Responsible for Own Fantasies

Bernard Harcourt looks like the sort of guy who, if one were to say “He got a BA from Princeton under Sheldon Wolin, then went on to get a JD and PhD from Harvard and now teaches Foucault and is the chair of the University of Chicago Department of Political Science,” you would nod and say, “Of course,” as if his life could not have taken any other course. Think a non-douchy version of Jeff Goldblum from Jurassic Park. With better hair.

If you want to feel better about yourself, though, 
just google a pic of him with a moustache.

I briefly met Professor Harcourt when I came to visit U of C in the spring of 2010. He kindly let me sit in on a class on critical theory he was teaching at the law school. The class reminded me why I wanted to return to school, I decided to turn down a PhD program elsewhere, and enrolled in U of C’s MA program. And then promptly failed to take any class with Professor Harcourt before I finished. This, I am sure, will be one of those poor life choices that will still result in a facepalm when I am sixty.

Yesterday, Professor Harcourt had a piece up on the New York Times’s Opinionator section of their website discussing the nature of the Occupy Wall Street movement, identifying OWS as a sort of Foucaultian critique in action. Money quote? Money quote:

Occupy Wall Street, which identifies itself as a “leaderless resistance movement with people of many … political persuasions,” is politically disobedient precisely in refusing to articulate policy demands or to embrace old ideologies. Those who incessantly want to impose demands on the movement may show good will and generosity, but fail to understand that the resistance movement is precisely about disobeying that kind of political maneuver.*

In this he agrees with Mike Konczal, who wrote a couple weeks ago about the theory underlying the OWS protests, who further draws on David Graeber’s work to identify the small-a anarchist and small-d democratic theory underlying OWS’s method’s. Konczal quotes a review of Graeber’s Direct Action (sorry for the large blockquote, but it’s kinda important):

And what seemed like a tedious attention to meeting process was the result of a commitment to direct democracy and rejection of a politics of representation in favor of a politics of participation. Instead of focusing solely, or even largely, on ends, the global justice movement focused on means, attempting to live out its ideals in the present and sneak moments of liberation on the sly.

While anarchists formed the avant-garde of the global justice movement, they generally did not try to convert other protesters and sympathizers to an explicit belief system. Instead of pushing a party line, they spread practices, advocating the adoption of affinity groups, consensus-based decision-making and spokescouncils. Graeber argues that the Direct Action Network, the most significant organization of the global justice movement, while short-lived, was extraordinarily successful in diffusing a directly democratic model of organizing.

This rings true, at least to me, given reports of OWS’s operating methodology: their concensus-based General Assembly, complete with complex hand signals, their committee structure, and – more than anything – their complete unwillingness to articulate demands at the organizational level.

[Read More]

Ezra has a post up that asks a question I've been thinking about for a while, and I'm kinda surprised he initially dismissed it as "economic thinking run amok" because this is the sort of stuff he's usually all over. He phrases the question as, "Should we pay members of Congress for performance? Can we?" but I think it's a subset of a broader question, namely, "Why are incentives for elected officials so fucked up?" The comments run the gamut from the knee-jerk partisan to the hopelessly cynical to the (almost) admirably idealistic.

Naturally, if you read this book and fall asleep, you're not cut out for a career in political theory.

Very clever. Curly brackets! Because it's a genealogy!

But what if you read this book and angrily pace around the room because you can't understand half of it? Well, my guess is that you've got the temperament, but the jury is still out on the ability.

Welcome once again to my favorite weekly post, Always Bet with Black. And, as per usually, we kick things off with a picture from Britty.

"happy will kill you", by Britty

Ah. She's her brother's sister ain't she?

Anyhoo, for reasons known only to him, instead of the old format, young dits has decided to pick all of the bodog.com games. He insists that this will make it easier for you, the reader and consumer.

What he's doing is that he's showing you the spreads they have (pretty much the initial ones) and what he's betting on, using a gambling term known as "units". The units, typically, will vary week to week. But it's basically a confidence rating. That's really all you need to know.

We'll keep track of both his actual money picks and his total picks. Possibly even picks by conference.

Also: we have no idea if Random Numbers is coming back this year, because of the Dutchman being busy with actual things. But we do know that Rabbit Day will be back.

