I'm on the Edge....of Irrelevance

I happened upon a recent Wired article chronicling the writer's self-imposed demotion from a smart phone to a flip phone, and it got me revisiting my own philosophy of technology, which is a product of both intent and financial hardship, with a dose of reluctance for good measure.

I wrote about some aspects of technology in this post, but let me speak more personally as to why I draw the lines where I do. My first reaction to the Wired piece was that it was a flawed experiment in that the writer was regressing from a smart phone to a "dumb phone" as opposed to never having had a smart phone in the first place, which is my situation.

I had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the cell phone era. The breaking point came the nth time my flight was delayed or cancelled and I had no way to reach my party on the receiving end to tell them I would not be arriving in a timely manner. I was still reluctant to make the expenditure for a phone, battery, and calling plan, but it was getting embarrassing and impolite to beg the use of a stranger's device. Consequently, I purchased the cheapest phone, and a pay-as-you-go service.

To this day, I run out of "service days" far more regularly than I run out of minutes. Our household still has a land line, with unlimited long distance (no "roaming" fees), that I rely on for the overwhelming majority of telecommunication aside from e-mails. I briefly flirted with an upgraded phone that had an uncovered keyboard, but after I accidentally pocket-dialed a friend in Massachusetts, I went back to a flip phone and here I am.

One Christmas my wife got me a tablet as a gift. After the futility and frustration of trying to scroll and accidentally connecting to unwanted website after unwanted advertisement, and the aggravation of automatic word suggestions while texting or posting, I gave up. That was about three days in. I am all thumbs when it comes to anything smaller than a full-sized keyboard.

There are many benefits to having sub-forefront technology. The greatest of these might be the deterrent to theft. If a burglar had ever entered my prior residences, he or she would have taken a look around and screamed something to the effect of "Are you KIDDING me?!" and maybe an expletive, before storming out. Had they managed to haul off the television, recovering the unit would be a simple matter of calling around to hospitals to see if anyone had come in with a severe back injury. My laptop is so outdated that even I no longer use it. My desktop is over seven years old, and the various cords too tangled for a hurried criminal to untangle. I am still running Windows 7. This is all exactly how I like it: Technology that gets me through, is still supported and serviced, and not new enough to be attractive to thieves.

Another benefit to not carrying a smart phone or tablet or notebook or whatever they are calling the latest thing is that I am forced to unplug when I am out of my home. I am compelled to interact with other people in the flesh, pay attention to my surroundings, and experience the unadulterated reality of the here-and-now. Yes, sometimes it is boring. So what? If you have to be entertained all the time or, increasingly, feel obligated to entertain others via social media, then you might want to re-examine your life. Take a breath. Smell the flowers. People-watch. Wildlife watch.

I can assure you I do not relate any of this to paint myself as superior, or inferior, or out of touch with the realities of the digital universe. Indeed, I find this Age to be a wonder, but I also wonder whether we are losing sight of things that truly matter, whether we are still engaging one another in meaningful relationships, and whether we are losing touch with the natural world. I am fortunate enough to know people who balance flesh-and-blood and digital worlds perfectly, so I have hope. Meanwhile, if you need to reach me on my travels, good luck. I use Tracfone, and isn't that everyone's punchline for any joke about irrelevance?

Yes, Yes to Nanette!

© The New Yorker

Hannah Gadsby is an Australian-born comedienne. That is all you need to know before watching her Netflix special Nanette, because she explains the rest of her life experiences in that stand-up special. And you better brace yourself. Or not, because maybe not knowing what you are in for is at least half of what makes this performance worthy of its critical acclaim.

The best comedy delivers not just laughter, but provokes thought, emphasis on "provokes," and this is flat-out the most provocative writing I've seen performed on stage in decades. As another critic pointed out, it gets the audience to question themselves, and their role as either instigator or ignorant bystander, in the atrocities perpetrated against people from varying walks of life who we identify as "the other." Done incorrectly and you have the audience storming out of the venue. Done brilliantly, like this, and you have everyone's rapt attention.

