Nina Easton, Mayor of Wrongville

It’s scheduling week here at the hospital; the twice-yearly week long exercise of figuring out which classes go where on the master schedule of my wing. We were fortunate in that the planning itself only took a day, but now we have the rest of the week to finish paperwork, write new course descriptions, and so forth. For me, this doesn’t take too long, and so I was left enough time at lunch today to check out what was going on around the internet. And that is when I found this op-ed.

First of all, let’s ignore the fact that the author, Nina Easton, is a conservative. I’m not a big fan of the “They disagree with me, so they must be wrong” mindset that has infected my country in years past, and so I try to combat it whenever possible. For instance- if she’s worked for Fortune, the LA Times and the Boston Globe, she’s probably at least fairly on top of her game. So don’t brush her off just because she happens to be a conservative talking about the virtues of “The 1%”.

Nope, we’re going to assume for the sake of this post that Ms. Easton is a purely non-biased reporter, speaking her mind without a political agenda behind her.

And we’re going to assume that  she’s unbiased because if we don’t, and we believe that she’s just a conservative mouthpiece, then her writing is immediately as invalid as Glenn Beck’s or Keith Olberman’s.

And we’re going to assume that she’s unbiased, because even if we do, she is still completely wrong.

Ms. Easton’s article is based on the same tired assumption that a lot of conservatives have been making, and that is that the furor surrounding the One Percent is based on jealousy. She bases her fifth paragraph on the notion that people who’re mad at the mega-rich want their money stripped from them and moved into their own community, like they want President Obama to swing in like some governmental Robin Hood to give the poor their due.

But I don’t think that’s what this anger Easton complains of is about. People want larger salaries of their own, but I don’t think they want someone else’s money. This isn’t about being angry at someone because they’re successful, it’s about being mad at someone because they became successful at the expense of their workers. CEOs that continue to take enormous bonuses immediately after laying off some percentage of their labor force. Finance moguls who profit by cheating their clients and then escape any significant punishment. These seem to be what the “99%ers” are really upset about.

“But there are communists at the Occupy rallies that want all the rich to hand over all their money!” Yes, and there are Secessionists at NRA rallies that still talk about preparing for the inevitable war between the government and their local “militia”. Spare me your generalizations about the Occupy Communists and I’ll spare you my vitriol for your Rambo Wannabes. There are crazies at every rally.

But I digress. I’ll counterpoint my own argument: CEOs taking huge salaries and bonuses.

Global finance is fucking complicated. I’m personally of the opinion that monetary sums in the neighborhood of the trillions-of-dollars-mark is actually imaginary, but some people are smart enough to actually finagle this possibly-imaginary system to produce real-world results. People that can do that do deserve big salaries, because if they don’t get paid, yeah, they’re gonna go find someone who’ll shell out the cheddar to please them.

But. Just because John Q. Employee doesn’t understand how the price of grain in India affects the rubber trade in South America, that doesn’t mean that he deserves to get the axe so his boss-of-bosses can get another couple thousand on their bonus check. When this happens to one person, or in one company, its unfortunate… but the now-jobless employees could just go get jobs elsewhere. When this happens on a national scale and becomes the status quo, however, people become embittered on a national scale, and that bitterness becomes the status quo. Don’t act so goddamn surprised that people are up in arms over the super-rich when it seems like every CEO is doing this.

Earlier on than this, she states in her third paragraph that “The 1% club stands accused, accurately, of more than doubling its share of the nation's income since 1980. By 2007 it controlled nearly 24% of total income, the second highest in history, after 1929. (In 2009 its share dropped to 17%, suggesting that recessions aren't necessarily kind to the rich.)”

This is not an argument I would make if I were trying to draw support to my point of view. The richest 1%’s collective bargaining power dropped from ONE QUARTER OF ALL AMERICAN WEALTH to just a paltry SEVENTEEN PERCENT? Boo fucking hoo. If I were her editor I would have deleted this paragraph from her entry so hard the computer would have exploded. I would have then taken the ashes and thrown them into the goddamn sea, just so nobody would ever read what Nina Easton almost perpetrated on my point of view.

Easton states in her fourth paragraph that “Railing about the 1% club has become shorthand for expressing outrage not only over growing income disparity but also about the state of the nation's working class.” I would agree with that as a one-off statement, but since it isn’t a one-off statement, it can only be viewed as the most accurate thing Nina Easton has accidentally said all day.

