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September 24, 2007
State of the Beak, 2007
Five years ago — half a goddamn decade — I found a beak on the porch outside a University building, and convinced a few friends to join in the madness. Anyone who cares knows the story by now, and anyone who doesn’t know the story can find it if they care.
We scribbled a series of Beak Scriptures (quite silly in retrospect), hastily set up a website, and started trying to change the world. The world didn’t change, so we bided our time by drinking a lot of beer, writing Scriptures a little less frequently, finishing college. We switched to writing political and pop-culture essays from a Beakly perspective, but inspiration was slow to arrive and we were lucky to produce two articles a month.
Parallel to this, I had kept up a regular e-mail correspondence with Horatio, and in the process he and I both ended up penning countless pages of absolute genius, and just as many pages of really funny drivel. Very little of it ever made it to the site, for reasons I don’t fully understand. I initially blamed a lack of motivation. Lately, though, it seems the issue was pure bad timing.
When you have a Big Idea (for example, a philosophy based around the discovery of a beak), that idea will manifest itself via the available resources. If you play the guitar, you take your Big Idea and turn it into music. If you like to paint, your Big Idea ends up on canvas. When we found the Beak, we simply didn’t have a lot of resources, so instead of taking advantage of our Big Idea, we postponed it and started gathering some.
In the five years since then, I’ve become a much better writer and artist. I’ve learned to use PhotoShop and Flash, to blog using WordPress, to put together a decent website (although this site needs a bit of work), to edit audio and video, and probably some other things I’m forgetting. Most of my friends have gone through a similar process. I can’t speak for them, but I know I didn’t learn these things because they’re marketable skills, or because I wanted to be a better, more well-rounded individual. I learned them because I figured that they’d eventually be useful for promoting this ridiculous Beak universe of ours.
Well, here I am five years later, facing off with a big old heap of irony. In the time it took for me to learn all those things, I sorta forgot what the original inspiration was. Here I am, able to make the most of my talents, and I’ve got no use for them. I’m reminded of the words of cartoonist James Kochalka: “Craft is the enemy.” From his letter of the same name:
“You could labor your whole life perfecting your “craft,” struggling to draw better, hoping one day to have the skills to produce a truly great comic… If this is how you are thinking you will never produce this great comic, this powerful work of art, that you dream of. There’s nothing wrong in trying to draw well, but that is not of primary importance.
“What every great creator should do, must do, is use the skills they have right now. A great masterpiece is within reach if only your will power is strong enough (just like Green Lantern.) Just look within yourself and say what you have to say.”
He’s addressing his fellow-travelers in the world of comics, but why shouldn’t this advice be just as valid for every other art form? People spend years preparing before taking on their Giant Personal Project. Most of them abandon those projects before they even begin because they can’t remember the last time it was fun for them. The few who soldier on find the experience slow and joyless.
There are few things that annoy me more than bloggers who make hollow promises to update more frequently. “I know I haven’t posted anything lately, but from now on things are gonna be different!” Those promises, though, are usually made by people who aren’t very interested in their own projects. They invest themselves in something that seemed like a good idea at the time, but lose interest after making use of their original idea; after that, they’re working out of their element.
For the last few years, I’ve been working like that, dedicated to a project I love but directing my energy in questionable directions. I’ve been looking, feebly, for some new complaint to make about George Bush, when I’d much rather be overthinking pop culture. So I had to ask myself:
Why sit around waiting for the day when I’m ready to write a revolutionary philosophical treatise, when I’m ready to write a critical analysis of Final Fantasy VI right now?
Cheers to my fellow Beakniks, for five years of this madness. May the next five be busy.
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September 23, 2007
A Nasty Man Deserves a Nasty Review
Giuliani: Nasty Man
By Edward I. Koch
Published in 1999; Re-printed with new material in 2007.
“Mayor Giuliani is a good administrator, but he’s not a decent human being.”
–Ed Koch, March 15, 1996, The New York Post.
What’s the best way to determine if a person should be president? Simple: ask someone who was there the last time they were in charge of something.
Candidates spend a lot of time talking about their past achievements, saying things like, “I voted for such-and-such a bill,” I initiated reforms for this-’n-that in my home state,” “I sided with so-and-so in his crusade for better cogs and sprockets,” and so forth. It’s all very nice, and almost entirely pointless. If you don’t believe me, then try listing all the times you’ve completely fucked up on your resume the next time you’re job hunting, and see where it gets you. Presidential candidates lie on the campaign trail as often as your average barfly lies when he wants to get laid on the first date. It’s human nature to point out your successes and omit your failings, and the problem with politicians is that they are not immune to human nature. The best way to get around this is to ask for references. Ask someone who has paid attention to their earlier endeavors, be it their supervisor, secretary, vengeful rival, or, if available, a previous one-night stand. As citizens of the United States prepare to elect a leader brilliant enough to clean up George Bush’s mess, it’s relevant to wonder who might make a reliable character witness for the candidates.