If you do not see yourself in every facet of this monologue, then you lack empathy and honesty.

A graph of your comfort level during this seventy minute show would likely look like something off a seismograph, but that would be fitting because this is an earth-shaking episode. Part of the premise that got the attention of critics is that this was Gadsby's swan song, that she would be quitting comedy because....well, I am not going to spoil that for you. Gadsby is apologetic at one point for being so angry, and taking out her frustrations on her audience.

I disagree with Hannah that she is angry. She is assertive and emphatic, and displays a degree of strength that transcends gender, class, or any other category we so conveniently put each other into. If you do not see yourself in every facet of this monologue, then you lack empathy and honesty. This is funny, but at its core it is a plea for self-evaluation, and assessment of your own personal code of conduct.

Does the audience really deserve to be made so uncomfortable, though? The unequivocal answer is a resounding "Yes!" There are many ways to be "woke," and this is one of the tamer routes. It is like the tear-jerker rom-com movie, albeit a great deal more intense in parts. You may leave the show with feelings of shame and guilt. So? What are you going to do with that? This is really what the heart of great entertainment is all about: a jumping off point (not off a bridge for crying out loud) for self-conversation, for deciding how to redeem yourself. How best do you participate in the revolution?

Hannah Gadsby's writing and delivery are passionate and compassionate, despite her belief that she is just angry. You still want to give her a hug and say "Thank you!" when all is said and done. She manages to maintain the vulnerability we all have, that makes us caring human beings when we acknowledge it. Some will say that Gadsby gets her audience cheering for their own execution, but if you have been listening, you see a bit of your parents, or best friend, the people in your life who will not always tell you what you want to hear, but what you need to hear.

I hope Hannah Gadsby won't quit. We desperately need her voice, day in and day out. Heck, we need more people like her. Watch Nanette, it is must-see TV or streaming or whatever you call it.

Two Flukes' Up

The other night Heidi and I went to see the movie Big Miracle, about the rescue of three Pacific Gray Whales off the coast of Alaska near Point Barrow. Surprisingly, this was not a cheesy film with a completely gift-wrapped ending. Considering how many interest groups and characters were involved in this story, based in part on the book by Thomas Rose, director Ken Kwapis managed to create a seamless production worthy of viewing for both entertainment and an education in sociology.

Rose’s non-fiction book was originally entitled Freeing the Whales: How the Media Created the World’s Greatest Non-Event, and indeed, whales routinely die from the predicament of a prematurely freezing ocean each year. What made it newsworthy was simply the fact that there was a nearby satellite transmitter. The 1988 story quickly went the analog version of “viral,” and the media descended on Point Barrow en masse to cover the action.

The actors could have played their roles in a stereotypic way, but in most cases they managed to avoid that trap. Drew Barrymore plays an appropriately angry and suspicious Greenpeace activist. Ted Danson is an understandably eco-illiterate oil baron who initially engages his company in the “rescue” for public relations reasons. Newcomers Ahmaogak Sweeney and John Pingayak play an Inupiat pre-teen and his grandfather, respectively. They stole the show, playing sympathetic indigenous people with wit and wisdom.

Maybe the only characters that were disappointingly self-serving were the media reporters that got the whole circus started in the first place. John Krasinski and Kristen Bell are newspersons mostly obsessed with their own career advancement throughout the film, though Krasinski is also the ex-boyfriend of Barrymore’s character and is thus somewhat ambivalent about pursuing a future in the “lower 48.” You have two guesses as to how that relationship ends in the movie.

Ironically, an actual romance evolved in the true story, and was also played out in the film. Air National Guard Colonel “Scott Boyer” and Whitehouse West Winger “Kelly Meyers” (Dermot Mulroney and Vinessa Shaw) portray Tom Carroll and Bonnie Mersinger, who really did fall in love over the course of this adventure. During the credits one sees their real-life wedding photos.

