You probably recognize Hodgman from his appearances on The Daily Show and those ubiquitous Apple ads, but be sure to check out his book, That Is All, an audio and paperback version of which are being released October 2, along with The Complete World Knowledge box set. Check out his podcast here. Previous videos of John here, here, here, here, here and here. “Ask Anything” archive here.
Jeff Sharlet contemplates Hitch's last essay in Mortality, on the after-effects of his "simulated" waterboarding for Vanity Fair:
The last coherent words of the book are dedicated to his ongoing "post-torture stress," bad enough in the form of a phantom panic of asphyxiation— "a smothering or choked nightmare sensation"—and much worse when elicited by tube feeding. The tube is not torture, but the body is neither rational nor subject to the mind’s attempts at logic. "I don’t have a body," Hitchens learns, "I am a body." Of course, such a truth ought to be basic to a rationalist—but for Hitchens, as for most of us, it needed to be learned. In Hitchens’s experience, suffering—unchosen, unstoppable—proved the most effective teacher; and its lesson, like the substance of prayer, becomes a kind of story: There is a protagonist, he is blind, then he sees. That he sees too late allows for a tragic variation; that it would have made no difference had he seen earlier allows for a comic one.
Maine, New York, 8.34 pm
Politicians often contrast their parents menial jobs with their own successes. John Churchill wonders about this:
Are we to say that [work] has value only in so far as it transcends itself, in a generation or two? Is there no intrinsic value ─ no good in itself ─ in the work of a life that does not rise, in its own span, above the level of the mop and the apron?
This is where I balk. Call me a Calvinist. I believe in the redemptive power of work. I believe that well-directed work, work well done, has about it an intrinsic dignity and intrinsic nobility, that stands no matter what happens further in the life of the worker, or his or her progeny. We are, I think, so chastened by the truths in Marx’s concept of the alienation of labor, and so rightly horrified by the exploitation of labor in our own national history ─ enslaved and wage-earning ─ that we are apt to think of the condition of work itself as an evil to be overcome.
Loosely related, Gary Gutting contemplates the utility of work. Previous Dish on the virtue of industriousness here.
A reader writes:
God, how old was I when “West End Girls” came out? I had to be in high school (born in 1969). I too have listened to their music for ages, and no other musicians can beat them for helping me recall where and when I was as their music played. Anything from “Nightlife”? I was living in San Diego at the time. “Dreaming of the Queen”? How many times did I walk the south park blocks in downtown Portland OR listening to that song.
So I listened closer to “Invisible” lyrics today, since I’m now 43. And yesterday’s post, combined with the recent introvert/extrovert discussion – really, there’s no other site I visit that gives me such emotional and intellectual stimulation.
I’m a very liberal gay man living in my small hometown in northwest Georgia (thankfully, as I mentioned above, I escaped for a while, which made coming back much easier and more satisfying), and sometimes your posts hit the exact spot I needed to be touched at that moment. It’s tough living around people with whom you have hardly anything in common, so a daily reminder that there are, indeed, those who think and feel similarly is essential. As was this brief note to say thanks.
Thanks in return. You make my world less lonely too.
Jeffrey Eugenides, author of The Virgin Suicides and The Marriage Plot, reflects:
The signal event of my first-year orientation was the showing of an X-rated film called "Debbie Does Dallas." This was long before porn had gone mainstream on the Internet. Most of my fellow 18 year olds had never seen anything like it before, and if we had, we’d certainly never watched it with members of the opposite sex around. But now we were in college. We were, by universal agreement, all grown up.
And so we sat there watching the acts being performed on the screen, acting as though it was funny to us, or reason to cheer or holler. I remember one jock shouting, "Why doesn’t my girlfriend do it like that?" In actuality, we were all extremely uncomfortable. College, we’d been told, was going to feature a lot of sex. But we weren’t quite ready for the rules to change so quickly. We had to pretend to be more seasoned and blasé about the whole thing than we actually were. I don’t remember a single thing about that movie. All I remember was how everyone was trying to pretend to be someone they weren’t yet and maybe never would be.
Bronx, New York, 7 pm
For years, Dan Savage has insisted we all try to be GGG ("good, giving, and game … Think 'good in bed,' 'giving equal time and equal pleasure' and 'game for anything – within reason'"). Debby Herbenick finds that a new study from the Journal of Sex Research proves him right:
To be fair, the researchers didn’t actually examine the GGG phenomenon. They didn’t use the term "GGG," nor did they use the phrase "game for anything" anywhere in their research paper. Rather, they studied what they call "sexual transformations" – sexual changes that people make for the sake of their partner or their relationship. But as a scientist myself, I’m going to go out on a limb and pronounce the term "sexual transformations" to be the nerdier first cousin to the slightly cooler third G in the trifecta: "being game for anything – within reason"
The results?
Interestingly enough, participants’ own sexual transformations weren’t linked to their relationship satisfaction.
In other words, being game yourself wasn’t the key to your own satisfaction. Rather, women and men reported higher levels of relationship satisfaction when their partners said they’d made more "sexual transformations" (when their partners had been game for more- or less-frequent sex, trying new sexual activities, etc). I’m going to guess that, at least in part, this may be because when one’s partner adapts to your needs, you’re likely to feel heard, special, rewarded, valued, or – at the very least — you get to do the things you want to do, sexually.
So what happens to all the movies after a rental store closes? Karina Longworth tells the story of NYC's Kim's Video, whose archives bested many of the city's film schools for hard-to-find films:
In fall 2008, Kim warned his patrons via an appeal to the community that the end of his rental business was coming. Posted in the store, his message quickly made its way around the Web: "Kim's Video is offering a collection of approximately 55,000 films to institutions, schools, business owners, or individuals who can accommodate Kim's full line of film collection."
The catch? "The condition to accept this collection requires 3,000 square feet of space, commitment to give access to Kim's members (charging minimum membership fee), and maintaining the collection. The exclusive film collection should still be available to the public, especially film students and film-lovers. We hope to find a sponsor who can make this collection available to those who have loved Kim's over the past two decades."
Near the end of 2008, signs announcing that December 31 would be the last rental day were posted inside the store. Kim had struck a deal—but not with a local institution, a school, a business, or an individual. Instead, Kim opted to send his rental collection 4,448 miles away, to Salemi, Italy.
Longworth navigated the maze of Italian bureaucracy, and mafia influence, to track the collection down, but its home isn't exactly a New York cinephile's dream.
You probably recognize Hodgman from his appearances on The Daily Show and those ubiquitous Apple ads, but be sure to check out his book, That Is All, an audio and paperback version of which are being released October 2, along with The Complete World Knowledge box set. Check out his podcast here. Previous videos of John here, here, here, here and here. “Ask Anything” archive here.
The Dish 