Thursday, March 26, 2015

A Forthright, Hopefully Beneficial Philosophy on Feminism

Now, *shuffles feet* I've been remiss for not posting last Wednesday, but I'll remediate that by breaking my plan into a hundred pieces and posting two or three ranty essays on The Rants of Opinionation soon.
 First on the list is... A concise (paroxysms of laughter -- brevity is not my strong point), and hopefully mildish rant about the perception of femininity. You may have just read that as "feminism", that being the title of the previous piece; and there is less of a difference than one thinks. One should be free to behave as befits oneself, and if you are "feminine", isn't that keeping with it? 
Femininity is merely an aspect of a personality -- loving  to read Jane Austen, or liking, say, pink ribbons --  it's not weakness, and does not prohibit strength, fortitude, or substance -- asserting that they're mutually exclusive is selling it short, not to mention deriding one's identity.

As long as "femininity" is authentic (i.e. not to conform to stereotypes), it's unobjectionable. 

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

An Impassioned and Long-Pondered Persuasion Against Sycophancy

In the first of these these serial installments of my blog, I shall diatribe on the odious practice, sycophancy.

It is common, undoubtedly, and all for the more odious that it is. To not question is in-and-of-itself remarkable, but doing so to ingratiate oneself and give one's opinion falsely is a sacrifice to one's alteration of a conversation with a Midas touch, or supporting those who have not spoken but wish to.

Chief among its detriments is its unthinking or conscious subservience in order to pursue its own objectives, without acknowledgement of other's feelings, and whether its motivation be loyalty, agreement, custom, as I suspect is routine, supercilious advancement or in-security and unintentional ingratiation misguides others, and is unseeing, unempathetic adultery of common sense, qualification of a position philosophical or official and thought of others' involved.



Aaaaaand, with all due respect, I shall close the article of this blog with the greatest license to be called a diatribe. 

Next week, shall be a thinly disguised fangirl rave about Jane Austen. Very much obliged was this perusal, and I wish you a fine Thursday.

 Sincerely with the wish that you find perspicacity and insight in this article, and benefit,
-Anacostia Mirabow-Marignac. 


Monday, March 2, 2015

A Long-Belated Post, A Long-Unnoted Topic, Closing with Disturbing Optimism

N.B. I have formed a resolution to post Wednesdays, be it rant, essay, review, or posited assertion.


Of late there has been a surprising propensity for feminism's meaning to be confused to say, "Women should change" or "Women should do things like men do."

It is not a question of "they" or "them" or "trying to be someone else". The principle of all civil rights is equality, in perception and belief. We shouldn't see women as fundamentally different, or to be treated any different, and we should realize all that needs to change is discrimination, any form of it.
Now, the whole point of chauvinism is that women should change, and hence it is ironic to see feminism, in any capacity like that.
The crux is that women are compared to men frequently "Women can do everything that men can", naturally, but why should they even be compared? Why shouldn't the rule be, "Anyone can do anything?" Why do "they" have to be like men?

"They" are people, whoever they are, and besides, yes, their differences, should be measured by the very same yardstick, without alteration for gender or race or belief or any singularity -- that is uniqueness, and uniqueness makes a difference in everything.

The founding principle of civil rights is that there should be no prejudice on account of intangible differences, and feminism is a branch of that -- call it what you will.
It is meant to halt prejudice towards women. Each and every one can be whoever they like without expectations being superimposed, everybody can be frail, or emotional, or shy, or quiet, or sensitive, or silly, dependant, or they can be bold, or brave. . . willful, stubborn, brash, bombastic, crass, grouchy, wise (It's important to be brave and considerate) People, they can be all of those,and should not be judged to their attributes. And are all of those

Thursday, September 4, 2014

A cynical digression into the much-fancied time of the Golden Age of Pirates.