The overarching plot still boils down to the whales, though, and I won’t spoil the ending. However, after all was said in done back in 1988, no one involved can say with any certainty that more than one whale made it out into the open ocean. Beleaguered by its ordeal, who is to say it had the strength to complete its migration?

The lesson to be learned, reviewers will say, is that human beings can overcome their political, ethnic, social, and economic differences to achieve a common goal. The cynic will say that we merely disguise our true motives and we are basically selfish and dishonest animals. Both interpretations may be true, but we also can’t help but take away something new from such a dramatic and tangled experience. I, for one, think we could learn an awful lot from Native Americans. At least they have a deep reverence for the other organisms they share their land (and water) with, even if they do hunt them. I’m not altogether sure our supposedly civilized, tech-driven urban society has a reverence for other human beings, let alone wildlife. I do hope I’m wrong.

The bottom line is that I would recommend the film. There is precious little family fare on the big screen these days that has any substance at all, and this movie should pleasantly exceed your expectations. I give it “two flukes’ up.”

What's your sign (now)?

Ironically, I learned of the new zodiac sign (Ophiuchus) on my birthday last week. Suddenly, I was no longer a Capricorn, but a Sagittarius. It was pretty much the icing on the cake of an awful day. Subsequently, it was interesting to follow the threads of conversation on the “status posts” of my Facebook friends concerning this new bit of trivial information.

Some people are very indignant, or even downright angry, at the change in the zodiac calendar. Others wonder aloud what all the fuss is about, communicating their opinion in a rather condescending manner that suggests anyone who follows astrology is beneath them. I strongly suspect most of the people I know fall squarely in the middle: astrology is a pleasant and occasional diversion not to be taken too seriously, but that helps remind one to take stock of their life now and then.

Belief in astrology is almost beside the point as I see it. The zodiac is, or was, like death and taxes: something predictable and common to all people. It is part of our social fabric, dependable even in its frivolity. It can stimulate a conversation, much like “What weather we’re having!” or “How ‘bout them (insert sports team here)?” The zodiac calendar has boundaries, rules, and suddenly all of that has been thrown out of whack.

I will readily admit reading my horoscope, usually when I blunder into it while reading a newspaper like our local alternative paper, the Tucson Weekly. I find the “Free Will Astrology” column by Rob Brezsny to be entertaining but also thought-provoking on a personal level. I may rarely take any action recommended in his horoscopes, but I feel at least a little more self-aware and introspective as a result of reading them.

Interestingly, Brezsny calls the recent announcement of the new sign a “scam” that resurfaces almost annually based on the assumption that astrology is associated with the constantly changing positions of stars in distant constellations. Not so, says Brezsny, who points out that (here on planet Earth, at least) astrology revolves around the position of the sun and planets in our own solar system. The zodiac signs were named for constellations, but are no longer tied to them.

It is probably only human nature to cling to things we feel are constant because so much of the world around us changes continually, ever faster. We seek philosophies, religions, and other institutions to ground us in these times of uncertainty. I generally find my horoscope neither positive nor negative, but empowering. It reminds me I always have the opportunity to change, to adapt, to ground myself in….myself.

Walking With Dinosaurs

Talk about a sense of being misplaced. Yesterday I found myself sent back in a time machine to the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous periods of geological history, courtesy of ”Walking With Dinosaurs: The Arena Spectacular.”

The seventeen life-size dinosaurs that are a part of this performance are just the tip of the iceberg. The entire production was a well-choreographed masterpiece of “edutainment.” The special effects were not confined to the dinosaurs, either. The whole stage metamorphosed to reflect the changing geological periods. Lighting created fire and rain. Plants bloomed, withered, and bloomed again.

This is principally a British and Australian creation, a fusion of BBC Worldwide and the Creature Production Company. Consequently, the quality was very high, but the acting and orchestral music were slightly over-the-top in places.

I had a seat that put me at about eye level with some of the shorter “creatures,” but I don’t think there was a bad seat in the house. These are not objects that need great magnification, and well-placed video screens furnished close-up and unobstructed views of each creature, and the correspondingly diminutive human host, “Huxley” the paleontologist. No discernible accent here, and his delivery was usually spot on, spiced with a couple doses of humor.

