WARNING: Watching C-SPAN May Induce Post-Partisanism

I worked from home today, so I spent the whole day watching the C-SPAN replay of the congressional hearing with the CEOs of Chrysler, Ford, and GM in the background of whatever else I was doing.   Given the fact that I know absolutely nothing about how the economy works and/or what the government should do about the American auto industry, or the stock market, or banks, or whatever else is collapsing, I tried to approach these hearings with an open mind and just listen to what everyone had to say.  

However, the truth is that I am very unlikely to find common ground with a politician who has (R) Texas listed after their name, let alone Texas's 5th District Representative, Congressman Jeb Hensarling.  If you don't know Jeb Hensarling (I certainly didn't until I looked him up), he is an up-and-coming leader in the Republican party.  He is a big-time conservative and has voted against choice, stem cell research, same-sex marriage, and hate crimes laws.  He supports the PATRIOT Act and an amendment to ban flag burning.  

Basically, not my kind of dude.  But, I must admit that I think he really held it down  when confronting the CEOs on Wednesday...

Besides the fact that this is just a well-written and eloquently delivered argument, Representative Hensarling seems to be pretty serious about the traditional Conservative argument that the government should have as little access to people's money as possible.  And, while I believe that in reality, this approach neither serves to improve the national infrastructure of the United States, nor does is serve the best interests of the American citizenry, it seems that the tectonic rumblings of the economy and its auto industry-threatening aftershocks have unearthed some common ground.  In watching the car company CEOs' testimony, it was clear that many of our leaders have, particularly in light of the dire economic straights in which we have now found ourselves, absolutely no more tolerance for the wanton greed and excesses of corporate executives.  

Despite being generally divided on whether or not to give the Big Three the $25 Billion they have requested, it seems as though representatives from both the Left and the Right are actively looking for someone to take accountability for what has happened, and are demanding a clear and comprehensive strategy as a pre-condition to making any final decision regarding the allocation of "bailout" money.

Later in the day, I watched the C-SPAN broadcast of a panel discussing and debriefing the Presidential Election in which Howard Dean attributed some of his (and the Democratic Party's) success to their recognition of the "post-partisan" nature of the younger Americans who turned out to vote in unprecedentedly high numbers earlier this month.  According to Dean, voters under 35 are increasingly looking beyond party lines for leaders whose commitment to finding practical, effective, and comprehensive strategies to tackle our problems outweighs their commitment to towing their party's line and tooting their party's horn.

If Dean's comments are true, does this means my warm reaction to Rep. Hensarling's comments make me part of this post-partisan movement?  When I first heard Hensarling speak, I must admit that I was compelled by his words.  Without knowing about his Conservative political leanings, Hensarling's direct approach struck in me a similar chord to the one struck by many of the Lefties I love (Howard Dean, Ted Kennedy, Dennis Kucinich, Barack Obama, etc.).  His "let's talk like adults" approach resonated with me, and I liked how his really tried to stick it to the CEOs on the most basic and fundamental moral and economic grounds.  

But then I looked him up...

...And no matter how well-crafted and powerfully delivered his words might have been, no matter how logical and resonant his approach to the CEOs was, there is no way I can look past all of the positions that originally aligned me with the Democratic Party and say that I'm OK with Jeb Hensarling.  I'm not a Democrat because I like being part of a club.  I'm not a Democrat because I have an affinity for donkeys or because of Matt Damon and Will.I.Am & Friends.  I'm a Democrat because I agree with most of the Democratic Party platform -- I think that as a whole, the Democrats are simply more correct than the Republicans.  And I am a Democrat because I think that it is important to form alliances with like-minded people in order to gain the leverage necessary to make meaningful change in Washington.

Am I tired of meaningless, symbolic "partisan for partisanism's sake" bickering between politicians?  Of course.  Do I want our leaders to stop their political peacocking and get down to work? Absolutely.  But am I willing to ignore the larger or more symbolic party messages to which I am so adamantly opposed and start voting for Republicans?  Not quite.

The Case Against Books: A Polemic

It is common knowledge that I don't like reading.  In my life, this distaste for reading has caused quite a number of problems.  The main one being that I love knowing stuff.  In particular, I love knowing a lot of rather nerdy and esoteric stuff that, it seems, tends to be recorded predominantly in long books written in excruciatingly boring styles.  In addition to (or, perhaps, more likely, as a result of) being a particularly slow and ineffective reader, I find it very hard to sustain interest even in those books that would seem to have been tailor-made to suit my tastes.  I do typically find it easier to read non-fiction than fiction, but overall, reading is not my thing.  

