Not The Thing Donka Ufman Is Getting

This: Picture of Senõr Wences ("All Right?" "S'All Right").

Just because we can. I mean, get your own blog and put up your own bizarre, non-contextual stuff.

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Oh; So That's What They Call That

In order to make decisions, human beings need information -- as clear, reliable, and precise as we can get; in other words, the Truth. Without it, complex decisions involving a consensus, or even something as simple as meeting someone for a movie, is almost impossible.

Nearly a year ago (on the day of Barack Obama's Inauguration as the 44th President of the United States, in fact), Clive Thompson of Wired Magazine posted an article about the work of Robert Proctor, a Historian of Science at Stanford University.


Cover Of Wired, January, 2009 (Photo: Wired Magazine)

Proctor has said that, ordinarily, the more information we have about a subject, the clearer it becomes. However, when contentious subjects are involved, our usual relationship to information is reversed -- ignorance increases.

As Proctor argues [notes Thompson], when society doesn’t know something, it’s often because special interests work hard to create confusion. Anti-Obama groups likely spent millions insisting he’s a Muslim; church groups have shelled out even more pushing creationism. The oil and auto industries carefully seed doubt about the causes of global warming. And when the dust settles, society knows less than it did before.

“People always assume that if someone doesn’t know something, it’s because they haven’t paid attention or haven’t yet figured it out,” Proctor says. “But ignorance also comes from people literally suppressing truth—or drowning it out—or trying to make it so confusing that people stop caring about what’s true and what’s not.” (emphasis added)

Proctor has also coined a term to describe this condition -- Agnotology: Culturally constructed ignorance, purposefully created by special interest groups working hard to create confusion and suppress the truth. Proctor coined it from the Greek, agnōsis, "not knowing"; the condition where more knowledge of a subject leaves one more uncertain than before.

Daily, second by second, we take in millions of bits of information about the world around us. Matrix-like, that shifting curtain of input shapes our sense of consciousness about that world -- and while most of it has to do with events happening to us, personally, what we listen to, see and read through culturally-designated sources for information is also part of that input.


United Press' Newsroom, In New York City, 1960's (Photo: UPI)

The job of a news reporter, on network television or in the pages of newspaper, was once to determine facts -- Who, What, Where, When, and Why; the Truth -- about events, and no matter where the chips fell, to accurately inform viewers and readers. Even the opportunistic, abrasive, nosy reporter (a character in our culture from plays and movies like The Front Page in the 30's, to All The President's Men in the 70's) was driven by a search for those facts, and the truth.

News and issues reported in the mainstream media, years ago, were certainly being spun on occasion by special interests, or the government. But those were exceptional interventions rather than the rule -- America's Media consisted of journalists who considered themselves professionals, and their level of success in their work was based on their accuracy. Their tradition really did believe in reporting fact, not cant. And (with some exceptions; Hearst's and McCormick's newspapers in the 30's are a good example), so did their editors.


Hoffman as Carl Bernstein and Redford as Bob Woodward In
All The President's Men (1976): For A Little Longer, American
Journalism's Primary Role Would Be Accurate, Reliable News

Whether we picked it up on the radio, in the New York Times or on the 'The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite', information our Press provided to us and the rest of the 'Free' world was trusted as accurate and uncensored. We believed, as the journalists did, that the Media had an obligation to report the truth, independent of the government, the interests of a specific class on Left or Right, or the interests of business. These were American traditions; so we were told.

But the "news industry", and journalists, in the 21st Century aren't like that now, and haven't been for at least twenty years. The three major networks, ABC (owned by Disney), CBS (owned by Westinghouse), and NBC / MSNBC (about to be bought by Comcast from General Electric); cable news channels like CNN (excepting Fox, which is an unabashed propaganda channel); even PBS, through The News Hour -- and even with various Net sites and Blogs, teevee is now the primary venue for disseminating what passes for news in the United States.


Shields And Brooks On PBS' News Hour With Jim Lehrer:
Two Points Of View, And Both Are Just As Accurate...

In 2010, we believe the immediacy of an image in the same way that people once listened to and trusted what they heard on radio. Our belief in the accuracy of what we watch on television is a basic assumption that our Media wouldn't lie to us -- Christ; this is America, not some Banana Republic!

