The only thing I hate more than reading about Republican-driven machinations to suppress voter turnout is reading about Republican-driven machinations to suppress voter turnout--and agreeing with it. Well, kinda. Sorta. In principle.
Over the last few years, a number of state legislatures have introduced bills that require voters to show photo identification when they come to the polls, ostensibly to prevent voter fraud. The fact that there is exactly no evidence to suggest that voter fraud is a widespread problem--or, for that matter, a problem period--has proven no deterrent to these zealous guardians of the public weal. And the fact that these laws pose disproportionate obstacles to minority voters--voters who are far more likely to vote Democratic than Republican--is pointed out by only the most churlish and cynical of pundits and bloggers.
Color me churlish.
So it was with no small sense of unease that I found myself less troubled by an article about Kansas and Arizona, which have introduced "two-tiered" voting systems to allow them to impose extra requirements on voters in state elections--specifically, in this case, a requirement that prospective voters show proof of citizenship. And while I am fully aware that this, like the various proposals to require photo identification, is primarily an attempt to disenfranchise as many low-income and/or minority voters as possible, I find myself unable to muster a good argument against it. After all, if voting is a privilege of citizenship--and it is--then why shouldn't states be able to demand proof of citizenship before extending the privilege.
What's even more troubling about this is that proving citizenship is arguably more difficult than merely proving identity. While I am aware that many low-income or minority citizens may not have photo IDs, I also think that, in the main, the vast majority of people do carry identification: I've carried a driver's license since I was 18--and I didn't even start driving until I was over 30! In other words, photo identification is fairly common. On the other hand, how many people carry around proof of citizenship? Not everyone carries around a social security card, and even fewer carry passports, much less birth certificates. Sort of makes me nostalgic for the good old days of voter-suppression through photo ID requirements.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
Misspelling Is Next to Godliness
The Vatican has recalled several thousand medallions commemorating the inauguration of Pope Francis because they feature a misspelling of the name "Jesus." That's not the worst part of the story, though. The worst part is that they spelled it "Mohammed." Actually, that's not the worst part, either: See, "Mohammed" was actually spelled "Moohammed," which led to riots in Yemen that left several hundred dead or wounded.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Overheard at a Conference
"At Fresno City College, we've noticed a great deal of turnover among administrators. Deans come here, stay a year or two, and then move on, mostly because. . . Well, you know: It's Fresno."
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Wait, What Do You Teach?
Decisions, decisions, decisions. . . .
STUDENT: Mr. Solipsist, is "kissing" sex?
Only if you're doing it right.
Only if you're doing it wrong.
Only if you're twelve.
It depends what the meaning of "is" is.
Kissing what?
Is kissing sex what?
I am legally enjoined from answering that question.
STUDENT: Mr. Solipsist, is "kissing" sex?
Only if you're doing it right.
Only if you're doing it wrong.
Only if you're twelve.
It depends what the meaning of "is" is.
Kissing what?
Is kissing sex what?
I am legally enjoined from answering that question.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Sunday, October 6, 2013
What's in a Name?
President Obama has declared himself "concerned" over the Washington NFL franchise's continued use of the name "Redskins"--thus presumably ensuring that the name will never be changed.
I don't know how I feel about the whole controversy surrounding the politically incorrect nickname. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly how I feel: I don't care. I have far bigger things to worry about than whether or not the name "Redskins" offends Native Americans. The Giants are 0-5 for God's sake! Still and all, these are exactly the kinds of issues--fundamentally meaningless, yet rife with the potential for manufactured outrage--that scream out for saturation blogging. So here goes.
I suppose I can understand the source of the offense, assuming that calling a Native American a "redskin" would be the equivalent of calling an African-American the 'N'-word. (Amazing that I can't even bring myself to type that word, even in a discussion about racial epithets.) And of course, Native Americans and others would point out--rightly--that no sports team would ever dare to call themselves (please excuse the expression) the "Little Rock Niggers" or the like. But the reason that no team would adopt that name has as much to do with the history of the word as it does with any rational calculation of political correctness--or of human decency. What does the N-word connote, after all, other than a history of oppression?
