integrate, integrate, integrate — or perish. Bravo! See it.

The quote that is most popular from the movie comes from the first scene. God Zardoz says,

“The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth… and kill!”

“In this cult favorite from John Boorman (Beyond Rangoon), 23rd century society is split into two castes — the overly civilized Eternals and the barely civilized Brutals — one of which is constantly controlling the other. The Brutals worship a huge stone figure known as Zardoz. When Zed (Sean Connery) begins to question the authenticity of this god, the film is able to offer some pointed commentary on class structure and religion.” Via Zardoz/60020833?trkid=14″>Netflix

“Zardoz BY ROGER EBERT / January 1, 1974

John Boorman’s ZARDOZ is a genuinely quirky movie, a trip into a future that seems ruled by perpetually stoned set decorators. It’s set in an Ireland of 2293 that looks exactly like the Ireland of today, until you get inside the Vortex. And then suddenly everything is shimmering gowns and futuristic throne rooms and beautiful young people who glide around at an endless debutante ball.

These are the Immortals. They will never die. They cannot. Every time they try to, their bodies are relentlessly restored by the all-knowing mystical computer mind that runs the Vortex. There’s a catch, though: They can’t die but they can grow old, and for infractions, they’re sentenced to age a few years. If they don’t watch themselves, they might wind up as Immortal Seniles.

Outside the Vortex, a barbaric civilization survives. Slaves till the land and gather the crops, ruled over by sadistic masters who sometimes gallop around killing off the surplus population. One of the barbarians is Zed, played by Sean Connery as a cross between Tarzan and Prince Valiant. But one day, Zed (like Lord Greystoke, come to think of it) finds a child’s alphabet book. He teaches himself to read and then fanatically devours the contents of whole libraries (like Thomas Wolfe, come to think of it). Eventually he comes upon The Wizard of Oz and, in a moment of blinding insight, sees through the whole joke of his world’s social structure.
Zed has himself smuggled aboard the giant floating head of Zardoz, which rules hinterlands, and finds himself inside the Vortex. Here he is an object of great interest, because the Immortals, you see, having lost the ability to die have also lost the drive to procreate and are doomed to an eternity of detumescence. Zed labors with no such difficulty.

The movie is an exercise in self-indulgence (if often an interesting one) by Boorman, who more or less had carte blanche to do a personal project after his immensely successful DELIVERANCE. Boorman seems fascinated by stories which are disconnected from the ordinary realist assumptions of most movies; his LEO THE LAST (1970) gave us Marcello Mastroianni as the last of the big-time decadents, living in a mansion at the end of a deserted street in an eerie London.

Boorman puts a lot of heavy concepts into ZARDOZ, but seems uncertain whether he takes them seriously himself. There are sight gags (the attempt to turn on Connery with futuristic pornography provides the best) , there are group seances that seem lifted bodily from pajama parties, there is no end of special visual effects (every optical printer in England must have been busy for weeks), and at the end there’s a combination shoot-out and mercy-killing spree that is at once ridiculous, depraved and low camp.

Sean Connery wanders through all of this with a slightly bemused expression on his face. He begins as a barbarian given to distrust and childish impulses, but after he gathers all knowledge to himself (the movie is full of phrases like “gathers all knowledge to himself”), he turns into a sort of body-building Einstein who sees into the center of the Vortex, deciphers the wisdom of the crystal, stimulates the Apathetics (that’s another social class I forgot to mention), makes love with a good-looking Immortal dame (she regains the knack) and finally turns into a fossil while the sound track milks Beethoven’s 7th for all it’s worth.

I remember standing in the rain once outside a theater that was playing LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD. Now there was a movie so complex and personal no one claimed to be able to understand itÑno, not even Time magazine. The people coming out from the previous show were shaking their heads and admitting that they, too, didn’t have a clue. And then it was our turn to go in and be mystified.

Every once in a while, a movie like that comes along; a movie you’ve got to see so that you, too, can be in the dark about it. In the movie’s own terms, this much can be said for sure: It may not make you an Apathetic, but it will certainly age you by two hours.”

“Zardoz Review by Scott Weinberg

If your idea of perfect science fiction consists of space battles and droids, you’re probably best advised to steer clear of John Boorman’s ultra-trippy cult classic Zardoz. If, however, you can enjoy an ironic and entertaining fantasy mind-bender, then this one might be right up your alley. While overlooked by general audiences, Zardoz is one of the most feverishly adored cult movies ever. And while the movie certainly looks outdated and even silly at times, the deeply intelligent and thought-provoking issues under the surface challenge and entertain audiences.

The year is 2293 and most of humanity has devolved into mindless ‘Brutals.’ Their god Zardoz visits these savages periodically, instructing them to hunt down and kill any human ‘Breeders’ they come across. This is because “the penis is evil,” and humanity deserves to be wiped out. Zardoz appears to his violent followers as a giant flying stone head that spits out rifles and ammo, along with his murderous decrees. Zed (Sean Connery), one of the Brutals, stows away aboard the massive stone head, which takes him to ‘the Vortex.’ The denizens of the Vortex are a race of genetically superior, immortal beings that treat one another pretty rotten and long for death. When Zed climbs out of that giant head and starts poking around, things get really screwy.

Zardoz is packed to the gills with high-minded concepts. Take the ‘apathetics.’ These are immortals who have become so bored and disassociated during their eternal lives, that they are breathing, blank zombies. Another faction of the immortals is the ‘Renegades,’ who have become irretrievably insane. These elderly creatures are dumped off in an out-of-the-way building and forgotten. Zardoz is a movie with a lot to say about the ills of society.

Since it was made in 1973, it’s no surprise that Zardoz looks dated and even downright absurd. There are more than a few costumes and set designs that may have you rolling your eyes in disbelief, but it’s important to watch a movie like this with a sense of maturity. It may be difficult to take seriously dialogue like “The penis is evil,” but a willing (and preferably enthusiastic) suspension of disbelief is essential. Yes, that’s Connery as Zed, running around in what looks like a giant red diaper… and yes, there is a scene in which Zed is forced to achieve an erection while dozens of fascinated immortals stare on. But with the plethora of challenging and satisfying ideas being tossed around in Zardoz, it’s a tough movie to dislike.

It’s a testament to writer/director John Boorman that this movie ever saw the light of day. Zardoz was obviously a labour of love for him, and to this day Connery still lists this movie as one of his favourites. If you’re a fan of science fiction in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey or Blade Runner, I would recommend Zardoz. While not as ‘polished’ as those other films, it deserves a place in anyone’s sci-fi collection.”

