Das schönes Land

Bevor ich nach Deutschland flog, dachte ich, dass Deutschland mir gefällt würde - und ich sorgte mich, dass das nicht so wäre. Ich war aber richtig. Deutschland ist alles, das ich erwartet hatte. Ich weiß, dass ich viele Fragen antworten muss, wenn ich zurück in den USA bin, denn Leute wird über Deutschland fragen. Ich weiß auch, dass ich nicht wirklich meine Erfahrungen klarmachen kann.

Als ich am Anfang hier kam, wusste ich fast nichts. Meine Kurse in den USA waren nicht genug, das Leben in Deutschland zu verstehen. Man kann sehr viel im Kurs lernen, aber das ist nicht wirklich konkret. Man kann etwas wissen. Doch kennt man es wirklich nicht, wenn man es nur im Kurs lernt. Es ist nicht einem wahr. Ich lernte so viel einfach, wenn ich durch die Straßen ging oder, wenn ich ein Schild las. Diese Erfahrungen sind wert mindestens zehn Kurse oder eintausend Kurse. Ich lernte hier nicht wie man auf Deutsch redet sondern wie man auf Deutsch teilt mit. Es gibt Sachen, die man nicht im Kurs lernen kann.

Ich habe Angst, dass ich mein Deutsch verlieren werde. Es ist möglich. Ich will es nicht. Aber wie kann man in den USA wirklich auf Deutsch reden? Ich habe meine Musik, meine Bücher und Freunde, die auch Deutsch können, aber das ist wirklich nicht gleich. Ich kann immer in den USA auf Deutsch reden aber ich kann nicht da Deutsch erleben.

Aber es war nicht die Sprache, die mir wichtig war. Ich sprach auf Englisch hier sehr viel. Mein Deutsch ist unglaublich besser aber auch doch schlecht. Ich bereue es nicht. Was mir wichtiger war, war das Alltagsleben, die Kultur und die Erfahrungen. Wo kann man in den USA ein Schloss finden? Wo kann man in den USA an einer Universität studieren, die 650 Jahre alt ist? Nirgendwo. Es ist unmöglich. Die USA sind das besten Land der Welt. Aber sie hat nicht alles. Deutschland ist reicher und sauberer. Die Autos sind schöner, das Essen ist leckerer und die Leute sind seriöser.

Ich bin bereit, zurück in die USA zu fliegen. Ich weiß aber, dass ich Deutschland vermissen werde. Das ist normal. Es ist nicht so frustrierend. Was frustrierend ist, ist dass, man wirklich meine Erfahrungen nicht verstanden kann, wer nie in Deutschland lebte.

Ich habe Fotos. Ich habe Andenken. Ich habe Gedächtnisse. Aber diese sind nicht genug, Deutschland zu beschreiben. Deutschland ist eine Erfahrung, und jeder muss selbst es erfahren.

Independence

Being out of country gives you perspective. To be honest, I only took German because I thought it would be easy (which in hindsight is hilarious). However, if I had to live in Europe, I'd live here. It's cleaner than America, the people are straightforward and friendly, value their property and build things to a standard of quality far beyond the shoddy, quick-consumption standards we hold in the United States. The food is better, the people are richer. It may be hard to imagine for us, but if you live in Germany, chances are that your standard of living is actually and literally superior to that of someone who lives in the United States.

It's funny then that a good portion of Germans want to live in America. Germans are simply obsessed with the United States. Granted American culture is pretty prevalent worldwide, but the Germans take it to a whole new level. My favorite band is German. I've never heard them on the radio here. Germans have some of the best food I've ever tasted. They love McDonalds. The Germans even have a special word for American friends (which, granted, used to be the term for enemy U.S. soldiers, then a term of derision, so that's kind of awkward, but still). The first time I overheard a German in the airport shout gleefully, "Mein Ami ist da!" I had to struggle not to laugh. I mean, it's not like we'd go around screaming, "Sweet! My Kraut pal just arrived!" And yet that was one of the few times I've seen a German visibly excited about something.

