Showing posts with label aesthetics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aesthetics. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

REPOST: "The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas," by the late, great Christopher Hitchens.

I've chosen to allow NA Confidential to run its course, and so to close out the dreadful pandemic year of 2020, I'll be making a daily post from the archives. The following appeared on December 14, 2014. 

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How I miss Christopher Hitchens.

Introductory excerpts from Hitchens' timeless essay are reprinted below, so be sure to follow the link to read the whole, glorious piece, first noted here at NAC in 2008. I reread this every year on or before Christmas Eve. In 2013, there was added gravity, which also deserves another look.

In 2013, as Christmas approached, I'd just finished reading Ray Mouton's novel, In God's House. In 1984, Ray was the lawyer chosen by the state of Louisiana's Catholic Church hierarchy to defend the first priest ever to be charged in secular court with child molestation. Looking back on the perspective of the present day, we obviously know what became of all this, and that Ray's appointment with destiny was the first tiny peek inside a truly massive scandal. I wasn't expecting to be moved to such an extent by Ray's book, but I was -- and remain.

Carrying these thoughts into my annual date with Hitchens, I find the atheist's cynicism to be vastly enhanced.

'Tis the Season To Be Incredulous: The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas, by Christopher Hitchens (Slate; Dec. 15, 2008)

… My own wish is more ambitious: to write an anti-Christmas column that becomes fiercer every year while remaining, in essence, the same. The core objection, which I restate every December at about this time, is that for almost a whole month, the United States—a country constitutionally based on a separation between church and state—turns itself into the cultural and commercial equivalent of a one-party state.

As in such dismal banana republics, the dreary, sinister thing is that the official propaganda is inescapable. You go to a train station or an airport, and the image and the music of the Dear Leader are everywhere. You go to a more private place, such as a doctor's office or a store or a restaurant, and the identical tinny, maddening, repetitive ululations are to be heard. So, unless you are fortunate, are the same cheap and mass-produced images and pictures, from snowmen to cribs to reindeer. It becomes more than usually odious to switch on the radio and the television, because certain officially determined "themes" have been programmed into the system. Most objectionable of all, the fanatics force your children to observe the Dear Leader's birthday, and so (this being the especial hallmark of the totalitarian state) you cannot bar your own private door to the hectoring, incessant noise, but must have it literally brought home to you by your offspring. Time that is supposed to be devoted to education is devoted instead to the celebration of mythical events ...

Saturday, September 21, 2019

For once Deaf Gahan is right: The hilltop Fairfield atrocity is a "perfect fit" with maximum pay-to-play monetization.


The Fairfield Chain Hotel Atrocity in the newly created mudslide zone off State Street is a remarkably ugly building to be serving as the crowning achievement of any triumphant suburban development, much less atop a plat denuded and strip-mined to make way for it.


And yet Deaf Gahan somehow is impressed by all this. It can't be the aesthetics unless he's also blind, so it must be the campaign finance donations from the profiteers involved with the hotel's construction. After all, deaf, dumb and blind boys still know how to count the money.

Gahan's crack team of Goebbels-intensity spinners has gotten lots of mileage from this misplaced development obscenity, and we can only hope voters are sufficiently hip to see through the malarkey.

Naturally went WLKY went for the bait.

“It's a perfect fit and now there's talk about even adding another one (hotel) up here, along with a convention center. So, we're really thrilled about it,” said New Albany Mayor Jeff Gahan.

That's right. A convention center, of the sort Gahan is resisting elsewhere in Southern Indiana -- isn't he currently peevishly boycotting the tourist bureau's convention center feasibility study? -- but moreover, a convention center on top of a denuded strip-mined hill, accessible by a single road, presumably to be augmented by helicopter, escalator or the Starship Enterprise's transporter.

Well, we "built" this city on Gahan's lies.



Time to get real, voters.

If you’re singing joyful hosannas for a greed-driven car-centric multinational chain hotel with low paying jobs squatting on an environmental disaster area when so many infill properties nearby sit weed-choked and unused, and of course an extravaganza reliant on heavy municipal subsidies for its very existence ... well, I feel sorry for you.

To be fair, a friend offered intelligent counterpoint to the effect that there's a case for "overflow" hotel space in Southern Indiana to serve the Louisville convention crowds, with the prospect of luring guests downtown.