Plot Summary

* Genres: Fantasy, Sci-Fi
* Tagline: Beyond 1984, Beyond 2001, Beyond Love, Beyond Death
* Plot Outline In the far future, a savage trained only to kill finds a way into the community of bored immortals that alone preserves humanity’s achievements.
* Plot Synopsis: In the distant future Earth is divided into two camps, the barely civilized group and the overly civilized one with mental powers. A plague is attacking the second group after which it’s members cease to have any interest in life and become nearly catatonic. When Sean Connery one of the barbarians, crosses over, the tenuous balance in their world is threatened.
* Plot Keywords: Blindness, Bizarre, Book, Mutant Human, Crystal Ball, Head, Harvest, Mutation, Flying Head, Ring, Reverse Footage, Horseback Riding

- Actors: Sean Connery, Charlotte Rampling, Sara Kestelman, John Alderton, Sally Anne Newton, See more
- Directors: John Boorman
- Format: Anamorphic, Closed-captioned, Color, DVD-Video, Subtitled, Widescreen, NTSC
- Language: English, French
- Region: Region 1 (U.S. and Canada only. Read more about DVD formats.)
- Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1
- Number of discs: 1
- Rating R
- Studio: 20th Century Fox
- DVD Release Date: March 27, 2001
- Run Time: 106 minutes
- Average Customer Review: based on 113 reviews. (Write a review.)
- DVD Features:

* Available Subtitles: English, Spanish
* Available Audio Tracks: English (Dolby Digital 3.0), English (Dolby Digital 2.0 Stereo), French (Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono)
* Commentary by director John Boorman
* Still photo gallery
* Concept Art and Pressbook Galleries

- From IMDb: Quotes & Trivia
- ASIN: B000059HAE
- Amazon.com Sales Rank: #2,570 in DVD (See Top Sellers in DVD)

Nominations

* BAFTA Awards: BAFTA Film Award for Best Cinematography
* Hugo Awards: Hugo for Best Dramatic Presentation

Trivia

* The scene where Zed (
* DIRCAMEO:(
* To help keep the movie cost down,
* Zed’s revolver is a Webley in 455 caliber.
* The exterior shots at the very opening of the movie were taken right next to director
* To make the shots of the stone head move into the mouth accurately, the camera was placed at the mouth and tracked backwards, and the film reversed in the lab.
*
* The government initially refused to allow the production team to import the guns for the movie into Ireland because of terrorist attacks occurring at the time.
* Radio spots (available on the DVD) were narrated by
* According to John Boorman, Sean Connery found it incredibly difficult to get work when he abandoned the James Bond role a second time after Diamonds are Forever. Thus, Boorman was able to hire Connery very cheaply for this project.

Goofs

* When mortality comes to the vortex, several “dead” characters can be seen moving.
* When the exterminators on horseback are killing the brutals, tire tracks can be seen on the wet beach sand.
* Early in the film, when the weapons are spewed out of the floating head’s mouth, a crewmember’s arm can be seen throwing them.
* About three minutes into the movie, when the floating head is in the clouds, part of a car can be seen in the top right corner of the screen.
* In the scene where Zed discovers the floating book, you can clearly see the strings suspending it in midair.

Movie Connections

* Remade as: Planet B: Mask Under Mask
* References: Planet of the Apes, 2001: A Space Odyssey
* Referenced in: Excalibur, Dark City, The Big Tease, Wonder Boys, Empire of Dreams: The Story of the ‘Star Wars’ Trilogy
* Featured in: To the Galaxy and Beyond with Mark Hamill, The Fly Papers: The Buzz on Hollywood’s Scariest Insect

Quotes

* Arthur: It was I! I bred you! I led you!
Zed: And I have looked into the face of the force which put the idea in your head. You are bred and led yourself.
* Friend: We’ve all been used…
Arthur Frayn: …and reused…
Friend: …and abused…
Arthur Frayn: …and amused!
* Zardoz: The gun is good.
Exterminators: The gun is good.
Zardoz: The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life, and poisons the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth and kill!
* Zed: Stay behind my aura!
* Consuella: The brutal is now in fourth hour of unconscious sleep. It’s astonishing that Homo Sapiens spends so much time in this vulnerable condition, at the mercy of its enemies.
* Zed: I want the truth.
May: You must give the truth, if you wish to receive it.
Zed: I’m ready.
May: It’ll burn you!
Zed: Then burn me.
* The Tabernacle: Caution: You are approaching the periphery shield of Vortex Four. Caution: You are approaching the periphery shield of Vortex Four.
* Zardoz: Zardoz is pleased.
* The Tabernacle: Vote, please. Vote, please.
* The Tabernacle: I cannot give information which may threaten my own security.
* [watching his memory-scan video of hunting down Brutals] Zed: I love to see them running. I love the moments of their deaths – when I am one with Zardoz.
* [first lines]
Arthur Frayn: I am Arthur Frayn, and I am Zardoz. I have lived 300 years, and long to die. But death is no longer possible, I am immortal. I present now my story – full of mystery and intrigue. Rich in irony, and most satirical. It is set deep within a possible future, so none of these events have yet occurred. But they may! Be warned, lest you end as I. In this tale I am a fake god by occupation, and a magician by inclination. Merlin is my hero! I am the puppet master. I manipulate many of the characters and events you will see. But I am invented too for your entertainment and amusement. And you, poor creatures, who conjured you out of the clay? Is God in showbusiness too?
* [to Zed] Consuella: I have hunted you so long, I have become you.
* George Saden: I think what I think. I hate you all. I hate you all. I hate you all. Including me…
* [about to Liberate Consuela] Zed: All that I am is gone.
* [Zed breaks the heart of the crystal] The Tabernacle: You have destroyed us. You are alone.
* Consuella: Penile erection was one of the many unsolved evolutionary mysteries surrounding sexuality. Every society had an elaborate subculture devoted to erotic stimulation. But nobody could quite determine how this…
[Consuella points to a diagram of a male penis and scrotum]
Consuella: becomes this.
[Consuella points to a diagram of an erect penis and scrotum]
Consuella: Of course, we all know the physical process involved, but not the link between stimulus and response. There seems to be a correlation with violence, with fear. Many hanged men died with an erection. You are all more or less aware of our intensive researches into this subject. Sexuality declined probably because we no longer needed to procreate. Eternals soon discovered that erection was impossible to achieve. And we are no longer victims of this violent, convulsive act which so debased women and betrayed men. This brutal
[Sean Connery]
Consuella: , like other primates living unselfconscious lives, is capable of spontaneous and reflexive erection. As part of May’s studies of this creature, we’re trying to find, once again, the link between erotic stimulation and erection. This experiment will measure autoerotic stimulation of the cortex, leading to erection.
* The Tabernacle: Sleep was necessary for man when his waking and unconscious lives were separated. As Eternals achieved total consciousness, sleep became obsolete and Second Level meditation took its place.
* Zed: What is it you want?
Friend: Sweet death. Oblivion.
Zed: For yourself, or for the whole Vortex?
Friend: For Everybody. An end to the human race. It has plagued this pretty planet for far too long.
Zed: You stink of despair. Fight back! Fight for death, if that’s what you want.
Friend: I thought at first you were the one to help. But it’s hopeless. All my powers have gone.
* May: Friend, I cannot sanction this violence and destruction.
Friend: It’s too late, May. There’s no going back.
May: Don’t destroy the Vortex! Let us renew it. A better breed could prosper here. Given time…
Friend: Time? Wasn’t eternity enough?
Zed: This place is against life. It must die.
May: I have my followers. Inseminate us all, and we’ll teach you all we know. Give you all we have. Perhaps you can break the Tabernacle. Or be broken.
Friend: An end to eternity.
May: A higher form.
Zed: Revenge.
* [to Consuela] Zed: Can you unknow what you know of me?”