You know what I do love, though?  Television.  Oh man, I love it so much.  So much, that I am now about to embark on the difficult task of presenting an argument for why TV is, to put it bluntly, just better than books.  Now, before you work yourself up into some type of outrage-induced anaphylaxis, hear me out.  Of course there are "good" things about books, blah blah blah, but everyone talks about how good books are.  In my opinion, books are so often celebrated by people in positions of great power and influence (teachers, parents, Oprah, pop artists, rappers, even the TV tells you to read...), that they are getting a little big for their britches.  It's time someone took books down a peg.

So, without further ado, here goes nothing...

____________________________________________________________

As a book I had to read in college for a class on television so aptly explained (Is that ironic?  Both that I am quoting a book about not liking books, and that I read a book for a class about television?  Is anything ironic anymore?), many people prefer to watch TV than read books because "books are slow and take unpredictable amounts of energy to comprehend."

When you watch TV, you know what you're getting yourself into.  Even before you start watching a program, you know when it will end.  And, thanks to the consistency of narrative conventions across a wide breadth of television programming, you even know approximately when any given episode will introduce its story's conflict, reach its climax, and ultimately find its resolution.  This creates, for television viewers, feelings of empowerment and control.  Coupled with the authority assigned to the viewer through the all-powerful remote control (...don't get me started on the wonders of DV-R...), the viewer clearly holds a dominant position in his or her relationship with the television itself.  

This position of viewer dominance is further supported by the fact that watching television is not mutually exclusive to doing other things.  You can make dinner, play games, write clever blog posts, or any number of household activities while watching TV.  In this way, turning on the television can be seen as adding to or complimenting one's lifestyle.  The viewer again, clearly holds a position of relative superiority to the television, as her or she can continue doing a variety of other things, while the television patiently must continue to "serve" its viewers whether or not they are actually watching.

This is not true of the relationship between reader and book.  Of course, one has the power to put a book down (...or rip it apart and violently hurl the torn sections across a crowded college library, as I once did when, after hours of studying for a history of modern art exam, I came upon Robert Smithson's suggestion that: "The order and disorder of the fourth dimension could be set between laughter and crystal-structure, as a device for unlimited speculation"... Seriously?  Seriously?? What the does that even mean? And, more importantly, why am I being forced to read to some dude's masturbatory romp into what I can only assume is a lame attempt at creating some particularly second-rate post-modern existentialist theory?). But short of quitting before the end, the reader rarely, if ever, knows how long it is going to take to finish a book before they have begun reading it.  This means that agreeing to read a book is agreeing to devote however many hours it takes to get through it -- a length of time that is determined as much by the book itself as by the reader.  Furthermore, even if a reader gives this time to a book willingly, he or she still enters into the relationship unable to predict how long it will take for the story to reach its various milestones.  You see, narrative conventions in books vary much more than those in television.  

Finally, it is virtually impossible to do anything else while reading a book.  Have you ever tried to fold laundry with a book in your hands?  How about playing a game of cards?  The only things you can actually do while reading are go to the bathroom, wait for something, and ride the subway.  Books freely and unapologetically claim a monopoly over your time without thinking twice about what other stuff you might have going on -- and, once committed to finding out what a book has to say, there is little, if anything you can do about it.  Together, these factors posit the book's power as equal, if not superior, to that of the reader.  

Now, I don't know about you, but I don't like the idea of some book telling me what to do.  I don't need some smug book mocking me, saying that if I want to know what it has to say I have to disconnect from the rest of my life, that it's going to take as long as it takes, and that I can't do anything about it.  Books are jerks.  

Well, you listen to me, books ... You have either 30 minutes or 1 hour to get your point across in a compelling and fast-paced way, or I'm out.  Television is way more humble than books because it knows who it answers to and respects the value of your time.  Books think they're better than you.  Enough is enough.

The Vice President Can Make Freshman Senators Get Her Beers.

Remember when Sarah Palin said that she was "thankful that the Constitution would allow a bit more authority given to the Vice President if the Vice President so chose to exert it"?  And then, do you remember when she told that little kid that the Vice President was "in charge of the United States' Senate, so if they want to they can really get in there with the senators and make a lot of good policy changes"?

