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30 November 2004
The cookie crumbles for Ken Jennings
Ken Jennings finally lost in his 74th outing after collecting a haul in excess of $2.5 million. Ken Jennings and his rarefied ilk of trivia demigods in the United States come closest to matching the much larger pool of quizzing talent in India. I could be biased but I think as a quiz contest, Jeopardy while still very good does not compare in standards to Mastermind India or even the BBC Mastermind -- two series that have displayed extraordinary quizzing talent but themselves have often been looked down upon contemptuously by the nerdy quiz fanatics that prowl from university cultural to university cultural in Bangalore, Madras, Bombay and Ahmedabad. The quiznet group on Yahoo has a huge following and there are several much less-recognised offshoots of it which draw an equally large crowd of starry-eyed prospective quizzers (at one point that included me) who would religiously have a go at every question popped at the dozens of quiz shows and upon a wrong guess would pour over reams of material on Black Sabbath, Calvin and Hobbes, Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam and the 1936 Olympics. But then, Ken Jennings has $2.5 million and a book contract by virtue of his status as unvanquished quizzing star in the United States and all that the scores of lunatics in IIT, KREC, St. Xaviers and RV College, Bangalore have to show for their efforts is hurt pride, failing grades, adulation from an ephemerally crazed horde of juniors who soon learn to look beyond their own limitations and the prowess of the demigods, and the rest of their lives sniping and sneering at mere TV contestants.29 November 2004
Hiking in the San Rafael Wilderness
Abhishek, Tejaswi and I went hiking last Friday and Saturday in the San Rafael Wilderness close to Santa Barbara as part of a two-day trip organised by Tejaswi and Eva on behalf of the Caltech Y. The first day's hike was not all that enjoyable while the second day's on the Manzana Narrows trail was comparatively more exciting. Rain was predicted in Southern California for the weekend. As we ascended the trail, the clouds gathered and added much-needed richness to the lacklustre desert green scenery. All of a sudden, with mounds of rock and cliff all around us partly screened by mist and rain it looked like a bleached verisimile of Munnar. We gained as much as 1300 feet by noon when we were forced to turn back because of the increasingly inclement conditions and bleak prospects of finding a good place to break for lunch any higher. We retreated in the rain and the brambles that lacerated skin on our way to the top had their tips softened with dew and cooling vapour. This was my second hiking experience in the rain and though it was not as enjoyable as the first one in Muir Woods, it made up for the previous day's disappointment. But far more exciting things were in store for us later that day.As a result of the rain, which Abhishek tells me has a curious way of unsettling Southern California drivers since they do not see enough of it to acquaint themselves with it, traffic on the 101 between Santa Barbara and Los Angeles was heavily congested. We had been stuck in traffic all through 30 miles south of Santa Barbara and intermittently in the subsequent parts. So there was some sense of urgency to get back home especially since we were stark ravenous. We were on 134E heading into Pasadena after flitting past Burbank. A red pick-up three cars ahead of us on the leftmost-but-one lane stopped with other traffic for no reason whatsoever and the car behind it rear-ended it. Soon afterwards, the second car lost all battery power and went totally dead and a third car, a brand new steel-grey Lexus nearly rammed into it but managed to stop shy. All this was unbeknownst to Tejaswi who was doing a comfortable 65mph when all of a sudden realisation dawned on him that the Lexus in front was not just slowing but had completely stopped. The brakes were applied to and although we did not skid under the rain we did rear-end into the Lexus which in turn rear-ended into the second car. For a brief moment, we were the cynosure and surely the lightning rod of all the wrath of drivers behind us as they were brought to a careful halt.
We were lucky in that the highway patrol was already on its way to respond to the second car rear-ending into the pickup and so no more cars added to the rear-ending melee. Within minutes we were all corralled into the service lane and subsequently onto the surface in Glendale. The California Highway Patrol officers in yellow windcheaters calmly went about their procedure taking down notes and recording the event in chronological order interrogating the drivers. Finally, Tejaswi was only asked what speed he was driving at and what happened and then handed a complaint notification or some card similarly named. We were on our way immediately after that.
21 November 2004
Snow on the mountain, snow on the mountain!