Zardoz from Wikipedia

Zardoz is a 1974 science fiction film directed by John Boorman and starring Sean Connery in one of his first post-James Bond roles. The film contains a mix of mythology, a bizarre, sprawling plot filled with twists and incongruities, and wide-ranging satirical and allegorical stabs. Filmed on a small budget of US$1 million, Zardoz‘s mixture of cerebral, philosophical sci-fi was in complete contrast to Boorman’s previous film, the brutal thriller Deliverance. The film was shot by cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth. An attempt to market the film to the post-2001: A Space Odyssey audience was unsuccessful, although the film has since developed a cult following.

Plot

In a future post-apocalypse Earth (2293), the human population is divided into the immortal “Eternals” and mortal “Brutals”. The Brutals live in a dark-ages wasteland. The Eternals, who live apart in various “Vortices” (singular “Vortex”), hidden bastions of civilization, lead a luxurious but aimless existence. The contrast between the two groups is stark. In general, calamity after calamity has reduced life on much of the Earth to dire subsistence levels. The distant Eternals are unknown to most people. The only contact between the groups is through a religious warrior class called the “Exterminators”, who kill and terrorize other Brutals at the orders of a huge flying stone head called Zardoz. The stone head supplies them with weapons and ideology in exchange for the food they collect.

Zed (Connery), an Exterminator, hides aboard Zardoz during one trip, “killing” its Eternal operator-creator, Arthur Frayn (Niall Buggy). Arriving in the Vortex as a stowaway, Zed meets two Eternals — Consuella (Charlotte Rampling) and May (Sara Kestelman). They possess psychic powers, and make Zed a prisoner of the community of decadent effetes in order to study him. Zed is put to work as a physical laborer under the direction of subversive troublemaker called Friend (John Alderton).

Over time Zed learns the nature of the Vortex. The Eternals are overseen and protected from death by an AI called the Tabernacle. Through their vastly extended lifespan the Eternals have grown bored, corrupt, and impotent. They spend days stewarding the vast knowledge of humanity while doing little themselves besides participating in bizarre rituals and mass meditations navel gazing. As they never die and the passage of time is largely meaningless as a result, violating the complex set of social rules, and thereby going “Renegade”, results in artificial aging. An Eternal thus aged will remain as the feeble elderly for the rest of time. More recently some have fallen into catatonia through an odd mental illness, forming a new social strata the Eternals call the “Apathetics”.

As the story progresses, it becomes clear that Zed is not quite the “brutal” the Eternals believe him to be. He very quickly divines the nature of the Vortex and its problems, and starts to play an increasingly proactive role among the Eternals. The backstory develops to reveal that Zed was aware of the true nature of Zardoz, having been led to an old book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz; the origin of the name Zardoz (Wizard of Oz). After revealing that Frayn had led him to the book and taught him to read, the story is completed; Zed is the ultimate creation of Frayn’s long-running experiment in creative eugenics, using the Exterminator class to control the Brutals with the aim of breeding a superman to save humanity from its dead-end status quo. He had led Zed to understand the nature of Zardoz, hoping he would use it to infiltrate the Vortex.

The Eternals discover the deceit and “age” Friend, while attempting to control Zed. But Zed is actually superior in intelligence to the eternals, and is eventually able to withstand their psychic powers. He destroys the Tabernacle, after which the Vortex is invaded by other Exterminators who bring death to the majority of Eternals, typically with their blessing, given the novelty of the events. A few Eternals escape to make a new life outside the Vortex among the Brutals, carrying the knowledge of civilization. The allegorical ending shows Zed and Consuella producing a child, growing old and dying naturally, whilst the sound of the second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony swells in the soundtrack.
Spoilers end here.

History

Zardoz is is notable for being the first time a search engine (or a precursor) is shown in a film, retrieving visual images from a database, years before the personal computer was invented. Arthur Frayne is shown instructing the computer to search for specific images of Cars in the way that we associate with search engines, except with voice recognition software .

Production

In the DVD commentary Boorman repeatedly complains about the low budget of the film. Nevertheless he attempted to fill it with a sort of concept art. The Exterminators hunt down the Brutals while wearing large red paper mache facemasks, loincloths and matching bandoliers. The Brutals are instead dressed almost universally in sport coats and jeans, except for young women, who are dressed in “caveman” garb. If this were not enough, in one scene Zed escapes from the Eternals by dressing in a wedding gown. The head of Zardoz, arguably the most important set in terms of plot development, is clearly made of painted paper mache. Most of the sets in the Vortex are equally low quality, variously consisting of large inflated plastic sheets, “olde English” villages, or pastel decorated sets – the Tabernacle is simply a room filled with mirrors.

Reception

In 2004 the magazine Total Film described Connery’s costume (consisting of a ponytail wig, leather knee boots, and a loincloth which bears a strong resemblance to a giant orange nappy or diaper) as the number 1 “dumbest decision in movie history”.

References in popular culture

This article contains a trivia section.
Content in this section should be integrated into other appropriate areas of the article or removed, and the trivia section removed.

* The DC Comics character Vartox is a near-carbon copy of Zed. He has an exact replica of Zed’s clothing, brown hair, and receding hairline. The character’s name is even close to sounding like the “Vortex” of the film.
* The video game Time Bandit, which has several science fiction references, mentions the “spirits of Zardoz“.[citation needed]
* The video for “Dreams” by the rock band TV on the Radio features a huge stone head like the one in “Zardoz” that disintegrates at the video’s end.
* The webcomic Questionable Content referred to Zardoz multiple times in comic number 830].
* Saul was dressed as Zed in an episode of Saul of the Mole Men, “Fun King Johnny”, when he was on trial by combat.

Quotes

If the content can be changed to be more encyclopedic rather than just a list of quotes, please do so and remove this message. Otherwise, you can help by formatting it per the Wikiquote guidelines in preparation for the duplication.

* Zardoz: The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the earth with a plague of men, as once it was. But the gun shoots death, and purifies the earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth… and kill! [Zardoz proceeds to vomit a torrent of rifles and ammunition for his followers to use.]

Check out this loving comment in response to Don’t Save the Whales,

“i’m not sure of what your point is?! whats wrong with trying to save the whales, or any animal for that matter? why are you saying that only whales shouldn’t be saved? why not all other endangered species? i think you are wrong as i know many do, but i do not see your selfish view as to be right, yes you can look after your family or whatever your trying to say, but why not doing things for other people or animals other than yourself? please enlighten me with your selfish attitude to life.”

There is no cause so noble that you should sacrifice your children to its altar. Shame on you.

After 15-years in DC, I have noticed that those noble activists who are saving the world have yet to save themselves, their marriages, their families, and their children.

The children of many of the founders of these organizations are a mess, with boys and girls as scared and abandoned as the children of their more celebrated Hollywood celebrities and New York robber barons. They are cared for by nannies and oftentimes never see their parents for weeks at a time.

All because one or more of their parents are making sacrifices for a higher, nobler cause: saving the whales. Or some similar cause celebre.

The illusion of nobility associated with saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the whales, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.

If you have all of your ducks in a row, if your children are happy and well-adjusted, if your health is good and you get enough sleep and exercise, if you still chase your spouse around the bed pretty regularly, and you call your mother, with energy to spare for yourself, then you have the right to save the whales.

Otherwise, you are chasing phantoms, you are wasting your time, and you had better still yourself enough to remember why you got married, why you had children, and whether the whales really matter to you any more or if you’re just used to saving the whales.

Otherwise, let the whales fend for themselves for a little while while you get yourself together.

