Some evangelical Christian friends of mine were genuinely surprised to hear that many American Jews were scared of Sarah Palin. (After all, she loves Israel. How could we be frightened?) In the following email, written today, one day before The Election, I tried to explain:
As for Palin... I don’t think her being a strong woman is a negative for the typical Jewish voter. After all, Israel had women in the military long before the US did, and Israelis revere Golda Meir. You ask why Jewish voters are scared by her. Speaking very, very generally: As a whole, Jews in this country tend to be liberal. So, when Palin expresses a strong (and to her credit, uncompromising) pro-life stance, most Jews are immediately turned off -- especially older Jews who remember the pre-Roe v. Wade era. Choice tends to be a fundamental issue for Jewish voters, and that alone is a deal breaker for most Jews considering a McCain-Palin ticket.
Jews tend to have few qualms about birth control, and we’re frequently comfortable discussing sex with our kids. While no one wants their teen daughter to become pregnant, Palin’s abstinence-only beliefs seem unrealistic and naïve to us.
As Jews, we tend to revere education and intellectualism. (Sex education, as education, fits in there somewhere.) In the diaspora, it’s been necessary to flee from country to country from time to time, and you can’t take land or even a small business with you. Education, however, transports nicely, and the rabbis spent centuries exercising their minds parsing and critiquing the Torah. (To critique is to be Jewish?) The point is that when we hear that Palin struggled to get through community college, and took 5 tries to get through college altogether, a teeny tiny little red flag goes up for us. And when we hear that she believes that dinosaurs coexisted with humans within the last 6,000 years -- which flies in the face of scientific evidence and the theory of evolution -- we wince. When she discounts 99% of scientific opinion and says that climate change is not caused by humans, we are disturbed. When Katie Couric asks her what publications, newspapers, magazines, etc. she reads and Palin can’t come up with a single one, a huge red flag goes up for us. (No, those are not red, Communist flags. Contrary to what Rush Limbaugh may believe, liberalism and communism are not synonymous.)
Having suffered injustice for thousands of years, American Jews are keenly attuned to matters of civil rights and Constitutionality. So when we hear Palin misstating the duties of the vice president and bizarrely attacking the media for trampling her first amendment rights, the flags grow larger.
Jews have a long tradition of activism and community organizing; many Jews fought in the civil rights movement. So when we hear Palin belittling Obama for his own work as a community organizer in no less a predominantly African-American community, we are turned off.
When we learn that Todd Palin was a member of an Alaskan separatist movement, many of whose members hold views to the right of John Birch -- and we learn that Sarah has addressed these separatists and given them her blessing -- alarm bells go off.
We are also alarmed when we learn that the founder of Jews for Jesus spoke to Palin’s Wasilla congregation and described terrorist attacks on Israel as God’s judgment on Jews for not embracing Christianity.
It’s not necessarily fair to attribute such beliefs to Sarah Palin herself, but all these little flags together make Jews nervous. McCain had said, on his own, prior to selecting Palin as VP, that America is a Christian nation, and I believe that most Jews were willing to chalk that up to rhetoric. But with Palin on the ticket, such statements take on considerably more weight. Obviously Jews do not believe that America is a Christian nation. Judeo-Christian maybe, but not Christian. But the upshot is that we end up feeling excluded -- in our own country.
The huge irony here is that if Obama were Jewish (and white), he would be the ideal son-in-law for most Jewish parents: Ivy League educated, president of the Harvard Law Review, professor of constitutional law at the University of Chicago, published author, devoted father of two great kids, etc. To quote Joe Biden, he’s clean and educated.
I’d be curious to hear from you guys why evangelicals are so frightened of Obama, whose pro-choice views match Lieberman’s (whom you like), and who is more Christian and church-going than McCain (who admitted to not being very religious). I would have thought that a practicing Christian candidate would trump a non-practicing Christian candidate, and certainly a Jewish candidate.
Whew. I ended up writing a lot. Anyway, I enjoy this sort of dialogue, and wish there were more of it in our country. To quote Obama (and you’ll have to forgive me): “There is not a liberal America and a conservative America -- there is the United States of America.”
Monday, November 3, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me! – the TV taping
Yesterday I attended the first live taping of Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me!, here in Los Angeles. Here’s my take on the night...