This fascination with the US is hilarious to me, and perplexing given that the Germans have a perfectly good country here that trounces anywhere else in Europe in terms of economy and lifestyle. And yet, I'll be honest, I won't exactly be being dragged home in three weeks, and to me that makes no sense. If you factor out the friends and family aspect, there's nothing that compelling about America. There are definitely things I'd miss if I lived here, but then, there are going to be things here that I will miss in the United States. It's a trade-off. So why don't I want to live in Germany, considering that if I did I'd have a better house, car, job, everything? Better question: why would a German want to live in the United States?

America has pretty much always had some kind of mystical appeal. People always want to go to the United States for a better life, even though there are times, such as the colonial period, or, frankly, right now, when life in Europe was simply better. But America is where things happen. They're not always good, but there's no denying that we are the cultural leader of the world. Our news, music and culture have infiltrated almost every corner of the Earth. There's a reason everyone speaks English, and it has nothing to do with Britain. We are simply the starting point for popular culture. Sure, India, China, Japan, Britain and mainland Europe make some definite and important contributions, but I think it's fair to say that, even though we aren't realistically the world's most powerful superpower anymore, our influence is very widespread.

America is a country that is very different from any other, and I had to get out to understand that. I was convinced, before I left, that we had no culture. I was wrong. Our culture is very pronounced and, especially in Germany, impossible to escape.

And it's unique. It's a source of entertainment to pick of a box of "American-style" snacks here, because invariably, no matter how good a job they did, something is just a little off. I bought some American-style cookies with my Pfand a few days ago. Everything seemed basically correct, and, in fact, if you did a blind taste test, I doubt you'd be able to tell the difference between these things and Chips Ahoy. But there was a difference. This was a full price box of cookies. It cost about 1,99 Euro, which in USD is somewhere around $2.75. And the whole package contained 16 cookies.

When I discovered this I actually laughed out loud. Even when they get the taste and appearance right, they miss a crucial aspect of American snacking: when I buy a pack of something American, I expect as much shit as could possibly have fit in the box. No exceptions. I thought there would be at least 30 cookies in this box. Minimum.

And that's the thing. Even though I'd be hard-pressed to define American culture, I know from a simple box of knock-off Chips Ahoy what it is. And I love it. There are going to be some things I can't stand about going back to America. For instance, the intolerable politeness of Americans is grating and obnoxious. If you ask an American what he thinks of your car, he'll find ten things he likes before pointing out, almost in passing, that, he means, you know, it's a little old and beat-up, but that's totally ok - he had an old car once, belonged to his uncle, ran great! If you ask a German what he thinks of your car he'll tell you what he thinks of your car. Because that's what you fucking asked him to do and he's not going to disrespect you by bullshitting you for twenty minutes.

But when you get right down to it, Americans are the best. We're friendly. We love freedom. We take a stand, but it's ok to disagree with us. We're helpful and polite and always ready to have a good time. Americans are positive people. There's something we have that Europeans don't. We're loud, intrusive, obnoxious. But that's mostly because we're sure that everyone wants to share this great experience that is our life. They don't of course. Every time I see an American chatting up a German ticket collector on the train, I cringe. You do that in America. Here, you give the guy the ticket and your credit card, he stamps it, you're done. If you want to stand out here, talk needlessly. But that's what Americans do, because we love to hear the sound of human voices, particularly our own.

And that's what I miss about America. We are a nation of vibrant, social people with a vibrant, social past, present and future, a future we look forward to, even while our economy crashes and our unemployment approaches ten percent. How can the future not be bright? This is America.

I never wanted to become German or anything, but I'm only too happy to act like one while I'm here. It's really really nice to not have people bother you with a story about their cat or some such bullshit on the bus. It's great that the waiter will let you enjoy your food until you tell him it's time to pay. But acting German also means loving America, so there's really no escaping that part of it.

It's funny. I think I really like America. I didn't really care one way or the other before I left. I assumed that liking America was stupid because really it's just some government defined borders. But that wasn't America - that was just the geographical country. America is about Americans. We step on toes with alarming frequency, and we are probably one of the most hated nations in the world. And yet we're also one of the most loved. It's strange to be in a foreign country, and to look at America not as what is normal, but as something foreign and distant. It's a land you know about, because it's home, but when it's not there, you notice what it means, even if you can't put it into words, because all the things that make it normal are missing and you're left instead with the images, the views other cultures have of it. An American flag printed on something is unusual and exciting - denoting a foreign and exotic culture, and suddenly you realize that America does have a culture, and that being American is something special, and a pack of cheap snacks becomes funny - and a sense of pride, because you know what real American food is, and it's part of your culture, a culture so powerful that other countries try to copy it - and somehow, they just can't.

