Further Regeneration

A most momentous event has occurred. Mere moments ago, I checked my e-mail account, only to find that I had received an e-mail from one "Derek Young", co-creator of WAKE UP. That e-mail concerned this very blog; it seems that Derek is interested in returning to the fold very soon. This will presumably mean less of me wittering on about the creations of Joss Whedon, which is probably a good thing.

Moreover, Derek raised an interesting point: I have not commented on "the latest offering from the temple of the Great Arcade Fire" yet. Fear not, friends; I have heard 'The Suburbs' and do, in fact, still exist. In addition to this, I admire the album greatly; I don't think it quite reaches the giddy heights of 'Funeral', but it may well surpass 'Neon Bible', which is not a statement I make lightly. I hope that this will prove my continued existence and loyalty to those Monarchs of Montreal, those Queens (and Kings) of Quebec.

(62 days until Christmas!)

A Very WAKE UP... Late October?

I happened across this earlier today, on a blog I frequent. Yes, that's right, friends; the Christmas discourse begins already. No doubt many people will shake their heads or groan upon hearing that. That's right: I've become like one of those annoying ads that advertises Christmas offers in September. Yes, I know: it's late October, Christmas is just over two months away. To be perfectly honest, though, I've been looking forward to it in a direct way for weeks. Indirectly, of course, I've been looking forward to it since last Christmas – and why not? Around Christmas every year, I revert to a childlike enthusiasm, untempered by any kind of cynicism. I feel a genuine and overwhelming sense of pure joy.

Part of the reason why I've started looking forward to Christmas recently has been the cold snap which began quite suddenly in the last few weeks. We've had the kind of dry chill in the air that I'd normally associate with December; naturally, association being what it is, this makes me think of Christmas as being quite close. In fact, the end of December is possibly the coldest time of year; last year's was particularly bad. Yet even though I associate December with a great deal of cold, I can't recall ever being cold at Christmas. I don't think it's selective memory, either; there really is a kind of intangible warmth around Christmas. Somehow, Christmas creates its own unseasonal, undetectable warmth. It sounds ridiculous even to me now to say such a thing, but it really does feel like that. Perhaps it's just that I don't feel cold because I can't associate Christmas with the bad feelings that being cold would suggest, or maybe it's that joy I mentioned earlier.

A dear friend of mine (who has a similar love of Christmas) mentioned earlier today that Christmas FM will soon be announcing its frequency for this year (yes, it's been quite a Christmassy day). This got me thinking about Christmas music. Now, let's not mince words: some of it is painful. Only a few days into December, I guarantee I will want to strangle the child from that bloody "Christmas Shoes" song; let's not even get into my utter loathing for the Ronan Keating and Moya Brennan cover of 'Fairytale of New York' (I'm sure I'll end up writing an article about it eventually. "You're cheap and you're haggard"... urgh). There are the guilty pleasures, however; I recommend this (for Cliff's magnificent dancing, a favourite in my household; particularly from 2.24 on. Also note his Fonzie pose at 1.35) and this (purely for his jumper, though the elf and Santa also amuse me). Beyond that, though, there are the songs that are genuinely good. Wizzard, for instance; yes, it's cheesy, but I will never stop loving it. The same applies to Slade and Jona Lewie. Also, since my dad complains every year that 'Pipes of Peace' doesn't get played enough, I'll give it an air. Then there are the objectively good songs, the ones which actually seem good at any time of year; Greg Lake and the Pogues spring to mind. If I could make one recommendation, though, before this paragraph collapses under its own weight, it would be to seek out some older Christmas music; the great crooners (Frank, Sammy, Dean, Bing et al) did some great versions of carols like 'O Come All Ye Faithful' (always my favourite), as well as more recent songs like 'White Christmas'; they're well worth looking up.

Now to the elephant in the room. Yes, it's true: presents are a large part of the reason I like Christmas. I enjoy getting free things (and, yes, I enjoy giving too). There are some caveats, though. Firstly, I often find myself appreciating the presents which come as a complete surprise far more than any others; it may be a cliché that it's the thought that counts, but I really do love the idea that someone cares enough to put in so much thought (also, I'm woeful at buying for people, so I can appreciate how difficult it is). Also, while I do associate past Christmases with the things I got for them, my prevailing image is always either going into the sitting room for the first time (which is more to do with the sense of anticipation, followed by surprise and joy, than the items themselves), or else sitting around the table at dinner with my family.