So the myth is true after all. This morning after a sudden shower that came from nowhere last night, Mt. Wilson had collected trickles of snow deposit which was distinctly visible to its hundred thousand kinsmen in Pasadena. It was a scene to behold as the mystical white sluices wore a placid, omniscient look as if to signal their permanence. Yet another reason in what is now becoming an inexpressibly long list of reasons why I love this town.20 November 2004
A city within the City
Yesterday, Amrit and I went to the Los Angeles Flower District wholesale market for buying flowers for decorations for the Diwali event that was scheduled the same evening. The market is part of an entire street of wholesale merchants who vend flowers to the whole of the Los Angeles area. The street strangely titled Wall Street adjacent to Flower Street that has no such specialisation lies in the heart of the downtown amidst whatever passes off as the Los Angeles skyline. The market is open to flower trade members -- flower dealers from around the city and beyond -- from 2 in the morning to 8 in the morning. It opens its doors to the public after 8am and charges a $2 admission fee per head. This was my first downtown experience in Los Angeles and it was quite a surprise to find such noisy commonplace hustle and bustle right smack in downtown. The wholesale market area itself was a huge warehouse structure that stocked many individual flower-sellers who showed off their stock in self-designated pockets around the warehouse. As everything else that is labour-intensive in the United States, flowers are prohibitively expensive even if purchased wholesale. We gasped at first and then grew accustomed to seeing $20 price tags for small and ornate bouquets.The demographic inside the warehouse was predominantly Hispanic with some representation from Chinatown and Koreatown. The white Caucasian contingent was largely absent not just in the warehouse but for the large part in the rest of the street as well. In fact, subsequently when we got out of the street and headed back for Pasadena we were surprised to find that we were in the middle of an anachronistic market locality replete with shops with shutters, street-peddlers, cloth merchants and grocery stores much akin to what we were used to seeing in India.
At the warehouse itself, there were beautiful orchids with long stalks coyly peeking out from their plastic pots, marigolds in yellow, orange, beige, scarlet, crimson and every other imaginable shade of yellow and ubiquitous roses and their ersatz -- carnations. As we patrolled the alleyways, one Hispanic woman stopped us and asked what colours of flowers would be appropriate for the funeral of a Hindu man. After getting over the amazement at her having recognised us as such, we shrugged and shirked until her anxiety was expressed so evidently that we made top-of-the-hat suggestions of white and orange. She seemed reasonably satisfied at having elicited an answer out of us and walked on.
In the end, we walked away with flowers worth $58.10. Our naïveté at picking flowers showed with the abundance of diversity in colours and varieties in our purchase -- it was a safe hedging of bets. The trip downtown at an unearthly morning hour was a pleasurable trip if only because we were lucky to be in an empty pocket of traffic on the 110 freeway.
10 November 2004
The antiquarian ways of Indian newspapers
If news never takes a holiday why should newspapers? The Indian print media is unwary of this age-old cliché. On account of Diwali, the Friday editions of most major newspapers will not be in circulation in India. Unfortunately for them though, Yasser Arafat passed away in Paris a few hours ago after two weeks of rumours, contrarian news reporting and awaiting the inevitable. By Saturday, when the newspapers are back in vogue the news will be stale, literally so yesterday and useless. I can understand if there is no edition on the actual holiday -- there were reasons for the holiday that provide for better use of time but it is so frustrating this way when the following day one suffers in full knowledge the absence of a morning paper to take the tea and biscuits with, crossword puzzles, evening reviews of the backpages to see if anything went past the first time round. I find it odd that newer entrants to the market never sought to exploit this ridiculous convention unless they were forced to be party to this covenant too. This makes supporting the entry of foreign players into India's trite and haggard newspaper market almost worthwhile.4 November 2004
Four more years
So it is that George Bush has been re-elected president. By some strange quirk of co-incidence, his re-election news yesterday brought with it a spate of other leadership changes all across the world. Somalia now has a new prime minister. The president of the United Arab Emirates passed away overnight on Tuesday and was succeeded by his son yesterday. Hamid Karzai became formally the head of Afghanistan's first post-Taliban democratically elected government. Uruguay went to the polls a day earlier than the United States did and chose a left-leaning cancer specialist as the next president. Stretching the timeframe larger, Australia's John Howard won a convincing re-election and Venezuela's Chavez survived a referendum on his government's future not more than a couple of weeks ago.Through this year, four large democracies -- each in a different continent -- went to the polls. India and Spain opted for centre-left coalitions while the United States and Australia went the other way though Spain's surprise choice may have had to do with the Madrid bomb explosions. I find this symmetry immensely fascinating -- right-wing conservative ideology, tailormade to each country's requirements, is on the ascendancy in the United States and Australia while in recession in India and Spain. I have not the faintest idea if there is any connection at all.