I’m not sure if this means anything, but the several-blocks-long line to get into the Wilshire Theater snaked around the Flynt building, headquarters of Hustler magazine. Most of us had obeyed the producers' instructions and dressed up (business casual) and left our cell phones in the car. (Cell phones, we were told, would not be allowed into the theater, a threat they never followed up on.) Nicely dressed in the SoCal sunshine, as I stood out there on the Flynt sidewalk, I was reminded of the weirdness of the Oscars, when the stars parade down the red carpet, dressed in evening wear, at five in the afternoon. They look out of place, and that might just be the theme of this posting.
But let me back up... Many years ago, when I was a devotee of A Prairie Home Companion, Amy got us tickets to a live taping of that show, at Town Hall in New York. While I’m certainly glad I went, the show was a bit of a bust. First of all, we happened to go the night they did the talent show for people from small towns with populations under a thousand. They didn’t do as many skits as they usually do, and I was underwhelmed by the small-town talent. Not that they weren’t good. It’s just that, well, there’s already way too much music in the show, and to double that amount becomes almost unbearable.
But it was still fun to see Tom Keith do his sound effects, and to hear Garrison (who really should be our poet laureate) do the news from you know where. But the most important take-away for me was the realization that radio is often best left to the radio. Sitting there in the theater I felt like a captive, and I realized that the great thing about the radio is that you can do so many other things while listening to it. An entire world enters your home and fills your imagination while you fold your socks or prepare your pasta. I’m reminded of the farmers in third world countries whose lives were changed by the transistor radio, who could now work the fields while listening to the BBC all day.
Sure, it’s fun to see the mechanics of A Prairie Home Companion, but really it’s too impersonal in a large theater. Garrison comes out of my living room speaker and sounds like he’s right there in the box, talking to me. In the large theater he’s tiny, much tinier than my imagination holds him to be. In my radio mind, he’s a giant. And on radio they lower the audio level on some of the clapping so that when Garrison starts his soliloquy you hear him from word one. In the theater you and your fellow audience members are clapping as he’s starting to speak and you never hear him say, “... in Lake Wobegon, my home town...”
Last night Peter Sagal and his buddies took the divorce even one step further. They’ve turned the radio show into TV, and one broken up by commercial interruptions. You sit there in the beautiful Wilshire Theater and think, this isn’t the show I love. In my mind, listening on a weekend, or streaming at work the following week, I would imagine Carl and Peter and all the contestants sitting on stools on an empty, black stage, with nothing but microphones and water in front of them. But, for TV, there’s a set that looks like a cross between a 1950s TV game show studio and one of those slick entertainment “news” shows some people will be watching tonight. There are flashy graphics ever swirling behind Carl Kasell’s head (and on a massive screen dead center at the back of the set), while the same set is simultaneously implanted with red velvet, retro, curtain doorways, like the kind that separate first class from coach, and you think, my god, what the hell were they thinking? If Peter Sagal wants to come on stage, why doesn’t he just come from the side?
But I’m being catty. In reality the set was fine. Carl sits off to the side like Spalding Gray behind his desk. Peter stands off center behind a podium. And the three contestants sit side-by-side behind a sort of anchor news desk. From an audience member’s perspective—mine—the three units do seem too far from one another. Granted, the show the other night was designed for TV, and though there were monitors showing, say, a close up of Carl Kasell, we in the audience did not see the final product, slickly cut together. So who knows? Maybe it’ll be good on the screen.
When we first moved to LA, Amy and I went to a taping of Will & Grace, with VIP tickets provided by a friend who was a writer on the show. I never thought the show was all that great in the first place, but 22 minutes of it on TV was at least moderately bearable. There are 22 minutes, and then it’s over. But the taping of those 22 minutes lasted hours. There were multiple takes, with the writers continually huddling and coming up with new jokes to try. To keep us preoccupied during the tedium of these discussions (which, alas, we in the audience couldn’t hear) there was a fluffer who regaled us with stand-up “comedy,” and even threw candy at us half-way through the taping to get our blood sugar up. But after three or four hours of this, you are brain dead.
The Wait Wait taping had its own fluffer, who threw not candy but public radio swag. And we were coached when to clap. We clapped as we went into a commercial break. We clapped as we came out of the break. Frankly, I was clapped out by the end. I was no longer an independent-minded public radio listener, but a trained sea lion.
