This morning on the Jim Leach Show, the host was asking listeners to call in and name a famous person they have personally interacted with and then Leach would guess whether the celebrity had acted congenially or jerkily during said encounter. He did a good job of predicting the offscreen demeanor of the celebrities, but then, who would doubt that Mrs. Brady could be anything less than a dazzling ray of sunshine.
It was an enjoyable bit of light radio fare, but it left me feeling bereft. You see, I’ve never met anyone truly famous.
Combing through my memory banks for any such meetings, the best I can come up with was a brief congratulatory exchange with All-American defensive lineman Bryant Young after his 1993 Fighting Irish squad defeated the number-one ranked Florida State Seminoles. His girlfriend had sold a ticket to my friend before the game and when we saw them walking through campus after the game we talked with them for a minute or two. We found them both to be quite charming, and in the case of Young, quite large.
Young is currently in his 14th season with the San Francisco 49ers and while he certainly qualifies as a sports celebrity, he’s no Joe Montana or Jerry Rice and would probably go unrecognized by a great majority of Americans. Nor will Lorne Michaels likely ever ask him to host Saturday Night Live.
My wife, on the other hand, once met Vanessa Williams. This was after Vanessa’s little scandal (click, click) at which point she was fully recognizable to almost everyone. I don’t believe she’s ever hosted SNL, but she has appeared as a musical guest.
While my sad and insular lifestyle has kept me from rubbing elbows with the noted and renowned, I’m sure some of you more worldly types have a story to tell.
So who then, is the most famous person you have met? Not the most famous person you glimpsed in person or the most famous person that resides in your delusions, but someone you can actually say you met. There must have been some exchange of conversation in which you were acknowledged as being a viable life form worthy of her or his consideration. Encounters at book signings or autograph sessions don’t count unless you were able to elicit both eye contact and some sort of verbiage that exceeded the perfunctory pleasantries normally exchanged at such encounters. If the meeting resulted in you being arrested, the celebrity must have testified in person at your trial for it to qualify.
To make things interesting, the person with the most impressive story, as judged by me, will receive a Kimberly Smoot “Best Blogger” T-shirt.*
*For the record, I have no problem with her winning the Best Blogger award. The people were asked to speak and they did so. She deserves the crown. Although her site doesn’t meet my definition of a blog, neither does Olive Garden meet my definition of an Italian restaurant. That said, I can’t expect the IT to put eligibility requirements on all of their categories just to satisfy my personal tastes.**
**Also for the record, there are three individuals who I feel could legitimately lay claim to the Best Blogger title and a fourth who might have were his ties to Springfield not so tenuous. I will refrain from naming these bloggers because I didn’t get around to voting this year and I don’t want to be blamed for not helping to push someone over the top.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
It’s Time for Their Close-Up
The following was published in today’s Chicago Sun Times:
Setting aside the issue of whether it makes good sense, politically or otherwise, to place a convicted felon in a relatively high state government position, the scene described above illustrates perfectly how elected leaders don’t feel any accountability to the public for their actions. Fortunately, I have a solution.
First, let’s break down what unfolded here.
The governor made a “rare Springfield news conference.” That in itself is a major problem because in our storied political system, the media acts not only as the eyes and ears of the public, but also provides its voice. The media’s ability to carry out their mission as the fourth estate of government is greatly diminished when a leader refuses to hear and respond to the issues that the public wants addressed.
And then, on this rare occasion when the governor does respect the duty that the media performs on behalf of his constituents, the often-glib guv goes monosyllabic.
Yes, he’s curt denial speaks volumes, but it raises more questions than it answers. If the governor truly believed that his man Guerra is worthy both of redemption and his position as deputy chief of staff, then he could have just said as much and then carried on with the news conference. The fact that he turned tail at the first sign of reproach, however mildly it was expressed and however expected it should have been, makes me believe that he feared that much more prickly questions would follow.
The governor and elected leaders are called on to make many tough decisions. Perhaps they would be wiser in determining what should influence those decisions if they knew, without a doubt, that they would have to explain it all someday.