This is true. However, I'm not contesting the potential utility of such a hotel or the fact that our obscene neoliberal economic system in America (masquerading as free enterprise) strives to create chains, which I abhor.

It's the fact of this hideous building sitting atop what once was a forested hillside, which could not had been built at all without the active "partnership" of a corrupt municipal government.

We have many spaces where infill construction in the form of a hotel would have killed a few developmental and economic birds with one stone. Instead we're subsidizing the sheer greed of property owners.

Remember: Generic mediocrity + pay-to-play monetization = Gahanism.

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

New Albany's Fork in the Road to fall victim to HWC's whitewashed and IKEA-inspired design.


Work began yesterday on the latest downtown beautification project, the fundamental problems with which I summarized last July in a post that is repeated below (with links to other thoughts).

When the city's plans were revealed amid Terry Middleton's foyer in 2018, HWC's campaign finance donor luminaries had suggested relocating David Thrasher's seminal Fork in the Road to the sidewalk in front of the Jimmy's Music Center building. Now I'm told by a Team Gahan insider that our drain trust hasn't decided where to put it, and would welcome ideas.

Really?

Since when do they welcome ideas? Property owners fronting the Market Street block currently undergoing forced "beautification" never were asked their views on the process before the plans were minted, were they?

Why now?

Listen up: Since Thrasher's fork was installed circa 2012, it has been mildly divisive. Many observers, including a disproportionate percentage of disaffected older white males bearing purely literal imaginations, have expressed derision. Others with minds somewhat more open to whimsy have flocked to the Fork for selfies.

And this division of opinion is exactly the point. 

Art should prompt discussion, even at the risk of venom and incomprehension. We know that Jeff Gahan's personal preferences run to Dogs Playing Poker and Velvet Elvis; fine, and it's a free country, but public art is something quite different.

IKEA-inspired design versus the Fork in the Road? Here's a chance for the clothes-free emperor to intervene in the cloistered design process and urge a rethink.

Whaddya say, Deaf?

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We're told that peak inner city suburban Gahanism on Market Street will be delayed. (July 17, 2018)


At this morning's merchant meeting, attendees were told by the city's business coordinator Tonya Fischer that the recently ballyhooed Market Street "facelift" between Pearl and State will not be finished before Harvest Homecoming. Rather, it is to begin afterward.

She hinted that burrowed deeply somewhere in the shadowy labyrinth of Jeff Gahan's down-low bunker, there'd been second thoughts about the final configuration of this expenditure with money donated by the Horseshoe Foundation.

One might hope, but Team Gahan doesn't take well to critiques or criticism, and my guess is it's about bad timing with regard to the annual festival.

But let's make no mistake. Nothing I've seen lately epitomizes the city's gorwing problem with "institutional inbreeding" quite as grandly as HWC Engineering's (who else?) hilarious mock-ups of this project, a Disney-meets-outlet mall pastiche of anti-urban design elements reflecting the emperor's perennial tastelessness as well as the apparent absence of integrity among staffers placed in charge of preserving an asinine median, adding a car-centric turn lane to westbound Market (which barely registers vehicular traffic), felling any and all nearby trees, truncating the sidewalk on the northern side, adding IKEA chairs and hideous commemorative median "art," then boldly declaring victory for pedestrians in a setting that has been "upgraded" for drivers alone.

Even George Orwell might register a guffaw at the sheer mindlessness of it. What's more, amid the comedy of the mayor's loyal kept Republican (David Barksdale) wrestling with the city engineer for control of the project on behalf of the redevelopment commission so he could ensure that all existing trees were designated for removal -- it's gotta be a fetish, folks, the dude who hates trees sitting on the Tree Board -- there was the fact that all the money was slotted for the north side of the street, and none at all on the south side, where two completely restored older buildings are about open for business.

It's the same closed-loop people making the same moribund and template-inspired decisions with the same continuing obligation to connect the dots between contract winners and the mayor's campaign finance war chest; currently they are completely exhausted of any semblance of creativity, and unfortunately, it shows.

We'll have to abide these cumulative design mistakes for decades, scraping to pay for genuinely useful improvements because there'll be nothing left in the till that isn't committed to the Reisz Mahal, the Summit Springs Mudslide & Fun Park and a parks department with a budget exceeding that of some postage stamp principalities.

There's an answer: FireGahan2019. Catch up with the lunacy via these links:

SHANE'S EXCELLENT NEW WORDS: Umbrageous boughs? Not on Market between Pearl and State.