The beauty of radio is its low cost. When the radio panel tells us their fake news stories each week, we see each episode in our mind’s eye. But on TV, Wait Wait has to now not just tell, but show. So we saw re-enactments of the fake news. I could hear the cash flowing. Each little segment now actually has to be produced, with actors and locations, and budgets. But what’s weird is that the real item has to seem as fake as the fake items, otherwise you’ll know which is real, because, well, reality just doesn’t look produced. So we had the Escherian experience of watching a faked production of a real news item.
Carl no longer does the message on anyone’s answering machine. Now they’re giving out Carl Kasell calendars, with Carl’s face Photoshopped onto the bodies of hunky firefighters and athletes. Each time the calendar was mentioned, they showed photos from a couple of months. But how long will this joke last? And which would you rather have? The calendar, or his voice on your answering machine?
I’ll take the voice on my answering machine. For the in-joke, in the world of radio, is Carl Kasell. Here’s the staid news announcer doing silly limericks. (Actually, they’ve cut the limericks from the TV show.) But you have to know who Carl Kasell is for the joke to work. Most of the TV viewing world won’t have a clue who the guy is. (Apparently this pilot was funded by CBS.) Also, the fun of the radio show is that Carl is the celebrity. But now, on TV, he and the panel members are largely unknown. I mean, Roy Blount, Jr. the famous TV personality?
So there on the panel last night was Tracy Ullman, sitting between Mo Rocca and Tom Boddet. And I suspect she’d never listened to the show before; during the taping she expressed genuine surprise to hear that she and her fellow panelists were being scored—“There are points?!” And while she acted larger than life and was at times actually funny, she was rarely witty. It was like she thought she was doing the Hollywood Squares, instead of a quick-witted, topical, news quiz show. She seemed to inhabit an alternate comedic world. I could imagine Peter Sagal’s initial conversation with the CBS executives. He wanted Paula Poundstone (“Paula who?”) while they insisted on a celebrity: “Ya gotta have a name!”
With Ullman as a panelist, the well-oiled machine, already tripping in its new TV suit, was completely thrown off rhythm. (Peter Sagal in fact did look out of place in what he admitted was a borrowed (network approved?) suit.) Granted, once Ullman learns what the show is about, she might actually become a great guest. And last night was their first ever TV taping. These things take time. So who knows? It might turn into an excellent show in the end.
That said, this audience member was mildly uncomfortable during much of the taping. Okay, this was weird: Many of the questions had come from the already-broadcast radio show from that weekend, and I imagine the TV panelists were told: “Don’t listen to the radio show this week; we’re going to be asking some of the same questions.” I couldn’t remember if Tom and Mo had been on the show that weekend, and wondered if they were faking their answers. My guess is they hadn’t been and weren’t. To make things even weirder, after our taping they had another taping immediately planned, with a completely new audience. Were they going to be asking the same questions? Were they going to cut the two versions together, with the best of?
It was especially weird seeing the questions on the large teleprompter facing the stage. (I could see it clearly, and I’m pretty sure the panelists could see the answers to the questions as they were scrolled.) Certainly Peter Sagal writes comic bits for the radio show too, but there was a strange sense of everything now being overscripted. I felt like the curtain had been lifted, and there was the frail wizard of Oz at the levers.
The best part of the show actually occurred when a mistake was made and everyone knew that what was being said wouldn’t go into the final cut. The show was suddenly “off-the-record.” Ullman, after complaining that she hadn’t known about the points scoring, now complained that she was down two points. Peter Sagal replied with a brilliant, off-the-cuff remark (and this isn’t quite verbatim): “If you’re behind, then maybe you should start attacking their character.” He was clearly referring to the McCain campaign’s recent tactic of smearing Obama, using the pit bull Palin. Anyway, the audience roared with laughter and the clapping was genuine. That was the show we loved, those moments of pure, brilliant, spontaneous wit, worthy of the Algonquin Round Table. Of course, it was a shame that it was effectively off-the-record, and I couldn’t imagine how CBS would even allow the effectively anti-Palin comment to be broadcast even if it were on the record. But then the stage manager gave his cue, Peter picked up where he’d left off, and we were back in TV land.