If you disrespect your own family enough to abandon them for your noble cause then the whales are better off without you. Resign from your save the whales campaign immediately, move to New York, and settle in to a life on Wall Street.

If you’re going to be ignoble, you might as well do it for money. The entire order cetacea recognize hypocrisy when they see it and they don’t want any of your filthy lucre anyway.

(Special Thanks to Paul Roberts of P.R.A.D.E. (Paul Roberts Amateur Design Enthusiast The blog for the untrained but discriminating design eye) — the Photoshop God — who hooked me up with the Don’t Save the Whales graphic)

Related Posts

• Will Subliterate 17-Year-Olds Save the Whales?
• Wisdumb of Crowds: SAVE THE WHALES
• Kill the Humans Who Save the Whales

Some great comments follow:

Comments

Understandable sentiment, and an easy crutch for our own apathy, but life is not so black and white.

To continue with a racial theme and abuse an overused metaphor, would you have had Dr. King abandon his quest for civil rights in favor of couples therapy?

Granted, whales and trees are not sentient beings like the African Americans who were fire-hosed in Selma, but it’s naieve to write off noble ambitions because one’s self is not already enlightened.

In many of the great religious traditions service is actually means to personal salvation. Through serving others, we can learn to help ourselves and our families.

It is a shame that such impulses are not instinctual (hence the reason why airlines have to remind to you put on your oxygen mask before assisting your neighbor), but we are contradictory beings.

Accept the ambiguity and respect both service to others and our quests for personal virtue. They go hand in hand.

Posted by: David Gelles | April 11, 2005 10:32 AM

There is no apathy in my life. And there are also many distractions. I have spent years dancing with dolphins and whales as a SCUBA diver and know them more than many and for this I am grateful.

What is more noble than the ambition of saving oneself?

Doctor King was a whale, if you will. He was saving himself, his family, and his community. I am surprised that you overlooked that.

So, maybe I am not so naive.

And the most valuable lessons are in fact gleaned from serving others, but try to keep it local. As in your spouse, your children, your parents, your family, your friends, your community. If you have energy left over, then spend it along the same vein.

The nature of the world is not really as it seems. Try to only serve others you can touch, see, feel, help, interact with, and live with.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 11, 2005 10:47 AM

Dr. King was a philanderer saint.

Beethoven was an abusive genius.

Ghandi…well, he was all good.

The point is that we can’t put our life’s work on hold to get in the zen of changing diapers.

I know you’re neither naieve nor apathetic, so don’t come off like it by saying, “saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the whales, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.”

If people don’t save the trees there will be no more familes to save.

Posted by: David Gelles | April 11, 2005 10:57 AM

As for one’s life’s work, it makes more than more sense to me now that Roman Catholic priests are celibate. There are fewer distractions.

I am not saying that one should not perform one’s life’s work. But not to the harm of what really matters.

And I am not talking about one’s life’s work, nor am I talking about destiny. What I am saying is that no matter how noble one’s life’s work may seem and no matter how important one’s destiny is, it is not remotely as important as serving your spouse, your children, your family, and your community.

There is nothing as modest, as honest, as life-affirming, and life-changing as that.

There is more harm done by a man who has a destiny, a noble aim, a a life’s work than anything else.

You mentioned Dr. King, Beethoven, and Ghandi.

I will mention some other men who have had life’s work and noble aims who lost site of themselves, their children, their family, and their community:

Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Idi Amin, Hideki Tojo, Kim Il-Sung, Chiang Kai-Shek, Moammar Al Qadhafi, Pol Pot, Francisco Franco, and Mao Zedong.

All men who didn’t put their “life’s work on hold to get in the zen of changing diapers.”

To take it one step further, these men, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Idi Amin, Hideki Tojo, Kim Il-Sung, Chiang Kai-Shek, Moammar Al Qadhafi, Pol Pot, Francisco Franco, and Mao Zedong, might have turned out differently if their mom, dad, family, and friends where better parents to them.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 11, 2005 11:34 AM

cop out.

Posted by: David Gelles | April 11, 2005 11:56 AM

There are many highly-gifted people in the world who have been treated like the young Gautama.

They are coddled, protected, and spoiled so that they may be allowed to focus on their destiny.

They distiny is as likely to be that of a surgeon, a scientist, a lawyer, a competitive skater, an athelete, a beauty queen, a pianist, a painter, a poet, or a priest as it is the King of the Whales.

There needs to be balance in all things. And what is the saddest part of this entire conversations is that the same man who said, “The point is that we can’t put our life’s work on hold to get in the zen of changing diapers” is also the man who spent months living in India.

I have never focused this on not saving the whales or not saving the forests but rather how much easier it is to forgive the distraction from the truth if that distraction is in fact popular or noble.

It’s neither nuclear family and Wall $treet, nor domestic abuse and whales.

There are countless great parents who are plenty involved with money, and plenty of awful parents who do invaluable work for their communities but are awful husbands and wives, who are awful parents to their children, and who are able to rationalize their entire failure because they have done some things that really don’t matter too much at the end of life really anyway.

There is another black and white annoyance: that money equals bad and activism equals good.

Sometimes entropy isn’t death. very often, it isn’t. Sometimes to struggle so hard for something that is so far removed and so not part of one’s life is like struggling in quicksand.

Not only is it a waste of energy, but the unintended consequence — sinking faster and being alienated from a helping hand — is worse than anything you could ever imagine.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 11, 2005 1:16 PM

there will always be that group of people bordering on lunacy who are dependent on a false sense of altruism to prop up their self-esteem, which suffers from things like failing to take care of their families or failing to succeed in relationships. it’s a shame, really.

Posted by: sam | April 12, 2005 8:30 AM

Sam, that’s the perfect way of saying it. And I can even make it more generic to better support my point, if you don’t mind, “there will always be that group of people bordering on lunacy who are dependent on a false sense of destiny to prop up their self-esteem.” The same stuff that makes the chairman of GE great and successful is the stuff that makes up the chairman of WWF as well.

My concern — and the reason I wrote the piece — is that the chairman of GE doesn’t suffer from the “noble aim” aspect, which might make the avarice and work ethic and profit motive more authentic and honest.

And is that better than a false sense of altruism?

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 9:32 AM

Yes, the avarice and work ethic may be honest and authentic, but avarice is a product of disappointment toward selfless service. Avarice and profit are easy. They come naturally, but so does the violence instinct. It is the mark of a civilized human to control such instincts.

Take each point in this discussion to the extreme. If tomorrow you woke up and walked outside to a world composed of either selfless service or “avarice and work ethic and profit motive”, which would you prefer?

Posted by: Bryan | April 12, 2005 9:49 AM

Chris, Dickens had the same reservations as you about what he termed Telescopic Philanthropy. You’re not alone!

Posted by: Mike | April 12, 2005 10:38 AM

In their purest form, I would choose service. I have a dear friend who is Mormon and she told me that service is the most important thing to the LDS. But when it comes to service, nobody is a professional and the service is inclusive of the family.

I like that. That makes sense to me.

I am also not saying that there is anything wrong with an obsessive workaholic president of Save the Whales.

I mean, there needs to be sacrifice in life and pain in order to grow and evolve.

But when a child is involved — when a family is being made — then things indeed should change.