News and information are now commodities; just points of view, packaged and presented using the same tools 'n tricks of network episodic television. It's fast food, not a meal -- like Cafe Mocchas, or 'flame-broiled' hamburgers. News is less and less about any commitment to accuracy and real impartiality.


Fox: No News, Please; Just Insults And Screaming
(If, Instead Of O'Reilly's Usual Behavior With Guests,
["Shut Up! Shut Up! Shut Up!], He'd Ask Barney Frank
Why His House Banking Committee's Position On Regulation Has
Favored The Banksters At Our Expense, I Might Watch Him)

The format in providing information about the "contentious issues" Proctor mentions is always the same -- two or more advocates for sides of an issue answer questions put to them by a journalist, who isn't there to uncover basic truths about the issue; they're only a moderator. When solid facts are presented by any side, they're treated as points of contention rather than the truth, and lost in the adversarial nature of the process.

Viewers are left to decide who "won" what amounts to a debate between the Talking Heads. We're left feeling that no one is right; no one is wrong; gosh, reality is just a point of view, isn't it? Small wonder many people watching might fall back on emotional, rather than reasoning, responses to an issue (unless people are watching Fox, whose programming is slanted to evoke such emotional, and one-sided, responses).

Whatever either side claims is given equal weight in this format. If one advocate spouts an obvious lie, the journalist's job isn't to point that out, or emphasize the facts to show they're wrong. They simply nod, and toss softball questions so that "all sides of the topic is covered for viewers" (PBS' News Hour is famous for this kind of pap). And, the 'news' program can't be accused of biased reporting by either side, can they?


The 1984 Film Version Of Orwell's Book, 1984: Don't Expect This
Soon; But Radicals Always Seize Radio And Teevee Stations, First

We may not know the exact nature of the World we find ourselves in; there is more in heaven and earth that are dreamt of in all your philosophies, Horatio. But, misdirection and manipulation of news information is a common feature of the dictatorships and Failed States, and Banana Republics of the world -- so we've been told -- and not part of life in These United States.

So we've been told.

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Thee, End

There's a lot of stuff out there that makes us laugh.

The best produces that deep, unstoppable kind of laughter? When you have an Epiphany at how incredibly stacked the deck is; how ridiculously screwed we are, dominated by a structure created by the manipulative wealthy? And you realize that nothing short of The Stand or World War III will change it? That It Really Is Chinatown, Jake; and then you mentally Hit The Wall™?

Yeah. That kind of laughter.

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More Conclusive Proof: United States Government And Its People, Dumber Than Two Bags Of Doorknobs

(L To R) Hypnos; Yarrgh-Thaddag; Yog-Soggoth, and Blinky
Appear Before Congressional Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission
(Photo: Doug Mills / New York Times Online Version, 1/13/10)

On Wednesday, January 13th, Lloyd C. Blankfein (CEO, Goldman-Sachs-Vampire-Squid), Jamie Dimon (CEO, JPMorgan Chase), John J. Mack (CEO, Morgan Stanley), and Brian T. Moynihan (CEO, Bank of America) appeared before the Congressional Commission of Inquiry into the collapse of America's financial structure.

Reflecting on the volatility that has rocked the markets, [Dimon / JPMorgan] recalled, “My daughter called me from school one day and said, ‘Dad, what’s a financial crisis?’ And... I said, ‘This type of thing happens every five to seven years.’ And she said, ‘Why is everyone so surprised?’ "

I'll bet my entire annual salary that Dimon's daughter wasn't calling from her school at P.S 126 in the South Bronx -- more likely, the Biddle School For The Spawn Of Our Corporate Masters in Connecticut.


Playground, South Bronx, New York City, 2005 (Photo: Unknown)

You have to love his answer, though -- and, her reply. Financial crisis? No one's to blame, sweetheart! Certainly not your Daddy! It's just one of those things, honey. As natural as the tides and rhythms of nature. Now, the driver will pick you up in the Jag and take you and your trophy stepmother to your Daddy's country house for the weekend, where you can ride your pony; won't that be fun?

