How about this passage from Chapter 16, where we stopped last night:
Setup--Huck is bedeviled by his conscience, having had an opportunity to do the "right thing" and give Jim up. But for reasons he doesn't fully understand yet, he doesn't.
Extended range wireless (WiFi N) delivers the best quality video virtually anywhere in your home.
TV Nirvana
Pros: Compact, Great value, Built in Wi-Fi, Reliability, High quality picture, Video selection, Easy to use, Easy to set up
Cons: Want more video choices
Best Uses: Primary TV
Describe Yourself: Media professional, Power User, Early adopter, Home entertainment enthusiast, Technophile, Netflix fan
I am a video producer and the Roku was a Christmas present to family and self. As we don't yet have hardwire network access to the family room I had to hope that our 3Mbps DSL wireless bandwidth was enough to feed the box an acceptible signal. Setup took ten minutes and I was immediately delighted with the image quality and the speed with which movies downloaded and played. Who needs cable for movies when you have your Netflix account and one of these cool Roku boxes? What a great investment!
I only have one request/suggestion. Roku meet Hulu. Hulu, meet Roku. Make it happen guys and you both will be unstoppable.
(legalese)


Frankly, I wasn't looking for any debate, especially this debate, preferring a peaceful kickback with good company, cigars and port. What I was silently pondering was the counterpoint between the port I was sipping and excellent Cubano I'd lit and the clever response I'd make to this guy on FB, obviously an inhabitant of another continent, who cracked wise about Americans obsessing about the weather. Said dude said, just you wait, winter with all its rain and cold are just around the corner. He obviously didn't grasp that here in NNE America it is record-breaking rainy/cold and it's bloody summer.
But my reverie was interrupted by somebody saying, people, especially teenagers should just turn off their computers and get out and interact with each other. In "real life." Ah, the camouflage was off the digital divide and the Luddites were marching, with fixed bayonets. Their rallying cry:
Facebook, "Great corruptor of youth and destroyer of health, civility and "real social discourse."
Or not.
As the last standing digital partisan in this upscale crowd of lawyers, financial analysts, tech workers, investors, teachers and healthcare workers, I was pulled into a trench war in reluctant defense of my own usage and that of teens. My assignment was to hopefully raise the awareness of a group of parents, good, intelligent people all, about the true pros and cons of social media.
The curve on all new tech trends comes up fast, each faster than the previous one, so there is really no shame in professing tech-vertigo. But those on the dock with the staunchest opinions weren't informed by awareness, i.e. actually being on the site and using it and their arguments were so categorical and absolute that they demanded a reasoned response. Where there is a little shame, IMH, is judging without knowing.
FB IS a time waster. Sure, but so are a lot of things.
At first glance, it is easy to dismiss FB as a trivial time-waster. People write about the yummy beef burrito with chipotle sauce that they had for lunch. They write that they're stuck in airports. They take quizzes to determine if they're dateable or which Mafia boss they are most like. I mean, really! A lot it is crap. It's like being on an old-fashioned telephone party line with most of the jabber being nonsense. Hmm, a potential through line? Let's put it on hold for a moment and return to the non-virtual lakeside debate.
The argument that I responded to first, was the new technology = decline of civility argument.
This one is hardest to counter, because there is always an element of truth to it. Social pundits at the turn of the previous century slammed the "yellow journalists" for their lack of decorum. Newspapers decried the telephone and radio as infernal instruments. Radio took on movies. Movies took on television. Television fought the net and they all won. They're all still around. Granted, the fishwraps are on life support, but the good ones will pull through once they figure out how to save trees and international journalists.
Samuel Johnson said that "Politeness is one of those advantages which we never estimate rightly but by the inconvenience of its loss." Yet social commentators from the days of the Athenian republic have been decrying the loss of civil discourse in the proceeding generation. By mathematical progression alone, this would have reduced Johnson's generation to Yahoos and our generation to snarling brutes. Yet the argument remains evergreen and is levied by elders against every new generation or medium embraced by that generation.
Civility is both a fluid and a static concept. There was a time in this country (which still exists in some cultures) when women would be considered rude, just appearing in public without a male escort. Aristotle believed that virtuous behavior had to be voluntary and that civility is a form of virtuous behavior.
· Treating people well
· Speaking politely
· Telling the truth
Any generation that decries the breakdown of civility in its youth, must first examine itself, what of these virtues it has passed down or failed to pass down to the next.