If you've ever tried to understand another culture, and realized that you never will, that only a German can tell you what it means to be German, and that even he can't put it into words, you'll understand that you too have a culture. Being an American means something, and, frankly, it means a lot. We have now, and have had in the past, so many flaws. But we never had concentration camps. We never had kings.

Of course, we did have slavery and genocide, so there's that. But the point I'm trying to make is that I've learned something: not that America is better or worse than Europe, but that it is something. By spending time away from it, I've learned to define the United States, or rather, I've felt that which I've automatically defined my whole life by living there, but didn't know I was defining it. When you write "United States of America" on a postcard, because you're sending it out of country, you feel something. You're not sending a postcard to a country, you're sending it to an icon. And you know it.

America is very powerful, but not in the way we learn in classrooms. It's not some all-powerful god, to whom we must pledge allegiance every day. It's not the world's only superpower. But it is unique, in an indescribable and amazing way. And everyone knows it. There is only one America. Some people want to destroy us. Others want to be us. Some people have no opinion at all. But they all know about us, even if they don't quite understand us. We are, culturally, the most powerful nation on Earth, and we don't even know it.

I'm not saying being an American entitles you to superiority. I'm not saying other nations should be like us. Whenever I see an American in Europe acting like a stereotypical, well, American, I think to myself, "goddamn Americans..." before I even realize what I've just thought. We are possibly one of the most obnoxious people ever to grace this Earth. But we're also somehow one of the best. We're America. We're special. And we always will be. Deal with it.

Slavery: a Function of Thoughtlessness

How often has this happened to you? Probably never, because chances are you're living in a society that outlaws the ownership of human beings. Chances are pretty high as well that that country has a capitalist economy. Did you know, however, that some people would argue that, because you live in a capitalist economy, you are a slave?

If you've studied slavery with anything even approaching depth, the above image isn't shocking. It's not shocking because you've seen worse - much worse. You've heard the stories. You'll never know what it was like, but you have a mental understanding at least of how bad it was. Images like this are nothing new to you, and you know you can dig up something ten times as bad, because, guess what? Slavery sucked. I realize African slavery in America is only one type of a long and continuing institution, but really, there's just no good way to enslave someone, plain and simple.

Even so, there are people out there who will tell you that if you're a factory worker in America, you're a slave. And the reason I picked the above photo to head this blog post was because those people are not the first to make such a claim. I'm sure Marx says it somewhere in his writings. I don't know for sure. What I do know is that there were definitely people making that claim in 19th century America: slaveowners.

See, even slaveowners understood that making someone work for nothing was pretty much one of the biggest dick moves ever. They tried to justify it in a variety of ways, and one of them was claiming that the lives of northern factory workers were just as shitty as those of southern slaves. The problem was that everyone, even back then, knew it was bullshit. Factory workers were poor, and their lives did pretty much suck, but they got to go home at the end of the day, have a family that could not be taken away from them on a whim, and, most importantly, they were paid for their labor. See, slavery is, very simply, when you are working for nothing against your will. Factory workers may not have had many opportunities, but they could, theoretically, walk away from their job whenever they wanted. Ok, they weren't going to and realistically they were tied economically to their job, but they had the option. They weren't "owned" by anyone. They were free men. And pretty much everyone in 19th century America was smart enough to draw that distinction, whether they admitted it or not.

Given that the lives of menial laborers have improved dramatically in America, and other civilized countries, anyone that would still compare unskilled workers to slaves pretty much has no idea what they're talking about.

It's really kind of offensive when you stop and think about it. I mean, there's really no one this comparison doesn't put down. It makes slavery seem like it was no big deal, which is untrue and a slap in the face to millions of men and women throughout history who had to legally "belong" to someone else. It insults menial laborers by telling them they have no control of their lives and that they're just tools of their employer. It obviously insults the employer who is, after all, paying the wages of his employees for their services. Comparing free labor to slavery is pretty much one of the most insulting and uninformed things you can do.