I’m not sure if this means anything, but the several-blocks-long line to get into the Wilshire Theater snaked around the Flynt building, headquarters of Hustler magazine. Most of us had obeyed the producers' instructions and dressed up (business casual) and left our cell phones in the car. (Cell phones, we were told, would not be allowed into the theater, a threat they never followed up on.) Nicely dressed in the SoCal sunshine, as I stood out there on the Flynt sidewalk, I was reminded of the weirdness of the Oscars, when the stars parade down the red carpet, dressed in evening wear, at five in the afternoon. They look out of place, and that might just be the theme of this posting.
But let me back up... Many years ago, when I was a devotee of A Prairie Home Companion, Amy got us tickets to a live taping of that show, at Town Hall in New York. While I’m certainly glad I went, the show was a bit of a bust. First of all, we happened to go the night they did the talent show for people from small towns with populations under a thousand. They didn’t do as many skits as they usually do, and I was underwhelmed by the small-town talent. Not that they weren’t good. It’s just that, well, there’s already way too much music in the show, and to double that amount becomes almost unbearable.
But it was still fun to see Tom Keith do his sound effects, and to hear Garrison (who really should be our poet laureate) do the news from you know where. But the most important take-away for me was the realization that radio is often best left to the radio. Sitting there in the theater I felt like a captive, and I realized that the great thing about the radio is that you can do so many other things while listening to it. An entire world enters your home and fills your imagination while you fold your socks or prepare your pasta. I’m reminded of the farmers in third world countries whose lives were changed by the transistor radio, who could now work the fields while listening to the BBC all day.
Sure, it’s fun to see the mechanics of A Prairie Home Companion, but really it’s too impersonal in a large theater. Garrison comes out of my living room speaker and sounds like he’s right there in the box, talking to me. In the large theater he’s tiny, much tinier than my imagination holds him to be. In my radio mind, he’s a giant. And on radio they lower the audio level on some of the clapping so that when Garrison starts his soliloquy you hear him from word one. In the theater you and your fellow audience members are clapping as he’s starting to speak and you never hear him say, “... in Lake Wobegon, my home town...”
Last night Peter Sagal and his buddies took the divorce even one step further. They’ve turned the radio show into TV, and one broken up by commercial interruptions. You sit there in the beautiful Wilshire Theater and think, this isn’t the show I love. In my mind, listening on a weekend, or streaming at work the following week, I would imagine Carl and Peter and all the contestants sitting on stools on an empty, black stage, with nothing but microphones and water in front of them. But, for TV, there’s a set that looks like a cross between a 1950s TV game show studio and one of those slick entertainment “news” shows some people will be watching tonight. There are flashy graphics ever swirling behind Carl Kasell’s head (and on a massive screen dead center at the back of the set), while the same set is simultaneously implanted with red velvet, retro, curtain doorways, like the kind that separate first class from coach, and you think, my god, what the hell were they thinking? If Peter Sagal wants to come on stage, why doesn’t he just come from the side?
But I’m being catty. In reality the set was fine. Carl sits off to the side like Spalding Gray behind his desk. Peter stands off center behind a podium. And the three contestants sit side-by-side behind a sort of anchor news desk. From an audience member’s perspective—mine—the three units do seem too far from one another. Granted, the show the other night was designed for TV, and though there were monitors showing, say, a close up of Carl Kasell, we in the audience did not see the final product, slickly cut together. So who knows? Maybe it’ll be good on the screen.
When we first moved to LA, Amy and I went to a taping of Will & Grace, with VIP tickets provided by a friend who was a writer on the show. I never thought the show was all that great in the first place, but 22 minutes of it on TV was at least moderately bearable. There are 22 minutes, and then it’s over. But the taping of those 22 minutes lasted hours. There were multiple takes, with the writers continually huddling and coming up with new jokes to try. To keep us preoccupied during the tedium of these discussions (which, alas, we in the audience couldn’t hear) there was a fluffer who regaled us with stand-up “comedy,” and even threw candy at us half-way through the taping to get our blood sugar up. But after three or four hours of this, you are brain dead.
The Wait Wait taping had its own fluffer, who threw not candy but public radio swag. And we were coached when to clap. We clapped as we went into a commercial break. We clapped as we came out of the break. Frankly, I was clapped out by the end. I was no longer an independent-minded public radio listener, but a trained sea lion.