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism as HWC recommends buying IKEA when two local furniture dealers are yards away from the redesign atrocity.

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism via faux "input," pre-determined outcomes, clear-cutting, IKEA chairs and raging HWC paranoia. Welcome to your "improved" Market Street.

Goodbye to the Fork in the Road, hello to "Mayor Jeff Gahan presents, "A Fork Amid the Sidewalk" -- and fork YOU if you don't obey.

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

We're told that peak inner city suburban Gahanism on Market Street will be delayed.


At this morning's merchant meeting, attendees were told by the city's business coordinator Tonya Fischer that the recently ballyhooed Market Street "facelift" between Pearl and State will not be finished before Harvest Homecoming. Rather, it is to begin afterward.

She hinted that burrowed deeply somewhere in the shadowy labyrinth of Jeff Gahan's down-low bunker, there'd been second thoughts about the final configuration of this expenditure with money donated by the Horseshoe Foundation.

One might hope, but Team Gahan doesn't take well to critiques or criticism, and my guess is it's about bad timing with regard to the annual festival.

But let's make no mistake. Nothing I've seen lately epitomizes the city's gorwing problem with "institutional inbreeding" quite as grandly as HWC Engineering's (who else?) hilarious mock-ups of this project, a Disney-meets-outlet mall pastiche of anti-urban design elements reflecting the emperor's perennial tastelessness as well as the apparent absence of integrity among staffers placed in charge of preserving an asinine median, adding a car-centric turn lane to westbound Market (which barely registers vehicular traffic), felling any and all nearby trees, truncating the sidewalk on the northern side, adding IKEA chairs and hideous commemorative median "art," then boldly declaring victory for pedestrians in a setting that has been "upgraded" for drivers alone.

Even George Orwell might register a guffaw at the sheer mindlessness of it. What's more, amid the comedy of the mayor's loyal kept Republican (David Barksdale) wrestling with the city engineer for control of the project on behalf of the redevelopment commission so he could ensure that all existing trees were designated for removal -- it's gotta be a fetish, folks, the dude who hates trees sitting on the Tree Board -- there was the fact that all the money was slotted for the north side of the street, and none at all on the south side, where two completely restored older buildings are about open for business.

It's the same closed-loop people making the same moribund and template-inspired decisions with the same continuing obligation to connect the dots between contract winners and the mayor's campaign finance war chest; currently they are completely exhausted of any semblance of creativity, and unfortunately, it shows.

We'll have to abide these cumulative design mistakes for decades, scraping to pay for genuinely useful improvements because there'll be nothing left in the till that isn't committed to the Reisz Mahal, the Summit Springs Mudslide & Fun Park and a parks department with a budget exceeding that of some postage stamp principalities.

There's an answer: FireGahan2019. Catch up with the lunacy via these links: 

SHANE'S EXCELLENT NEW WORDS: Umbrageous boughs? Not on Market between Pearl and State.

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism as HWC recommends buying IKEA when two local furniture dealers are yards away from the redesign atrocity.

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism via faux "input," pre-determined outcomes, clear-cutting, IKEA chairs and raging HWC paranoia. Welcome to your "improved" Market Street.

Goodbye to the Fork in the Road, hello to "Mayor Jeff Gahan presents, "A Fork Amid the Sidewalk" -- and fork YOU if you don't obey.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

SHANE'S EXCELLENT NEW WORDS: Umbrageous boughs? Not on Market between Pearl and State.


Just our luck to live in a town where the mayor is allergic to shade.

umbrageous

Definition: (adjective) Affording or forming shade.
Synonyms: shadowed, shady
Usage: The chief beauty of trees consists in the deep shadow of their umbrageous boughs.

Chainsaws aren't my idea of kink, but different strokes and all. I suppose they do vibrate.

Following are posts about the awesomesauce Market Street median beautification project, which will result in trees falling on the north side of Market between Pearl and State, and don't forget: when your eyes bulge and your hair curls, and you think to yourself, "OMG this is tacky," you're actually insulting an engineer who knows quite a bit more than you (because money is to control what acorns are to oaks).

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism as HWC recommends buying IKEA when two local furniture dealers are yards away from the redesign atrocity.



Peak inner city suburban Gahanism via faux "input," pre-determined outcomes, clear-cutting, IKEA chairs and raging HWC paranoia. Welcome to your "improved" Market Street.