And what exactly is this "capitalism is slavery" argument anyway? If by slavery, people who compare the two mean work (as some do, trust me, I've heard this argument) then the "master" in this equation is essentially production. What they would consider "freedom" is to sit around all day and have food fall by magic into their mouths. Of course, that just isn't the way life works. You have to work to survive. That's a law of nature. You can't really call survival slavery unless to you freedom means death.

So given that if you value your life you have to put in some effort to maintain it, you are given options. You can obtain sustinence yourself through the grueling labor of hunting and gathering or (pre-modern) agriculture, or you can obtain it from others. To obtain it, you need to either take it by force, which is immoral and by which you risk death yourself, or you can exchange something for it. You could exchange goods and services as is, of course, but price-setting is difficult and variable. What would be really convenient would be to have a medium of exchange to use which acts as an objective value of effort.

So the best possible option, and the one which requires the least effort is free exchange of goods and services through the use of money, which is exactly what capitalism provides. If you don't want to do any work, you'll die. If you want to do the least amount of work possible to survive, and have the best quality of living besides, the logical way to do so is through capitalism.

People who say that work is slavery are essentially saying that life is slavery - and therefore that death is freedom. If you believe that, the solution is fairly obvious, though pretty inadvisable. If, on the other hand you like living, you should like working too.

Of course people will say, but I hate work. That's not really true, however. Just because you hate what you're doing know doesn't mean you don't like work. You just aren't doing work you like. Why do you think I'm doing history? It isn't slavery to work if you love what you do. It's profiting from doing something you enjoy anyway. Not exactly comparable a whip and hours of forced fieldwork when you get right down to it.

Of course, the argument then becomes that not everyone has that option. But that's not really the fault of capitalism. Capitalism is all about options. Why do you think there are at least five brands of bread in your average American supermarket?

I'm only too aware of the fact that my background has given me the options available to me. But that middle-class lifestyle didn't just magically appear. Even if I didn't work for it, someone did. Money is a symbol of productive ability. Even if I didn't create it, someone had to. If you're born poor, I will not argue that it is an unfair start in life. It sucks and it's bullshit to be born poor. The fact is, though, that wealth changes hands based on several factors. In capitalism, the driving factor is effort and ability. Yes, there are other factors, like luck and social structure, but those are factors which are interfering with the processes of capitalism. It's like blaming your computer for not working when you've just downloaded a large amount of questionable pornography. (Oh wait, people do that too.) The computer's not to blame - the user is. When we live in a society where a Ph.D. magically makes you better than someone with a BA, or where companies rely on the government to bail them out instead of relying on building quality products, what do we expect to happen?

Look, I won't pretend to understand being poor. I never have been poor and I don't know what it's like. But I do know that it's generally not the factory worker comparing his life to slavery - it's the well-off, comfortable armchair philosopher who didn't do his own thinking but relied on the books alone to decide what's right. Intelligence, philosophy and ideas are great things. They move the world. That's why we keep them and hold them on the same level as science or mathematics. But if you read something and don't think about it to see whether it makes any sense, you might as well not have read it at all, because now you're not using literature in the way it was meant to be used (as an idea-sharing medium to be critically appraised and understood), you're just believing everything you hear.

Think on this: working is a function of thought (I must survive. I cannot survive without working in some capacity. Ergo I must work.) and finding value in work is a function of thought (My life is worth living. Working allows me to live. Ergo my work is valuable.) and enjoying your work is a function of thought (Working gives me life. I enjoy life. Ergo I enjoy, on some level, that which allows me to live.). Is it surprising that those who compare work to slavery might, on occasion, be those who also do not want to think for themselves?

To bring the subject into the more practical world, I admit that there would be work I might have to do, if poor, that I would not enjoy. Working at Wal Mart, which I did once, and not for very long, is a great example. It sucks. It will always suck because of what it is. But I have skills, I have a brain, and eventually, I'd find a way to use to two to get the hell out. Most people have skills they like to use, and everyone is capable of thought. What separates people is mindset.