Take each point in this discussion to the extreme. If tomorrow you woke up and walked outside to a world in which you would have to choose between saving all the whales and saving one child, which would you choose?

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 11:05 AM

With regards to Telescopic Philanthropy, I see the same thing with Mr. Margaret Thatcher. The thing is, with spouses, there is a certain level of conscious or unconscious choice in the matter.

With children, there is no choice in the matter. Although the subsumed spouse might become toxic and bitter — or not — at the loss of self to the shining qualities of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, there is still no less of a choice, really, in the matter.

It boils down to, if you’re unhappy, leave.

But choosing to have children is an entirely different matter.

Having children can either be the most generous or the most selfish act in the entire world.

An additional note is that psychologically-speaking, the same people who end up in a role such as Mrs Jellyby’s or Mrs Thatcher’s tend also to have narcissistic qualities.

And narcissists are the most compelling mates and the most incapable of being partners and parents. Funny how that works.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 11:16 AM

Without reading each entry and assimilating them all to produce a cogent statement (because I’m busy at work), let me make the following observations and then close with the greatest quote ever spoken.

1) There are causes noble enough that you should sacrifice your children. Chief among them is service to your nation in a time where its existence is threatened. As Abraham Lincoln once said to women grieving the loss of their children during the civil war,

“I cannot refrain from tendering to you the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our heavenly father may assuage the anguish of your bereavements and leave you only the cherished memories of the loved and the lost and the solemn pride that must be yours to have made so costly a sacrifice upon the alter of freedom.”

2) Nobody (worth hearing) is suggesting that saving the whales is more important, or equally important, to tending to our social fabric. What they are saying, if you listen with a carefully bent ear, is that through fostering care for things other than ourselves we create a society that by virtue of its interest in things besides itself, takes good care of itself. Without a strong social network, these other less paramount causes could garner no attention.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is no effort without error and shortcomings; who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

Theodore Roosevelt (26th U.S. president (1901-09), 1858-1919)

Posted by: Justin | April 12, 2005 12:44 PM

could we change “whales” to “the unborn”?

Posted by: max solon | April 12, 2005 12:48 PM

I fully agree with you, but isn’t that called duty? And isn’t that the choice of the child? The child is not being sacrificed for the parent but rather the child is sacrificing his own life. That soldier is a whale. That soldier is sacrificing his life for his spouse, his children, his family, his friends, his community, and his country.

Entirely different, in my opinion, but important none-the-less.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 12, 2005 3:56 PM

Yea. I see the problem.

We should take control of our families and sort out all our family problems.

What about taking them to the ocean? We could all look for the whales together!

No, waste of time. What if we don’t sort out our problems when we’re there? We might all get lost in some sadly transient awe at the beauty of the whales – or probably just the idea of whales. For precious moments we’d forget the problems we went there to sort.
My family is not weak!
And who’s driving?

And if all the whales are gone anyway because of whalers, or depleted fish stocks from crazy fishing, or deafening submarine engines interfering in their songs, we’re only going to get frustrated at humanity’s impotence in the face of these vital industries.
I can do without that.
And they have no rhythm as far as I can tell.

Let’s relax with the tv newstoons and a healthy tuna salad, and save up the money from work for a good holiday one day. Disney? Hope we don’t use it all up on therapy first.
Or they grow up.

Forget the whales. You only live once.

Posted by: Hugh Whiting | April 12, 2005 9:48 PM

I think you’ve got your focus slightly wrong here, because you’re centering on “activists” when you should be thinking of all parents.

I know several handfuls of people who were scared and abandoned children, and the few who were raised by nannies were the lucky ones. Some of those abandoned children had parents at home, but they were so involved in business that they never saw their kids. It’s not about “activism,” it’s about abandoning your family for anything, and we shouldn’t confuse the two.

All the actual activists I’ve known share their activism with their families (I used to work for the Sierra Club, so I’ve known a few).

P.S., and this is a note for everybody, because this is the third time I’ve seen the error today: IT’S SPELLED “GANDHI.” G. A. N. D. H. I.

Posted by: Rika Youngblood | April 12, 2005 10:28 PM

i disagree with your assessment that the whales can fend for themselves .. they have no chance at all when their home is polluted, their food depleted, and their migration paths are congested with oil tankers .. what’s worst, we have the power to wipe out the planet (not just a single species) with just a push of the button (in 2002, we were just seven minutes away from midnight on the doomsday clock).

i have yet to run into children of the green movement who “are a mess”. on the contrary, having attended an ultra-liberal college of a progressive town [santa cruz], i have met and befriended many of these second-generation hippies who continue to uphold the various -ISMs (re: liberalism, idealism, etc) and values of their parents. what a wonderful gifts these hippies of yesteryears have given to their children.

this legacy echoes the teachings of the wisdom keepers of the mohawk nation, who teach their people to respect the land, and that “… everything they do affects the Seventh Generation and we must think of the unborn faces looking up from beneath Mother Earth”.

though my parents were not part of the green movement, i do believe in it .. and i will save the whales for the both of us.

Posted by: nam lamore | April 13, 2005 4:20 PM

Hugh, the entire time I read your comment I thought of the dolphins from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy! — thanks for that. But I have to tell you that I don’t really give a rat’s twat what you get up to.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | April 13, 2005 8:23 PM

What absolute twaddle.

Where is your evidence to back up the existence of these orphans of ecology? Don’t you think that there are people that put work before their family in all walks of life?

You’re being deliberately provocative. Get a life. Spend some time with your own family and friends instead of wasting your time attempting to bait people on the internet for your own pathetic amusement.

Posted by: Vilnius Terence | April 14, 2005 10:59 AM

I think you are bang out of order the people that save the whales are good people and are doing good. I am sure 9 out of ten would not neglected there families because of it and the ones that do are yes in the wrong when I was a little girl saving the whales was my dream
whales are mammals just like we are they are getting killed by there own species which is not right you are saying we should be stopping the robberies and the murders but by killing the whales you are doing the same to them you are murdering them and robbing them of a family something’s need looking after and at least there are SOME descent people out there that will do it not everyone sees life in the same way you do. if you had a pet dog for example and someone was trying to kill it you would do everything you could to save it because it is part of the family some people see whales in that way. How would you feel if you were just sitting at home with your family and someone shot a harpoon at you? Well that’s what it is like for them.
just imagine(I don’t no if you have kids) that you were sitting at home with your kids and someone captured you or killed you just think about what it would do to your kids but at least they would have other family or they would have the opinion of foster care or adoption. but those poor whales probably don’t have help like that they would be all alone and maybe too young to know how to survive on their own so I think in the future instead of being lost in your own little world and think its the saving the whales that is doing it think again because they need as much help as we do. And if you are so bovered about the community I hope you are out there doing something for it. Infact why don’t you go out there and do something now instead of wasting your time writing this web site moaning about there whale savers and do something for the community yours sincerely jess

Posted by: jess | May 13, 2005 9:31 AM

this is sick we can save ourslevs we have a voice of our own but the whales dont so if they cant speak to stick up for themslves who will? because it is clear u wont. i would and that is a fact u mybe should listen because it is your people that is causing the problem with the whales.

Posted by: stephanie | May 23, 2005 4:41 AM

If the vast majority of people who aren’t inclined towards saving the whales and such, were instead spending their free time trying to truly take care of their families, spouses & communities I might see validity to your argument…as it is this post just looks like liberal-baiting to me.