Goodbye to the Fork in the Road, hello to "Mayor Jeff Gahan presents, "A Fork Amid the Sidewalk" -- and fork YOU if you don't obey.

Friday, June 08, 2018

Goodbye to the Fork in the Road, hello to "Mayor Jeff Gahan presents, "A Fork Amid the Sidewalk" -- and fork YOU if you don't obey.

Photo by David Modica.

Ah, those blissful days of pre-Gahanista innocence.

More forks in the road. (November 29, 2011)


At this morning's Merchant Mixer meeting, Dave Thrasher explains what may lie beyond the stenciled fork in the road as Curt Peters holds a drawing of the 16-ft tall sculpture soon to occupy space on the west side of the traffic island at State and Market Streets. Bravo!


The new (and putrid) beautification plan looks like this.


We can't blame baseball hall of famer Jim "HWC" Rice for this one; it comes straight from Esteemed Leader, and nowhere else.


Peak inner city suburban Gahanism via faux "input," pre-determined outcomes, clear-cutting, IKEA chairs and raging HWC paranoia. Welcome to your "improved" Market Street.

There's nothing new in any of this. We already knew that Team Gahan views the notion of open, honest transparency with the same reverence as a vampire views garlic -- and speaking of Transylvania, it's also understood that just as comrade Ceausescu sought to remake Bucharest in his own Mussolini-filtered image, Jeff Gahan is striving to render downtown's physical appearance into a tableau worthy of a veneer salesman's insipidity, with all the tasteful flair of an exurban outlet mall by the interstate.

Jeeebus, the clique is engorged. Anyone for lancing the boil in 2019?

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism as HWC recommends buying IKEA when two local furniture dealers are yards away from the redesign atrocity.

Peak inner city suburban Gahanism via faux "input," pre-determined outcomes, clear-cutting, IKEA chairs and raging HWC paranoia. Welcome to your "improved" Market Street.

First, the renderings, then some of our trademark "hurtful" commentary.






"Surprise, surprise, surprise," said redevelopment commission appointee Gomer Pyle when gazing upon favored city contractor (and frequent Jeff Gahan campaign donor) HWC Engineering's antiseptic and robotic pastel mock-ups of the latest in a series of shameless aesthetic abortions of urban design, this one pre-determined, pre-authorized and pre-monetized to grace Market Street between Pearl and State, but only the north side of the street.

Why only the north side?

Probably because whenever a New Albany city official pontificates about walkability, we've know what he or she really means is car-centric imperatives camouflaged by lofty rhetorical nonsense, and so recalling that city engineer Larry Summers originally referred to this beautification project's wonderful benefits for pedestrians, you'll see that the north sidewalk is halved and the unnecessary median (which should be dynamited) truncated to permit a westbound turn lane for drivers.

In turn, this means that once again -- have we reached 50 times yet, or 75? -- David "I'm Beaming About Buildings" Barksdale of the largely fictitious Treeless Board is merrily presiding over the felling of at least seven healthy trees, proving yet again that irony in New Albany is stone effing dead -- and moreover, with Barksdale the council swing voter of the moment, he's buffed to a high sheen by the City Hall patronage machine and encouraged time and again to lube the chain saw as a means of glorifying objects, as opposed to people.

Sadly, David Thrasher's Fork in the Road sculpture will not survive the signed, sealed and delivered Disneyfication of the block. There being no way for Gahan to take credit for a previous mayor's decision, he instead must intervene somehow, perhaps skulking masked at 3 a.m. to the installation and etching an anchor tattoo into the cheese.

The Gahan Monetary Arts Council proposes moving Fork in the Road to the northwest corner of the intersection at Market and Pearl, rendering it into a Fork in the Sidewalk, and revealing once more that the artistic sensibility of Team Gahan ranks right up there with field mice blind drunk on spontaneously fermented persimmon juice.

Following are some details. The sole debatable topic on the agenda yesterday was: "Which ironwork design for the fattened mid-block median is your preference?" Note that 1813 refers to the official (and incorrect) date of the city's founding, while 1817 is a nod to the inception of the city market, which used to stand in the middle of the street. 



Below: (8) marks the spot of the Fork in the Rectum relocation.



That's right: IKEA furniture ... with shadeless tables next to parking spaces by a street adding a traffic lane, all in the service of walkability. They're literally too stupid to be embarrassed by this farrago of power-play suburban white bread foolishness.