For leading GOP candidate and former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani, the man to ask is former New York City mayor Ed Koch. In 1994, shortly after Rudy took office as the new mayor of New York, Mayor Koch began writing columns about him in The New York Post and The New York Daily News. Koch, a proud New Yorker, followed Rudy’s career closely, and felt compelled to weigh in on just about any newsworthy item involving Giuliani’s administration. The collective texts of those columns, which ran from 1994 to 1999, serve as an insightful running commentary on Giuliani’s actions as leader of one of America’s most complicated and diverse cities. Of course, acquiring half a decade of old daily newspapers is not a pleasant task for the average voter, even in the age of eBay.
And then, in 1999, when Giuliani was battling Hillary Clinton for the New York Senator’s seat, Koch had a brilliant idea. He gathered up all of those old columns and put them in an excellent little book called Nasty Man, to show just what a creepy bastard old Rudy really was. It was a clever tactic, and might have proven useful to the Clinton camp, but then Giuliani was diagnosed with prostate cancer, dropped out of the race, and Hillary won with ease.
Koch’s book, meanwhile, transformed overnight from a clever criticism of a powerful politician to a harsh attack on an old guy with cancer. That’s how campaign publishing goes, of course; one day you’re on the bestseller’s list, the next you’re remaindered for fifty cents at The Strand. After the September 11th attacks, Rudy was dubbed “America’s Mayor,” his approval rating soared, his cancer went into remission, and he was ready for a long, prestigious retirement. But no, Rudy wanted to go another round, this time for the presidency. And like an opportunistic phoenix, Mayor Koch’s book came back into print this year, equally ready for another round.
The book starts out on a positive note, Koch having endorsed Rudy as the best man available for the job, following the disastrous administration of Mayor David Dinkins. Shortly thereafter, it gets ugly. On February 17, 1995, Koch writes in The New York Post, “What’s happening to Rudy Giuliani? Here he is, 14 months into his term, and he’s fighting with everyone.”
Koch goes on to describe Giuliani’s battles with the city’s Police Commissioner and Schools Chancellor, which stirred up a good deal of conflict and controversy. He goes on, exasperated, declaring, “I believe in a strong mayoral presence, and one that leads by example. But leadership based on fear breeds resentment and mounting anger.”
The following year, October 6, 1996, Koch refers to Giuliani as a “control freak,” and laments Giuliani’s penchant for petty dishonesty. “When someone in public life engages in a string of false statements on small matters,” Koch writes, “they will ultimately fail the test of probity on larger matters because it’s become a way of life.”
Koch’s columns increase in frequency over the following three years, detailing examples of Rudy’s interference in the city’s judicial appointments, and his declaration that he “runs the NYPD,” micro-managing the city’s police force in much the same way that G.W. is always running around calling himself the “Commander-in-Chief,” as if that weren’t a sickening slap in the face to true military leaders. Koch takes us through classic mid-‘90s controversies, railing at Rudy’s attacks on critics and his inability to admit error.
The picture that develops is a frightening one, depicting a devious creep that must have his way, no compromises accepted. This, I would argue, is the exact opposite of what the United States needs in an administrator right now. On the other hand, Koch never fails to give credit where credit’s due, frequently mentioning Mayor Giuliani’s great achievements in reducing crime and prosecuting the Mafia. An administrator that can effectively battle crime (and terrorism) is certainly what the United States needs. It’s a serious conundrum, because what we’re looking for here is an effective balance. In other words, it boils down to a question of who can stop al Qaeda without getting us into a half-dozen wars. Giuliani may be good at fighting crime, but he sucks at making friends.
The repackaging of Koch’s columns for future consumption and education is illuminating in the same style as Paul Slansky’s fantastic book on Ronald Reagan, The Clothes Have No Emperor. This is a form of reporting that I would like to see expanded during this election season. Are there any columnists for New Mexico newspapers that have been keeping an eye on the five years of Bill Richardson’s time as governor? Who’s the Arkansas journalist that’s been dutifully watching Mike Huckabee’s every move since he took office in 1996? And while we’re at it, I’ll bet there’s an enterprising columnist in Alaska that’s got some great stories to tell from Mike Gravel’s 1969-1981 senatorial term. Please, all of you, compile those archives and start publishing books right away. America deserves reliable witnesses.
In the meantime, Nasty Man is on sale in bookstores now. Do your fucking homework, America.
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