By contrast, when sports teams adopt nicknames, they often adopt names that connote strength or power (e.g., Lions, Tigers, Bears, oh my!). "Redskins" is just another example of this, as are other team names that reference Native American attributes (not to say clichés): the Atlanta Braves, the Cleveland Indians, the Chicago Blackhawks. These teams chose those names because the teams felt they conveyed an image of strength, nobility, fearlessness. Is this an insult?
Critics would point out that the names also convey the sense of Native-American-as-savage--noble or otherwise. Or, indeed, that my explanation itself points to a fundamental problem: Teams name themselves after animals, and so by adopting Native American names, the teams implicitly equate Native Americans with animals. I don't think this is the case, though: Unless such naming rituals also "animalize" 49'ers or Spartans or Trojans. Hm. Maybe it's only acceptable to name a team after a group of people if those people no longer exist? Note to self: I can name my expansion minor-league field-hockey team the Berkeley Visigoths!
The Washington Redskins organization can obviously do whatever it wants with its name. I take the team at its word when its officials assure us that they mean no offense. And I respect the argument that the team has been the "Redskins" since 1932; there's history there! But of course, there's history on the side of Native American groups, too, and respecting that history might pay off in more ways than one.
Heck, the Tampa Bay baseball team was the laughingstock of the Major Leagues until, after the 2007 season, they changed their name from "Devil Rays" to the less-infernal sounding "Rays." A cosmetic change? Perhaps. But the team made it all the way to the World Series in 2008. Maybe a little good karma goes a long way.
I don't know how I feel about the whole controversy surrounding the politically incorrect nickname. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly how I feel: I don't care. I have far bigger things to worry about than whether or not the name "Redskins" offends Native Americans. The Giants are 0-5 for God's sake! Still and all, these are exactly the kinds of issues--fundamentally meaningless, yet rife with the potential for manufactured outrage--that scream out for saturation blogging. So here goes.
I suppose I can understand the source of the offense, assuming that calling a Native American a "redskin" would be the equivalent of calling an African-American the 'N'-word. (Amazing that I can't even bring myself to type that word, even in a discussion about racial epithets.) And of course, Native Americans and others would point out--rightly--that no sports team would ever dare to call themselves (please excuse the expression) the "Little Rock Niggers" or the like. But the reason that no team would adopt that name has as much to do with the history of the word as it does with any rational calculation of political correctness--or of human decency. What does the N-word connote, after all, other than a history of oppression?
By contrast, when sports teams adopt nicknames, they often adopt names that connote strength or power (e.g., Lions, Tigers, Bears, oh my!). "Redskins" is just another example of this, as are other team names that reference Native American attributes (not to say clichés): the Atlanta Braves, the Cleveland Indians, the Chicago Blackhawks. These teams chose those names because the teams felt they conveyed an image of strength, nobility, fearlessness. Is this an insult?
Critics would point out that the names also convey the sense of Native-American-as-savage--noble or otherwise. Or, indeed, that my explanation itself points to a fundamental problem: Teams name themselves after animals, and so by adopting Native American names, the teams implicitly equate Native Americans with animals. I don't think this is the case, though: Unless such naming rituals also "animalize" 49'ers or Spartans or Trojans. Hm. Maybe it's only acceptable to name a team after a group of people if those people no longer exist? Note to self: I can name my expansion minor-league field-hockey team the Berkeley Visigoths!
The Washington Redskins organization can obviously do whatever it wants with its name. I take the team at its word when its officials assure us that they mean no offense. And I respect the argument that the team has been the "Redskins" since 1932; there's history there! But of course, there's history on the side of Native American groups, too, and respecting that history might pay off in more ways than one.
Heck, the Tampa Bay baseball team was the laughingstock of the Major Leagues until, after the 2007 season, they changed their name from "Devil Rays" to the less-infernal sounding "Rays." A cosmetic change? Perhaps. But the team made it all the way to the World Series in 2008. Maybe a little good karma goes a long way.
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