She notes in her sixth paragraph that Wall Street bonuses have dropped “18,000, or 13%, to $121,150. It is the second lowest average in the last eight years, topping only the $100,850 of 2008. This estimate tracks cash payments and doesn't include stock options or other forms of deferred compensation that haven't been realized.” Again, this is not something I would say out loud if I were trying to assuage the malice directed at the One Percent. A bonus of $100,000 is still nearly four times what I make as a salary, after taxes, and I sure as shit don’t get stock options.
Again, my job is different than a Wall Street suit’s, but as long as we’re comparing, I’d like to see him swing by my unit and handle some of our boys. Just sayin’.

She does make some good points; she states that there are some legitimate reasons why the One Percent are making so much freaking money these days, such as technological advances that allow companies to globalize in ways that simply were not possible even twenty years ago. (Her comparison is to a performer in the 1600s. I'm not sure why.)
She also cites the fact that womens’ salaries are rising, and she states that if you take a random well-paid One Percenter male, odds are he has an equally educated female counterpart in house as well. With her salary on the up and up, she claims that it’s only natural for the rich to become richer without any devious dealings going on- and on the face value of that factor, at least, she could be right.

But unfortunately, while she’s right in isolated pockets, she’s wrong on the foundation of her article. Like so many others, she falls into the trap of thinking that this “populist rage” is based on jealousy, and not out of our observation of how warped the system is in favor of the rich. She touts the belief that the rich are faulted for their success, and fails to even acknowledge -no, outright denies- that the rich have become as successful as they are in large part by exploiting their workers and clients. That’s where this “populist rage” is coming from (which, I’ll add, wasn’t generating a peep of protest from conservatives when the Tea Party was the new thing, but that’s another rant). I’m not trying to defend Occupy as a movement, as it is largely a worthless endeavor these days, but the underlying sentiment?
That isn't going anywhere.

Modesty Is For People Who Suck (Some Links NSFW)

"Modesty Is For People Who Suck" is a line that I came up with a couple years ago. I find it funny that I’m the one spreading it around work, and it’s a bit of a joke to me- but in other ways, it isn’t. I decided to write about its underlying components of confidence versus conceit today, through an examination of the portrayal of womens’ sexuality by the media.

I don’t think I’d be causing anyone to double-take if I informed you that a lot of fashion outlets tend to base their ideal of beauty around a slender figure. Runway models have been stereotyped as under-eaters, bulimics or anorexics for years- often with a fair amount of truth behind it. If you look at any female-targeted weight loss plan, many of the “after” pictures have women that have gone down to a size 2, if not a size 0.

The fact that there even IS a “size zero” is ridiculous in my mind. Zero implies a lack of value; a complete absence of whatever it is you’re measuring. Even the most emaciated waistline still has some size to it, and therefore, it cannot be zero. Claiming the size of a dress as such is baffling to me- claiming that you’d aspire to be that size, or the implication that you should be that size, is even stranger. Your waistline should be non-existent? Give me a break.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. My point is this: Confidence has a lot to do with how someone looks. That’s not going to change any time soon. But, it also has a lot to do with how you perceive yourself to look. Change your perception, and even if you don’t shed a single pound, you can believe that you look better. This, in turn, can make you carry yourself better (after all, if you think you’re hot shit, why wouldn’t you? You’re hot shit, after all)- and when you carry yourself like you’re worth a million dollars, other people are more likely to treat you better. At the very least they’re typically less likely to mess with you, because someone who is self-confident is less likely to put up with heinous bullshit.

Enter the small but growing plus-sized movement. This is a movement you might have seen here and there; Glamour had a cover a while back with a bunch of “plus” sized models without Photoshopping, or you might have stumbled onto the Curve Appeal Tumblr, or any other venue that extols the bigger girls. These are good things, in my opinion, because they instill confidence in a group of people whose confidence is more likely to be somewhat eroded from the constant assault on their forms that the media hits them with.

It instills confidence- but not conceit.

There’s a big difference. Confidence is knowing who you are. Confidence is knowing your path and walking it, demanding equality when it is due, and doing your thing with swagger even when the haters go and hate. Conceit, on the other hand, makes you believe that you are better than everyone else, and it makes you believe that you deserve special treatment.

The “plus size is awesome” movement doesn’t go around telling girls that they’re better than skinny girls- which is what a lot of fashion outlets have been telling their readers, albeit in reverse; that skinny is better than big. The plus-size movement has been telling girls that they are at their best when they look like they ought to, not when they try to mash their bodies into a shape eight sizes too small. Is there a difference between being a big, curvy girl and being legitimately unhealthy in your size? Of course, and people need to be real with themselves; if you’re lazy and eat like shit, or if you have a glandular problem (or whatever else), you need to take extra care of yourself. But that’s not what we’re talking about here.