Yikes.  That was a close one, America.  

In contrast, below is a clip of Barack Obama explaining what being President means to him.  It's from an interview he did in October 2006 while promoting his book, The Audacity of Hope.  Watching it in hindsight, it's pretty clear that, by this point, he had already decided to run for President.  So, it's quite possible that he had been preparing these anwers for some time.  But that doesn't stop his comments from making me believe that President-Elect Obama: (1) Is cool as hell; (2) Actually understands what he's gotten himself into; and (3) Knows who he works for.  That's what's up. 

I think we picked a winner, folks!

 

I thoroughly recommend watching the rest of this interview.  I recently caught it in its entirety on C-SPAN2 and, not surprisingly, Obama drops about an hour of really impressive, resonant, thoughtful, and eloquent progressive political fire.  Here's a link to the whole thing or you can watch it in pieces on YouTube.  

Save Hollywood!

I have heard from several reputable industry insiders that the current economic crisis is taking an unexpectedly hard toll on Hollywood. Like everyone else, over the past year people who work in the television and film industries have seen their benefits cut, pensions disappear, and mortgages fail as the Four Horsemen of the Economic Apocalypse gallop towards the United States. But until recently, their jobs were safe.

You see, typically, during bad economic times people spend more time watching tv and going to the movies as a substitute for more expensive entertainment like concerts, theater, and travel (...unless you live in New York, where you can take a bus to Boston for less than it costs to see a movie...). So, even though they were feeling the pinch, the thousands of people who hold low- to mid-level positions in the creative and production departments of the major media companies, could rest relatively easy.

But then things got really bad, and in order to keep being able to afford to charter private jets to fly themselves to the condos in Cannes and Sundance and Tribeca that they keep exclusively for "festival seasons,"* the big bosses are conserving funds by pulling the plug on projects and instituting blanket hiring freezes (a real deathblow because it is regular practice for many people to be hired as "freelance" or "contract" workers whose employment is guaranteed only on a project or episodic basis).

What does all this mean? It means that lots of people in Los Angeles are freaking out. TV shows are being abruptly canceled, despite being several episodes deep into contracted full-season production schedules. That means all of the writers, camera people, boom operators, key grips, guys that hold those big silver things behind the lights, etc. who were hired to work specifically on a show get fired when it is canceled. Other people may be involved with projects that are more secure, but are nonetheless fearful of what will happen when those projects inevitably come to an end.

So what are all of these dispossessed workers supposed to do? Honestly, I don't care that much ... I'm broke too, my friends, and I don't really feel like looking out for anyone but #1 until after January 20th (when the inauguration of President Obama will magically transport us to a happier and more plentiful tomorrow full of teamwork and altruism). But, I did get the wackest fortune from a fortune cookie last night (see below) -- not only was it not a "fortune," per se, but it also lacked even a hint of the wisdom of the ancient Asian mystics. So, I would like to suggest that any Hollywood writers who are looking to pick up some cash check into becoming a forture cookie fortune writer. I don't know if it pays well or offers dental insurance or whatever, but they definitely need the help and there's no place for egos in tough times like these.


I mean, what it says is true... I just never realized that Noah Webster (of dictionary fame) was considered a go-to source for the wisdom and guidance of the ages.

___________________________________________________________

*NOTE: Allegedly.

Mos Def for (Dead) Prez?

I came upon this video from GOOD Magazine while "working" the other day.  Even thought I pretty much agree with the entire platform that Mos Def lays out, and, am confident that, after a thorough vetting, I would definitely vote for him, I'm certainly not looking for Obama's successor before he has even been sworn in (Mylie Cyrus in 2016).  

All that being said, it's always nice to see the Mighty Mos contributing to the waning raptivism scene...

Also, for what it's worth, I'd like to add the following words and phrases to his list:

• hateration
• you go, girl
• anything said as part of a Borat imitation
• ridonkulous (and its slightly more explicit cousin: ricockulous) 
• you know my steez
• that's how we do
• chillax

Hope is the New Despair.