What do you think of pirates with flashing swords and crimson cummerbunds?   Romanticizations are rife: Jack Sparrow--Go ahead, say "Captain", The Old Benbow Inn, peg-legs and Polly the parrot are all  examples of that. But the period, in its entirety, is quite the foggy one, and, if I may add, one with many rather horrid elements. However, many pirates did engage in astonishingly dramatic feats of swashbuckling, which shall be illuminated henceforth.
(Or else this will resolve in a convoluted mass of history and cynicism.)
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The Golden Age of Piracy in our class refers to the time between 1650 and 1720, which were the years when piracy was at its most rife around the globe. Edward Thatch, the legendary Blackbeard, sailed in this time as did Bartholomew[1] Roberts, Mary Read, Ching Shih (a South China Sea outlaw, brigand, and general insaniac), and many other pirates of fame.
Also, it was in this period that the Spanish Empire, made wealthy through plunder of native gold in its South American viceroyalties, fell into decline; thus making its bloated galleons and gold easy prey for pirates. Most memorable of the famed prizes is the Silver Fleet, accomplished by Piet Heyn. Not the cartoonist: the privateer.
 If I may digress...
...Very kind of you...
In the middle of 1628, it took several days to count the four million coins aboard the Silver Fleet, notwithstanding the exotic dyes, wood, tobacco, et cetera with them. How these came to be sailing to Seville in a Spanish fleet is a matter to be dealt with afterwards, but basically it was rich. And big. Also, clunky.
That, perspicacious listeners, is why one Piet Heyn, the commander of a fleet, was immortalized: at least in Dutch ball-game songs.
A fleet from Vera Cruz (behold the image of Vera Cruz
  set sail one early fall,  scheduled for the port of Seville. Behind the many ships drew a flotilla of the Dutch-- thirty-three hundred sailors aboard in all--under the hand of Piet Heyn, a jovial-looking man with a goatee (the most obvious features)
 and a Letter of Marque.
Considering their vast treasure and the suspicion they held to their abrupt adherent, the captain of the fleet turned for a Cuban town, Matanzas, where their luck ran out and they ran aground on the shallows. In the middle of musket-and-cannon-fire they absconded in boats with jingling pockets or swam for the shore, leaving rather less gold than they came with. This presented a pecuniary loss to Heyn, augmenting the fact he only received precisely 1 3/4 % of the profits, but in any case the great Silver Fleet had been captured, and Holland now rolled in enough dough to be wealthy for the next one hundred years
Furthermore, we ought to mention the difference between a pirate and a privateer, a corsair, buccaneer, and fence, as all are terms which we shall address. Pirates were freelancers, if they were in it only for revenge or adventure. While a few had honor towards their nation of choice, birth, or affiliation, they were legally on the other side of the law. Privateers were agents of a specific nation commissioned to do the bidding of said nation-If they had a Letter of Marque they were legally under the protection of the nation and it was-ah, let's say impolitic-to attack them.
Regularly engaging in raising their middle-finger flag at opponents, raiding enemy ships, and surreptitiously collecting information for their nation, many of this jolly sort were later real pirates, like Benjamin Hornigold -- Commander of the Flying Gang, alias the Pirate Republic, ergo the first, traditional, Caribbean pirate horde -- Edward Thatch, future Blackbeard, and even the Briton Henry Morgan who, with a small army  of1,500 cavaliers and pirates captured Panama (Depiction on PowerPoint), the prominent Spanish city: but not before crossing the isthmus, defeating a force of nearly two thousand, and collecting enough plunder for it to take one-seventy-five mules to carry it back, and not after he was knighted by the English King Charles II while Spain and England were at peace, no less.)
Following us so far? Slightly shorter explanations will follow, thank heaven. Oops. Strictly, a corsair is one of the Barbary Coast engaging in piracy; and it may also be used to refer to a fast ship used for pirating. The word, mind, is derived from early French. Also derived from that eminent language is "buccaneer" any of the raiders of Spanish colonies and ships, also strictly speaking,  although it's commonly used in reference in any pirate. Finally, a "fence" would be a smuggler accepting illegally-received goods from an outlaw. Make sense? Right.

