Month: September 2005

The Seven Faces of Blogging

Shakespeare’s wisdom about the seven stages of man:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII
(Source: Shakespeare Online)

My take on the seven faces of blogging:

All the world’s a Web,
And all the men and women merely bloggers:
They have their posts and their comments;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His blogs having seven faces. There’s the newbie,
Mewling and puking his embarrassing secrets.
And then the whining bloviator, with his hatreds
And roaring boldface caps, screeching like a cat
Thrown into a stream. And next the argufier,
Making like Quixote, with lance atilt
Charging anon at orthodoxies. Then the academician,
Full of theories and bearded for the part,
Jealous of his peers, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the savant’s reputation
But also the rabble’s roar. And then the pundit,
In pajamas clad and with good port plied,
With eyes alert for oddities to seize upon,
Full of eclectic wisdom and clever phrases;
And so he plays his part. Now we gaze upon
The would-be poet and belle-lettrist,
With drafts propped aside his monitor,
His fingers tapping dizzily at the keyboard,
His eyes ablaze with creative fervor; not wanting
To end his labors even as the bell tolls three,
He dozes in his lonely den. At last we come
To the dispirited burnt-out blogger who will not
Quit his blogging habit until, like Yorick, he is
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Katrina’s Aftermath: Who’s to Blame?

My heart goes out to those who are injured, sick, homeless, jobless, and hungry in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. My heart does not go out to those who helped to make the disaster as vast as it is turning out to be. And who are those culprits?

Let’s start with government, which made it possible for people to live in low-lying areas by erecting dikes, levees, and pumping stations — not at the expense of the direct “beneficiaries” of such facilities but at the expense of taxpayers.

Let’s continue with government, which insists on taxing the rest of us so that the victims of disasters such as Katrina can “rebuild their lives and businesses” in the very same vulnerable places.

Let’s continue some more with government, which insists on taxing the rest of us to entice residents and businesses to remain in vulnerable areas — in the name of urban pride and “job creation” — through various forms of personal and corporate welfare.

And let’s end with voters, business owners, labor unions, and others who support the politicians who perpetuate all such government programs because those programs are “humane,” “compassionate,” or “essential.” Those voters, business owners, workers, and others who are victims of Katrina are, in fact, victims of their own willingness to extort taxpayers to pay for inadequate protection against foreseeable disasters, such as major hurricanes along the Gulf Coast. They would make better decisions if they had, instead, to choose between spending their own money for adequate protection from foreseeable disasters or exerting themselves to make a life or run a business out of the reach of such disasters.

Programs such as those I mention above create an expectation that government will take care of people who expose themselves to danger, thus making it likely that people will make decisions that do indeed expose them to danger. The price? Death, disease, homelessness, joblessness, and hunger. And the waste of billiions of dollars of taxpayers’ money.

Katrina is just one of the many natural disasters that government, acting at the prompting of voters and other interested parties, has converted to a vast human tragedy. And there will be many more such tragedies, I fear.