This morning, a 20-something, Jewish, McCain supporting, young professional I went to college with had “yes we can is the new dayenu” as her Facebook status. Given her political leanings, I assumed that this was an attempt to take one final and dismissive potshot at the millions of us across America who, almost reflexively, sang choruses of “yes we can” in the same way that millions of Jews, without thinking, sing along with the repeated chorus of the Passover song, “Dayenu.” Through my lingering wine-and-euphoria haze, I struggled to deconstruct this analogy, phrased in the overripe pop culture colloquialism of “X is the new Y,” and identify ways that my former classmate might have taken it up as an expression of her frustration or disappointment with last night’s results.

After some time, I gave up and asked her about it. And in doing so, my faith in Americans’ ability to, at the end of the day, put personal politics aside and recognize priorities greater than their own was reaffirmed when I received the following via Facebook Wall-Post: “Wasn’t anti-Obama at all. I agree with you and that’s why I said it. It was how I connected to what he had to say.” Upon receiving this response I was struck by powerful feelings of pride. Of course, as an Obama supporter and a liberal arts educated, American Studies major who concentrated in Cultural Studies and Civil Rights, these past hours have left me chock full of pride. In addition to feeling proud of the way my country voted, I felt proud of the way my religion, albeit unknowingly, had led my friend onto what I believe is the right side of history. On this historic morning, my friend’s Facebook status was not only a testament to the truly bi-partisan appeal of Obama’s message, but it was also a powerful reflection of the desperation, hope, and faith of the American people as expressed through a casual reference to a relatively small aspect of the Jewish Passover tradition.

You see, on Passover, Jews tell the story of their escape from Egypt and thank God for delivering them from slavery. Towards the end of the traditional Passover liturgy is a Hebrew song called “Dayenu.” It is an upbeat, call-and-response style song where God’s actions on behalf of the Jewish people are posed as hypothetical statements that are then responded to with rousing choruses of the song’s title. Literally, the word dayenu means “it would have been enough for us.” So, for example, the following are among the song’s verses:

If God had brought us out of Egypt … It would have been enough for us.

If God had split the sea for us … It would have been enough for us.

There are several other lines, but that’s the jist. Now, I am neither naïve nor cavalier enough to imply an even slightly analogous relationship between Barack Obama and God, but I was struck by something particularly resonant in the invocation of a tradition that celebrates the end of a dark period in history as the creation of a benchmark against which people are able to realize how truly blessed they are.

The election of Barack Obama is a sign that the American people have made a possessive investment in our own historical legacy. We are no longer willing to accept the continued pursuit of an American narrative that leaves us so grossly and dangerously misrepresented. History, is the catalogue of all of the events, ideas, and moments that make up human existence; and our personal stories are cross-referenced as part of our nation’s whether we like it or not. Last night’s election should be seen as a mandate to those in power that the people of the United States are no longer mollified by the placatory option to symbolically disassociate ourselves from our own history with impotent disclaimers like “not it our name.”

Whether or not we feel the need to qualify any affirmation of the revolutionary quality of this election by reminding ourselves that it took the extreme conditions created by, among other things, two failing wars and an economic crisis of unprecedented proportions, to actually catalyze the American people into action, we must not be so jaded as to think that last night marks anything less than a watershed moment in American intellectual history. By electing Barack Obama, by voting as much for his romantic
messages of “hope” and “change” as for his concrete policies, we made it abundantly clear to our leaders, our world, and ourselves that the American people are taking back creative control of the American narrative. While Barack Obama has stirred up in many Americans the belief that last night was only the beginning of a new chapter in American history in which he will lead us through this tunnel of darkness into the light of a truly better tomorrow, we must remember that his message is not a messianic one.

For too long we have allowed ourselves to have our story told for us by hubristic third-person narrators whose omniscience, in classic dramatic form, is fatally flawed by their own recklessly gluttonous self-interest. Last night we announced, by overwhelming decree, that it is our turn to be the authors of our own story. We must encourage ourselves to let our next president serve as a symbolic reminder that in electing him, we agreed to truly put our country first. We have committed ourselves to the idea that a rising tide lifts all boats, and that we are okay with the fact that as our nation’s tide rises, it may lift the dingies and rowboats of those in need more quickly than the yachts and cruise ships of those with plenty. And if we can hold up our end of the promise we made by casting our votes, and take advantage of the power to make real change in our own lives endowed to us through the original tenets of the American Experiment itself, then we should have no doubt that the programs and policies proposed by Senator Obama will come to fruition under the leadership and guidance of President Obama.

