Author: JH

In a way, what I try to do with photography, Dahon is doing with foldable bicycles. I got myself a small, sleek one. The nice thing is, it doesn’t seem to intimidate pedestrians, even if you cruise alongside with them right on the sidewalk. Still, this beast is fast: Yesterday I found myself in a race against a cab (with friend in it) from 96th street down to 47th, during relatively light traffic, and beat her by a solid four minutes. Of course, afterwards it occurred to me that I could have just put the bike in the trunk, and went with her in the cab…

Isn’t it nice when somebody succeeds in doing something exceptional with tools that are at the disposal of practically everybody? Tools like a cheap digicam, or the 26 letters of the alphabet. The effort needn’t even be deliberate. In that sense – by, albeit involuntarily, creating a reality previously unknown – some “Bushisms” border on pure art, not unlike some well known quotes by former Vice President Dan Quayle. But what about the much more calculated techniques of professional political speechwriting?

After two conventions and less than 60 days left until election day, I thought this is a good time to (re-)read the Appendix to George Orwell’s masterpiece “1984,” on “The Principles Of Newspeak.” It seems that speechwriters for any party, if they are any good, have studied their Orwell with great scrutiny. Quote: “The [purpose of Newspeak] was to make speech, and especially speech on any subject not ideologically neutral, as nearly as possible independent of consciousness. For the purpose of everyday life it was no doubt necessary, or sometimes necessary, to reflect before speaking, but a Party member called upon to make a political or ethical judgement should be able to spray forth the correct opinions as automatically as a machine gun spraying forth bullets. His training fitted him to do this, the language gave him an almost foolproof instrument, and the texture of the words, with their harsh sound and a certain willful ugliness which was in accord with the spirit of [the Party line], assisted the process still further.”

I always thought that the Native Americans, had they actually sold the island of Manhattan for a bag of glass beads, as a somewhat misleading saga has it, would have made the better deal. Why inhabit a place with the most absurd climate throughout the year, including heat waves as late as September? And it is not as if the city and its inhabitants coped well with all that. I was raised in the mountains, where three feet of snow in a couple of hours hardly impress anybody. Here, three inches shut the city down. So do two hours of heavy rain. I remember spring last year, when there was a snow storm one day, and five days later it was so hot and humid that one could barely walk down the sidewalk even on the shadowy side of the street, gasping for air… I guess it does not help that the entire island is more or less sealed off with asphalt and concrete, and that people apparently would miss something if the engines of cars and buses didn’t run relentlessly all the time, even when the driver is just taking a nap in a parking lot…