1 November 2004
Gripped, swamped, saturated, overwhelmed
Ever since John Kerry won the nomination, I have been enthusiastically following the United States election scene. In April, India went to the polls too and that provided a fantastic opportunity to compare and contrast election campaigning in the two largest democracies. And tomorrow, I shall get to sample almost first-hand the election process in the United States itself. The scheduling of the elections, like many other events in the United States, is as quaint as can be and is a delightful reminder of the traditions and history of democracy in the United States. For which other country ordains that the election be held every four years on the first Tuesday of November?This has not been the ideal election to help getting acquainted to the politics of the United States though. It has been recorded even by most Americans that this election is the most important in their lifetime. The endless, hedged statistical dead heats in various polls seem to suggest a nail-biting conclusion to this massive juggernaut. I am inclined to believe these polls more than those in India that were conducted by MARG and other analysis groups either on behalf of the budding news companies or by themselves during the April elections which resulted in bitter heartbreak for many and humiliation for the so-called psephologists.
The web is inundated with features on bizarre probable scenarios such as John Edwards being sworn in as president while a tied electoral college and hung House of Representatives is resolved in two years time or a hung Supreme Court verdict in the absence of Rehnquist as he combats his cancer ailment. I shall unashamedly admit that I have lapped it all up. I have kept pace with Kerry's campaign trails and Bush's whistlestop tours. I have followed with amusement John Edwards' door-to-door campaigning and Cheney's blitzkrieg Hawaii tour. I have noted with interest two District Courts in Ohio independently striking down as unconstitutional plans of the two parties to send volunteers to different polling stations to challenge and "combat voter fraud" and the subsequent, rather expeditious striking down of the striking down by the United States Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit.
Tomorrow, in spite of a packed routine I shall still return forever and ever to my staple browsing Xanadus. I shall gauge for myself the patterns in voting as the day wears on and as returns are processed across the spread of the country starting in the afternoon. With any luck, I shall witness a historic and emotionally charged acceptance speech and an equally moving and bittersweet concession speech. For a few hours tomorrow, I shall be spared all the viciousness and acid of the previous few months and in the moments when the results crystallise I shall be silent but enthralled, impassive but inwardly invigorated, deferential and bemused. The joys are sweetest when there is nothing at stake.
28 October 2004
The Red Sox comet and the power of the underdog
Last night was a historic moment for millions of baseball fans around the United States. The Boston Red Sox won the presumptuously titled World Series after a gap of 86 years. For a stranger to baseball that I am, it might be argued that last evening's game could have held no fancy. For the most part, that is correct but this morning I could still not help scouring over the flurry of articles that were choked with emotion, delirious reactions and nostalgic reminiscences. The last time I remembered doing this was when I studiously poured through every Australian newspaper online to read up reactions to the Adelaide test victory. I admit that I did not feel the same mix of beatitude and tremulation now as I did then and I could not have but if I experienced relief and amusement at the Red Sox winning, if I felt shortchanged that I had not been a Red Sox follower or even a baseball-fan amateur before last night to warrant experiencing this surge of gushing ecstasy and unbounded exhilaration from a fraternity that has suffered anguish and agony through its lifetime I can only imagine what a true believer and a Red Sox Nation enthusiast must be going through at this moment. Last night's victory was not merely a celebration of persistent faith but also powerful testimony to that most ancient notion of sentimentality -- rooting for the underdog. In the spirit of American enterprise, the Red Sox victory is already catalogued in DVD and available for sale within a day's passing.In the context of India's impending wrenching defeat against Australia in Nagpur the Boston Red Sox have infused in me a spirit of optimism and hope for better returns from my own Red Sox back home. Our time shall come.