But today, even stronger than my anticipation for the upcoming political changes and the brighter future they should bring, is my gratitude to Barack Obama for offering himself up as our symbol. The election of Barack Obama, ripe with the powerful and romantic connotations with which it was so skillfully mythologized, can now replace the horrors of September 11th and the exploitative and destructive way it was deliberately manipulated to trick the American people into repeatedly aligning ourselves in opposition to own best interests, as the defining political moment of this generation. We can, to use what is hopefully the last vestigial bit of the campaign rhetoric that has become so ubiquitous over these past months, re-brand ourselves. The challenges that lay ahead of us as individuals and as a nation are great. But today, as last night’s speech to Grant Park and the nation so eloquently affirmed we understand what needs to be done and we are confident that, by taking the pen into our own hands, we will be able to write the next chapter of the American story in our own words.

If he helped us recognize our own potential … Dayenu.

Yes. We. Did.

Here, on the pulse of this new day

You may have the grace to look up and out

And into your sister's eyes, and into

Your brother's face, your country

And say simply

Very simply

With hope --

Good morning

(Maya Angelou, 1993)

Ironic, Post-Ironic, or Couture? (Lighten up, it's just fashion...)

Up here in the mountains of Western Maine, the hippest of the badass snowboarders have taken to rocking t-shirts like these:

Until recently, I always associated these shirts with one of the least coveted high school personas... A certain affinity for science fiction/fantasy writing, an unfamiliarity with the acne-clearing benefits of salicylic acid, and a disarming comfort with tucking one's t-shirt into sweatpants. Narrow-minded, perhaps, but I'm just being honest. Now, I have come to understand that wearing such shirts is intended to reflect an almost unprecedented level of cool. Acknowledging my students' obvious attempt at irony, my question is... Has ironic fashion really come this far? 

Rappers wearing madras is one thing; emaciated hipsters in basketball jerseys is another. Both rooted deeply in the "irony is clever no matter how obvious" paradigm... Not particularly original, but effective (and, at the risk of revealing my own played out-ness, something I typically appreciate). But I must admit that I was surprised by this reappropriation of the fashions of some of the most traditionally marginalized members of any high school by the very type of kid who would most likely have contributed heavily to the marginalization process itself. Does the "badass" nature of my particular students' lifestyle enable them to feel comfortable challenging the power of such normative social categorizations? Is it an attempt to reassociate snowboarding with outsider culture in the face of the mass consumption and near ubiquity of skate/board fashion on and off the slopes? Or is it just kids trying to be contrary?

The Paralysis of Privilege.

Many of us were fortunate enough to be raised in families where we were told that we could "be anything we wanted" when we grew up. We were encouraged to pursue a variety of interests and study a breadth of subjects in school. We were encouraged to learn for learning's sake. To work hard in college, but not to worry about deciding on a career. Maybe we took some time to "experience the world" -- travel, adventure, public service, personal growth. We were told that by taking this approach, we would end up better equipped to face the challenges that lay ahead. We were told that it is through flexibility and experimentation, rather than the rigid adherence to a plan, that we really set ourselves up for future success. That the more we exposed ourselves to and the more we experienced, the more attractive we would be to employers and the more prepared we would be to contribute to our world.

And despite having in our possession an impressive collection of "world experiences" and as much perspective as a 20-something can muster, we mourn the loss of dependent wealth, of learning for learning's sake, of the pursuit of fun as a legitimate modus operandi. We look forward, fortified by the promise that the time we devoted to developing our critical thinking, analytical, and interpersonal skills was time well spent. That these skills, however nebulous, are more important and more valuable than the wanton practicality of vocational training.

So we begin to explore the possibilities that the professional world has for us. We make lists of what we hope to find in a job: a challenging environment, dynamic co-workers, the opportunity to use what we have learned to somehow make a difference. We are open to a variety of fields, of pursuits, of lifestyles. We believe that the varied and temporal nature of our lives up to this point has made us flexible and able to adapt to virtually any environment. We are confident, the encouraging words of our families and teachers ringing in our ears, that we really could "be anything."