So I propose that an additional requirement be added to the job description of our elected leaders. Four times a year, they must sit down with a panel of journalists and political scholars and answer their questions. The event will air on television and radio, and maybe somebody could do one of those podcast things. The panel will be allowed to ask follow-up questions if they aren’t satisfied with the original response and will be permitted to say some FCC-approved variation of ‘bull crap’ should an answer be blatantly evasive.
This won’t be a typical news conference where the leader can call on most-favored reporters, give sleight-of-hand responses and then call for the next question, or bail out when the first bead of sweat appears on his upper lip. Nor will it be an interrogation. The degree in which it will resemble a grilling will be determined by how transparent and upright the leader’s administration had been operating in the months prior to the day of reckoning.
The whole purpose of this exercise in accountability is to move the workings of government from the back room into our living rooms. The more we can see what’s going on, the less shifty they’ll be tempted to be.
Perhaps the thing that vexes me most about Illinois’ current state budget situation is how the leaders play their power games, carry out their vendettas, and shoot proverbial spit balls at each other, and then fire off a news release or trot out a spokesperson to claim that what they are doing is noble and in the best interest of the public. Even though the media does a good job of cutting through the spin, politicians, by avoiding any direct interaction with the media, can continue with the charade and still look themselves in the mirror each morning. If they’re forced to meet the press, their image might take a beating at first, but in the long run they’ll learn that keeping the public’s interests at heart is the key to effective leadership.
BY DAVE MCKINNEY Sun-Times Springfield Bureau Chief
Gov. Blagojevich refused Tuesday to explain his hiring of a convicted felon who did federal prison time for not cooperating in a terrorism probe.
When asked if he could explain his thoughts behind hiring Steven Guerra as a deputy chief of staff, knowing he was a felon, the governor said simply, "No."
With that one-word response, Blagojevich abruptly ended a rare Springfield news conference, retreating into his Statehouse office.
Setting aside the issue of whether it makes good sense, politically or otherwise, to place a convicted felon in a relatively high state government position, the scene described above illustrates perfectly how elected leaders don’t feel any accountability to the public for their actions. Fortunately, I have a solution.
First, let’s break down what unfolded here.
The governor made a “rare Springfield news conference.” That in itself is a major problem because in our storied political system, the media acts not only as the eyes and ears of the public, but also provides its voice. The media’s ability to carry out their mission as the fourth estate of government is greatly diminished when a leader refuses to hear and respond to the issues that the public wants addressed.
And then, on this rare occasion when the governor does respect the duty that the media performs on behalf of his constituents, the often-glib guv goes monosyllabic.
Yes, he’s curt denial speaks volumes, but it raises more questions than it answers. If the governor truly believed that his man Guerra is worthy both of redemption and his position as deputy chief of staff, then he could have just said as much and then carried on with the news conference. The fact that he turned tail at the first sign of reproach, however mildly it was expressed and however expected it should have been, makes me believe that he feared that much more prickly questions would follow.
The governor and elected leaders are called on to make many tough decisions. Perhaps they would be wiser in determining what should influence those decisions if they knew, without a doubt, that they would have to explain it all someday.
So I propose that an additional requirement be added to the job description of our elected leaders. Four times a year, they must sit down with a panel of journalists and political scholars and answer their questions. The event will air on television and radio, and maybe somebody could do one of those podcast things. The panel will be allowed to ask follow-up questions if they aren’t satisfied with the original response and will be permitted to say some FCC-approved variation of ‘bull crap’ should an answer be blatantly evasive.
This won’t be a typical news conference where the leader can call on most-favored reporters, give sleight-of-hand responses and then call for the next question, or bail out when the first bead of sweat appears on his upper lip. Nor will it be an interrogation. The degree in which it will resemble a grilling will be determined by how transparent and upright the leader’s administration had been operating in the months prior to the day of reckoning.
The whole purpose of this exercise in accountability is to move the workings of government from the back room into our living rooms. The more we can see what’s going on, the less shifty they’ll be tempted to be.