It is unbelievably difficult to rise from poverty, and despite what it may sound like, I do realize that. I appreciate every day the head start I've been given. But even though it is difficult, rising, even slightly, is possible - but you have to try, and capitalism, unlike any other system in existence, is about giving you the freedom to make that attempt. No, you may not succeed if you try, but what's going to happen if you don't try at all? And are you really going to try if you believe that work is slavery? Any chance is better than none, and if you advocate telling people that they have no control whatsoever over their lives, who's the bigger slavedriver? The capitalist system, or your fucked-up attitude that the poor should suffer without making any effort to free themselves from poverty? Effort and mindset are going to play a pretty big role in any attempt to better oneself. Telling people not to even try because they'll always be "slaves" is like cutting their legs off and telling them that life is about crawling. Anyone who believes work is simply a never ending cycle from which they have no escape is a slave - to himself and to other masters: those who told him that no matter what he did, he would simply never have a chance.

Things People need to Explain to Me #1: Harry Potter

I can be a douche. Mostly, this happens accidentally. You see, there's certain things people love that I just don't get. And if I point out the flaws in these things, people get annoyed. The mid-season finale of South Park, a show I do get and love, pretty much summed up how I feel about popular culture today. (If you haven't seen it, I won't bore you with the details.)

So I've decided to just write about it and refer people to that. Today's topic is one that's been relevant lately. You see, I don't get the Potter craze. Don't get me wrong; I read them as a kid. I enjoyed them like any child would - until I grew out of them. The moment I picked up a book not meant for children, I started to notice the simplistic writing, the plot holes, the contrivances present in the Harry Potter series. It's just not well-written. This is perfectly fine - for a children's book, and, after all, that's all Harry Potter was ever supposed to be: a children's book, and it's painfully obvious that Rowling doesn't know how to write in any other style.

So my problem isn't really with the books themselves.Like I said, I used to read kids' books. In addition to Harry Potter, I devoured Redwall, Animorphs, all that fun stuff. But I grew out of them. What I don't understand is why most people haven't. Even people who have read classics like Catcher in the Rye or the Fountainhead (yes, even if you hate it, it is a classic and it is well-written; deal with it) love Harry Potter. Of course, I'm not saying all classics are good. Some of them are downright awful. My point is that when a book is engaging, intelligent and well-written, it deserves recognition. When a book is contrived, simplistic, and contains enough archetypes to sink even the most well-written novel, it deserves criticism.

In the interest of anyone who has legitimately not understood what is wrong with the Harry Potter series, I'll give a brief explanation. (And yes, I've read all of them.)

The books are essentially simplistic and clumsy. You have to really search to find any imaginative diction in a Harry Potter novel. Rowling writes like a decently-talented eight-grader: there's nothing wrong with her diction and style, but there's nothing particularly good about it either. It's all technically correct, but there's no complexity. This can be fine if you're trying to make a statement, and, in fact, too much complexity done badly can murder a novel. However, if you're going to write that way, you need to stick to it. It's obvious from reading Rowling's works that she's trying to create a complex universe. She's not being simple to say anything, or to keep the story focused; she just literally isn't capable of writing in an intelligently complex manner. The fact that she is trying, and failing, is awkward and embarrassing to any intelligent reader that picks up one of her novels.

In addition, Rowling often has trouble controlling her own plot and characters. Her plot is full of holes, and she's horribly clumsy about the development and growth of her characters. I won't go into plot holes, because even the most hardcore Harry Potter fan knows about the biggest one: as soon as Rowling introduced the time-turner in the third novel, she took an easy way out that ruined her book. We all know why time-travel doesn't work in this series and why it killed any worth the novel had. If you don't understand why, ask anyone who even remotely grasps the concept of plot and suspense.

Instead, I would like to focus on Rowling's awkward character development through the lens of Neville Longbottom. Neville is the perfect illustration of Rowling's inability to fully develop her characters. In the first book, he's your archetypal socially-awkward kid who's not good at anything. He shows some character in the first novel, when he tries to stop the main characters from retrieving the Sorcerer's Stone, or in the second, when he displays an aptitude for herbology. In fact, other than being a bit of a cliche, there was nothing really wrong with him until the fifth book, in which he suddenly and inexplicably becomes a badass.