The beauty of radio is its low cost. When the radio panel tells us their fake news stories each week, we see each episode in our mind’s eye. But on TV, Wait Wait has to now not just tell, but show. So we saw re-enactments of the fake news. I could hear the cash flowing. Each little segment now actually has to be produced, with actors and locations, and budgets. But what’s weird is that the real item has to seem as fake as the fake items, otherwise you’ll know which is real, because, well, reality just doesn’t look produced. So we had the Escherian experience of watching a faked production of a real news item.
Carl no longer does the message on anyone’s answering machine. Now they’re giving out Carl Kasell calendars, with Carl’s face Photoshopped onto the bodies of hunky firefighters and athletes. Each time the calendar was mentioned, they showed photos from a couple of months. But how long will this joke last? And which would you rather have? The calendar, or his voice on your answering machine?
I’ll take the voice on my answering machine. For the in-joke, in the world of radio, is Carl Kasell. Here’s the staid news announcer doing silly limericks. (Actually, they’ve cut the limericks from the TV show.) But you have to know who Carl Kasell is for the joke to work. Most of the TV viewing world won’t have a clue who the guy is. (Apparently this pilot was funded by CBS.) Also, the fun of the radio show is that Carl is the celebrity. But now, on TV, he and the panel members are largely unknown. I mean, Roy Blount, Jr. the famous TV personality?
So there on the panel last night was Tracy Ullman, sitting between Mo Rocca and Tom Boddet. And I suspect she’d never listened to the show before; during the taping she expressed genuine surprise to hear that she and her fellow panelists were being scored—“There are points?!” And while she acted larger than life and was at times actually funny, she was rarely witty. It was like she thought she was doing the Hollywood Squares, instead of a quick-witted, topical, news quiz show. She seemed to inhabit an alternate comedic world. I could imagine Peter Sagal’s initial conversation with the CBS executives. He wanted Paula Poundstone (“Paula who?”) while they insisted on a celebrity: “Ya gotta have a name!”
With Ullman as a panelist, the well-oiled machine, already tripping in its new TV suit, was completely thrown off rhythm. (Peter Sagal in fact did look out of place in what he admitted was a borrowed (network approved?) suit.) Granted, once Ullman learns what the show is about, she might actually become a great guest. And last night was their first ever TV taping. These things take time. So who knows? It might turn into an excellent show in the end.
That said, this audience member was mildly uncomfortable during much of the taping. Okay, this was weird: Many of the questions had come from the already-broadcast radio show from that weekend, and I imagine the TV panelists were told: “Don’t listen to the radio show this week; we’re going to be asking some of the same questions.” I couldn’t remember if Tom and Mo had been on the show that weekend, and wondered if they were faking their answers. My guess is they hadn’t been and weren’t. To make things even weirder, after our taping they had another taping immediately planned, with a completely new audience. Were they going to be asking the same questions? Were they going to cut the two versions together, with the best of?
It was especially weird seeing the questions on the large teleprompter facing the stage. (I could see it clearly, and I’m pretty sure the panelists could see the answers to the questions as they were scrolled.) Certainly Peter Sagal writes comic bits for the radio show too, but there was a strange sense of everything now being overscripted. I felt like the curtain had been lifted, and there was the frail wizard of Oz at the levers.
The best part of the show actually occurred when a mistake was made and everyone knew that what was being said wouldn’t go into the final cut. The show was suddenly “off-the-record.” Ullman, after complaining that she hadn’t known about the points scoring, now complained that she was down two points. Peter Sagal replied with a brilliant, off-the-cuff remark (and this isn’t quite verbatim): “If you’re behind, then maybe you should start attacking their character.” He was clearly referring to the McCain campaign’s recent tactic of smearing Obama, using the pit bull Palin. Anyway, the audience roared with laughter and the clapping was genuine. That was the show we loved, those moments of pure, brilliant, spontaneous wit, worthy of the Algonquin Round Table. Of course, it was a shame that it was effectively off-the-record, and I couldn’t imagine how CBS would even allow the effectively anti-Palin comment to be broadcast even if it were on the record. But then the stage manager gave his cue, Peter picked up where he’d left off, and we were back in TV land.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Homosexuality New Anti-Semitism in Poland
This just in...