Speaking of Christmas dinner, that's something I'm already looking forward to for sure. Turkey is a delicious meat, and it really feels like a luxury. Roast potatoes, perhaps some melon as a starter; Christmas dinner in the Treacy house is quite the occasion. Funnily enough, I never cared for crackers as a child; I hated the bang. Even now, I have to tense myself for it, the way I do for gunshots whenever I'm in the theatre. Food in general is a big attraction of the Christmas season; endless chocolates and sweets, with the eternal "Roses or Quality Street?" conundrum. It helps contribute to that wonderful sense of luxury around Christmas.

I hope my enthusiasm for the Christmas season is evident. I say "the Christmas season" even though I've been concentrating a little on the day itself, because I love the build-up almost as much as the actual day. Those damn songs playing everywhere, lights appearing around the place (a neighbour of my aunt's is always particularly extravagant with the lights on his house; I shall try to get a photograph this year), harried-looking people laden down with shopping bags – the anticipation is slowly built up. Even now, there's a smile on my face at the thought of my favourite Christmas traditions (I have many; I may outline some at a later date). The countdown begins here, and I do mean that; I intend to keep said countdown going right up to the 25^th of December. So, without further ado...

64 days until Christmas!

[By the way, I don't particularly care for Hallowe'en, so I'm more or less ignoring it. Actually, I don't much care for a lot of holidays, but I make up for that by really loving Christmas.]

Vindicated

I am very aware of the fact that I tend to seek luminaries in the forms of fictional characters (an exhaustive, if not authoritative, list can be found here, complete with input from my good friend Sarah). The reason for this probably lies in my ultimate disappointment with most real luminaries – not all, but most. Some might dub this philosophy of mine escapist, and indeed they may be right. I am, however, pleased to note that I am in good company in my escapism, since Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano has dubbed Homer Simpson a "true Catholic". Mr. Simpson would not necessarily have been first on my list of moral role models (which, admittedly, includes several murderers), but at least it is good to see that my habit is echoed by such a source. Admittedly, looking beyond the corporeal for moral authority and assurance is a Catholic trait by definition; perhaps it's my lapsed Catholicism that brings out this particular tendency in me.

    

A Toast

Today is being celebrated as the 10^th birthday of Andrew Sullivan's blog The Daily Dish. As you may have noticed, I have a great fondness for the Dish, and link to it quite often. As such, I'd like to take this opportunity to talk a little about why I admire it so. I'm afraid anyone looking for a jokey article about some random pop culture reference will have to wait a little while (though, admittedly, probably not too long).

My first reason for enjoying and admiring the Dish so much is Andrew himself. He looks at issues from a unique perspective. He is British (living in America), Catholic, conservative, libertarian (by his own definitions of both terms), fiercely independent and gay. I use all of these labels, unhelpful in themselves, because they inform not only the issues he examines, but also the manner in which he examines them. In particular, he has written some of the finest articles on gay rights, and what it means to be gay, that I have ever read (here is a recent example). His writing has often chimed with my own personal interest and feelings, on issues such as the intransigence and populism of much of the right in America, the meteoric rise of Sarah Palin (he has a tendency to overestimate her, in my own opinion, but it's preferable to the alternative), the state of the Catholic Church, the resurgence of the Tories, the successes and failures of the Obama presidency so far and, of course, the splendour of beards (I cherish an ambition to one day wear a beard matching Sullivan's). Perhaps the most remarkable of these occurred last year, with the Iranian "Green Revolution; Andrew and his under-bloggers did an incredible job covering this momentous event, even managing to break down my usual cynicism and distance, and make me yearn and hope for the success of these remarkable young people. All of these issues are examined with a careful eye; the strains of his Catholic upbringing, his struggle with HIV and his Tory sympathies and studies in conservatism (he did his doctoral thesis in political science on conservative theorist Michael Oakeshott) are all regularly evident, and make his work both varied and forceful. The tagline "Of no party or clique" is debatable, but it is certain that blind allegiance has never been a quality one could associate with Andrew.