In other cultures and at other times, this collective wad of genetic trash would be dancing at the end of a rope, kicking at the air with their monogrammed slippers, their heads used as soccer balls and then left stuck up on Traitor's Gate for the crows.

Mr. Blankfein, who in the past has said that Goldman should apologize, on Wednesday only hinted at regret. Goldman “got caught up in and participated and therefore contributed to elements of froth in the market,” he said... "We regret the consequence that people lost money in it.”


Lloyd's Little Home In The Hamptons; Completed In 2007
A Tasteless Combination Of Tara And Early Robber Baron
(Screencapture: Felix Salomon, April, 2007)

Instead, we ask them -- humbly, as befits their station as Masters Of The Universe, BSD's -- to appear at a Dog-And-Pony-Show where a few politicians get to mumble about reinin' in your kind ("something something something regulation something something something gimme a campaign contribution").

[Phillip] Angelides [D-CA, and Commission Chairman], deploring the lack of accountability for the crisis, said: “Maybe this is like the ‘Murder on the Orient Express’: everyone did it.”

They knew full well their appearance on Capitol Hill meant nothing. They knew there would be no surprises in store, because the lines of questioning had already been negotiated between their staffs and those of the politicians' -- something which always happens before any Congressional testimony with men like these.


In Little Lloyd's Emerging New America... Just Don't Fuck Up.

And, they see this kind of performance as just another distraction in their day. Who cares about what happened to a bunch of sniveling wage slaves? We have work to do. Important work. Let's get this over with, so you and the rest of the planet can get back to kissing our collective asses.

And, our President has been making noise about a tax on the institutions these crawling pieces of offal 'manage'. Please; It's an insult to my intelligence. You have to think we're all too stupid to breathe (but, we're lied to us on a regular basis, and everyone appears to accept it without a murmur of protest, so of course they have to think we'll swallow anything).

Politicians, who regularly fluff the Banksters, are going to pass legislation, taxing them? [Insert Bender Laugh Here] Ha ha ha, ha ha ha haaa! Good Luck With That, Meatbags!

So, rather than hold them accountable for their part in creating a shadow financial system which benefited them and destroyed the lives of so many -- instead, they'e venerated like untouchable, Elder Gods -- something out of a you-won't-sleep-after-reading-this H.P Lovecraft story -- when they should be dancing on air.

And -- we allowed it happen, all of it. Dumber than two bags of doorknobs, us.

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Conclusive Proof: Humanity Is Dumber Than A Bag Of Doorknobs

Flowing Data, a site that caters to graphic information presentation Geeks (such as myself), provides us with a really big visual presentation of the general state of the World -- kind of a demographic, Guinness Book Of World Records in one page.

This report is based on results drawn from a catalog of 27 statistical databases maintained by the United Nations, which includes 60 million records about the past, present, and future state of the world. Topics include economics, life expectancy, labor levels, poverty, and a lot more.



The results tell us to move to Pitcarin Island -- Population: 67, but they're all related to each other. It's the Pacific Islands version of
Deliverance, except with Tahitian Log Drums instead of banjos. And, instead of a dam creating rising water levels to hide dead Hillbillies, we have rising sea levels due to Global Warming.



* "Y'all listen, now -- get outta here; go home, and don't come back."

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Haiti

(Screencapture: Associated Press Video, LA Times Online, 1/14/10)


Whichever aid organizations ask for your money -- give it to them.

If anything, Obama's election in 2008 should have taught us the power of the $5.00 donation, if enough people understand that it's important and necessary to give.

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Father Of Gumby -- and Wallace & Grommitt; Mr. Fox; The Nightmare Before Christmas; and Thomas The Tank Engine Passes Away

So Long Until Next Time: Art Clokey (1921-2010)
(Photo: © Premavision)

Art Clokey, the animator / inventor responsible for creating Gumby, and sparking an entire stop-motion animation industry, passed away last night at age 88.

I didn't pay a great deal of attention to the Gumby cartoon series as a child. I did watch, and owned a rubberized, pliable Gumby™ figurine when they were sold in the 1960's, but Gumby (and his sidekick, Pokey the horse) didn't attract me the way classically-animated cartoons did.