In said time the only areas of piracy were certainly not the Caribbean... English pirates and privateers engaged in their various devious work in the Mediterranean Region, Madagascar, India, China - Such as Madame Ching Shih - and even Ireland! Admittedly, those of repute were in the Caribbean, though quite a few hailed from the British Isles.
The Spanish Main
  was the most fruitful of pirates' opportunities, running along the north coast of South America and up Panama, with juicy Spanish treasure ships and primarily hospitable ports of call upwards in the Greater and Lesser Antilles -- St. Martin and Eustatius at the top, Barbados, and Antigua just as a sample. The Windward Passage, pretty awesomely named, was the (wide) strait between Cuba and Hispaniola i.e. Haiti.
Later in the age, when the American Eastern Seaboard's aboriginal inhabitants were driven out and replaced by European colonists, some pirates dwelt there, as well as  some who hid in the boonies of Florida where a few became friends of the Seminole and Creeks (Depiction of S. and C.s). By that time Englishmen were spreading, and the Native Americans had little love for them: outlaw joined with outlaw, and the swampy woods of Florida seemed excellent to get oneself lost in.  Some of these pirates include Mary Read, Stede Bonnet (Rather cool name, but in fact was about the most doltish pirate on record), and Jean Lafitte.
A more promising location was Nassau and the Bahamas, with shoals promising grounding for a large vessel and inlets which few but locals were aware of. This was the location of Benjamin Hornigold's Flying Gang,  made up of his old drinking buddies, and, before long, veritably half the population of Nassau. It began with the demise of the War of Spanish Succession, when privateers were laid off because there was no need for mercenaries, and aggravated, several privateers set up shop in the town -- hamlet, rather -- of Nassau. At this time -- Ah, I'd best mention the time I suppose, it was 1714 -- around thirty families lived in ramshackle houses, with a collapsing fort. In other terms, it was perfectly splendid for a bunch of outlaws to begin pirating. Gaining prestige (and audacity) Ben Hornigold became a sort-of de facto self-proclaimed prince until a man called Woodes Rogers became governor... But alas, I'm afraid you have to hear that another time.
In future America and the United Kingdom, Boston and Bristol were the centers of commerce passing to the Old World and out into the New. Today America is another independent country, but in the pirates' time it was  the haven of scoundrels and the dwelling of adventurers, of those categories many overlapped. Potatoes, tobacco, live oak, and many other then-exotic commodities were transported out and to America's fellow colonies, and Bristol was the location where manufactured goods, fabrics, and food were set on the course to America and other places; though the city only contained 20,000.
Coming to the New World, Samuel Bellamy, Edward Low, and others stepped from their ships to the docks of Boston where nearby redbrick houses and pylons marked the docks. In Britain, a meandering river: Avon, wound seven miles through the coast until coming to the medieval walls and stone docks. Blackbeard grew up here, in the same baileywick as a notorious pirate-hunter Woodes Rogers who was responsible for the deposition of the Flying Gang. However, that's another story.

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And what do you think they looked like? As again, there are droves of romanticizations: and considering the time the pirates lived in, the sky's really the limit as to a dress code. A couple had gear to write home about, Bartholomew Roberts reputedly dressed in a scarlet sash with an earring and jewels--no, I am not kidding, he was allegedly a bit flamboyant--a quintessential pirate