Whatever. You guys are right. We suck. Money is king. Whatever.

Posted by: Cary | June 21, 2005 2:53 PM

You can always catch a liberal if you use a whale as bait!

Posted by: Chris Abraham | June 21, 2005 4:44 PM

what a stupid article.

Posted by: Urb | June 21, 2005 9:05 PM

Your argument is astonishing to me. If you can honestly re-read it two times and not see the mile-wide holes in your reasoning you might need to take some time to think things over. Really.

Suffice to say that if this is the way you feel then I’m thinking that you have some learning to do about what a relationship is, what a marriage is and what raising a child is. Let’s set your gloss on activism == children raised by nannies aside. That is a deep issue with a whole spectra of situations that you are lumping into the most negative terminus.

You don’t raise a child by commiting yourself to voluntary servitude to him or her — nor do you ‘make a family’ by staying home and staring at them 24/7. Strong people with strong convictions raise children that share these traits. Strong marriages are not made by two people who spend all their time on each other. The best thing you can do for a child is to inspire her by setting an example of what a person can do in this world.

To hold the opinions that you express within the context of your personal mores is one thing, but to insult *activism* at large and to call people who give a damn and are doing somehting about it bad parents bullshit on stilts.

Posted by: anon | June 22, 2005 12:09 PM

You have the honor of missing my point entirely. I think you might be suffering from some sort of deep-seated guilt.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | June 22, 2005 1:29 PM

we as humans have a responsibilty to care for all living creatures of this earth as they all have a right to live and we are the ones who have destroyed their homes and species. So it is a responsibility of ours to try protect those species in danger because of the selfish act of others.

Posted by: Amy | July 9, 2005 1:47 AM

you obviously is idiot, u must be someone who cares only about urself. please open u eyes and see what people like u are doing to animals. IDIOT

Posted by: lin jia yi | July 11, 2005 8:13 AM

first of all Mr.Abraham does make a point, if your life isn’t well put together you shouldn’t particate in any other extra curricular activities. However,he fails to mention other activities people particate in that aren’t for the environment,anmails/endangered species,or other worthwhile cause that never the less can disrrupt homes,childhoods,& break families such as:homeless, needy, abuse, disabiled, & feed the children. but these aren’t mentioned, why . . .?

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 4:14 PM

Mr.Abraham I must say you speak of neglected children,& husbands. can you prove anything you say? And if you can tell us how many people are neglected because of their parents jobs, hobbies, and everyday life who aren’t rooted in some cause and are just living in a regular town, would you? There are problems in life & marriage due to nothing but their own faults, to not think so & live in a perfect world is denial.I suggest you open your eyes.

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 4:35 PM

Mr.Abraham,I respect other people’s opinions.You do not.That I refuse to respect,the lives of others & how the are lived are not yours to dictate to.You probley have a nice apt. in a upscale N.Y. neighborhood. Must be nice. You’ve had everything handed to you in a silver spoon. I don’t discriminate agianst the rich even though i am not. But for the poor who live in the wild or country nature is greatly loved,respected,&cared for.

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 4:49 PM

Mr.Abraham, you must watch your views & how you express them because you can offend many people,I was very offended by your statements and took it personally.It hurt,and I thought of all the others you’ve hurt by this. I suggest you apologize to the envirnmental community.I don’t apphreciate your calling Dr.King a “philanderer saint” and suggest you appologize to the black community as well.One day you may wake up and see how precious our world is.

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 5:01 PM

Mr.Abraham, this is my last post.I know your thinking “thank god”. But in short i will speak a quote of love ,honesty,& truth. ” The wonderous world under sea & land, in the big scheme of things one life may seem insugnifficant but it’s the greatest gift we know and we cannot let this world of light, love ,and beauty perish.”

Posted by: integra | July 11, 2005 5:09 PM

Mr Abraham, YOU ARE A CRAZY, CRAZY TOOL.

Posted by: Mad Anne Bonney | July 11, 2005 10:20 PM

Mr Abraham, YOU ARE A FREAKY FREAKY FREAK.

Posted by: Mad Anne Bonney | July 11, 2005 10:21 PM

My ex long ago abandoned our son for native american/worker/prison issues. The worst part is my 18-yr-old son who was dragged to the W.T.O. when he was 13(although it makes for a good story to say he’s been teargassed)-my son only sees the hypocrisy in the hardcore activists–thinking of them as angry and sad without any stability or truth.

Posted by: christina | July 12, 2005 7:19 PM

Your thoughts are disturbing because if you cannot enjoy the utter beauty we have in our world you are really disturbed. This page is sick and unfortunatly I visited this sight BLAH….SAVE THE WHALES

Posted by: Crystal | July 12, 2005 8:22 PM

Save the Earth, KILL YER SELF!!!!

Posted by: Martin Jones | July 26, 2005 4:17 PM

love animals keep them safe. would if u were a whale oh yeah lets just 4get u. u r nothing.GOD put thing here 4 a reson life is a leason. u will get whats coming.SAVE WHALES,CARE 4 THEM.

Posted by: ryah | July 26, 2005 8:59 PM

i have only 1 thing 2 say about ur article

“THE HELL”

Posted by: emman | July 27, 2005 5:32 AM

i have only 1 thing 2 say about ur artical

“THE HELL”

Posted by: emman | July 27, 2005 9:50 AM

Sorry I don’t think like you At ALL!!!

Posted by: Bobbie | August 1, 2005 3:48 AM

You are really twisted aren’t you. so you think we should focus on other things no we shouldn’t im 13 and i am trying to save the animals from people like you. Sick people who are self centered and don’t care for others. You need to get your head out of your *** and open your eyes. You wouldn’t like for someone to kill you without question and make lipstick or shampoo out of you would you??? Animals that live in the water are being killed for your convience so you can have shampoo. i don’t think so buddy. I bet you go out there and kill them so you can be satified. Well you know what we’ll stop people like you from hurting the animals we love. Without or with out your help. So when all the animals are gone we’ll start making shampoo and lipstick out of people like you so you know what it fells like to be them. So you know how much pain people put tem through. Woould you like a harpoon explosive shot into your brain and blow up and kill you then hit you repeatedly with an axe. So you need to get your head out of your***

Posted by: Cayla Rene | January 31, 2007 12:50 PM

You are really crule huh? dude you have to save the whales. they are killing the whales just so they can make soap to rub all over your body .well i am 13 and i am trying to save the whales . so people like yuo dont get to kill them. you are really wrong and dont care one bit about the animals under the sea. well you should.whales , orcas , sharks and other mammals die just to make new and stupid improved products. you are a *** and you need to care about the animals they have dont nothing to you and you want to kill them well dont. cause me and my friends cayla will beat your ***
you need to care. well would you want to die just to make lipstick and shampoo.

write back and i will tell you more abourt the animals you need to car eabout what they do for you there are only a hundred remaining in the world .soon there will be no more and then it will make you happy huh well you need to get your head out of the gutter . when all the animals are gone what are u gonna do we are gonna blame you!!!!!!!!!

Posted by: ALexa RAe | January 31, 2007 12:50 PM

you might think that whales dont matter but your wrong. ya you need to take care of your family but we also need to save are world. all of you that sont think that the whales arent important than you SUCK.