Harry Potter fans love this reversal. However, it's one of the best examples of just how poorly written the series is. There's no buildup, no development of the Neville character prior to his sudden transformation. We learn that his parents were tortured by Death Eaters, but when we do, his reaction is what we'd expect from him: he's visibly upset by the implementation of the Cruciatus Curse on a spider. There's no indication that the fate of his parents has made him in some way stronger or more determined. In fact, there's no explanation at all as to why Neville switches from cringing, socially-awkward nerd into a gritty magical powerhouse. It's just sort of mentioned a few times that he's surprisingly good at some of the spells and then, magically (no pun intended) he becomes one of the best.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with role-reversal in a novel. In fact, the growth of a particular character is part of what keeps us interested. Rowling, however, doesn't develop characters; she just sort of changes them. Neville becoming a super-powerful wizard would have been an awesome sub-plot to follow if we had learned that he had worked hard to perfect his spells, because he wanted to avenge his parents, or that he had some secret skill or trait that allowed him to finally grasp the concept of magic and make it into a powerful tool. But we don't get any explanation whatsoever. All we get is a nerd who becomes a force to be reckoned with, with some token background thrown in. This is the same mistake M. Night Shyamalan makes with his movies: a twist or sudden reversal is no substitute for plot and character development.

I could go on and on about the clumsiness of the Harry Potter series' plot. Why does Bill marry Fleur? Is that really necessarily? Both of them are basically just support characters. Why does Fred die? It adds some tragedy I guess, but again, Rowling didn't know what she wanted with that character. He changes from support to comic relief and back again so quickly that by then his death isn't really necessary. Rowling's attempt at tragedy is to kill her drama's intelligent clown. It's clearly thrown in there so Rowling can point out that hey, guys, this shit's getting serious, which is really the same thing she already pulled in the fourth book with the death of Cedric Diggory.

But adding an occasional death or torture scene doesn't give the book depth. In fact, it just serves to reveal Rowling's incapability to write in a sufficiently complex manner. For example, we don't really get an understanding of why Voldemort is so evil. He kills and tortures people, and he's a bigot, therefore he's evil. And while that's perfectly acceptable logic, it doesn't really make the character unique or especially hateful. He's your stereotypical bad guy, not a well-developed character. You're glad when he dies, you feel a sense of relief perhaps, but you don't really feel like you know who it is that's been killed. The reader is left wanting to know why Voldemort is so evil, what made him this way. If you're going to create a magical Hitler, you really need to explain what created him. Sure, there's some attempt at character development in the second book, but it doesn't really go beyond the yawn-inducing cliche that Riddle's parents never loved him, or that he's an orphan or whatever it was. Frankly, I don't even remember, because it was so expected, and the second book was one of the best.

The point I'm trying to make here is that Rowling's books are perfectly acceptable if you're at an age or reading level that does not demand a large amount of thought or analysis, and there's nothing wrong with this type of book. I read John Grisham, for example. They're not very well-written, they're clumsily and obviously political. I read them for fun, not because I expect anything out of them. I certainly don't count them as good literature.

My problem with fans of Rowling's series is not at all that they enjoy Harry Potter, but that they hold it up as an example of an excellent book series, when, objectively, Harry Potter isn't anything special. The books are entertaining. They're fun. But they aren't classics. They don't say anything new, they don't really go beyond a surface level of meaning or plot. They're a childrens' adventure story. If you want to read them, go ahead. But don't tell me it's one of the best things you've ever read. Because if you do, I have a long list of books that are better. Enjoy Harry Potter, but please don't demean well-written books by elevating J.K. Rowling to the level of J.D. Salinger. There's a line to be drawn, and recognizing what is good and what isn't is an important part of keeping literature relevant. Harry Potter is ok, but it's just that: ok. It's not a classic, it's not the best book ever written. It's a children's book, and for all the money it makes and all the fans it has, its writing ensures that's all it can reasonably remain.

Star Wars is Dead

Yes. Yes I am going to blog about this. Half the hits I get on this site are from Google searches of "maple leaf looks like pot" anyway apparently, so I can afford to.

I have loved Star Wars since I was a child. Most people born after the 1970s can say that. However, very recently I've started watching Star Trek as well, and frankly, Star Wars no longer measures up.

Why would I say such a thing about such an American institution? Well mostly because Star Trek is better. Way better. As long as we're discussing the Original Series or even TNG, it basically kicks the crap out of Star Wars. The characters have more depth, the aliens are more realistic (yes, they are; I'll get to that) and the message is far less cliche and far more applicable.