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On Thursday morning at 11:30 a.m., I learned that the Redevelopment Commission had scheduled a public "input" session about the Market Street median enfluffment and beautification project, to be held at 1:30 p.m. at appointed commission member Terry Middleton's gym on the north side of Market, between Pearl and State.

I sincerely thank my informant, without whom I'd not have known the meeting was taking place. As it was revealed later, the full extent of "official" public notification about this meeting, as ostensibly aimed at gathering public "input" toward a foregone conclusion, was limited to those unfortunates in attendance at Develop New Albany's self-congratulatory midday luncheon at The Grand.

Did the intellectual property pilferage seminar go well?

There's nothing new in any of this. We already knew that Team Gahan views the notion of open, honest transparency with the same reverence as a vampire views garlic -- and speaking of Transylvania, it's also understood that just as comrade Ceausescu sought to remake Bucharest in his own Mussolini-filtered image, Jeff Gahan is striving to render downtown's physical appearance into a tableau worthy of a veneer salesman's insipidity, with all the tasteful flair of an exurban outlet mall by the interstate.

As an aside, it should be noted that just last Thursday, at the conclusion of the city council meeting, I exercised my council speaking time to agree (!) with 3rd district councilman Greg Phipps, who earlier in the meeting had expressed interest in viewing the Market Street beautification proposals prior to their implementation.

Congratulating my councilman for this utterly atypical attention to detail, I added that there should be some way for the public to consider the hitherto guarded plan.

Councilman David Barksdale and redevelopment commission director Josh Staten were present and presumed awake, and heard me say this. Naturally, neither of them bothered to tell me about yesterday's meeting.

Perhaps they were in on the joke -- that the "input" meeting would come without any way of recording input aside from transmitting viewpoints orally to an HWC employee who didn't record them, but it matters little, given that as many as two, maybe even three members of the "public" were in attendance at a meeting few knew was occurring, otherwise lost amid the massed presence of City Hall's nepotistic, sycophantic governing clique, abetted by two of DNA's semi-professional grovelers and the duo of HWC operatives.

One of HWC's purveyors of drive-through expertise was in rare holier-than-thou form, but we'll return to baseball hall-of-famer Jim Rice's finger-wagging testimony -- which might be summarized as "engineers always rank higher on the food chain than nasty hurtful plebes" -- at another time.

As a postscript, the ever insightful Jeff Gillenwater inspires me to conduct a thorough analysis of spray paint options.

One day, someone much smarter than Gahan and his minions is going to tear down and paint over much of what they’ve done. I’m going to volunteer to help.

Friday, December 16, 2016

Time for an encore: "The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas," by the late, great Christopher Hitchens.


I miss Hitch. Last considered here in December of 2014, Hitchens' anti-Christmas masterpiece sustains me during these weeks of ideological overkill. 

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How I miss Christopher Hitchens.

Introductory excerpts from Hitchens' timeless essay are reprinted below, so be sure to follow the link to read the whole, glorious piece, first noted here at NAC in 2008. I reread this every year on or before Christmas Eve. In 2013, there was added gravity, which also deserves another look.

In 2013, as Christmas approached, I'd just finished reading Ray Mouton's novel, In God's House. In 1984, Ray was the lawyer chosen by the state of Louisiana's Catholic Church hierarchy to defend the first priest ever to be charged in secular court with child molestation. Looking back on the perspective of the present day, we obviously know what became of all this, and that Ray's appointment with destiny was the first tiny peek inside a truly massive scandal. I wasn't expecting to be moved to such an extent by Ray's book, but I was -- and remain.

Carrying these thoughts into my annual date with Hitchens, I find the atheist's cynicism to be vastly enhanced.

'Tis the Season To Be Incredulous: The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas, by Christopher Hitchens (Slate; Dec. 15, 2008)

… My own wish is more ambitious: to write an anti-Christmas column that becomes fiercer every year while remaining, in essence, the same. The core objection, which I restate every December at about this time, is that for almost a whole month, the United States—a country constitutionally based on a separation between church and state—turns itself into the cultural and commercial equivalent of a one-party state.