20 October 2004
Rain at night, rain at dawn
It looks like the best part of the rains have passed the Southern California region but I shall not forget the nostalgic and intimate moments last night when I slept to the sound of rain as it came down in gentle and hesitant questions. In both Urbana and here in Pasadena, I have been fortunate to live in apartments where the windows face foliage of some form and the hashing noise made as little pellets of water make love to womanly fall leaves is heavenly music streaming through the mesh and into the room. My joy was compounded manifold when I awoke to morning rains -- the purest manifestation of a celestial insomnia. As much as I am thankful for Pasadena's plentiful sun I do yearn for weeks if not months of incessant downpour.* * * * *
Give me victory, or give me death
Every sport needs a miracle encounter to soften its worst detractors. With the tantalising duels between the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees the past few days, baseball has closed the deal as far as I am concerned. I shall continue to hold that it is largely a boring game, a trifle more thick-skulled and much less aesthetic version of its trans-Atlantic counterpart and precursor but the spirit and spectacle of an underperforming team that has given its fans heartbreaks for the last eighty years coming back from three games down to vanquish its patronising, complacent rivals in the last four eventually to go to the final series deserves all the respect and wide-eyed adulation it gets.BBC on its website has an intriguing prioritisation when it comes to its sports items. While cricket, football, rugby, motorsport, tennis, athletics, golf and heck, even boxing get separate top-level folders the remaining are all bracketed under a secondary and very Plebeian-sounding "other_sports" folder. Nonetheless, either in a sign of acknowledgement of the fan-following it has in the United States or in yet another symbol of its sneering nose-thumbs at everything American (perhaps particularly their sports) baseball, American football and basketball are all clumped together under "us_sport" in "other_sports".
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Pride and Prejudice, according to Kieran Healy and Brad DeLong
Both Crooked Timber and Brad DeLong's weblogs are ones that I read frequently, though I can only approve of the former as the latter oftentimes is rather shrill and rabid in its tone. Crooked Timber and Marginal Revolution are some of the shining examples of the notion of "group blogs" where a collection of individuals, most often academics, come together and share duties in expressing opinions as well as offering many insights to the relevance of sociology and economics, more or less respectively, to common-day trivialities. Crooked Timber's Kieran Healy recently considered, in fact revisited the topic of May-December marriages which is a rather intriguing and very smart title/epithet to marriages that have a large age gap between the husband and wife. Kieran Healy cites the case of Charlotte Lucas marrying Mr. Collins in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as one in support of his contention that the pattern of institutionalised and constrained marriages is a relic of times old and forgotten. While that is debatable in itself given the widely prevalent notion of arranged marriages in India, an issue I have given much thought and time to and would like to muse on at some point in time, what is even more questionable is his assertion that "Saying that people’decisions reflect the best choice available under the circumstances would be cold comfort for, say, all the Charlotte Lucases who choose to marry their Mr Collins." I am not sure I could agree with that since from my understanding of the book, Charlotte Lucas does indeed believe that her accepting Mr. Collins' proposal would give her the best chance of, what Jane Austen refers rather condescendingly to as, "marrying well". Charlotte's resignation and supposedly rather downbeat appraisal of her own talents and charms is what gives Elizabeth much consternation when she learns of the proposal. Elizabeth is perhaps at odds to understand that Charlotte has accepted the proposal out of a sense of urgency given her age and, again her prospects. As an aside I think Charlotte Lucas' gentle and pragmatic persona is in sharp contrast to that of the termagant and impish Mrs. Bennet. So, I thought it justified that Brad DeLong should object to Kieran Healy's remarks though I found myself agreeing with Kieran Healy's neat rebuttal in the same page. I do believe that Brad DeLong has misread Charlotte Lucas' intention and cannot convince myself of Brad DeLong's view that "Charlotte Lucas marries happily". This does point to Austen's genius in gauging and evocatively portraying the social mores and history of her time but more importantly it brings out in full force the strength of her writing that people should continue to defend vigorously their perceptions of her characters.18 October 2004
A rainy day, now and then, here and there.