Perhaps the thing that vexes me most about Illinois’ current state budget situation is how the leaders play their power games, carry out their vendettas, and shoot proverbial spit balls at each other, and then fire off a news release or trot out a spokesperson to claim that what they are doing is noble and in the best interest of the public. Even though the media does a good job of cutting through the spin, politicians, by avoiding any direct interaction with the media, can continue with the charade and still look themselves in the mirror each morning. If they’re forced to meet the press, their image might take a beating at first, but in the long run they’ll learn that keeping the public’s interests at heart is the key to effective leadership.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
I Smell a Pulitzer
Here's my latest column for the SJ-R. This is the type of hard-hitting and brave commentary that sustains a republic. Not frivolous or stupid at all.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Able-Bodied Guilt
This is old news, but I was too caught up in other assignments to blog about it when it was fresh. As it is, my commentary is only half thought out, but there might be something here that's not too crass and worth debating.
An August 30 article in the SJ-R concerning the eviction of a north end church from its property over tax obligations included the following quote:
I don’t know what stand that newspapers take on providing a physical description of a subject when it has no relevance to the story, but I do think I know why it might have been included in this instance.
Many seem to perceive that amputees have received a wisdom that transcends that of the fully-limbed. Losing an appendage must be a terribly sobering experience and perhaps with it comes a moment of clarity that casts thereafter every experience in a light that is both lucent and unforgiving. If a one-armed man sees pure greed where others might see a regrettable yet equitable enforcement of tax laws, well then maybe we need to rethink those tax laws.
As a society, we ascribe a moral authority to anyone who has overcome, or at least lived through, a traumatic experience. Former drug addicts, combat veterans, Paris Hilton’s ex-boyfriends, anyone who has ever touched the deepest pits of despair must have, for their troubles, come away with a perspective on life that is free of the primrose and trifle that clouds the judgment of the rest of us. Mustn’t they have?
There’s a reason that Blind Lemon Jefferson can legitimately sing the blues, but John Mayer can’t. The reason is that we value the licks taken by a person who was educated in the school of hard knocks more than someone who attended the Berklee College of Music. But is the authenticity we grant the disabled always earned, or is sometimes a product of the guilt we feel for not having been made to suffer on an equal scale?
The Kids in the Hall once parodied our propensity for revering the disabled. This skit was a series of movie trailers that parodied Tom Cruise’s deviant turn as good soldier turned anti-war activist Ron Kovic in Born on the Fourth of July. In each, a crowd is cheering on a speaker who is proposing some measure to screw over the disabled, until a lone, disfranchised person rises up, and amid a crescendo of inspirational music, delivers an oratory that shames the populace for their cold-hearted ways. If I remember correctly, in the last of these increasingly preposterous trailers, the hero was suffering from a fork in his head that apparently couldn’t be dislodged.
The skit’s purpose was to skewer Hollywood, but Hollywood couldn’t play upon our emotions with such stories if we weren’t such suckers for them.
And that’s good. Far better for society to err on the side of compassion and accommodation than to cast the disabled aside in the battle of survival of the fittest. But if the goal is equality, then compassion and accommodation must be reasonable to the degree that a person is disadvantaged.
Consider the news yesterday of a band of disability rights activists who protested at the Thompson Center in Chicago. According to reports, they used their wheelchairs and bodies to block employee entrances and exits, and security allowed them to do so.
I have no doubt that if Woody Harrelson and a group of High Times subscribers took to the state building to protest marijuana laws, security would have snatched them up by their hemp-woven collars and floated them out into the street. But that course of action, however warranted it might have been considering that blocking exits is a safety hazard, simply wasn’t an option, and the activists knew it. You can’t forcibly remove someone in a wheelchair and not face a fierce comeuppance when the news footage hits the fan.
The truth is, of course, that the disabled are no more entitled to skirt the law than anyone else, nor are they necessarily any more sagacious when commenting on matters of property seizures. Yet when a one-armed man talks, I’ll probably still listen. Will you?