As in such dismal banana republics, the dreary, sinister thing is that the official propaganda is inescapable. You go to a train station or an airport, and the image and the music of the Dear Leader are everywhere. You go to a more private place, such as a doctor's office or a store or a restaurant, and the identical tinny, maddening, repetitive ululations are to be heard. So, unless you are fortunate, are the same cheap and mass-produced images and pictures, from snowmen to cribs to reindeer. It becomes more than usually odious to switch on the radio and the television, because certain officially determined "themes" have been programmed into the system. Most objectionable of all, the fanatics force your children to observe the Dear Leader's birthday, and so (this being the especial hallmark of the totalitarian state) you cannot bar your own private door to the hectoring, incessant noise, but must have it literally brought home to you by your offspring. Time that is supposed to be devoted to education is devoted instead to the celebration of mythical events ...

Sunday, December 14, 2014

"The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas," by the late, great Christopher Hitchens.

How I miss Christopher Hitchens.

Introductory excerpts from Hitchens' timeless essay are reprinted below, so be sure to follow the link to read the whole, glorious piece, first noted here at NAC in 2008. I reread this every year on or before Christmas Eve. In 2013, there was added gravity, which also deserves another look.

In 2013, as Christmas approached, I'd just finished reading Ray Mouton's novel, In God's House. In 1984, Ray was the lawyer chosen by the state of Louisiana's Catholic Church hierarchy to defend the first priest ever to be charged in secular court with child molestation. Looking back on the perspective of the present day, we obviously know what became of all this, and that Ray's appointment with destiny was the first tiny peek inside a truly massive scandal. I wasn't expecting to be moved to such an extent by Ray's book, but I was -- and remain.

Carrying these thoughts into my annual date with Hitchens, I find the atheist's cynicism to be vastly enhanced.

'Tis the Season To Be Incredulous: The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas, by Christopher Hitchens (Slate; Dec. 15, 2008)

… My own wish is more ambitious: to write an anti-Christmas column that becomes fiercer every year while remaining, in essence, the same. The core objection, which I restate every December at about this time, is that for almost a whole month, the United States—a country constitutionally based on a separation between church and state—turns itself into the cultural and commercial equivalent of a one-party state.

As in such dismal banana republics, the dreary, sinister thing is that the official propaganda is inescapable. You go to a train station or an airport, and the image and the music of the Dear Leader are everywhere. You go to a more private place, such as a doctor's office or a store or a restaurant, and the identical tinny, maddening, repetitive ululations are to be heard. So, unless you are fortunate, are the same cheap and mass-produced images and pictures, from snowmen to cribs to reindeer. It becomes more than usually odious to switch on the radio and the television, because certain officially determined "themes" have been programmed into the system. Most objectionable of all, the fanatics force your children to observe the Dear Leader's birthday, and so (this being the especial hallmark of the totalitarian state) you cannot bar your own private door to the hectoring, incessant noise, but must have it literally brought home to you by your offspring. Time that is supposed to be devoted to education is devoted instead to the celebration of mythical events ...

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Milk is liquid snot: "Milk consumption may not only be unhelpful, it might also be detrimental."

To me, it's always been aesthetic.

Milk is little more than liquid snot, and to drink it by the glass has struck me as revolting for over thirty years. It's just a bonus to be "un-American" by rejecting milk in liquid form, although I've returned to eating cereal with almond milk as moistening agent.

I adore cheese, cream-based sauces, dairy-laden desserts and Milk Stout; obviously, I can tolerate lactose, but drink it from a glass?

That's just wrong.

Yuck.

Got Milk? Might Not Be Doing You Much Good, by Aaron E. Carroll (NYT)

Almost no one will dispute that when a baby is born, breast milk is the best nutrition a mother can provide. All mammals nurse their young, and breast milk benefits a newborn infant in ways above and beyond nutrition. In fact, until 1 to 2 years of age, the American Academy of Pediatrics, the World Health Organization, the Institute of Medicine and more promote breast-feeding as optimal.

Unfortunately, breast-feeding until that age is often difficult, if not impossible, because mothers have to return to work, and children go off to preschool or day care. So we often replace human milk with the milk of cows or other animals. But at a certain point, we have to acknowledge that we are the only mammals on the planet that continue to consume milk after childhood, often in great amounts.

More and more evidence is surfacing, however, that milk consumption may not only be unhelpful, it might also be detrimental. This is in spite of the fact that the United States Department of Agriculture and other organizations advocate that even adults should drink at least three cups a day.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

"The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas," by the late, great Christopher Hitchens.

How I miss him. Introductory excerpts only are reprinted below, so be sure to follow the link to read the whole, glorious piece, first noted at NAC in 2008. I reread it every year on Christmas Eve, although this time there is added gravity.