The season of rain was formally announced in last weekend and promptly the rains arrived on Saturday. There is a unique and inimitable beauty about rain when it falls on desert lands. The bleached roads acquire a new coat of tar and little saddlepoints on concrete sidewalks that were heretofore invisible are pools of lustrous reflections shooting back a thousand hidden glances. The flattened white half-smoked rolls of cigarettes die a soggy and inglorious death while the orange ends that behold the pucker of their owner's lips smoulder brightly. The fall leaves and their patron flowers meld into a grimy paste of sharp organic pungency as water and sloshed footprints squelch them. The space that formerly belonged to the San Gabriel is suddenly vacant and filled with grey ambiguity. With no wind in sight, the droplets are vertical in descent and slant increasingly towards the hurried passer-by and therein is a message from above to savour what little the heavens have to offer.By a curious parallel effect, the delayed Southwesterlies arrived in Madras at about the same time and managed in the rarest of rare occurrences to rain out what might have been an interesting final day's play.
16 October 2004
Pride and Prejudice, Redux
Over the week, I watched BBC's adaptation of Pride and Prejudice yet again. It has often been said that each of us can identify with a character in Pride and Prejudice -- such is the richness of Jane Austen's work. To bring this intricate fabric of characters from a long-forgotten era into television must have indeed been a daunting and insurmountable task and that is why I am so much in awe of director Simon Langton, writer Andrew Davies and producer Sue Birtwistle who not only dared to envision this project but also overwhelmingly succeeded in achieving so rare a oneness of portrayal that it is pure enjoyment, nay bliss, to glide between the book and the adaptation endlessly back and forth with nary a jarring moment of betrayal or disappointment. I have scarcely seen such harmony in an author's vision and that of the filmmakers wishing to adapt it. But the credit is only partially theirs to take, for the onus of depicting in true colour and faith the characters of Austen under the cruel, scrutinising and harsh glare of her fans is entirely upon the cast though it must be acknowledged that even the casting is immaculate beyond conception. Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet conveys in such beautifully subtle shades how her initial revulsion for Mr. Darcy gradually transforms to the highest affections and adoration for him and Colin Firth is majestic and solemn as Mr. Darcy himself (though a trifle handsomer). Through such minute contortions in the lines of his face and the vexing of his steady brow, Firth vitalises Mr. Darcy's aura, his hurt ego and his undying love for Elizabeth. It is such a pleasure to watch two great character actors making love to each other with their glances and curtsies. Alison Steadman as Mrs. Bennet could just as well have been Mrs. Bennet brought forth mysteriously from the invisible pocket of fiction to play herself. I was determined to find fault with even a twitch that did not square with the book's rendition and miserably failed in my mission.I have not finished gushing effusively (and foppishly, I admit) about this work of perfection and have decided to post my recollections in episodes every time I revisit the series.
11 October 2004
Death is less harsh in the simple present
Last night Christopher Reeve passed away. He was 52 years old and was suffering from ailments consequent to his ghastly accident in 1995. Keith Miller, an Australian cricketing legend also died yesterday at 84.The print media given its space constraints, particularly on the front page where the focus is on cramming as many news items as possible with links to their continuations in the subsequent pages if they should so interest the reader, likes to make its death announcements as curtly as it can. The wording of a headline for a death announcement usually depends on how important or recognised the individual was. For the purposes of my argument I shall leave out cases of present or former heads of state passing away for these would dominate the front page. When the personality however has peripheral significance such as a connection to the arts and entertainment world or the sports world more often than not he will garner at best a sidebox with a picture that readers will easily associate him with. The important segments to a death announcement headline are the name of the celebrity, cause for his renown, his age and most significantly the form of announcing his death. Take for instance the front page of tomorrow's Hindu. Christopher Reeve's death is announced as "'Superman' passes away" while Keith Miller's death is announced as "Keith Miller dead". While each had his undisputed moments of glory and fame, not surprisingly Reeve's meeting with the Queen is especially highlighted by the BBC, in spheres of time, space and influence as disparate as possible the copy editors at The Hindu saw it fit to announce Reeve's death in the benign simple present tense and further mitigating the shock and tragedy the news could cause by referring to it with so gentle a verb as "passes away" but give Keith Miller the short shrift with a brutally cold telegram headline: "Keith Miller dead".