Because it is awesome.

Picks below the jump?

There are very few qualities about myself that I find interesting. Like at all. I find most of my life to be mind-numbingly boring. Mostly because I've lived it. I guess. Or something. Anyhoo, one of the few things that I do find interesting or "cool" about me is my memory. Like I pretty much actually remember everything that has happened to me while sober. Ok, not totally everything. But at least a good 70%. My sister seems to think that I have an Eidetic memory. Which I don't totally believe. But, hey, anything that compares me favorably with Matthew Gray Gubler I'll take.

Anyhoo, this may seem like a great thing. And for the most part, it is. It helps me at work. It helped me even more when I was in sales. Hell, it helps in remembering random stuff, like Wonderbear3000's love for Toto's "Africa". But for the most part, it's a burden.

For example. Let's say I was dating someone. You know, ever^sd. And I forget something. Like the anniversary of our first kiss. Or the first time we made out. Or something random like that. I'd get grief for it. And deservedly so. I'm the one running around telling random people I remember everything.

That's a kinda hypothetical stretch though. That would never happen.

Ok. Let's try this. What if your cousin, who was also one of your best friends died? Like unexpectedly? I mean, sure, most people would remember that. Maybe even most of them would remember the exact date. Or how they heard. Or where they were.

Me on the other hand, I remember all of that. I remember vividly. And I remember it every year on the day it happened as if it was happening all over again. August 20th, by far, is the worst day in my life. Well, it used to be at least. But I'll get back to that last point.

I didn't go to Ron's funeral. I was at school, it started like 3 days later^sd2. And I wasn't coming home for it. Because I prefer remember people like the last time I saw them. And if I went to the funeral, the last time I would've saw him would've been dead. And I don't want to remember him like that.

What I do remember most about Ron, if I had to pick out one specific time. One specific moment is listening to this song with him for like the first, or maybe 50th time. I don't know. I do remember that I just got back from a program at Kenyon like two weeks before, I had to actually go to school at Kenyon like 5 weeks later, and we were just hanging out, driving around the streets of Cleveland. We were listening to "We Are the Streets" and we were stopped outside some random friend of his', and this song came on. It was lightly raining, and for some reason, we started dancing. I remember for some reason someone brought up the line about the Air Force Ones with yellow checks.

It was a great day. Restropectively, one of the best times we spent together, actually.

Anyhoo, "Fuck You" by The LOX has, subsequently, become one of my favorite songs ever. Like to the point in which if I ever run for election, I want it to play when I win. Hell, the term "Fuck you" is probably my favorite thing to say ever. And I'm not sure if the two are connected.

But back to what I was saying earlier. I know that for a while this day and subject, and other days and subjects were days and subjects that I was horrible about. Like overly emotional and otherwise intolerable. But you see, today, 9 years later, I did a wonderfully good and probably stupid thing. And because of this a) I learned that on some things I just need to move on. and b) that I will not have any opportunity to have any fun ever outside of State games besides this blog.

I know I haven't been writing, or doing much of anything w/r/t cofabg, OMWD, "2160 Fulton" and "Attack of the Moving Bush". It seems as though I've been on a little break. Worrying about, you know, my personal life. Whether or not i should look for a new job. Breaks are good. It's not a bad idea to take a break every now and then. I mean, this isn't the easiest thing to do. Write something. Put some thing of yourself into something so public, so all can see. But it's probably something I need to do more often.

So I'm telling you like this. Break's over. I start getting more awesome on Monday. Or thereabouts.

Also: sorry about the youtube. Hopefully, I'll fix the grooveshark thing, and change this later.

Also: there might be some profanity in these lyrics. Just sayin'

Fuck You
The LOX
We are the Streets

ditriech:  Also, I'm about to get a Growler of beer. Stay tuned   14:27
zerodutch: And I'm stuck at my boss's place working. I hate you. 14:29
ditriech: I just finished a Growler in 20 minutes. Now a rhino hero 15:22
zerodutch: Hate hate hate 15:23 

Sometimes you get the bear and sometime the bear gets you.