I'd argue that it is never the role of the new medium to lead the charge of civility. That role is reserved for the oldest of media, the discourse that takes place at the "kitchen hearth." The lessons of the hearth are no more the role of technology than sex ed is the role of Playboy. Remember Playboy? People bring what they've learned to the communications tools they use, so you can hardly blame the tool for the poor choices of its users.
But I'd also posit that communication, as a human activity, is a virtue, more valued than making money or war. In a democratic society, even poorly done communication is better than none at all. A million twittering Iranians can't be wrong. Our own founding fathers valued free speech above all other freedoms or virtues and there's no doubt that if they'd had cellphones they'd have tweeted from the docks of
"How much time do you spend on FB?"
One individual asked this in a somewhat hostile tone, expecting, I think, that the answer would be 'hours and hours daily', an a priori assumption that would have undermined my credibility, with the insinuation that I'm just one of those pathetic time-wasters who are so addicted to their computers that they've lost all sense of perspective frittering away in other people's trivia. My answer is about 10 minutes per log-on. Well, this individual countered, I work, and I don't have time ... which I'm sorry, is the refrain that unengaged parents have used for generations to not be bothered to find out what their kids are thinking about or doing.
I hear this argument far too much from my "on the digital cusp" generation.
It basically translates thus:
I have a clue for such folks. It isn’t all crap. Something important is happening here and though I can't state with certainty what it will morph into, I can tell you that you are missing the boat. You aren’t better or smarter for your standoffishness. You and your work aren't any more or less important than this. Put your prejudices in the back drawer and check it out. It isn't as hard as you think and you may even enjoy yourself.
You don’t need FB to be rude
Another individual began his argument (as he always does) with the aggressive suppositions that "You don't get it." "You don't understand" and "You're not listening." This is a familiar three-toothed saw, as this person consistently assumes that if I don't agree with him, that I've not listened to him. (His) logic dictates that either he believes his opinions are facts, or that the force of his arguments are so incredibly compelling, that merely listening to them will bring instant agreement or that I'm so incredibly stupid or stubborn that I wouldn't know a compelling argument if it hit me on the head. None of these assertions are accurate or terribly polite, for that matter. Perhaps my response should have been to point this needlessly demeaning rhetoric out, but I shut up, sipped my port and listened to him describe how a personal connection was maligned by another on a website, that people who use email to communicate don't understand the proper means of discourse in a "real" office" or are too lazy and stupid to have a face to face conversation and that he simply won't allow his children to ever fall into this trap. Let's line these assertions up one by one.
I disagree with this individual on some of his strongly held beliefs and in such cases, no amount of listening will change my mind any more than listening to me will change his. That doesn’t mean I lack the capacity to comprehend his opinions, even when he states them as “facts.” It merely means I take his opinions as opinions, which leaves me free to agree or disagree.
Sure, it sucks that his colleague was maligned on a website, but that perpetrator could have mailed a flier, gotten on the phone or on a soapbox in the town square to spew her dirt. Yes, the web makes dysfunctional spews easier to launch, but now the argument is one of relativisms, not absolutes.
If a technology’s direct and primary role is to do harm, (like guns) then you ban or heavily restrict its use. But if its primary role is good and useful and harm comes tangentially, then you manage the tangential harm and throw the bathwater out, not the baby. I found it most shocking that he was so "anti-email" given that he recently installed a FIOS account to work from home and be closer to his children. I'm assuming that most of those business transactions take place via email. In "You don't get it's" or any other office, email is a far better way than face-to-face speech to maintain records of who said what to whom and the progress of a project. In my world, email is the life's blood of my and much larger corporations' business. Last year, I used it to deliver online courseware for several major corporations, for clients all over the country that I never met face to face.
Finally "You don't get it's" children who are going to be protected from this e-onslaught-- are very young and I plan to revisit this conversation when they become teenagers. We'll see who is listening and understanding and who is not and how effective this Khomeinish ban of his has been.
There's not space enough to describe all the useful ways I use the various web outlets to foster my hopefully polite and efficient connections with business and personal contacts.
Let's stick to the "worst offender," the dreaded Facebook. My initial motivation was to track my teenage child's usage, because I was, as I always am, concerned for his privacy, online and off. I let him have an account only after he promised to "friend me." He used some colorful language on one of his posts and I used it as a teachable moment. I learned that he had a girlfriend through his Facebook page. I learned that they'd broken up. These are the sorts of painfully intimate things I'd never discussed with my own parents, face-to-face or otherwise, so I understood my son's reticence.