What we soon realize, however, is that being "anything" and being "nothing" are in dangerous proximity to one another. The feelings of empowerment and freedom that our refusal to commit to one path had once created, now turn into feelings of desperation, of an utter lack of direction, of paralysis. The world is no longer our oyster. It is now a terrifying labyrinth; a maze of blind corners and unmarked doors leading, with equal likelihood, to our wildest dreams and are deepest fears. For the first time, the decision to pursue an interest evokes the fear of what we are missing rather than the excitement of what lies ahead. We have lived, up to this point, with one foot out the door of every room we enter, always ready and encouraged to move on when something better comes along. Now it feels as though we are being asked to choose only one of a seemingly infinite number of rooms we have never been in before; to not only firmly plant both of our feet, but to close the door behind us, take our shoes off, and settle in for the long haul.

How are we supposed to make such a choice? We are confident that if we put our minds to it, we could be successful in any occupation. But rather than encouraging us to try anything, this confidence somehow manifests itself as the rejection of everything. We have been taught to find the beauty, the value, and the reward in whatever we do; to not expect any one interaction or experience to satisfy us completely, but rather to keep our options open and our hands in the mix of as many opportunities as possible. How can focusing on one task and committing ourselves to one industry possibly be as rewarding as the simultaneous participation in the wide breath of opportunities afforded to us by our previous lives? For the first time, it feels like we are settling -- something we have been explicitly instructed never to do.

Despite being unable to actually see ourselves in any profession, we feel no less confident in our potential for great success. And more than just having potential, we feel as though we are destined for greatness.

This is where the guilt kicks in. And we feel as though we are taking advantage of those people who encouraged us, supported us, and afforded us the opportunity to put our professional lives on hold while we developed that potential, experienced the world, and pursued our individual -- oftentimes recreational -- interests. We are openly thankful, but privately resentful. If only we had been told that the opportunities given to us had been contingent on our ability to find gainful employment at their end. If only we hadn't been encouraged to see the educational value of recreation, the importance of experience for experience's sake. We look with jealousy at the less fortunate, at those who do not bear the burden of knowing what they are missing. And we look with disgust at ourselves for internalizing our privilege so fully that we have come to feel entitled to opportunities and experiences that we did little or nothing to deserve.

Now, we feel pressure not only to choose a profession in the first place, but to choose one that appropriately reflects the privileged existence that has brought us to this point. The job we choose must declare publicly to all who have contributed to our lives up to this point that we acknowledge their sacrifices, we recognize how unique and undeserved our experiences have been, and that it has been worth it. That we really are better prepared, more qualified, and more highly skilled than those who did not have the opportunities we had. But what job can do all that? How can one job pay tribute to everything that we have been given? How can we accept positions that ignore our privilege, that render our experiences insignificant, or worse yet, wasteful? In turn, this fear and guilt that comes from the possibility of simultaneously establishing ourselves as both professionals and as prodigal sons and daughters further contributes to our paralysis.

How Should I Know?

Why is existential self-examination synonymous with some type of mental and emotional instability? If anything, isn't having the presence of mind to stop and question even the most mundane or seemingly established parts of your life indicative of a particularly solid mindstate? I mean, you can't get perspective on a mountain while standing on a fragile precipice halfway up the climb. It's only from the ground, and at a distance that you can really see the big picture. But what about the little bits that make up that big picture? Is that where the mental instability comes in? Does the so-called identity crisis come from being unable to see the forest through all the trees? Or spending too much time looking at the brush strokes to appreciate the holistic effect of expressionist art? I think that's bullshit. You need to pay attention to everything. You certainly won't understand it all, but to assume that taking any one perspective is the most effective (or worse, the least dangerous) is risky, and to assume that any one person could be sure of which perspective to take is pushing the limits of hubris. How could I possibly know what is best for me? I don't know shit about shit. All I know has come from my experiences, and while I may have developed a certain adeptness in navigating the world in which I function, I certainly don't have enough perspective to stand behind my choices or preferences as "correct." This is particularly true in terms of choices being understood not only as defined by what you embrace, but also by what you reject. The vast majority of things we don't do are rejected because we don't do them. Now, I'm not saying we should all go do everything. I'm certainly not very much of a risk taker. All I am saying is that everyone needs to get off their high horses about knowing what's right and wrong, even just for themselves. Being right or wrong shouldn't be the final standard by which our choices are evaluated because the rubric by which we determine rightness or wrongness is so limited that it's essentially invalid. At the very least it is totally constructed -- functional perhaps, but necessarily taken with a grain of salt.