The Polish government has officially changed the subject of its Official Hate Program, replacing Jews with homosexuals.
Check it out.
The new (?) trend is apparently moving forward in the interest of "Family Values." And PRI's The World reports that anti-gay Poles are seeking moral encouragement from... you guessed it, the good ol' USA.
I'm just sad that Jerry Falwell is missing out on this.
The Polish government has officially changed the subject of its Official Hate Program, replacing Jews with homosexuals.
Check it out.
The new (?) trend is apparently moving forward in the interest of "Family Values." And PRI's The World reports that anti-gay Poles are seeking moral encouragement from... you guessed it, the good ol' USA.
I'm just sad that Jerry Falwell is missing out on this.
Guantanamo to move to Siberia
At their recent pow-wow in Kennebunkport, Bush and Putin discussed more than just Putin's proposal to use Soviet technology from the 1890s as part of Bush's new missile shield.
In Scribe Warrior's first mega-exclusive scoop we proudly report -- and you heard it here first! -- that in an attempt to sweeten the deal, Putin also offered Bush use of the entire Soviet-era gulag system. And Bush has accepted! As they shook hands on it, Bush told the Russian president, "The Gitmo prisoners have been complaining about the tropical heat and humidity. Well, this ought to shut them up."
Asked to comment, Michael Moore, speaking from his new home in France, said he has no immediate plans to travel to Siberia to seek medical treatment for ailing and neglected 911 rescue workers. But he wouldn't rule it out.
And in his first nod to global warming, Vice President Cheney scoffed at the Gitmo-to-Siberia plan, reportedly telling an aide, "With global temperatures on the rise, Siberia probably won't be cold enough."
In Scribe Warrior's first mega-exclusive scoop we proudly report -- and you heard it here first! -- that in an attempt to sweeten the deal, Putin also offered Bush use of the entire Soviet-era gulag system. And Bush has accepted! As they shook hands on it, Bush told the Russian president, "The Gitmo prisoners have been complaining about the tropical heat and humidity. Well, this ought to shut them up."
Asked to comment, Michael Moore, speaking from his new home in France, said he has no immediate plans to travel to Siberia to seek medical treatment for ailing and neglected 911 rescue workers. But he wouldn't rule it out.
And in his first nod to global warming, Vice President Cheney scoffed at the Gitmo-to-Siberia plan, reportedly telling an aide, "With global temperatures on the rise, Siberia probably won't be cold enough."
Bush commutes his own sentencing guidelines
According to Truthout.org Libby's 30 month sentence was the minimum sentence possible (!) according to sentencing guidelines prepared by John Ashcroft's justice dept. in 2003 -- guidelines which Bush had been advocating as soon as he got into office. In other words, Scooter got that big 30-month wump on his ass from a paddle designed, built and delivered by George Bush himself!
So what do we learn? Bush not only doesn't respect the rule of law -- he doesn't even respect his own rules.
Ladies and gentlemen, what we're witnessing here is good ol' fashioned Playground Politics: "They're my rules, so I can break 'em if I want to!"
I think George needs a time out, indefinitely.
So what do we learn? Bush not only doesn't respect the rule of law -- he doesn't even respect his own rules.
Ladies and gentlemen, what we're witnessing here is good ol' fashioned Playground Politics: "They're my rules, so I can break 'em if I want to!"
I think George needs a time out, indefinitely.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Catholic souls & children
You wouldn't trust the Catholic Church with your children, so why would you trust them with your soul?
NY taxi drivers = excellent
NY taxi drivers get a bad rap for driving like madmen. Well, they do drive like madmen, but I always feel absolutely safe and secure in a NY cab, even as we're zooming across three lanes of (oncoming) traffic with inches to spare between us and the other cars. I give myself over the way others give themselves over to Jesus.
Here's the thing: the cabbies spend eight, ten, even twelve hours a day driving the city streets. If you did anything day in day out you'd become pretty good at it. So I say: they drive like madmen -- but highly skilled madmen -- making them, well, not at all mad.
Here's the thing: the cabbies spend eight, ten, even twelve hours a day driving the city streets. If you did anything day in day out you'd become pretty good at it. So I say: they drive like madmen -- but highly skilled madmen -- making them, well, not at all mad.
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