We’re talking about confidence, which could be summed up by the line, “A little swagger is a good thing”. A buddy of mine used to say that. “Modesty is for people who suck” represents conceit, though I say it jokingly (usually). So keep your swagger, people, be you male or female, size 0 (ugh) or size 10.

Why Queen Elizabeth Hates Holidays

11:20am- I wake up after a fun night on the town with a buddy of mine. After asking my plants how they slept, I move them back onto my balcony and wish them a good day.

11:28am- The bamboo and the oregano are arguing again, so I move them to opposite sides of the balcony. Personally I think the oregano started it but I don't want to take sides.

12:45pm- I lose a couple rounds of video games to mouth breathing 13 year olds. I disagree with their assessments of my sexuality and of my mother. I review the merits of introducing my mouse to the inner workings of my monitor. I decide against this- barely.

1:40pm- I begin writing this account. By now it is occurring to me just how little there will be for me to do today, as tomorrow is Easter and therefore nobody will be around to hit the town tonight. This disappoints me, and so I begin filling the day with things such as balancing my finances, laundry, and eating breakfast.

1:42pm- I have finished balancing my finances, my laundry, and my breakfast. This does not bode well.

2:02pm- My situation has deteriorated to the point where I am considering playing Warcraft.

2:03pm- I play Warcraft.

2:04pm- I remember why I stopped playing Warcraft for 3 months.

2:59pm- After being tricked into joining a Tough Mudder team, I get an email stating that team practice is today. An opportunity to embarrass myself in front of my team? Count me in!

4:02pm- I finish saving my terrible friends from their own blind fumblings through WoW, and grab a bit of lunch. I start imagining all the things that a Mudder team practice will include. Given the fact that my team is both comprised mostly of beautiful women, and our team is (apparently) going to compete in the Least Clothed costume contest, I'm confident that today's dry run will include an acceptable lack of modesty.

4:11pm- I receive a text from our team leader that practice is actually canceled due to everyone bailing- because of Easter. My dislike for family holidays grows.

4:21pm- After my team leader tells me what I already know (that nobody is around to hang out with, but Happy Easter!), I decide to go for a run. I tell the potted hanging fern to make sure that the plants on the deck don't get into it again, and I hit the bricks.

5:39pm- I return to find the basil pot knocked over. Its undamaged, but I have my suspicions. I move it inside and start trolling the internet.

5:47pm- Success! One of my lines comes back with a fish. A friend of mine is heading out tonight. I might not have to forsake human interaction this weekend after all!

7:23pm- A second friend of mine claims interest in causing trouble. Given their two natures, I begin considering how worth it a charge of Criminal Mischief would be on my record. I decide that this would be very worth it, and I celebrate with a quick round of Civ 5.

8:00pm- I, Queen Elizabeth, have given the Danish Empire the business. They, meanwhile, are decidedly out of business .

9:00pm- I get dinner and a shower. Can't be running around town like a raggamuffin, after all.

10:50pm- I have now watched Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. I have reassessed my earlier position; the two robots who can't read might be racist after all. What I have not done, oddly enough, is met up with either of my two friends. This strikes me as odd because after both specifically told me they were going out, they decided on a "radio silence" approach to the conversation. I begin to suspect that they have either been killed by Decepticons, or that they are Decepticons. Both of these possibilities seem plausible, and I begin barricading my apartment for the inevitable siege.

11:35pm- I have now triumphed over my foes as Akali, the Fist of Shadow, and all of League of Legends trembles before my name. Still no word from the Decepticons; they probably saw my game as observers and were like "FUCK we ain't messing with THAT guy, did you see how he gave those pixels the business? It's like he's Queen Elizabeth or something!"

11:38pm- I have given up and changed back into my gym shorts for the rest of the evening, deciding to at least finish that bottle of white wine that isn't going to get drank any other day of the week.

11:39pm- In the spirit of Easter, I first fill my glass with water. "And now for my NEXT trick!" I announce to my apartment (which is empty, other than the Transformers movie (which is on again for some reason) and my plants), "Ka-CHOW!". I then empty the water and re-fill it with the wine, declaring that I am the Savior reborn. My plants, which have seen this trick before, are not impressed. Oh well.

Happy Easter.