I have a useful window into my teen and his friends' daily lives that I would not have otherwise.
Anybody who parents a teen knows how important any channel of communication with teens is. Kids like mine collect hundreds of "friends" and while only a fraction of them are "real," let's recognize that in the hyper-frenzied social world of teenagers quantity is more important (to them) than quality and having friends of any sort is super-critical. I don't judge. If the kid is smart and well-informed (by their parents and peers), they'll figure out soon enough what and who counts. I don't see this specter of isolated children sitting in the dark, being stalked and pretending to be friends with fake friends. I see young people learning to use tools that will inform and enrich their lives.
Suddenly I thought, wow, this is cool, maybe there is something untrivial about this social networking thing after all.
Shortly after I opened my account, several interesting things happened.
All my FB friends are real friends and family.
Maybe you be-”friend” anybody who comes along. That’s your option and you won’t find me judging you for it. And yes, while our kids and many of our friends and family write the most trivial things, on occasions, there are nuggets buried in the hay, little sparks of human connections that don't necessarily rise to the level of a call or letter (email or otherwise). FB, with its user-centric interface allows you to scan quickly and comment where and when you deem it worth your while. Then there are Plaxo and LinkedIn for keeping up with business contacts, keeping my email contact list fresh and there's no denying that they can be very useful for business purposes. Smart users balance their time on these online tools, maintain appropriate contact through appropriate channels and expand, not contract their worlds. These contacts are as "real" as the people who send and receive them. Common sense dictates balance, not exclusion.
If your kid is getting fat, spending four hours a day on his computer, instead of making "real" friends or doing his homework, is it the computer's fault?
No, it's yours. Paul Simon said "Every generation throws its hero up the pop charts." So if the next generation's use of social networking is so dysfunctional in the long run, chances are good that their own children will rebel against them and start a "back to real" communications trend of their own. I'm cool with that. If it happens, which I doubt, it will be a choice born of experience and informed choice, not ignorance and blind rejection.
Now finally to the REAL downside.
So, with all these positives and whatever novel innovations social networking holds in the near future, what IMH, is the real downside? It can be neatly summed up in the following quote on a page I clicked inadvertently on a couple of days ago.
"Allowing My Birthday Calendar access will let it pull your profile information, photos, your friends' info, and other content that it requires to work."
CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL!!!
What this seemingly innocuous FB permission opens, is a floodgate that takes what you share and who you share it with out of your hands. Read the fine print before you jump on one of these aps. Please!!! But as onerous as this may seem, at least this is the devil you know, for they give you the option. So I decline all those cute, fuzzy FB aps. Sorry, but I won't put your birthday on my FB calendar, give you a hug, friend blessing or teddy bear. I've made my choice and drawn my line. We already live in a world where your every transaction is recorded, archived and sold to corporations who use it to "monetize" their interactions with you. You don't know when and how much it happens, but unless you stuff your cash under a mattress and don't have a SS number, ATM card or credit, you leave a trail a mile wide, each time you "transact."
Your Information/Somebody Else’s Commodity
The most important issue that none of the folks on that dock got, is how what you say, think, buy or sell is mined by people who are looking to sell your information as a commodity. FB poses some privacy issues, but at least they are known and can be managed. What about the hundreds of other times a week your information is aggregated and sent to huge databases to be sold to the highest corporate bidder and you know nothing about it. If you want to get angry at something, if you want to be afraid of something, this is the real bug lurking in the bed. A giant wave of change is washing over us. You can ride it or you can turn your back on it, but you stand a much better chance of not being swamped if you get on the board. The essence of democracy is participation and choice and any technology that expands these options even a little is fine in my book.
The leader of this pack of dogs is Tommy Gavin, as played by Mr. Leary. Turns out I had him all wrong. Leary and I are the same age. He’s the type of macho wiseass guy who picked on my type of guy as a kid. At the beginning of his career, it seemed he was just another insult comic, an indoor sunglasses wearing, sneer-faced, Dice-Clay cloned Mick comic more known for profanity- drenched humor than serious work. IMH. Oh, but in “Rescue Me” his ghosts and demons leap, dance and blaze all over the screen and it is absolutely gut-wrenching and mesmerizing. Like watching luxury cars crash in slow motion.