The original Star Wars trilogy was a damn good set of movies, despite George Lucas having written them. However, it cannot be avoided: they're essentially similar to every other classic story in history. It's a good versus evil thing where the lines are very clearly cut and very simple. The simplicity is good, and in fact, is what makes the old trilogy so much better, but complexity and clarity can be accomplished together without confusion and without having to rely on the same old story told throughout history.

Star Trek is really a good example of this. Each episode is designed to set up, and occasionally answer, a simple moral question. However, finding that answer is often very difficult. Often the crew members disagree with one another about what the right thing to do is. It's far more complex than the simple "rebels good, Empire bad" scenario seen in Star Wars. The United Federation of Planets far more accurately reflects a large organization, in which intercene conflicts, disagreements and questionable authority are as common as good commanders and loyal officers. It is far more complex, yet also far more realistic.

Witness, however, George Lucas' attempt at complexity: the second trilogy in the Star Wars series. It is unrealistic, it's difficult to relate to the characters, nothing really makes sense if you stop and think about it for more than a minute or two. When Lucas attempts complexity, he just confuses himself and his viewers. (There's a really really good review I'm sure most Star Wars fans have seen which addresses this as well as being hilarious. Youtube search RedLetterMedia if you're interested.)

Take, for example, the Anakin and Padme relationship. It in no way mirrors a real relationship and really it's difficult to see why the two even love each other. It's even worse when the actors try to show emotion of any kind. Anakin acts like he has serious psychological problems when he shows emotion, and Padme shows no emotion whatsoever. These actors have been in other movies, and one of them, V for Vendetta, is one of my favorites. Natalie Portman is not stellar in in, but she shows far more emotion than she does in Star Wars. One can only assume the direction is to blame.

What makes this more inexplicable is the fact that Harrison Ford and Carrie Fischer did an absolutely amazing job portraying a relationship, but then again, Lucas had less control over those movies, and Ford in particular is famous for ad-libbing brilliantly. (One of his most famous lines in Star Wars is completely ad-libbed, as is one of his most famous scenes in Raiders of the Lost Ark.)

William Shatner, William Shatner of all people, does a far superior job of emoting than the actors in the new Star Wars trilogy. I sat through three movies of Star Wars without giving two shits about Padme and Anakin's relationship. Yet in one hour I was at least slightly moved by Captain Kirk being betrayed by a woman he actually seemed to care about. That's essentially because while Anakin constantly professes his love for Padme, it doesn't seem genuine or realistic. If anything it is over the top and creepy. When the time came in the movie for him to lose her, Hayden Christensen essentially delivered a performance which most fans openly laughed at in the theater. Compare this to Kirk's reaction when asked about the woman he loved, by whom he was betrayed: he simply orders the ship forward brusquely. He doesn't want to talk about it, or think about it, but is still visibly upset. That's far more understandable and believable than having James Earl Jones screaming a long-drawn out "no!" while you look up at the camera.

This realism is something that Star Trek delivers time and again, while Star Wars botches it worse than a 19th century Russian romance. I mentioned aliens earlier. Most people would tend to think that the aliens in Star Wars are more realistic because they're weird-looking. But when you get right down to it, that's all they have going for them. What do we ever really learn about the aliens in Star Wars? We see their physical differences, but we barely ever learn about their culture, their government or their way of life. They're just support for the human characters. In Star Trek the Vulcans may only be actors with putty on their ears, but we know about their planet, their mindset, their rituals, their government, everything that actually makes them truly alien. It's not some cheap costume or CGI that makes us think of the Vulcans as truly another race. It's their lack of visible emotion, their bizarre mating ritual and their hostile and uninviting planet that make us unable to truly think of them as human.

And yet somehow we feel like we do understand them, and can identify with them to an extent, because characters like Spock aren't crutches for the main characters to lean on; they're fully devoloped characters themselves who play foils to other characters and who create their own story alongside the rest of the cast. This ability of Rodenberry's to create a race which is at once more alien than anything in Star Wars, yet also more identifiable far outstrips anything Lucas has come up with. (If you're still unconvinced: Jar Jar Binks. Enough said.)