 Blackbeard's mane smoked with fuses, and Stede Bonnet dressed in linen and silk. But then again, all three came to bad ends.
If we must imagine, consider the fact pirates stalked the seas from South Africa to the Caribbean, capturing ships, stealing whatever they could get their hands on, pawning what they wouldn't keep, and wearing what was memorable. Of course, many began as ragtag thieves or sailors, turning to the lawless colonies for fun, profit, or simply something more interesting, so that should be taken into consideration.
Scurvy blotched mariners' skin, pestilence hollowed their health
We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune! And while we're at it, we also enjoy burning witches but this is about pirates, not Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 
and thinned their ranks: they wore what was warm and if they were lucky, water-repellant too. Lastly, pirates were richer than some.
As for vessels, we might as well give them a brief mention? The Royal Navy had, as Britannia ruled the waves naturally, the most elite sailing craft, Ships of the Line. The most powerful vessels on the waves, first-rate ships (i.e. those with the strongest plate and finest craftsmanship) weighed in at almost two-thousand tons, decreasing in breadth and weight to frigates and brigs and sloops and schooners. And the earliest denizens of the Flying Gang piloted 30-foot long canoes.
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The world was an unstable and changing place.  Politics was a sister of religion, and after the wars of religion had ended, there were still hard feelings. In Britain the queen's half-brother was denied recognition as the heir of England, being a Catholic, and instead a cousin from Germany, properly Protestant, was selected. The dynasty of the Spanish Hapsburgs fell when the king Charles II (not to be confused with the English king Charles the II) died, and a war broke out in Europe as a result. And there, we have come to the War of Spanish Succession.
In 1702--Admittedly slightly late for our decades-spanning narrative-- Spanish rule came crashing down when the king died without an heir, and those pesky in-laws came clamoring for a place in the estate. Only the estate was the Spanish Empire, spanning from Cadiz to the Philippines, and the in-laws were the major rulers of Europe. Before long, England had taken sides: allying with Holland, Austria and Prussia, while France and Spain joined.
England was going to anyone besides the French.
In the middle of this, three-quarters the male  population of English colonies were serving in battle, voluntarily or involuntarily, and privateers were bursting from the gunwales .
To put it... lightly, maritime ventures were not favorable toward anyone involved.
Why pirating, you ask?
Primarily, English crews were recruited by gangs of men who walked city streets and taverns, kidnapping men to serve in their crew. . . "pressing" is the official term; and they were called "press" or "press gangs." Good for morale? I think not! Also, a disturbing amount of people appeared to be disgustingly immoral, depraved, and greedy, but that's another story... And if we get our way, not one imminently to be told.
Why, though? Why would they leave their livelihoods and join a collection of scrofulous seven-letter-words? It was an unenviable prospect, living with slight sleep, and even slighter healthcare - Yeah, I mean worse than some people think today's is.
 There is not an easy answer. Some were captured and turned traitor to save their skins, and some did so just for a better lifestyle. Some were entranced by the very romanticizations that are inflicted on today's history...For a critical viewpoint. Some were bitter about the Peace of Utrecht, the treaty ending the war--Many of whom are quintessential pirates, Blackbeard among them. A couple looked to it to escape the law, or, in Stede Bonnet's case, to escape their wives. That fiasco ended with his hanging, so let us assume that in the case one marries unwisely it's best to get a divorce.
It offered them comparative freedom, an opportunity to do as one wanted, to obtain unforeseeable wealth and to have some real voice in the ship. Believe it or not, pirate captains were elected by the crew, majority ruled whether one was to be elected or replaced. This likely resulted in a little bit of gold changing hands....
Black sailors were common, being offered full rights as a crewmember when pirates captured a slaver ship In the times which they lived, it was surprisingly egalitarian. One imagines a pirate ship as a milieu of different nationalities and affiliations -- as long as they shared a common enemy -- Where a  different society existed, divorced from the rank and rule of the Europeans, and remained fairly ordered even without  that; and with the addition of a more eclectic populace. Now please throw metaphorical tomatoes if I start typing about the "pirate in us all"...the "soul of the sea"...or similar statements.
 I mean metaphorical, guys. Nonexistent. Forget the tomatoes.
...Or they would be sold back into slavery: many merchants and businessmen were of little conscience.
                Naturally, it was not all fun and games: Even each benefit was, there was a ship to run. Sails had to manned, and adjusted by hand, which meant sailors had to climb the masts and unknot ties to change the speed of the ship, and to "tack" the sails (in other words, to turn the bow to the wind, changing the impact of the wind from one side to another.) This was particularly necessary in stormy or windy conditions; as such that one would really not like to be forty feet in the air, clinging to the mast,  a daredevil koala on an eucalyptus trunk.
Pardon me, I will applaud my splendid metaphor.
Scurvy always visited the crews of lawful and rogue alike, a disease resulting in the body hemorrhaging below the skin and causing purple sores, chronic weakness, gum recession (not a financial scenario), and anemia: the lack of hemoglobin in blood resulting in such lovely things as fingernails growing upwards, hallucinations, and a hunger for odd consumptions such as ice, paper, and wood. However, I know for a fact I do not have anemia, and yet I have always eaten ice cubes.
Before I am too carried away in studying the horrid side effects of aforesaid diseases, I'll connect this in some way to my story and continue.
Before Doctor James Lind proved the assistance of citrus in diets (Picture of Lind on PowerPoint), several sailors fortunately realized that fruits and vegetables helped considerably (replenishing the vitamin C. lacking in scurvy-stricken patients) and they were supplied in knowing fleets, eventually becoming mandatory  in... uh... 1800.  Rad, Brits. More sailors die of scurvy than in action (did I mention that?) and it takes you over a hundred years to formally adapt adequate prevention.
Next on the rouleau of piratical mores, strictly enforced was the dividing of the plunder, in which each member took  a share according to their position, only to forfeit it if they had broken the ship's law in cases like of mutiny--and mutineers also faced marooning, flogging, or keelhauling-- and also for abduction, dereliction of duty or in some cases inebriation, depending on the articles of the ship.The captain, of course, had the lion's share, decreasing successively to the cabin boys and swabs.
As it was, on English ships men were normally recruited by press-gangs and under the thumb of the captain, whose authority sometimes brooked on cruelty. But Blackbeard supposedly shot a member of his crew for no reason at all, incidentally. Women, under no circumstances were allowed. Pay was issued in the form of I.O.U.s for an unspecified amount just before the recipient's vessel set sail, and many times they received no pay at all.