It has intrigued me as to what forms of sentences are used to announce deaths of different personalities. Having grown up with the bland, unsentimental Hindu and what was in the 90s a yearling Deccan Herald barely aware of its mantle as the local newspaper of a city soon to acquire a verb after it, I observed that there was no preference for one over the other. There were healthy doses of empathising announcements for nominally important figures and unconcerned, disaffected shrugs for legends. I have to ask however if one form should not be preferred over the other. It would grieve me deeply to see a headline that said "Mother Teresa dead" and anguish me altogether to see "Dawood Ibrahim passes away". Here then is my rule of thumb: reserve the former for thugs, bandits, politicians, MPs and MLAs from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, anybody from the CPI and its Marxist paradox and the latter for everybody else, but in particular men and women that gave us cause to savour life and those for whom death was indeed a natural phase to pass into. Meaning no disrespect to the deceased, I did find somebody who did not think much of Christopher Reeve, dead or alive.
1 October 2004
Real Time with Bill Maher
Last evening, Chris, Yi, Nevin and I went to watch a live broadcast of Real Time with Bill Maher. Real Time with Bill Maher is a weekly talk show mainly focusing on political issues that airs on HBO at 11pm every Friday. Unlike talk shows that are taped like Jay Leno's Tonight Show or David Letterman's Late Show, Bill Maher's show goes live on the air for East Coast viewers. We were asked to be present at Studio 33, a CBS studio leased to HBO for the show at 6.30pm. We started off at 5pm from Caltech and made it with 30 minutes to spare. There was a good crowd of people, mainly white Caucasian couples spending a Friday evening with friends. Needless to say, this being an HBO show there was virtually nobody who could not legally drink that was present. We were lined up on long benches outside the main entrance into the studio for about an hour. Soon afterwards, we were led into the innards of the studio where the show was going to be aired.It was a good thing that we came in early, for as expected the rows got filled in the order of arrival. All four of us had reasonably good seats but there was griping from the others who could not see the stage beyond the elaborate production tools and camera equipment. The production set itself looked to be a touched up relic of the Golden Age of Hollywood. The light machines at the top were newly painted but still could not hide their proud and weary years.
At about twenty minutes into the show, the supervising producer appeared on stage to check if the satellite links were working perfectly. There were satellite links to Washington D.C. for Tucker Carlson and to Pittsburgh where the Dixie Chicks were going to appear on the show mid-concert. Soon after the producer, one of the writers for the show came on and he was a highly-strung and perky chap. He was understandably trying to get the crowd worked up giving us guidelines on responses and applause. He mentioned that this was the 37th recording of the show and amazingly all the previous 36 times Bill Maher had got a standing ovation from the audience. Actually, it was the 38th recording as I later found out on the show website. There was an obligatory poll of the political leanings of the audience and not surprisingly with the exception of three men, one of them with a Bush-Cheney T-shirt on, the rest of the audience were "Kerry people". The "Bush people" were profusely thanked for "their guy" making Kerry "look good". He also polled the crowd on swing states anybody came from. There was one from Ohio and one from Kentucky who feared it was going to "swing the wrong way". He warned the crowd that the show was not for the politically correct and urged those that took umbrage at comments being made to "get the fuck out of here". The show started off with a segment featuring Bill Maher and two others commenting on the fashion high-notes the previous day at the first debate. On Kerry's appearance -- "Orange is the new black" and on Bush's appearance -- "Bush weathered and won the first debate four years ago, and so has his suit". The man himself appeared immediately afterwards to a rousing and standing ovation from all of us with the exception of one elderly woman who remained seated with a copy of The Jewish Journal (The Greater Los Angeles edition). He looked quite the same as on television albeit with a greying crown of hair. He read out a prepared monologue that appeared on a teleprompter which was being regulated amongst other equipment by a neatly dressed bearded man just below the elevated stage. The monologue featured news from the debates and from elsewhere. The guests appearing on the show were announced -- George Carlin, Katty Kay - a journalist from the BBC Washington Bureau, and Steve Moore with the Club for Growth a somewhat well-balanced assortment if one were to think of BBC as being independent and unbiased towards the election.