News Flash: Old White Man Yearns for Victorian Sexuality; Film at 11:00.

I recently read this article on CNN, and I felt that I should respond. For anyone who doesn’t make the jump, the author, William Bennett, states that a “hookup culture” hasn’t resulted in happiness and that the place to find real fulfillment is in marriage. He goes on to say that “deviant” sexual acts such as bondage debase both men and women, and that such things are not what the feminist movement of past decades was fighting for. He makes the point that novels such as “50 Shades of Grey”and similar TV programs support the subjugation of women, and he finds it odd that during a time when such an uproar is going on about the “war on women”, that so many women would be buying the book so fast the stores can hardly keep in on the shelves.

Bennett’s first and most obvious mistake is that the women that take part in this sort of relationship don’t like it.

Now, allow me to get the necessary PC disclaimer out of the way: We’re not talking about domestic or sexual abuse. We’re talking about relationships between two law-abiding, consenting adults.

That being said, he’s making the assumption that the women involved in relationships with such sexual activities as a “room… full of chains, clamps, whips, canes, flogs and cuffs” are there against their will. He relates once again the story of the female protagonist of 50 Shades, bemoaning how she turns from an innocent girl to a “sexual submissive” for some corporate suit-type guy. He completely ignores the possibility that the girl enjoys feeling dominated specifically within the context of that exact sexual encounter. I’ve never read the book, but considering he’s generalizing from the book to American culture at large, I don’t need to know the whole plot in order to say this: It’s possible, that with the girl acting as a representative for all women in America, that she leaves the “Red Room of Pain” and goes on to kick ass the next day at work. Maybe she’s a high-powered exec too. Maybe she’s a cop or an EMT, or some take-no-prisoners politician who goes to the mats for her constituents. She could be an amazing teacher pursuing a career in the administration of schools, a small-business owner who just recently expanded, or a Marine.

My point is, Bennett assumes that her desire to be submissive and dominated in the bedroom with this particular guy (this might not (and probably isn’t) with all guys, either) means that she’s got some desire to be submissive and dominated outside the bedroom. And that just might not be the case.

Second of all, and this is almost as bad as the first point: He seems to be making the assumption that the only people who like to be dominated are women.

I invite anyone who believes that previous statement to take a casual jaunt around the video-hosting website of your choice and do a search on BDSM. How many of the people being worked over are male? A fair number of them? That could be because some people like being hit with a whip. Some of them are female, and some of them are male. Some people like hot wax, being tied up, or being stepped on with heels. Everybody has a kink- men included.

So, those are the first two assumptions that he makes, but they are not the worst. In my opinion, the worst assumption that he makes is the third one- that “hookup culture” is not only bad for women, but bad for society as a whole.

The very article he quotes when grimly warning us that “women are no happier than they were in the 1970s” says, and I quote,

…How bad are the heartaches, anyway? According to New York University researcher Paula England, the war stories about the hookup culture are greatly exaggerated. The average college student has about one hookup a year, and most people end up in a long-term relationship at some point in college. Beyond college, women are much less vulnerable to assault than they have ever been, according to a 2011 White House report, largely because they have more power to leave bad relationships.

This is, to put it simply, not an issue of what is damaging to American society; it is an issue of what is damaging to Bennett’s perception of American society. He’s not the only one with such views, I’m sure, but for him to come out and say that he believes we should take more of a lesson from Victorian England (and when I think of healthy sexual expression, that’s the time period I think about) is so absurd it’s laughable.

He does, of course, stick in his obligatory jab at the LGBTQ community by stating that the deepest sexual satisfaction comes from traditional marriage, and slips a literary eye-roll in there by mockingly calling the term “derisive”.

In closing, the one thought I was left with after reading this article is, “MAN that dude needs to get laid.”

Fistfights and Spades

"You'll wake up, thinkin' you have an XBox, but you won't have shee-yit."

So begins another hand of Spades at my job, as a patient informs me not to trust the patient sitting across from him. He continues to enlighten me that the second patient is a no-good snake in the grass, and the second patient responds by telling him in no uncertain terms that it is his belief that the first patient's genitals are of questionable size and effectiveness. Once again, I find myself telling both of these gentlemen to kindly shut their faces and play the game. Once again, I have averted the apocalypse- though I'm already preparing myself to do it again, as I'm fairly certain the first patient is cheating.

I'm even more certain that the second patient is on to his tricks. Three minutes later, my suspicions are verified, and I calm them down again.