Depravity reigned many of the ships and attacks, the English Henry Avery operating out of Madagascar exemplifying such. His deeds are quite vile. Pirates faced execution if they were caught sans pardon, and several times they deserved it--Edward Low, a pretty remarkable (but really, okay, he was totally sadistic) man for instance, who with one of his more abominable practices broiled his captives alive.
Interestingly, Low was initially married to one Eliza Marble in Boston, where he had two children: one, a boy who died after birth and another a girl named Elizabeth. After his wife and children died he became a pirate, and although, really, he was sick he treated women well, leaving them on shore if they were onboard a captured ship, and hardly recruited married men. Then again, this occurred in a sketchy area three-hundred years ago.
Doubtlessly this does little to detract from the general horridnesses of the time, but interestingly enough the original pirate lord Benjamin Hornigold, while being a generally threatening chap, was not known to kill captives: his crew was searching for the resting place of a capsized treasure fleet and they captured the crew, he liberated their pockets of money, a couple of silk items, and left them alone (although the captain did notify him as to the location of the fleet's salvage camp, so perhaps that helped), and once took an English vessel, stole their hats and explained they had thrown theirs overboard when drunk, and what gentleman goes without a hat?

promptly releasing them. Conversely he did also threaten to kill Nassau's governor, and beat his family "senseless" so nobody's perfect.  
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In the next classes you may expect a mix of cynicism and invigoration: but never apathy. Addressed topics possibly may include the good, the bad, and the ugly of the Golden Age, the (in)famous pirates, the vicissitudes of maritime life, and conversely those of Europe. Expect exciting dynastic decisions, maggots, sails, and decapitations!





[1] John was his real name.


Herein is what was -- information resulting in the possible interpretation that it would be detestable unto the reader to have such intelligence divulged -- (That means spoilers) a script for cooperative pirate-themed lessons this fall. Circumstances extenuated as circumstances are known to do, and henceforward the lesson scripts will be unfolded onto the proverbial table of my blog. That means the one-and-a-half-written but this blog ought to be famed for its hyperbole.