Andrew writes with the strength of his many convictions, and never abandons them. He is also, however, willing to admit when he is wrong; he airs dissent regularly, and often modifies his position in the face of a thoughtful rebuttal. He has drastically changed his position on such issues as the Iraq war; a progression of thought can be observed through the Dish's archives, which is pleasing in the sense that it depicts a man unafraid to back down and admit that he was wrong. He is also very skilled at analysing issues; some accuse him of being too emotional at times, which is a fair point, but he is nothing if not tenacious. He will not abandon a line of enquiry, even if this line is eventually exhausted fruitlessly, as with his obsession with the idea that Bristol Palin's ex-boyfriend Levi Johnston would reveal the dark secrets of Sarah Palin (an obsession, in fairness, which he strongly hinted was backed up by off-the-record testimony). He is both fair and tireless in his analysis of the issues that matter.

Yet the Daily Dish, over the years (and, in the interest of fairness, I should point out that I've only been a reader myself for about a year and a half, though I've been hooked for all that time) has become far more than just a place for a middle-aged bearded man to vent his thoughts and feelings; it has become a compendium of links from throughout the glory of the Internet. Andrew was one of the first political bloggers, and also one of the first to realise the capacity of the Internet. He regularly hosts such features as Mental Health Breaks (amusing or remarkable videos), clips from South Park (Andrew's a big fan, and a friend of one of the creators), a series of caustic satirical awards and, the popular favourite, "The View from your Window", wherein a reader sends in a picture from their window. This has been recently expanded into a book, as well as a weekly competition. Pictures come in from all over the world, a measure of how widely Andrew is read and respected.

For most of this article, I've been singing Andrew's praises (with, I hope, some justification), but the Dish is not his creation and possession alone. He has a team of four equally inexhaustible under-bloggers, who help to compile links, and run the blog when Andrew is away. Patrick Appel, Chris Bodenner, Zoe Pollock and Conor Friedersdorf are all talented writers in their own right, and their contribution to the Dish is almost as great as Andrew's. I am particularly grateful to Patrick and Chris, who have each aired e-mails from me, which brings me to my next point: the readers. Andrew often mentions how astounded he is by the contributions of Dish readers; something we have in common. Every kind of person imaginable reads the Dish, in every part of the world, and their thoughtful e-mails from their own unique perspectives are a vital part of the success of the blog, and always add colour an dimensions to a debate. In the past, Andrew and co. have run series based on reader submissions on late-term abortions, cannabis use and the impact of the recession, to name only the most notable and long-running. Every week, every day even, readers raise vital points or contribute to ongoing debates, and Andrew is wise enough not to give his own opinion on every single e-mail, but to let them speak for themselves.

A very simple point deserves to be made: even though when WAKE UP was originally written, I didn't even know who Andrew Sullivan was, without the Daily Dish I would never have created this blog. The success of the Dish has shown me what a blog can and should be, and, although it's a very different beast indeed from this humble blog, I would love nothing more than to emulate it. I've established a personal relationship with the Dish, generally checking it several times a day (any less, and it's surprisingly hard to catch up, such is the volume of posts). Often my first thought on reading some breaking news is "Oh, I wonder what Andrew has to say about this". It's interesting that I have such a personal relationship with Andrew, a man several decades older than me who lives an ocean away, whom I have never met and with whom I don't actually have a great deal in common aside from some shared interests; it speaks of how close Dish readers feel to the blog itself. You may notice that even I, who thrive on formalities, refer to Andrew by his first name; such is the closeness the blog encourages. It feels like a long conversation; the kind of fascinating conversation with a friend that can go on for hours without either party growing tired or lamenting the passage of the time.

Andrew wrote a wonderful summary of his blogging over the years late yesterday, so I'll leave the last word to him. Congratulations, Andrew, and let's hope you continue for many years to come.

 

A Man for the Age

In a little over two years' time, America will go to the polls once more to choose its next president. Of course, this means that Barack Obama's term is not even half-finished, yet it seems that it is already time for the speculation to begin in earnest once more (which reminds me of this). Cast your eye to the right of this article (and possibly up or down a bit) to the blog roll (which always sounds distressingly like "bog roll" to me, but how and ever); chances are you will find something to do with 2012 speculation on the front page of about half of those blogs on any given day. A few examples: Marc Ambinder's brilliant take-off of Bob Woodward's assertion that Hillary Clinton will be Obama's running-mate; Andrew Sullivan's citation of Jonathan Chait with regard to Mitt Romney (admittedly, I chose a bad day to do this: The Spectator and Nick Robinson are rather more concerned with the Conservative party conference). Also this, which speaks for itself, really.