Clokey Working On Gumby Goes To The Moon, 1956
(Photo: © Premavision)

In part, this was because it looked too much like what it was: Stop-motion animation. The Classic, Hollywood animated cartoons created cel by cel (Warner Brothers' Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes; Bob Clampett's or Tex Avery's work) for me were fluid, even graceful, chaos by comparison.

The Road Runner and Wyle E. Coyote or Bugs and Daffy presented things that weren't possible in reality -- which is what happens in a child's imagination. Gumby and Pokey seemed too much like what I would see playing with toy soldiers or cars in the back yard of my family's home.

It took a different kind of imagination to appreciate both the artistry in the stop-motion medium, and see Clokey's work in a different light. I loved the Wallace and Grommitt films -- painstakingly crafted, amazingly creative, and funny -- along with Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas, or James and the Giant Peach; Corpse Bride; and the recent film 9.

Burton's work, even Thomas The Tank Engine (not quite stop-motion) and the ubiquitous Mister Bill of SNL, might not have been realized without Clokey's imaginative adventures of Gumby and Pokey, Nopey, and the Blockheads.


"I'm Gumby, Damnit" (Saturday Night Live)


Jack Thinks About ExMass (Burton's Nightmare)


The Classic Wallace and Grommitt

n 1955, a pupil of legendary animator Slavko Vorkapich produced a short claymation student film at the University of Southern California. The pupil was Art Clokey; his short film was Gumbasia (based on Disney's 1940 Fantasia), a Claymation, stop-motion animation starring a simple and oddly-shaped character formed out of green, plasticine clay, invented by Clokey and his wife, Ruth.

Ruth suggested to her husband that his film's character should be simple, based on the Gingerbread man -- and green, simply because it was Clokey's favorite color. Gumby's legs and feet were made wide to ensure the clay character would stand up during stop-motion filming, and the slanted shape of Gumby's head -- instantly recognizable, now -- was based on a hair style Clokey's father sported in an old family photograph.


Gumby And Pokey During The Classic TV Years.

Clokey's student film, and several subsequent short 'test cartoons', were well-regarded enough that they were shown during NBC's extremely popular children's program, The Howdy Doody Show, for test reactions from studio and viewing audiences in 1956. The first animation, "Gumby Goes To The Moon", didn't impress NBC executives; however, Clokey's second work, "Robot Rumpus", won them over, and Clokey signed a deal with NBC in 1957 for the first Gumby show.



The original Gumby Show only lasted for two years at NBC, but afterwards Clokey continued trying to bring his characters back to the small screen. He succeeded in 1961, and Clokey's production company created episodes of Gumby for the next seven years. Even after production officially ceased in 1968, these classic Gumby episodes were rebroadcast on local stations in America for decades.



After a long hiatus, Clokey and his production company entered into another contract with Lorimar Telepictures in 1988 to revive Gumby in new episodes with additional characters, which lasted into the mid-1990's. In 1997, Clokey's production group released "Gumby, The Movie".


2009 Advertisement For Clokey Documentary

Clokey fell into relative obscurity, and some financial difficulty (why America does this to its artists when other cultures don't is saddening and disheartening). It's good that people like Tim Burton acknowledge the debt they owe to Clokey's imagination and work. Clokey never stopped being his own foremost advocate, until old age and declining health forced him to depend on his son, Joe, to carry on his animation legacy.

Fortunately, there is a public who remembers and values Clokey's contribution; they remember Gumby and Pokey as part of the furniture of their imagination as children. In the past five years, there were retrospectives of Clokey's work in New York and San Francisco; a documentary film, Gumby Dharma, was made about him and released in 2006. His son continues to push to bring Gumby and Pokey back to television for new generations of children; and Clokey lived to see digitally-remastered DVD versions of his television episodes completed.

Anything which adds gentleness and laughter, particularly for children, in this world is an absolute good -- so I hope he's successful.

Thanks, Art.

Coming, 2010: Abenteuer die kleinen Ente*

* The Adventures Of The Little Duck




Wait for it.

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Big Guy In The Big Sky

We're missing the Big Guy these days. I can think of half a dozen people and things he could be stepping on, right now.