I've finished reading Ray Mouton's novel, In God's House. In 1984, he was the lawyer chosen by the state of Louisiana's Catholic Church hierarchy to defend the first priest ever to be charged in a secular court with child molestation. Looking back on the perspective of the present day, we obviously know what became of all this, and that Ray's appointment with destiny was the first tiny peek inside a truly massive scandal. I wasn't expecting to be moved, but I have been. Carrying these thoughts into my annual date with Hitchens, the atheist's cynicism is vastly enhanced.

'Tis the Season To Be Incredulous: The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas, by Christopher Hitchens (Slate; Dec. 15, 2008)

… My own wish is more ambitious: to write an anti-Christmas column that becomes fiercer every year while remaining, in essence, the same. The core objection, which I restate every December at about this time, is that for almost a whole month, the United States—a country constitutionally based on a separation between church and state—turns itself into the cultural and commercial equivalent of a one-party state.

As in such dismal banana republics, the dreary, sinister thing is that the official propaganda is inescapable. You go to a train station or an airport, and the image and the music of the Dear Leader are everywhere. You go to a more private place, such as a doctor's office or a store or a restaurant, and the identical tinny, maddening, repetitive ululations are to be heard. So, unless you are fortunate, are the same cheap and mass-produced images and pictures, from snowmen to cribs to reindeer. It becomes more than usually odious to switch on the radio and the television, because certain officially determined "themes" have been programmed into the system. Most objectionable of all, the fanatics force your children to observe the Dear Leader's birthday, and so (this being the especial hallmark of the totalitarian state) you cannot bar your own private door to the hectoring, incessant noise, but must have it literally brought home to you by your offspring. Time that is supposed to be devoted to education is devoted instead to the celebration of mythical events ...

Saturday, May 04, 2013

News and Tribune thinks Rep. Clere's bridges, aesthetics and tolls really aren't so keen, after all.

Make no mistake, this editorial is appreciated, if for no other reason than the a annoyance it brings to the local oligarchy. After all, the Kerry Stemlers of our community are accustomed to barking orders, not being questioned.

But something else should be said, too: Where were you two or so years ago, when we really needed you?

The News and Tribune editorial board is comprised of Publisher Bill Hanson, Editor Shea Van Hoy and Assistant Editor Chris Morris. Better late than never, I suppose.

OUR OPINION: If you’re going to do it, do it right

The Ohio River Bridges Project is massive. It’s projected to cost more than $1.6 billion and will take about three years to complete, construction officials say.

With primary construction kick-off just weeks away, some of the smaller details about the project are getting scrutiny, like the bridges approach and overpass aesthetics recently questioned by city of Jeffersonville officials ...

SNIP to the chase.

... issues like the disparity in the quality of aesthetic touches — let alone the fact that Hoosiers will be paying a disproportionate amount of tolling for the new bridges — can do nothing but make Southern Indiana residents feel put-upon. How else should Hoosiers be expected to feel given the facts?

But Wingfield does bring up a good point — there’s still time for Southern Indiana residents and officials to do something about the slight, on aesthetics at least.

We’re calling for construction officials to set aside funding to make the Indiana portion of the project uniform and on par with the planned aesthetics in Kentucky. We urge readers to write INDOT officials and their area state legislators calling on them to take action. And while they’re at it, it wouldn’t hurt to talk about the still-undecided tolling plan.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Aesthetics -- or Molotov cocktails?

By using the very word "aesthetics", Rob Waiz ensures a glazed-over, exurb-induced stupor on the part of bridges project inseminators like Kerry Stemler.

We might also plausibly inquire as to how many current Jeffersonville city officials, now grievously appalled to learn that the bridges project will be shortchanging them just as precisely as planned all along, gave downtown business men like Mike Kapfhammer and Wes Johnson the time of day when they tried to point out such realities?

Jeffersonville officials say Indiana being slighted by bridges aesthetics; $10 million budgeted for Kentucky portion; nothing in Indiana, by Matt Koesters

... The redevelopment commission agreed to send a resolution to state officials, including the governor, expressing their disappointment in the plans proposed. Waiz added that he will be urging other area agencies to pass and submit similar resolutions.