The Dixie Chicks appeared live on a satin-white screen that lowered from the ceiling and Bill Maher went left of centrestage to a lectern directly in front of the screen. The Dixie Chicks were featuring in the Vote for Change concerts sponsored by MoveOn PAC that were playing in all the battleground states. Maher quizzed the group on the crowd responses and they were honest enough to admit that it had not been all that good exhorting people to buy tickets for their jig in St. Louis. After that was the actual round-table debate itself as the guests who were standing on the sidelines all this while came on stage. Steve Moore got a couple of boos, Katty Kay got some bemused applause but George Carlin got the biggest cheers and whistling. The discussion ranged from the debate to Iraq, which Steve Moore seemed to think was the centrepiece of the entire election -- people would vote depending on how convinced they were of the validity of action in Iraq and on to tax breaks. He also touted his organisation's policy by suggesting revocation of an income tax and the imposition of a flat tax. The draft became an issue too which was interesting from the point of view that George Bush deemed it necessary to mention "an all-volunteer army" in his closing statement. The three debated on why the draft might be inevitable on account of the overextension of forces with some from the U.S. National Guard and the reserves already seeing action in Iraq. Carlin kept returning with spite to the "ownership class" -- a group of 900 people that he claimed ran the country and suggested a "rich-kids draft" for a while. Katty Kay referred to how the British prime minister, perhaps out of political compulsions, apologised publicly for misleading intelligence on the weapons in Iraq and wondered if that would ever be repeated in the United States. The predominantly Democrat crowd was quite vocal and expressed anguish at the draft and contempt for Steve Moore's defence of the U.S president applauding and laughing loudly at Maher's jokes unmindful of drowning the panel out. Bill Maher cited a report that said that while previously pornography was the hottest genre in video rentals immediately after the war, now videos showing beheadings of kidnapped foreigners set to Arabic chantings have topped even pornography.
Subsequently, Tucker Carlson was invoked on the satellite link and was asked of his appraisal of the debate. Carlson admitted that Bush was "out of his game" and was promptly rounded off by Maher. Carlson however seemed to hold his own in comparison to Moore when asked about the war. He admitted that he disagreed with Bush on Iraq but felt puzzled about Kerry's stand on the war. Maher quizzed Carlson on a couple of issues to judge if the latter could fend off allegations that "Republicans stood by people and not principles". Carlson blundered on the question on the revealing of the identity of a CIA official on the issue of the weapons probe and avowed that "a journalist had the right to report the truth". Maher pounced on that and asked if a journalist could report the U.S. army positions in Iraq but offered Carlson a lifeline by way of a light reference that Carlson clutched onto. Of course, the crowd never forgave him and was shocked by his utterance. When Carlson was asked if the drug enforcement policy was being given the go-by, he played his cards better by stating unequivocally that a responsible individual had the right to use drugs and the state had no right to interfere with that which was indeed in accordance to his "Republican principles" but not of course meeting approval from his blue state focus group that evening. What followed after Carlson was mere meandering though there were some heated moments on tax breaks for the Church which Steve Moore sided with Maher in his disapproval of. Carlin however, known for his views on religion, was the person Maher intended the bait for which he took cleanly giving a rather clear and sharp account of his convictions. Carlin had not taken note of the nearly universal wedding band on each audience member's hand, and the only people urging him to give it as he got now were a man in a hat whistling and clapping wildly everytime Carlin derided the concept of a higher individual sitting in the clouds and reviewing the actions of his children and a few others in small pockets here and there in the gallery.
From then on, the show petered out and finally ended with another round of standing ovations after which Bill Maher taped a segment for AOL, the "parent company" as he called it although I should have thought it was Time Warner that bought AOL which is the parent company. On the whole, it was an exhilarating experience just to be in a live talk show and being part of television as it was made. At the end of it all though, the show primarily catered to the evening entertainment of a hundred thousand rich liberalists and a few others who would sample the forbidden fruit in their hotel rooms and move elsewhere probably finding the show too jarring or too rabidly opinionated. There did not seem to me to be enough material for an hour's worth even though the panel did touch on a few notable issues. As goes for the comedy, Maher was definitely in his element but clouded it with his role presumably as the anti-Bill O'Reilly. I returned to my insulated haunt within Caltech once again to think of myself as living in a time and place relevant to humanity.