Sadly not.

Probably not a good idea.

With all this in mind, I thought that, in typical WAKE UP fashion, I should put forward my own candidate for the presidency. Choosing the candidate proved a little more problematic. John McClane? Sounds too much like last year's Republican candidate, and more or less devoid of political experience; Hans Gruber would almost be a better choice, if not for the fact that he'd probably rob the country and run away. The Master? Did more than enough damage as Prime Minister of Britain. Alan Shore? A friend suggested him during the 2008 election, but I can't help but think that womaniser Shore would fall at what we might term the Bill Clinton hurdle before the campaign had even properly started. Sarah Palin? I can't even joke about that.

A bit of a wild card.

Good God, no.

After much deliberation, it came to me. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the WAKE UP party's candidate for 2012: Malcolm Reynolds.

A President if ever I saw one.

(Or possibly just Nathan Fillion.)

The reasons for this decision are manifold. The American people, in common with people everywhere, love a good war story. David Cameron, though no hardened military veteran, is skilled at framing his rhetorical points with anecdotes. John Kerry and John McCain both made a great deal out of their experiences in Vietnam during their presidential bids (admittedly, both men were ultimately unsuccessful, but let's not dwell on that). Captain Reynolds ("Mal", as I call him; we're good friends) has plenty of war stories; he can raise a laugh during a debate with his amusing tales of grenades hidden in apples, or hold an audience spellbound with the story of the Battle of Serenity Valley.

Pivoting from this, it should be noted that Mal could make an excellent debater. He has an excellent line in dry wit, especially in verbal sparring with those opposed to him. Take for example his response to an obnoxious drunk's questioning of his loyalty in a bar: "I'm thinking you weren't burdened with an overabundance of education, so why don't we just ignore each other until we go away?" Or his statement when faced with Jayne Cobb's attempt to trade his favourite gun for Mal's new wife: "Well, my days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle". Admittedly, he has faltered at times, as in an argument with Cobb: "You want to be captain of this ship?" "Yes!" "Well..... you can't!" The point is made, but, as debating strategies go, this one is on a par with "I agree with Nick".

To take perhaps the most important point, Mal has excellent leadership skills. He is capable of making stirring speeches when necessary, and also of taking prudent action where necessary. He takes a firm but fair line with his crew, which would be excellent if replicated; how great would it be to hear that the Secretary of State was punched in the face for saying something that the President disapproved of? Admittedly, this may happen now, but we're less likely to hear about it; also, I for one wouldn't dare to attack Hillary Clinton.

What of his running-mate? I propose a man (again, I know; my apologies to the other half of the human race) who can complement Reynolds perfectly. In a sense, the two men have had their disagreements, but Mal is not this man's enemy. I am talking about Dr. William Horrible.

Every VP should have an evil laugh.

(Or Neil Patrick Harris. Let us not forget, however, that Fillion is unequivocally superior to NPH.)

The two men would work perfectly together. Mal is a man of the people, which the good doctor really isn't (for all his more or less good intentions); Horrible, meanwhile, has the expertise that Reynolds, though not lacking in intelligence, never gained. The combination of their different geniuses would be nigh-on unstoppable, while their agendas would dovetail to a great extent; after all, it's hard to imagine Mal quibbling with the concept that "the status is... not quo".

So there you have it, friends; WAKE UP's official endorsement for 2012. I firmly believe that Reynolds and Horrible (or possibly Fillion and NPH) can overcome all opposition and take their rightful position at the head of the US government. Let us not forget that Mal is, by his own admission, "okay". Besides, "President Malcolm Reynolds" has a rather nice ring to it; naturally, one of the most important determinants when running for political office is how good one's name sounds.



[A quick note: one of my golden rules for WAKE UP is not to appear to be on any political side. I worry that I may have come close to breaking that with this post; if you feel I did, please let me know. By the nature of my own interests, I can't stay away from politics entirely; I just don't want to seem didactic at all. I don't want to sell an agenda.]

Quote of the Day

"For the record, I fear no beard."

- Noted beardophile Andrew Sullivan.