Ok, I have no idea what that means. But sometimes, so-ometimes you find the YouTube of the week by accident. You are just reading along and it hits you. You see, this week (if I get this post up first), the YouTube of the Week is about hope. And triumph. And the perseverance of the human spirit. Or, its a trailer from an awesome documentary, you decide.

You see American Movie could probably be made about me. In like 5 years. This is mostly because one of my life goals is to have a documentary made about me. Because my life is awesome. But the difference between myself and Mark Borchardt is that I have many obsessions. I mean I have Ohio State Football^sd, I have cofabg, I have the Republic of Nortonia. Borchardt has a singular focus. Coven. Coven is the thing that consumes his life. I mean, I could go on about what American Movie means to me and the American dream and all of that. But I advise you go watch it. Its free on YouTube until the end of the month. Also, it is Rated R, so you need to have a Google or YouTube account to view it. But I know that Bizzo and Dutch have both of them.

Raised Glass to the Mental Floss Blog, one of my favorite blogs on the tubes.

ED NOTE: this week's BSOW is just turrable

I know I've gone on record before with this but I don't dance. Like at all^sd1. I just am too self-conscious^sd2 to even attempt to dance while sober and in front of other people. But it is important to this story. Obliquely, at least

Anyhoo, back in college, I had a crush on this girl who we'll call Serena^sd3. For like a while^sd4. In contrast to the rest of my crushes during this era^sd5, I rarely saw Serena. I mean, we had maybe a couple of classes together early, and of course in the dining halls every now and again. But she seemed like she was rarely around.

Fast Forward to 2005, after a series of (extremely unlikely events that led to me to hanging out at the Beta Acland semi-regularly^sd6. I was there one night during Senior week hanging out, and for some reason the conversation turned to Serena. It seemed as though everyone else there had the same general feeling about her: that she was comely, but unattainable. She just didn't--or wouldn't-- talk to anyone on campus. After a while, and with enormous amounts of liquid courage I^sd7 decided to go next door (which, conveniently, is where she lived) and talk to her. So we knocked on the door and her sister answered. Being that I was drunk (and that it was like 4 years ago now I don't remember what I talked with her about), I do remember that I told her who I was, and that I wanted to talk to Serena, who she said was upstairs asleep. Or something. I then told her about how I had a crush on Serena for like 3 years, yet was scared to tell her for numerous reasons^sd8. The primary one being that I was afraid she wouldn't remember me. After chatting for about 2 or 3 minutes, I turned to leave.

As I was walking back to the Acland, Serena said "I remember you Alan^sd9." So we talked for a while, I'm pretty sure I told her I had a crush on her then I left and went home or to drink more or something. Actually, the two aren't mutually exclusive. Anyhoo, the next night was "80s dance party night" and "Midnight Breakfast" . Seeing as I don't dance, I went for the breakfast option. Because bacon and hash browns are good at any time of day. But especially at like midnight. But, because I have a crippling addiction to 80s Power Pop^sd10 I went upstairs to listen for a while. And, because there wouldn't actually be a point in telling you this if it was otherwise, Serena was there. We look at each other. I went over to talk to her for a while (while, natch, this song was playing), and then I left to go play Kings.

Not the most exciting story in the world, I know, but it is the reason why this song is in my head every three months or so.

Take Me Home Tonight - Eddie Money (f. Ronnie Spector)

Eddie Money (f. Ronnie Spector)
Take Me Home Tonight
Can't Hold Back

~

At least one person I know will go out this way. That or I get about three grogs deep and jump into a Medieval Times show. I think these days you get some kind of high score for landing "halberd" in your coroner's report.

But seriously. No outrage is allowed here. If you wave a huge gun around at the police, and refuse to drop it, and act crazy, the proper thing is that you get shot. That's what we have police FOR. Directing traffic, handing out drunk in public tickets to cofabg writers, and shooting you. That you trigged their Call of Duty reflexes is a footnote.

I mean, way to ruin all their future fun.

Yeah, I know that pretty much every site ever is showing pictures of election night, but we had to have a post that sends the Barry Banner (as its being known around the cofabg offices^sd1) out in style.

Actual thoughts and mental reactions coming probably as a vamp chron, provided I shoot my regular and don't sleep before 0300.

Also, it gives me an excuse to post this song

More pictures after the jump