There’s probably a good Ironside analogy to be made here somewhere, but I couldn’t find it. Perhaps the Lemonhead’s Cazzo Di Ferro might offer some insight.
An August 30 article in the SJ-R concerning the eviction of a north end church from its property over tax obligations included the following quote:
"This is greed in its worst form - throwing a church on the street," said Daniel
Richards, a one-armed neighbor who lives two doors down, as he loaded a U-Haul.
I don’t know what stand that newspapers take on providing a physical description of a subject when it has no relevance to the story, but I do think I know why it might have been included in this instance.
Many seem to perceive that amputees have received a wisdom that transcends that of the fully-limbed. Losing an appendage must be a terribly sobering experience and perhaps with it comes a moment of clarity that casts thereafter every experience in a light that is both lucent and unforgiving. If a one-armed man sees pure greed where others might see a regrettable yet equitable enforcement of tax laws, well then maybe we need to rethink those tax laws.
As a society, we ascribe a moral authority to anyone who has overcome, or at least lived through, a traumatic experience. Former drug addicts, combat veterans, Paris Hilton’s ex-boyfriends, anyone who has ever touched the deepest pits of despair must have, for their troubles, come away with a perspective on life that is free of the primrose and trifle that clouds the judgment of the rest of us. Mustn’t they have?
There’s a reason that Blind Lemon Jefferson can legitimately sing the blues, but John Mayer can’t. The reason is that we value the licks taken by a person who was educated in the school of hard knocks more than someone who attended the Berklee College of Music. But is the authenticity we grant the disabled always earned, or is sometimes a product of the guilt we feel for not having been made to suffer on an equal scale?
The Kids in the Hall once parodied our propensity for revering the disabled. This skit was a series of movie trailers that parodied Tom Cruise’s deviant turn as good soldier turned anti-war activist Ron Kovic in Born on the Fourth of July. In each, a crowd is cheering on a speaker who is proposing some measure to screw over the disabled, until a lone, disfranchised person rises up, and amid a crescendo of inspirational music, delivers an oratory that shames the populace for their cold-hearted ways. If I remember correctly, in the last of these increasingly preposterous trailers, the hero was suffering from a fork in his head that apparently couldn’t be dislodged.
The skit’s purpose was to skewer Hollywood, but Hollywood couldn’t play upon our emotions with such stories if we weren’t such suckers for them.
And that’s good. Far better for society to err on the side of compassion and accommodation than to cast the disabled aside in the battle of survival of the fittest. But if the goal is equality, then compassion and accommodation must be reasonable to the degree that a person is disadvantaged.
Consider the news yesterday of a band of disability rights activists who protested at the Thompson Center in Chicago. According to reports, they used their wheelchairs and bodies to block employee entrances and exits, and security allowed them to do so.
I have no doubt that if Woody Harrelson and a group of High Times subscribers took to the state building to protest marijuana laws, security would have snatched them up by their hemp-woven collars and floated them out into the street. But that course of action, however warranted it might have been considering that blocking exits is a safety hazard, simply wasn’t an option, and the activists knew it. You can’t forcibly remove someone in a wheelchair and not face a fierce comeuppance when the news footage hits the fan.
The truth is, of course, that the disabled are no more entitled to skirt the law than anyone else, nor are they necessarily any more sagacious when commenting on matters of property seizures. Yet when a one-armed man talks, I’ll probably still listen. Will you?
There’s probably a good Ironside analogy to be made here somewhere, but I couldn’t find it. Perhaps the Lemonhead’s Cazzo Di Ferro might offer some insight.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Where Victor Is
This is the story of our trip to the Holy Land. I took Victor to see his first Notre Dame game. Thanks to Paco and Erin for the tickets, Uncle Jim for the Friday night accomodations, Cousin Jack for the game day jersey, and Dave for the concept, which I've ripped off again. I hope you enjoy this pictorial.
Victor is . . .
displaying the bounty of our trip to Chick-Fil-A. We left Indianapolis early Saturday morning to get to South Bend by lunch time. Little did we know that Route 31 would take us past our favorite restuarant.