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You Want Cheap, You Buy Cheap

 

 Elizabeth Gilbert is a publishing sensation. That's all, really; she isn't an amazingly insightful writer or even a particularly good one. But, all kinds of advertising from her publisher, and piles of her publisher's offering just inside the entrances of mega-chain book sellers, said her first book was

"sensuous and audacious... [a] spiritual odyssey as deeply pleasurable as it is enlightening" (Booklist) ... "[A] deeply personal story, fun and inspiring... You will laugh, cry and love with a more open heart" (Rocky Mountain News) ... "An irresistible, candid, and eloquent account of [Gilbert's] pursuit of worldly pleasure, spiritual devotion" (Powell's Books) ... "a magnificent tale" ... "easily one of the best books of the decade" ... "powerful" ... "archetypal".

 

Commercium et Praestigiae: Not Everyone Buys That Gilbert's Book Is The Most Important And Seminal Trailblazing Literary Work Since Danielle Steele Or The Thornbirds In brief, Gilbert was in a marriage that wasn't doing well. In fact, it imploded. In divorcing the Husband, she effectively gave up claims upon her half of all community property, an unusual step in an dissolution action; Gilbert declines any details. But, no matter -- she was once again single, devastated, and wondering what the next move would be.

Gilbert asks us to believe that she was lying on the floor of her bathroom, her emotional world coming apart, when she had a conversation with god (Gilbert gushed, "...I wanted to say...'I've always liked your work'..."), and then set off on a world tour to find what she wanted in life. The book, Eat, Pray, Love, was Gilbert's ruminations on these three topics as she moved through her emotional roller-coaster, post-marriage life. There is food (which everyone likes), religion (which will satisfy the Xtian Believers); and romance! And a happy ending (Which Hollywood likes)!

   

So far as I know, there was lots of god, but no Dog, in Gilbert's book.

Not even a furry, happy puppy. Don't buy it. Woof Woof. 

Gilbert has gone on the seminar circuit, in the same manner as Dwayne Dyer and Suzie Ormond, talking about the spiritual awakening she had in India and pushing a message of meditation and spiritual healing in order to be of more use to others and yourself. It's been very popular with crowds of women who've come out to hear Gilbert speak and buy her book; she is supported and promoted by Oprah Winfrey, who compared the frisson she felt having Gilbert on her program to meeting Bono of U2 (For her part, Gilbert said to ABC News, "I won't hear a bad thing said against Oprah. She's certainly supported me"). 

I'm sure Gilbert's journey was important to her, personally. And I support on a fundamental level the idea that each of us should engage in a search for connection with the sacred and unknowable -- what Jung and Einstein referred to as the "Sense Of The Mysterious". For me, it's answers to the Big Questions: What is the nature of Reality? Where did the Universe come from? Where did we come from; where are we going?

And, I appreciate the idea that by broadcasting her experience to a wider audience, Gilbert may encourage her readers and listeners to make their own connection with that Mystery. But there's a darker, commercial aspect to Gilbert's presenting her story -- and because the publishing world presenting it could care less about spirituality.

And, call me cynical, but I believe that Gilbert's book is less relevant to, say, a single mother living in Gaza City, or a subsistence farmer in a refugee camp in Darfur; or, a member of a crew-serviced weapon at a firebase in middle-of-nowhere Afghanistan, than members of Oprah's book club. But that's the beauty of the free market, you might say; if you don't want or need to buy Gilbert's book, then don't. I wish it was that simple.

 

There May Be Other Things Going On More Important Than The Most Recent "Important" Book Which Everyone Should Buy Gilbert's books are the result of what the few mega-publishing companies which dominate the market believe in: A personal if second-rate confessional tale, which adds nothing new to Western culture (or Eastern, come to that) can, with enough advertising, be touted as an "important" book which everyone should spend money to buy. It's the phenomenon of almost anything based in predictably, lowest-common-denominator values being declared as "important".

   

Courting Power: Lizzie Hearts Oprah, Who Hearts Liz, Which Sells

I have a continual sense of amazement that any creativity is pursued by people simply for the substance and value they can obtain from it, personally. There are books being written of staggering, heartbreaking power; and small films, posters, imaginative animation and whimsical comedic plays are being produced -- and none of them are promoted or known outside their relatively small circles of friends and admired.  