-Captain Anacostia Mirabow-Marignac.

Information derives from The Republic of Pirates by Colin Woodard, osmosis through books lying around our home, Empire of Blue Water by Stephen Taity, and Encyclopædia Brittanica.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Eight starry jewels of writing advice, seven ellipsis points (those are triple periods, if you need know), six quips and a partridge. Metaphorically.

The second installment in my Pretentious Writing Tips series, in which I will probably repeat what I have forgotten I already said, suggest things which work for me but would capsize the work of another individual, and go on at length about the benefits of my sagacious advice. Rather than arraying summaries of my previous works ahead of the tips, I'll simply cut to the chase.

•Remember the reader has to use their imagination as well as understand yours†. Overdescription is a dam to imagination. One character can be wearing a long gown with a shawl and that is adequate description not to merit mention of the apparel's color. Let one's independent reader imagine as they will.

•"Crossed" can be conceived as amateurish. Quite tempting, I grant you, but difficult to imagine and after all, many people don't cut a directly diagonal path through a room do they?

•The regular writer must have seen this so many times it's a cliché, but it is advisable not to think about everything you write -- particularly when you're trying to write out a scene or character or occurrence as not to forget it. Drafts, young Padawan!

•Don't think about drafts, in my professional opinion.

•Adverbs are not the root of all evil, again I opine. "-One said excitedly", or "with an excited tinge to one's voice"? Excitedly is economic, quick, and in my humble opinion superior to the latter.

•For the love of heaven don't say "slightly." "Almost", yes. "Partially", indeed. "Halfway between X and X", sure. But "slightly" is. . . .at the extremity of inadvisable. "Slightly annoyed" "Slightly confused"--Piffle. Platitudes.

•Use your words. "Incidentally" outranks "by the way", even, it has its own meaning as well. . . A side effect; a occurrence of lesser magnitude.

•(Punctuation is also a necessary part of cohesive writing.)


Well, as far as my personal writing goes I am stuck somewhere in the middle of a seventy-page-long notebook, scripting away various scenes from various stories amidst Spotify and Pinterest.

I have begun a certain story set in the world of Breckinedge, a quaint locale in which every town and metropolis is named after an adjective or state--Reverie. Solitude. Tranquil. There are many curious and mysterious constituents which, naturally, have no relation or any manner with which to presently fit them together. Ah well, the lot of a writer.
My earliest conviction that I would be a writer was when I was six, and I decided that my ideas were too amazing not to share with the world. . . I just love myself.

Furthermore, if we writers are lucky, forty years in the future people will still be reading our works; and even if one is reading it a year after the publication date I will count myself an honored lady.


Sentimentally,

Anacostia Mirabow-Marignac.


†In all likelihood, the mind will always have difficulty being understood -- allow me to amend -- That ought to be written "Recognize what you're trying to say."



Sunday, July 20, 2014

A diatribe, review, and philosophical digression: which is to say a review of Ruin & Rising (Previously "A Review... for which it is yet to be decided but in any case it will doubtlessly equate the most exemplary standards".)

Brief prelude. The review beneath was written directly after finishing the book which it addresses; at ten o' clock at night; so please pardon me for any corrigenda, discrepancies, or convolution. On second thought, the last one is par for the course so nevermind.

How could one dislike that ending, as many do? It was a fairy-tale ending, and they were fairy-tale-like books. It tells the story and concludes it: that of the Darkling, plus the boy and girl from Keramzin (needless to mention, the too-clever fox). They settle in an orphanage... one where they grew up. They have unhappiness but joy as well... Leigh Bardugo's writing, I will interject, is lovely in the prelude and conclusion. Quite eximious.
Half -- actually all but one, I believe, of my notes are quotations from the book with diatribes accusing Miss Bardugo of being favorable toward the monstrous villain known as the Darkling. Frankly, he was a villain--a monster--a demon, worse than those which he created. I refuse to see sympathy.  Hm. I probably feel any sympathy now that the character has gone and joined the choir!