Victor is . . .
putting himself to the test. An inflated obstacle course in the JACC was all that it took to forgive me for not letting him play at the indoor playgroud at the Chick Fil A. We came back to this a second time when roaming the campus didn't satisfy his need for action.
Victor is . . .
under the watchful eye of Touchdown Jesus. It's hard to explain to a six-year-old why the son of God would be signaling a score in a football game, so I didn't even try.
Victor is . . .
meeting some percussionists. He's got a drummer's soul, I'm convinced, so it's time he met some of his own people. Also, if you're ever in South Bend on game day, the band members are the friendliest and most helpful ambassodors that you'll find.
Victor is . . .
giving five with the players as the walk from Mass and into the stadium. You can't see it here, but several of the guys reached down to slap him some skin. It's one of the many traditions at ND that makes game day such a cool experience.
Victor is . . .
clearing the way so the Irish Guard can pass. They looked serious as they made their way across campus, but also quite majestic.
Victor is . . .
digging on the band. After watching the pre-game concert, we went to see the drum circle, where they were kicking out some dope beats. The tuba players laid down their weapons and Victor went to frolic in the brass garden. Drum Major Ryan Bailey was happy to pose with young Vic.
Victor is . . .
slightly pissed that he wasn't allowed to climb on the Frank Leahy statue. Respect, laddie, respect.
Victor is . . .
posing with his dad in front of the golden dome, but would have much rather been posing with the cute coed who graciously agreed to take the shot.
Victor is . . .
again with his dad, this time in the stadium. It was a touching moment. Dad isn't an ND grad, but for some reason, sharing this moment with his number one son tugged at the old heart strings.
Victor is . . .
watching the team take the field. We soon ran out of film (film?) so we don't have any pictures of the game. Victor now hates the "Georgia Techs."
Next week, we'll go see the Cyclones.
Victor is . . .
the best looking dude in the stadium.
Victor is . . .
displaying the bounty of our trip to Chick-Fil-A. We left Indianapolis early Saturday morning to get to South Bend by lunch time. Little did we know that Route 31 would take us past our favorite restuarant.
Victor is . . .
putting himself to the test. An inflated obstacle course in the JACC was all that it took to forgive me for not letting him play at the indoor playgroud at the Chick Fil A. We came back to this a second time when roaming the campus didn't satisfy his need for action.
Victor is . . .
under the watchful eye of Touchdown Jesus. It's hard to explain to a six-year-old why the son of God would be signaling a score in a football game, so I didn't even try.
Victor is . . .
meeting some percussionists. He's got a drummer's soul, I'm convinced, so it's time he met some of his own people. Also, if you're ever in South Bend on game day, the band members are the friendliest and most helpful ambassodors that you'll find.
Victor is . . .
giving five with the players as the walk from Mass and into the stadium. You can't see it here, but several of the guys reached down to slap him some skin. It's one of the many traditions at ND that makes game day such a cool experience.
Victor is . . .
clearing the way so the Irish Guard can pass. They looked serious as they made their way across campus, but also quite majestic.
Victor is . . .
digging on the band. After watching the pre-game concert, we went to see the drum circle, where they were kicking out some dope beats. The tuba players laid down their weapons and Victor went to frolic in the brass garden. Drum Major Ryan Bailey was happy to pose with young Vic.
Victor is . . .
slightly pissed that he wasn't allowed to climb on the Frank Leahy statue. Respect, laddie, respect.
Victor is . . .
posing with his dad in front of the golden dome, but would have much rather been posing with the cute coed who graciously agreed to take the shot.
Victor is . . .
again with his dad, this time in the stadium. It was a touching moment. Dad isn't an ND grad, but for some reason, sharing this moment with his number one son tugged at the old heart strings.
Victor is . . .
watching the team take the field. We soon ran out of film (film?) so we don't have any pictures of the game. Victor now hates the "Georgia Techs."
Next week, we'll go see the Cyclones.
Victor is . . .
the best looking dude in the stadium.
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