No matter what you think of Burning Man, the annual desert Solstice-Get-Your-Freak-On celebration, the amount of creativity behind it (the logistics, art; architecture; costuming; music) is massive. More, certainly, than in the days when Larry Harvey and members of the Suicide Club took the first wooden Men down to Ocean Beach and set them on fire.

But, none of that kind of creative effort receives much attention or promotion. Certainly not by the NewsCorp-, Wal-Mart-, Borders-, or Oprah-style promotion and sales industries (which are ultimately about about mass production of whatever shiny object of the moment can be sold to the most people). Quality and value can be found in things, and in thoughts -- but you have to have to have the intellectual ability and critical discrimination to find them in the first place.

   

An Ex-Girlfriend Once Said, Looking Good 

Isn't The Most Important Thing -- It's The Only Thing.

Some time ago, I posted a comment at Salon in response to an article about the H&M clothing lines; they were the fast food of couture, I said, and not manufactured to last more than a few years before falling apart. H&M's business model is simple: Sell a large quantity of goods at medium prices to the largest number, and don't even pretend they're more than throwaway items.

That the clothing isn't made to last is part of H&M's cachet, a postmodern statement that emphasizes the ephemeral, image- and profit-driven aspects of commerce over real quality -- which was once the hallmark of manufacturing nearly anything.

 

 

Through at least half of the 20th Century, companies touted themselves as selling products that were meant to last -- manufacturers said proudly that the reason to purchase their product was its quality, and longevity. My own idea is that almost anything was produced by a culture originally rooted in a sense of certainty and permanence, the sense of an Afterlife, and that the Earth abideth Forever. This was shaken badly by the bloody shock of the First World War, Revolutions, the Great Depression, and the end of the 'Old World'. 

The Second World War, nazism and the Holocaust, the Bomb; all contributed to a who-cares, we're-all-gonna-die-in-a-nuclear-war cynicism and existential angst which finally rejected that sense of permanence in earlier generations ... but, that's another story.

I don't know about anyone else, but the kind of mass culture represented by H&M, McDonalds, or commercial teevee; pop music, or even Viking / Penguin (which publishes Gilbert's writings; once an American company, now owned by Pearson PLC, a conglomerate based in Great Britain)... on one level, I feel like a veal calf, except in place of a tiny pen, I'm locked in a cycle which consists of work --> earn --> spend money on crap. That insults me.

   

Airline Safety For You And Me: What You Get For Your Fare

And it's not only insulting. As a business model, it's anti-democratic. It promotes a class structure in commerce, saying flatly that most people are Rubes; a pack of herd animals, incapable of real judgment or an understanding of quality -- and so deserve to be treated like children by advertisers, and sold clothing which falls apart, homes which sprout toxic mold and chemical fumes; furniture made out of particle board; toys covered in lead paint, and meat with e.coli .

This business model says we're here only to fork over our money; nothing more. But this state of affairs also means that there is a class of "better" products (and lifestyles), somewhere above us. That you can live in a home that isn't a McMansion full of formaldehyde fumes, or buy a coat good for a lifetime of wear, or drive a car that doesn't break down or flip over. You just have to be able to afford it.

But, we can't. So we buy crap to wear, to use, eat, and read -- and the people who want to sell it to us claim that what we're getting is the best, top-of-the-line; exclusive, limited... or, "easily one of the best books of the decade". Worse, it's a joke everyone is in on. People understand they're being conned and treated like sheep. We complain, but we go along; Whadya gonna do? Can't fight City Hall.

 

I Got A Business To Run; I Got Bills To Pay.

What's The Big Deal? 

God knows, the Banking and Finance sectors (not to mention the Insurance and New-home Construction industries) treated us that way in the eight years between repeal of the Glass-Stegall Act (1999) and The Crash (2008)... and how'd that work out for America?

Even if she's decided to write like one, Elizabeth Gilbert isn't a talentless hack. She had penned some fiction years before which showed promise, but faced the second-most-common roadblock for any struggling writer -- Gilbert had an agent (getting one being the first most-common issue), but couldn't get a publisher interested enough to promote her. In part, that was because her early writing was art -- fiction -- and publishers don't really give two fucks about art. It isn't that important to them.