The visual detail of the dinosaurs was just stunning. No jerky, robotic movements here, everything smooth as silk, right down to blinking eyes. You really don’t want to be anywhere near the tail of the Stegosaurus. Smaller dinosaurs were costumed people operating the creatures as oversized puppets, so one did have to “suspend their disbelief” in some instances, but that was not difficult.

Oddly, the lighting throughout the show, including before it began and after it ended, was quite dim for the most part. Any flaws in mechanics, texture, or detail were surely obscured because of the dappled nature of the lights.

The only other complaint that one might possibly have, aside from the obligatory cheesy merchandise available for sale at exorbitant prices, was the volume of the music and the roars of the creatures. Apparently most arena productions assume we are deaf. I would rather not become so, and was somewhat sorry I had not brought earplugs.

All in all, “Walking With Dinosaurs: The Arena Spectacular” is deserving of the raves it has gotten on its lengthy world tour, which began in 2007 and will end sometime next year. Do check it out.

A few final notes: Still cameras were allowed at the Tucson Convention Center arena where I saw the show, but this may not be the case at all venues. Unless you are a professional photographer, I would leave the camera at home anyway. Dim lighting and surprisingly quick movements of the robotic dinosaurs did not afford many good shots; and flash photography was prohibited.

Culture as Spectacle

Ecotourism is becoming increasingly popular, but in tandem with the benefits can come costs to the indigenous peoples that occupy the same areas as the wildlife that visitors flock to see. It occurs to me that, too often, we treat those “other” cultures as a form of wildlife, too, and this needs to stop.

I had visited this subject privately, when I began thinking of Native Americans, and how they have been so stereotyped, in both positive and negative ways, and how, ultimately, any stereotype is a negative because it so limits one’s perspective.

I was prompted to think about this again while viewing an installment of the PBS series Independent Lens, which aired a documentary called Milking the Rhino on April 7, 2009. Kenya and Namibia were the two sites profiled, each with issues surrounding the sharing of wildlife and land between tourists and native tribes.

Historically, White colonials in Africa prohibited natives from hunting wildlife, a resource that indigenous peoples were dependent upon, in part, for food. Instead, game safaris allowed White hunters to shoot trophy animals. Later, creating national parks meant relocating tribes wholesale. Sound familiar?

Today, many tribes earn their livelihood through farming, and grazing livestock, which are equally unwelcome pursuits in many wildlife preserves. Ecotourism services have sought to balance this effect by employing tribespersons as guides, interpretive naturalists, liaisons with the scientific community, and as workers in the hospitality industry of lodges and camps build for tourists; and by growing food crops in gardens to be shared with the locals. Still, resentment boils over.

A filmed discussion between the lead government official in charge of Namibian game parks, and the woman in charge of the ecotourist lodge, was telling. She was protesting that the local tribe would essentially turn its village into a “curio shop” in order to sell souvenirs to her visitors. “This is not what [my clients] expect” she intoned emphatically. Her message was clear. Visitors expected tribal peoples to behave naturally, just like the other animals they came to see.

Well, why shouldn’t the tribe be able to exploit the tourists? Seems the least they should be allowed to do in exchange for being exploited themselves. My mind drifts to what I imagine will ultimately happen to tribal customs and rituals. A choreographer from Broadway will be sent to Papua New Guinea to instruct the tribes in how to properly execute their native dances. Don’t forget the wardrobe assistant, either.

The tragedy, as I see it, is that in the act of providing entertainment services to tourists, tribes are corrupting their customs, stripping the meaning from their rituals, and we all lose when that happens. There is no reverence in culture as spectacle, no sacrifice demanded of passive observers. It is us westerners who need to change our expectations, and recognize our arrogance.

For more on Milking the Rhino, and to participate in the ongoing online discussion, please visit the Independent Lens website.