This is a fairly calm night at my hospital. There've been a lot of easy nights recently; we haven't had to break up any big fights and nobody's tried to sever their fingers in a door jam. The staff and I are thankful for this lull, even though we're always half-cocked for the other shoe to drop. That comes with the territory of working at a state psychiatric hospital- you have to establish a good rapport with your clients while always being ready to dodge a punch or an errant flying chair.

People have asked me how someone can work in an environment such as this. I get the feeling that they view psychiatric hospitals as so

mething akin to, well... this:

I understand their trepidation. It is not an exaggeration that the guys I work with are quite literally too violent for other hospitals and/or too crazy for prison (though more often than not, they're just a bunch of lambs... at least, for us). But equally concerning to my companions is how I manage to deal with all their emotional baggage. And there is a lot of baggage to deal with; without a doubt, the men in my hospital have some of the worst life stories I've ever heard. So how do I keep from playing bellhop, and taking all their baggage home with me?

The answer is my litmus test for whether someone should pursue a career in mental health. There isn't anything I do to keep their issues out of my personal life; I just naturally and automatically compartmentalize work and home. I can intellectually think about their cases while I'm hanging out around the house (not that I would, but I could) without it ever effecting me. And that's not because I have any awesome command of self-discipline... I just don't give a shit about patient drama, once I leave the hospital parking lot.

Its rare for someone to start out with that capacity, especially in my field; I remember quite clearly feeling compelled to hit the bars in grad school specifically to dull the pain of what I'd heard that day in my internship. I was frequently joined by my classmates. But, you could tell the people who were "supposed" to be in the field from those who were not by who kept hitting the bar to forget after the first month or so. Those who were cut out for the field adapted, and their skin hardened on its own. Those who didn't adapt usually dropped out of school.

So, I post this not as a beating of my own drum, but as a roundabout answer to the question of "How do you deal with all that pain?".

You deal with it the way an umbrella deals with the rain. You get rained on a lot but you let it roll off of you.

And you learn to play a lot of Spades.

Running Tests on Seashells

I finished Mass Effect 3, yesterday. If you haven't played this, don't read on. Here lie spoilers.

I've played both Mass Effect titles previous to this one, and I did so knowing that my choices would effect my game play later down the line. Even way back when the original came out, I saved the Rachni Queen so that she could come thundering back and kick some Reaper ass for me. I reprogramed the Geth dissidents because they seemed like a misunderstood bunch, because the Quarians seems kinda shifty in their explanations regarding the Geth, and because Legion is just a monstrous badass. I turned down Miranda, Tali, Liara and Jack so that Sheppard would get back together with Ashley; I was in this game for the long haul, and I played this way expecting to be rewarded. I expected that, as a result of my long-term planning, I'd be able to kick the Reapers up and down this galaxy and right back to whatever shithole they were sleeping in.

And then...

Mass Effect 3 happened, and I see that all my work was essentially for nothing.

But y'know, it isn't even so much that the three endings of ME3 were garbage in and of themselves by virtue of how wholly unsatisfying they all were- its that they didn't even do the player the benefit of making basic sense.

Allow me to explain.

This entire time, the point of the Mass Effect series has been a sci-fi, contemporary American spin on a more traditional Lovecraftian theme; that there are forces beyond our control, that we are utterly powerless against, and that fighting them will do us no good. Enter Sheppard, this personification of willpower, chance, and a sheer refusal to die. He alone threatens to upend a galactic cycle that has gone on uninterrupted for millions of years; somehow, out of all the myriad races and individuals that came before him, he (or she) alone has that special something that makes the impossible, possible. He is the antithesis of everything the Reapers stand for; where they are inexorable order, he is improbable chaos. Where they are crushing despair, he is impossible hope. Where they seed distrust and suspicion, he brings cooperation and unity. That's the Sheppard we've been playing, be (s)he Paragon or Renegade. That's what the message of the Mass Effect story has been- as we see our own world becoming seemingly darker and darker, just as the ME universe sees theirs, there are people who absolutely refuse to give in to odds that should have ground them to dust years ago. And, that it is these people that we should aspire to emulate.

It's a powerful narrative, to be sure. And while it is in the form of a video game, remember that non-traditional forms of media such as games and graphic novels have really stepped up their storytelling in recent years. Sure, pretty pictures and being able to pilot tanks helps sell copies of the comic or game, but a lot more energy is devoted into the storyline of games, these days. And Mass Effect's story was one of the best in the business.