Posted by: chalsea | February 15, 2007 6:44 PM

What are you talking about> Yes its important to have a stable life at home for your family and children, but if the enviroment itself isn’t saved by these noble people an other people around the world then that home you are trying to stabilze and love will not exists and the ones you love will suffer, because people like you thought it was unimportant to save the whales!!! So if we dont start repairing our enviroment now we will end up suffering for it later on!!! So wake up and save the Whales ASSHOLE

Posted by: Someone | February 20, 2007 8:53 PM

Dont blame the whales or conservationists for human frailities and faults.

I have a great husband and marriage, great kids with whom i spend alot of my tme, I also support Whale conservation with time and money i have availiable. Get a grip!! Its not the Whales fault thatthey are being slaughtered… It is HUMAN GREED and arrogance. It is not the whales fault the people lose sight of everything but their cause….It is HUMAN STUPIDITY and again arrogance. Dont blame the whales and their plight for human faults after all it happens with more than just save the whales.

Miri Furlong
Graphic Artist
design@ethnic-aotearoa.co.nz
www.ethnic-aotearoa.co.nz

Posted by: Miri Furlong | February 21, 2007 2:21 AM

you are so self centered!! how would you feel if some body wanted to kill you!!!! don’t even try to say you wouldn’t care!! I’m elizabeth christian and i think everyone should help save the whales!!! LOSER!! FREAK!! WEIRDO!!

Posted by: Elizabeth Christian | February 28, 2007 1:59 PM

you are the biggest idiot on the face of the earth!!! you don’t understand the value of life its self!!! tou are so retarted!!!!!!!

YOU IDIOT!!

Posted by: Elizabeth | February 28, 2007 2:02 PM

YOU ARE SO RETARDED!! hope you choke on a piece of beef jerky!!

Posted by: elizabeth | February 28, 2007 2:20 PM

your stupid!!!
dont say dont save the whales because you need to save yourself first. i love whales and im trying t save whales and im only 17 i have loving parents who are also trying to save whales and were not disfunctional or falling apart or any thing you said were just fine and to generalize that all people who try and save our planet are neglecting their families is BULL. your just pissed that you cant save the world and you probably cant fix your own family.

Posted by: Zayna | May 18, 2007 8:00 PM

You are very stupid. No more comments.

Posted by: Gabriel | May 28, 2007 9:07 AM

I may well be stupid, but I am not alone. Thanks for joining me.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | May 28, 2007 12:22 PM

SAVE THE WORLD! SAVE THE WHALES!

Posted by: Mauricio J. Solórzano | June 6, 2007 12:27 PM

God Agrees with Chris Abraham That We Should not Save the Whales (well, at least Paul does… but then, he’s a rabid homophobe and a chauvinist pig, so…)

In any case, it’s in the scriptures, so it’s right.

1 Timothy 3

This saying is trustworthy: “If anyone aspires to be a leader of his community, he desires a noble work.” Such a leader, therefore, must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, self-controlled, sensible, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher, not addicted to wine, not a bully but gentle, not quarrelsome, not greedy; one who manages his own household competently, having his children under control with all dignity. (If anyone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he take care of God’s house?) He must not be a new convert, or he might become conceited and fall into the condemnation of the Devil. Furthermore, he must have a good reputation among outsiders, so that he does not fall into disgrace and the Devil’s trap.

Posted by: Mark Harrison | August 13, 2007 7:13 AM

I am surely and indeed a Godly man. Fuck the whales.

Posted by: Chris Abraham | August 14, 2007 11:19 PM

i’m not sure of what your point is?! whats wrong with trying to save the whales, or any animal for that matter? why are you saying that only whales shouldn’t be saved? why not all other endangered species? i think you are wrong as i know many do, but i do not see your selfish view as to be right, yes you can look after your family or whatever your trying to say, but why not doing things for other people or animals other than yourself? please enlighten me with your selfish attitude to life

Posted by: Save The Whales | August 17, 2007 1:06 PM

Although I am not certain any of the following actually happened, I am going to regale you with some of the boorish stories I have been sharing with friends for years. They are all St Louis School JROTC Rangers stories. In High School, I was in JROTC and a member of the elite club called the Rangers.  And the JROTC Rangers do exist:

JROTC RANGER TEAM

The JROTC Ranger Team is a six man cadet team that competes in various physical competition with other JROTC units that include: Physical Fitness test, Rappelling, Rope Bridging, Endurance/Obstacle Course, 12 mile Team Run, 1,800 meter swim, First Aid, Terrain/Land Navigation and Tug-o-War.   The team trains daily during Period 9 from 1435 to 1545 hours and selected weekends.

Contact LTC Charles Lee or 1SG Jimmy Akuna

Our public claim-to-fame is that we wore spit-polished-and-bloused jump boots and a black beret with a red and blue, school colors flash. I wore an official yellow-on-black Ranger patch on my shoulder and strutted around school ever Thursday with my chest in the air. We were so proud that we ignored the fact that we were despised by both our fellow JROTC colleagues who were not part of our club and the student body at-large. We considered the former to be jealous and the latter to be ignorant.Our private claim-to-fame was that we disappeared into the subtropical forests of the Northwestern shore of Oahu every weekend, every Spring Break, and during many of the other holidays and long weekends. Disappearing was always very important for us because the simple field trip form that our parents signed for us allowed us to be officially part of the training of weekend warriors during the mid-eighties.

We teens were used as Opposing Forces, known as OpFor, against the gentle field exercises practiced by the U.S. Army Reserves and the National Guard. We were only between two to four fire teams of five young men, but we were very well and insanely motivated. Our call was, “motivated, dedicated, hua! Rangers!” We were afraid of nothing much because we wanted to kill the enemy and because we really thought it was a game. Had no insight into the import of these little war games on old East Range.

On Friday afternoon on Saturday morning, we Rangers would collect upon Kolaipuhaku at the top of the oval driveway, ready with our Alice packs, our field jacket, our BDUs, our ponchos, our web gear, and our two-sided 30-round banana clips filled with 5.56mm blanks and lashed together with olive green duct tape.

As we awaited the white school bus with the dark tinted windows, we stood there in rank. Oftentimes, since we would deploy immediately upon arriving at the base, we would stand in-line and jump up and down. Our team leaders and our officers would weave between us, checking us for noises. We got taped-down and cinched up. We lost the loose change, and we stowed our house keys. We stowed our precious black berets and donned our floppy-brimmed boonie hats and pale green caps, the ones with the cats eyes sewn into the back.

When the bus arrived, we filtered in and some of us would crash and other would flip through their team movement and tactic manuals, memorizing L ambush techniques and the best use of cover fire, as one does. Since I never did the whole camp thing, I am feeling that this is about as close to that as I ever got. For sure, I wished I could have trained for this all summer. During the summer we did train, but it was much more casual an involved parties and the beach and girls and Boone’s Farm apple wine and Mickey’s big mouth and peppermint schnapps. But that’s another story.

So, depending on with whom we were training and where, we would either drive for an hour out to Schofield Barracks and East Range or for a stopover in Waikiki in about fifteen minutes.