"'Aleksander,' I whispered. A boy's name, given up. Almost forgotten." 

Piffle. For those who have not read it, that refers to the Darkling... the villain. In any case, he gave it up, he almost forgot it. For a moment of poignancy, however, Alina remembered it. He didn't redeem himself or repent either--Good gosh, I'm glad Leigh didn't try to write him doing that, recall the aforementioned irredemability--and neither did Alina forget what he did.  Leigh Bardugo handles it excellently, in spite of my diatribes against her characterization in this final book.
Maybe it is a tribute to all the tragedy.
In one way, it reminds me of Les Misérables... Only for Harshaw dying rather spontaneously and without ado: a titch like Courfeyrac. (A "Friend of the ABC", meaning a rebel in the July Revolution of 1830. Also, Marius' friend.)

A few closing notes, before I shut the laptop lid! Alina laughs at a joke by Mal (Mal-her sweetheart, general object of whatever soap-opera happens to be occurring... responsible also for the fairy-tale ending. Aw.) near the end. The first time it appears she truly laughs! I find that, again, very poignant.

Keramzin is the nexus of drama in the Grisha Trilogy, it seems... As well as the emotional catalyst for many of the characters.
Unfortunately it was a conclusion which renders the prior books rather immediately-un-re-readable, in spite of the ending. My thoughts on the ending are rather apparent, it appears to me! Essentially: it was poignant, well-done,  arguable, fairy-tale-ish--Perfectly brill.

On second thought, this entire review waxes philosophical. One may blame the ten-o'-clock hour which I wrote it.


Thanks for reading,

Anacostia Mirabow-Marignac.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Depths of ire! Uncontrollable debating! Troublesome Pettifogging! This Pestilential Scourge, Media, gains its own article.

Journalism and media are two very different things. You think? When it comes between an instance like celebrity culture and journalists on the Tibetan-Chinese border it is undoubted. The line can be bothersomely blurred... This writer thinks perchance the journalists discover the information, and the media belches it out.

The Reader may note that was a fairly extraordinary sentence, and definitely exhibits the tone of the forthcoming piece. In other words, this'll be a fairly vituperative article. Bear with me, my figurative blogger's pen  is rusty from disuse. Enjoy.

Shakespeare is theater. Previously lowbrow, crude, and informal theater to be sure, but now it has morphed into an art form: which at least is better than Ms. Jennifer Aniston, and the full cadre of celebrities. Media, while it endeavors to imitate such, is not an art.
Take for example the recent happenings in Eurasia. It has been transgr    essing for upwards of a month-and-two-weeks, with every small happenstance magnified and declaimed throughout. A lowly and uninformed personage I may be, but however nefarious President Putin is or is not (come on, he at least is a level II megalomaniac) a crisis need not crucially be averted when a news article on the aforementioned is side-by-side with one on Taylor Swift's attire. I entirely agree that it is somewhat discordant, yet honestly, I see little importance in superficial publicizing.

...

Quite honestly, originality is sorely lacking. Maybe discuss the situation of the fight against malaria in third-world countries? Poor pay in Chinese factories? Political suppression in Myanmar?
Just...frigging...shut up...about...Taylor Swift's clothes.
Please.

I come to the meat of the matter, and to my opinionated approximation of things media sorely exaggerates in its pertinent stages, one article deriving from another, expounding on falliance and thriving on drama; a crisis following another in quick and short-lived succession.

Not to say journalism in and of itself is a vice. In fact it's a virtue. Now if only the popular distribution of disclosures were less aggrandized... At least we have right to report on most, I admit.
But perhaps we exaggerate an increment too much. I'll silence on the news commentary, thanks.

Appreciation for reading my digression on media,

-Anacostia.