What gets agents' and editors' attention is the "commercial viability" of a manuscript, which they frankly call a "property". It's a commodity, and they're in it for the money, honey. And -- hey! If there's some art in there, well; ahhhh, that's real nice. Whatever. Yeah.

 

Getting In Touch With Her Inner Tube: Gilbert Meditating In Bali

This is what publishing is about, in These Days. It's emphatically not about a finding and publishing the next Flannery O'Connor, or the next Thomas Wolfe, Ralph Ellison, Amy Tan, Ken Kesey, John Steinbeck, Joan Didion, or William Kennedy. It isn't about adding to the roll of authors whose voices have helped to describe and define the experience of being American. Publishing is more about marketing, and about money, than art -- and while that's always been to some degree true, it's the dominant paradigm now.

Knowing this, Gilbert made a decision to write about her divorce, and the 'Upper-Middle-Class White Girl's Search For Herself' that followed. Her agent sold Viking / Penguin on the idea of a book, and negotiated a hefty advance. Viking put Gilbert together with an editor to create a book that would sell. Add some smart marketing to create a buzz in an already-established genre: Gilbert would be the new, hot 'confessional' writer (because that's how her spiritual search would be packaged), and -- for a while -- everyone would profit.

Gilbert needed an outlet for the emotions around the destruction of her marriage; she wasn't going to return to College and become a Neurosurgeon. Writing was what came more naturally for her -- but, she made a choice to forget being an artist and followed the money, rather than labor at her craft even if it never made a dime -- because on one level, the cash (and showing your ex that you're hot and they're a steaming pile of poop) is what she needed.

   

(Photo: 'Your Book Is Remaindered', UK Guardian)

And so, Gilbert became an instant sensation -- feted, relatively more wealthy; and a celebrity. Everyone wants to wet their beaks in her success and make something out of it for themselves: Oprah adds EPL to her Book Club; there are tours and talks and speaking engagements and seminars; Julia Roberts (!!!) will play Gilbert in a film adaptation of her first book.

Most people would see this as a rags-to-riches, American Dream come true. It benefits Pearson LLC, and Oprah, and MegaChain Books Inc., and the guys who operate the AV equipment for Gilbert's speaking tours; and Julia Roberts, and Hollywoodland -- and, of course, Gilbert herself. But for the rest of us, her books and DVDs and all the rest are just more overhyped items, like a $17.99 Leopard-Skin-Print-Whatever from H&M, purchased and then dropped in a drawer.

Eventually, Gilbert will fade from view and memory, having had her 15 minutes, taken her cut and bowed off the stage. For all that frantic public attention, she will leave nothing of value behind except copies of her books in 'Remaindered' bins -- becoming (as Julia Roberts said in Notting Hill) "a ... middle-aged woman who looks like someone who was famous for a while."

   

Gilbert And Julia Roberts: If You Squint, There's A Resemblance

As a boy-tourist in the 50's, I accompanied my parents on an evening walk around Cannery Row in Monterey when it was still 'Cannery Row': Blocks of well-used warehouses and light industrial buildings on piers over the water; narrow waterfront roads with low-wattage streetlights attached to telephone poles; the tideline smell of salt and decaying seaweed.

In one open warehouse, a man sat on a chair surrounded by open wooden shipping boxes (reinforced with tin strips and spilling out piles of excelsior packing), within which were all kinds of items -- sets of dishes and silverware, carved figurines and bolts of printed silk -- imported from Asia. In the center of the room was a huge, gold-and red Buddha, surrounded by burning sticks of incense.

   

Quaeque ere Praestigiae, Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.

Out of curiosity, I asked the man, pinched-faced and blonde-haired in his thirties, how much the Buddha cost. I was stunned when he said, "Two Thousand Dollars". To a child, that's an astronomical sum; it might as well have been a Billion (and, this was in the 1950's, when $1.00 had the purchasing power of $7.38 today). I blurted out, That thing? Why is it that much? 

The man -- eye-to-eye with me, since he sat in a chair -- shrugged. "Kid," he said, "You want good, you pay good. You want cheap; you buy cheap."

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