From there, we would get briefed by a lieutenant who I am sure considered his career over as we fell into his lap, and then we would be shipped out, never to sleep again until Sunday night. In a nutshell, these weekends went like this:

We were dropped off at East Range, received our maps and a briefing, and then we split up into our five-man fire teams. I was the only pigman, or machine gunner, of the entire Saint Louis Rangers, but I have played the part of radio operator with my Prick 77 (PRC-77), of point man, and of pigman. As pigman, I got stuck with the 23-pound machine gun of Rambo fame. And I loved it. As the pigman, I got to have an assistant gunner, who carried extra belts of ammo and an extra barrel. Unlike the M-16, the M-60 runs a bigger caliber ammunition and runs much hotter, especially blocked as it was with a blank adapter. Nothing is better than being on your belly at the elbow of an L ambush in the middle of the night, your pig resting on its bipod and pointing downrange at the headlights of a 3AM caravan of deuce-and-a-half’s, awaiting your commander’s orders to open fire. But that’s another story.

It was very cool for sure, and felt very real. I will make a point of telling as many of the stories as I can remember.

There is no cause so noble that you should sacrifice your children to its altar. Shame on you.

After 15-years in DC, I have noticed that those noble activists who are saving the world have yet to save themselves, their marriages, their families, and their children.

The children of many of the founders of these organizations are a mess, with boys and girls as scared and abandoned as the children of their more celebrated Hollywood celebrities and New York robber barons. They are cared for by nannies and oftentimes never see their parents for weeks at a time.

All because one or more of their parents are making sacrifices for a higher, nobler cause: saving the planet. Or some similar cause célèbre.

The illusion of nobility associated with saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the planet, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.

If you have all of your ducks in a row, if your children are happy and well-adjusted, if your health is good and you get enough sleep and exercise, if you still chase your spouse around the bed pretty regularly, and you call your mother, with energy to spare for yourself, then you have the right to save the planet.

Otherwise, you are chasing phantoms, you are wasting your time, and you had better still yourself enough to remember why you got married, why you had children, and whether the planet really matters to you any more or if you’re just used to saving the planet.

Otherwise, let the planet fend for itself for a little while while you get yourself together.

If you disrespect your own family enough to abandon them for your noble cause then the planet is better off without you. Resign from your save the planet campaign immediately, move to New York, and settle in to a life on Wall Street.

If you’re going to be ignoble, you might as well do it for money. TMother earth recognizes hypocrisy when she sees it and she doesn’t want any of your filthy lucre anyway.

(via Don’t Save the Whales with a little search-and-replace for this new cause célèbre)

It has almost been a year since I wrote Don’t Save the Whales. I just want to remind my gentle readers that the following essay could as easily be called Don’t Save the Manatees, Don’t Save the Children, Don’t Save the Tigers, Don’t Save the Dolphins, Don’t Save the Bay, Don’t Save the World, Don’t Save the Koala, Don’t Save the Pandas, Don’t Save the Rhinos, Don’t Save the Chimps, Don’t Save the Gorillas, or Don’t Save the Elephant.

What Don’t Save the Whales absolutely doesn’t say or even imply, for those of you dull knives, is Kill the Manatees, Kill the Children, Kill the Tigers, Kill the Dolphins, Kill the Bay, Kill the World, Kill the Koala, Kill the Pandas, Kill the Rhinos, Kill the Elephant or Kill the Whales.

Okay, got it?

Don’t Save the Whales

There is no cause so noble that you should sacrifice your children to its altar. Shame on you.

After 15-years in DC, I have noticed that those noble activists who are saving the world have yet to save themselves, their marriages, their families, and their children.

The children of many of the founders of these organizations are a mess, with boys and girls as scared and abandoned as the children of their more celebrated Hollywood celebrities and New York robber barons. They are cared for by nannies and oftentimes never see their parents for weeks at a time.

All because one or more of their parents are making sacrifices for a higher, nobler cause: saving the whales. Or some similar cause celebre.

The illusion of nobility associated with saving pagan babies, the rain forest, the whales, or the trees is pure distraction from the things that matter most in this life which is saving yourself, protecting and loving your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your community.

If you have all of your ducks in a row, if your children are happy and well-adjusted, if your health is good and you get enough sleep and exercise, if you still chase your spouse around the bed pretty regularly, and you call your mother, with energy to spare for yourself, then you have the right to save the whales.

Otherwise, you are chasing phantoms, you are wasting your time, and you had better still yourself enough to remember why you got married, why you had children, and whether the whales really matter to you any more or if you’re just used to saving the whales.

Otherwise, let the whales fend for themselves for a little while while you get yourself together.

If you disrespect your own family enough to abandon them for your noble cause then the whales are better off without you. Resign from your save the whales campaign immediately, move to New York, and settle in to a life on Wall Street.

If you’re going to be ignoble, you might as well do it for money. The entire order cetacea recognize hypocrisy when they see it and they don’t want any of your filthy lucre anyway.

(Special Thanks to Paul Roberts of P.R.A.D.E. (Paul Roberts Amateur Design Enthusiast The blog for the untrained but discriminating design eye) — the Photoshop God — who hooked me up with the Don’t Save the Whales graphic)

If you own cats I won’t visit your house, I won’t date you, I won’t come over, I won’t marry you, I won’t even stand next to you if I can help it. I certainly won’t sleep with you. Okay, there are people like Stephanie Soper who I will visit even though she has cats, but that’s very rare.

If you want to break up with me, buy a cat.

I have contempt and hatred for cat people. Nothing personal.

My best friend, Mark, is a cat person, and I have contempt and hatred for him. And he will surely be the best man at my wedding and if he buys a cat (proving, finally, that he is in fact Evil and also a spinster — because only lonely and insane spinsters own cats, right) I will never cast a shadow on his front door. Or even in the late evening.

Its not just the allergy — and allergy based on a constant spitting on oneself — but its also the offensive indolence and insolence that I see as soundtrack to a cat’s life.

They are the familiars of all that is Evil. I am surprised that the Salem witch trials didn’t include lots and lots of drowning of cats (although I think it has a lot to do with how difficult it is to get a bloody pussy into any body of water — and all the scratching and so forth — the Puritans, when all is said and done, were a bunch of poofs anyway).

Okay, now that I have that off my chest, I have to admit that that picture has given me hives and I have turned the color of a radish and can scarcely breathe.

“How is it that there are single girls everywhere and single guys nowhere?” one DC girl asked another. The second girl responded, “I think it is more that most guys are always ‘dating’ someone…but also somehow single too.”
Men in DC generally have a discrete lover tucked away somewhere. I call this woman number one wife. The term comes from polygamy where there are many wives but only one favored wife. It explains why DC men are so cavalier. In a way, we are already married. We cannot be crushed if a first date doesn’t work out. There is nothing to lose.

Until that magic moment when the DC man walks into a room and falls for the one, number one wife isn’t going anywhere. The DC man can easily make happy hour, hit the gym, hang out with the boys, go on a date, and then – smoky and a little drunk – go over to number one wife, have sex, and then fall asleep under the covers. Warm, comfortable, and snuggly together – totally at ease and fully accepting.

If number one wife doesn’t become wife number one, then she is often the second wife because this relationship was always based on mutual acceptance, making it durable. Love is messy. The relationship with number one wife readily survived all the common things that absolutely derail marriages.

When dating the DC man you can be sure he is dating – and sleeping with – other people even if you are already intimate. There is probably a number one wife in the picture.

Rest assured, number one wife knows all about you.