Wherever he goes, whether to the firehouse, his own uneasy bed, or the kitchen of his lover, Leary’s Gavin lugs his Marleyesque purgatory train, the visible, trash talking, punch throwing ghosts of Jesus, his dead cousin, brother and father as well as civilian others who've perished in flames Tommy has fought with so little regard for his own life. At first I thought the device a little obvious, but I soon realized that Tommy’s ghosts are Leary’s first clue that his asshole alpha stud puppy alter ego is human, sympathetic and far frailer than maybe even the talented Mr. Leary is willing to concede.
Tommy's on again, off again, on again affair with the bottle is one only an AA lifer could fully conceptualize. You feel the burning ache of his thirst in the back of your own throat as he contemplates a fifth of vodka, pours the tumbler, raises it, sets it down, raises it again, all the while screaming "Don't do it Tommy boy!" Still the guy is an asshole and his own worst enemy. He is a mysogynist. He burns all his bridges, buys his kids' love with money and undermines everybody who cares for him. What a paradox! I care so deeply for him and his whole band of merry misfits. ( I hope he never finds out!) I love when a character, through the integrity of the writing, rises from the table, like Frankenstein’s monster, a creature far greater than the sum of his parts. Denis, I hardly knew ye. But man, am I impressed!
Unlike Leary, Callie Thorne is an actress whose career I have followed for decades, before she played long-suffering Elena McNulty, wife to serial destructo boy detective Jimmy McNulty on HBO’s critically heralded “The Wire” and before that, Det. Laura Ballard on NBC’s amazing six year, ‘90’s-era “Homicide, Life on the Streets.” With her trademark sexy vulnerability and toughness, she stole scenes, shone in these relatively minor roles, playing second fiddle to bigger names and storylines. In every role she plays, you feel her absences from the screen like gravity and wait impatiently for her return.
Mr. Leary, to his eminent credit, understands this. He trained the spotlight and let slip the leash that other directors and writers have restrained the incredibly talented Ms. Thorne with and she leaps to deliver, oh God does she deliver as Sheila, the predatory, over-the-top, head-case, pill-popping, sex-starved, Tommy-loving widow of Gavin clan cousin, Jimmy Keefe, the firefighter who died in the second WTC tower’s collapse. In bed, in a chair, on a table, on the floor, she is every bit Leary’s femme foil and like him, displays no fear in her exploration of desire and fallibility. I can’t take my eyes off her. I would give body parts to watch Thorne and Leary rehearse. I think I'd finally truly get the writer/actor connection.
They are as unlikable a group of characters as you’d ever want to meet.
They are as lovable a group of characters as you’d ever want to meet.
I now wait with bated breath, hook and ladder, for Wednesday early, early mornings, when the previous week’s show is posted by FX after an agonizing eight day delay.
Another Hulu offering I didn’t think I’d warm to is Showtime’s “Dead Like Me” which I assumed would be yet another death-trip rip-off of HBO’s wildly popular “Six Feet Under.” Again, I got it wrong and I happily report I’m in love with 28 year Ellen Muth, who plays, no carries the show, as pug-faced, saucer-eyed 19 year old Georgia, a college drop-out office drone who is freakishly and summarily dispatched by a Russian space station toilet seat turned fiery reentry debris. For reasons that aren’t entirely clear, instead of meeting her eternal reward, the unfinished George, aka "Toilet Seat Girl" is pressed reluctantly into yet another dead end job as an undead case worker, a grim reaper who harvests the souls of the living, seconds before their often gory denouements. The reaper squad receives daily assignments from the bureaucracy of death, but no pay or expense account for their grim but merciful tasks. So they must resort to some sordid and hilarious scavenging to keep it going 9-5 in the land of the living. Clever, though the writing isn't yet near as crisp or insightful as "6 Feet," yet it has its moments and the camera loves Muth. With her rolling eyes, deadpan voiceovers and fixed scowl turned smile; she outshines even thespier thesps Mandy Patinkin and Jasmine Guy, episode after episode. Watch this dead little lady rise like a phoenix.
It’s shows like these that make the last two decades the true golden era of the little screen. As long as talented writers and actors are allowed to parade and exorcise their demons on the little box, I will keep watching, far into the night, cheating sleep and drawing inspiration as I seek out the clues and tools for mining the veins buried deep in my own dark writer's heart. Television drama, written by writers, acted by actors, like reality, only better.