So. Here we have that level of immersion, that quality of setting and storytelling. Here, we finally had Sheppard poised to make the galaxy safe once again for Mom, Baseball, and Apple Pie. We'd sunk another 30-40 hours searching every star system, collecting every last ounce of war material. We had every fleet and all our old surviving friends signed on. We shot the shit out of the Reapers orbiting Earth, we made it through the ruins of London and into the Citadel, and...!

...The game's plot suddenly 180's and makes becomes all about whether or not organic and synthetic life can life together?

Uh...

...

What?

Never mind that the three endings were garbage, each one just a different-hued version of the others. Never mind that there isn't any explanation about what the hell happens immediately afterwards to the galaxy at large- such as, how do the various races deal with the fact that they're trapped in Earth orbit with no Mass Relays to get them home? Or just where in God's name did Joker crash-land the Normandy?

Never mind any of that- those issues are their own cans of bullshit.

The biggest failing of the Mass Effect franchise was that its ending missed the point of the game. It took the theme of despair versus hope and changed it into inter-species relations. It changed philosophy into politics.

And they didn't even show us a worth-a-damn picture of Tali's face.

The fuck.

Occupy Adulthood

I made an attempt recently to try and stir up conversation on the Occupy Wall Street Forums. I'd been encouraged by the explosive growth of the Occupy movement, and believed that it could be the starting point for a new liberal groundswell. Coming from a highly leftist house such as mine, I relished the idea of something that could push spineless Democrats out of Congress and replace them with true liberals- people who could, and would, compromise in good faith, but who'd also stand their ground and kick some ass when need be.
I approached the forum cautiously, and after a few days of observing where the plethora of threads usually went, I decided to cast my line into the water. My call was for campaign finance reform; in my opinion, change could start in the streets but it would eventually have to move into the halls of power, and we'd need to have complete accountability (see also: transparency) of our lawmakers to ensure they were working for us and not secretly playing us for some unknown multinational conglomerate. I assumed that such a cause would be lauded, and that eventually the movement as a whole would start turning in that direction (not because of my posting, mind you, just as a natural change of direction).

What I encountered, however, was hostility.

First I was told that Occupy was proud to have no representatives or speakers. Then I was told that there never would be any leaders of the movement, because everything was consensus-driven; all decisions made by Occupy would only take place if 100% of the people present at any General Assembly (Occupy's daily decision-making meeting, open to the public) agreed to undertake that course of action. And lastly, I was informed that because the power of the 1% is illegitimate, that any demands made to that 1% (be they lawmakers, corporation CEOs, mayors, etc) would legitimize their power... and therefore, Occupy would simply deny that they exist as power-holders at all. The movement would remain one that would shed light in darkness, and nothing more.
This refusal to take on legislative action seemed to hold true regardless of how the issue was phrased. "Demands" would not be made, "solutions" would not be offered, "ideas" would not be put forward. Occupy would continue to protest in cacophony, but seemed resolute in its collective decision not to move beyond that.

This is about when I decided that the movement was far too happy to remain in its childhood and adolescence, and I left, lest I get caught up in trolling wars.
The movement has to issue demands. It has to pick leaders. They keep claiming that they are some kind of "third option" to the typical houses of influence, and that those who disagree simply cannot fathom what Occupy is accomplishing... and to that I agree. I can't fathom it. People are sitting around, banging drums, blocking up traffic and now, mixing it up with police. A few politicians are attempting to co-op the movement, but that comes with the risk that Occupy will only ever be represented by outsiders. If the movement doesn't sanction spokespeople itself, other people will start speaking for them, and part of their message will be lost in translation.

It truly appears to me as if the protesters are just content to sit around and cause a ruckus, but never move beyond that. Why? I can't say for sure, but it smacks of the fact that politics are boring. What's cooler to say- "I protested in the streets today", or "I engaged in six hours of debate about the legalities of Super PACs in the statehouse"? Politics is slow. The process requires compromise. It is not glamorous. And yet, it is entirely necessary. Because for all of Occupy's claims that they are a third option to the usual parties and processes, such claims cannot be true. There are only two ways to bring about national change- lawfully or unlawfully. There are only two ways to stage a protest- peacefully or violently. There is no middle ground in this. My worry is, the longer Occupy throws its adolescent temper tantrum without also undertaking legislative reforms, the more chance there is for more Occupy Oakland incidents to take place. The longer Occupy acts like childish thugs, and refuses to take the careful, measured action of an adult, the more chance there is for it to stop being (mostly) peaceful, and start getting really ugly.