“It’s disappointing to me that Jeffersonville is in this defensive situation to try and protect some aesthetics and some economic development opportunity, when the state of Indiana should have done this from the get-go,” said Redevelopment Commissioner James Lake. “It’s a real shame that the city is not only doing the battling, but the state of Indiana is not only not leading it, they’re not assisting.”

Friday, December 21, 2012

Random 2013 Platform Goals 4: Incentivize diverse grassroots design, not top-down beige-think.


Roughly a thousand years ago at NAC, we started talking about measures aimed at making New Albany a more appealing place to live, both for those already residing here, and for others who might choose to relocate.

Of course, the very first task required of us was to disregard the nattering nabobs of naysaying, those lifelong local residents convinced that since they, themselves, have been congenitally incapable of accomplishment and unable to articulate substantive differences, no one else should be permitted to try to do so, either.

Ideas we’ve floated have ranged from a political culture capable of grasping basic scientific principles, to taking seriously the city’s own rules that pertain to human habitation. They’ve included notions like complete streets and clear structural support for bikes and walkers, public art and the insanely simple suggestion that having garbage cans available to receive trash just might keep some of it off the street.

What I’ve come back to repeating over and over during recent years is whether any active measures pertaining to a contemporary aesthetic, i.e., the nature or art, or designs for public spaces, can be entrusted to anyone who already is convinced that he or she is a community pillar.

Quite clearly, the answer has been no, because from the discredited plan for River View to Caesar’s Folly (Rent Boy Park, et al), we’ve seen a stunning absence of creativity among those with post-war childhoods. White bread might be ideal to construct a PBJ for a five-year-old, but it has no place in community space.

For instance, consider New Albany Clean & Green’s plan to place identical planters on multiple downtown street corners, and then, having imposed a specific design blueprint like this on the varied downtown streetscape, turn next to business owners and mercilessly hector them to help maintain placements they had no say in designing.

As we’ve asked again and again: Why must things like this always be applied top-down by folks who otherwise claim to support individual initiative?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to consider a proven and successful idea like the Urban Enterprise Association’s façade grant program and apply its 50/50 principle to beautification?

Why not let businesses come up with their own plan for flowers, trees, planters or other “green” applications, and have Clean and Green coordinate a bundle of grants to help with costs? Wouldn’t this allow for more individualized design flair, and also provide the businesses with an incentive to maintain their own placements?

Arguably the most successful act of downtown revitalization to date was the city council’s enactment in 2006 of the riverfront development area, enabling a less restrictive regime of state alcoholic beverage permits, and resulting in a diverse downtown “food and drink court” of international flair, which in turn has provided impetus for building restorations and hundreds of visitors more than before.

Note that this measure appealed to entrepreneurial self-interest and provided a solid reason to invest without once stipulating which beers were to be poured or the type fish destined for frying. The same principle might be leveraged to promote more retail, loft housing, public art and … yes … even beautification.

The key? It’s prying design considerations from the leaden hand of the “father knows best,” beige-rules crowd.

Anyone with ideas about how to do that? Let us know. It’s actually rather important.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

From the late, great Hitchens: "The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas."

Introductory excerpts only are reprinted below, so be sure to follow the link to read the whole, glorious piece (first noted at NAC in 2008).

'Tis the Season To Be Incredulous: The moral and aesthetic nightmare of Christmas, by Christopher Hitchens (Slate; Dec. 15, 2008)

… My own wish is more ambitious: to write an anti-Christmas column that becomes fiercer every year while remaining, in essence, the same. The core objection, which I restate every December at about this time, is that for almost a whole month, the United States—a country constitutionally based on a separation between church and state—turns itself into the cultural and commercial equivalent of a one-party state.

As in such dismal banana republics, the dreary, sinister thing is that the official propaganda isinescapable. You go to a train station or an airport, and the image and the music of the Dear Leader are everywhere. You go to a more private place, such as a doctor's office or a store or a restaurant, and the identical tinny, maddening, repetitive ululations are to be heard. So, unless you are fortunate, are the same cheap and mass-produced images and pictures, from snowmen to cribs to reindeer. It becomes more than usually odious to switch on the radio and the television, because certain officially determined "themes" have been programmed into the system. Most objectionable of all, the fanatics force your children to observe the Dear Leader's birthday, and so (this being the especial hallmark of the totalitarian state) you cannot bar your own private door to the hectoring, incessant noise, but must have it literally brought home to you by your offspring. Time that is supposed to be devoted to education is devoted instead to the celebration of mythical events ...