What it comes down to is that Gene Rodenberry was a writer whereas George Lucas' imaginative skills could be outstripped by an eighth grader doodling on his history notes. George Lucas likes CGI, explosions, laser-swords and battle stations that blow up planets. Gene Rodenberry was more likely to take some time and make sure what he was saying was actually applicable to his audience. The special effects in his series were tools to the plot, instead of the other way around.

And what a plot! And what a difference from Star Wars. There is virtually nothing brave or new about Star Wars. The characters are all white, except Lando who doesn't really do that much. Yeah I knew he blew up the second Death Star - using the white guy's ship. It's like he's the token black guy, as opposed to Sulu or Uhura who you don't even think of as being other races because it's just taken into stride. They're not "the black chick" or "the Asian guy" - they're the comm and navigation officers.

I'm not accusing Lucas of racism or anything, but again, it's totally unrealistic to think that that many people in an interplanetary universe would be white. I mean are they all from planets whose weather exactly matches that of certain latitudes of the Earth? In Star Trek it makes sense that there are so many minorities on board, because in the 23rd century no one really cares about race and all the world's countries are developed.

Which brings be to my final point: Star Wars is a reflection of the future (and I know it's the past; I'll get to it) without meaning; Star Trek is a reflection of the future that not only makes sense, but that you want to be in. I know Star Wars is set in the past, but to us it's a futuristic society. And that future sucks. Everyone's poor, an evil entity is ruling the galaxy. Is that possible? Totally. But it doesn't touch us. It's not what we all want and ultimately would strive to work for. Even the rebels are introduced without real background, and Episodes I through III did nothing to answer how the Rebel Alliance came about, what it actually stands for apart from stopping the Empire, or anything like that. There is an evil Empire and we must simply take it as fact that there is a sizable rebellion which was formed at some point to combat it. But why exactly should we care?

Star Trek, on the other hand, is a future that makes sense. It's organized, technology can solve any problem - though its flaws still exist and are readily apparent - the world is harmonious and peaceful. This is the future we want. It's a future you can identify with, that you would find yourself working towards. It's a bright ideal, a future with endless possibilities, a future where technology can solve any problem but in which questions still exist to be answered, in which people still strive to be better. It is the only possible fate humanity can have, other than extinction. It's great and noble and you want to be part of it somehow. It makes the Star Wars galaxy look bland and dead by comparison.

Today the entire Star Wars saga was released on Blu-Ray and there was a countdown website which crashed when it reached zero. I don't know if it was supposed to or if the site itself had no other goal. So it was either flawed on one hand or unimaginative on the other. Like Star Wars. Lucas has failed me for the last time.

I still love the original Star Wars and always will. But it's dead. This happened to Star Trek too, when Voyager came along (and I have a friend who will kill me for saying that, but nothing lives up to TOS; only TNG comes close). It's sad, but it's just the way it is. Star Wars is dead and no matter what Lucas does in the future, he will never revive it. He has no one to blame but himself.

The Second Best Mayday in History

May 1, 1945 was better. In any case, I received the news of Osama's death late, being in Germany. The time difference is six hours. When I did, it was not through NBC or CNN (and it sure as hell wasn't through FOX); it was through Facebook.

Joyful statuses about the event were the majority of my News Feed, and why not? It's kind of a big deal. Amid these, however, were, and are, statuses condemning celebrations of Osama's death, calling it unjust or uncalled for.

I feel like I should agree. I don't. Say what you want about death being a terrible thing. Some people deserve it.

I could understand if we were speaking of executing Osama. But what people seem to forget is that he wasn't unarmed and surrendering when he got his 5.56 x 45 millimeter reward. The only reason he didn't add more lives to his 3,000 plus headcount was because he wasn't a good enough shot.

And exactly what part of being happy that this man will never kill again am I supposed to regret? He got a better deal than some of his victims that's for damn sure. If it were up to me, yes, I would have captured him, but hey, either way works and honestly, I don't really care. I'm against the death penalty. I'm anti-abortion. But I also believe in self-defense. If someone shoots at you, especially someone who is known to be responsible for the deaths of many others, you have every right to pull that trigger.

But all of that is beside the point. The question doesn't even seem to be whether or not it was right to kill Osama, but whether or not it's right to be happy about it. It seems to me that not only is the first question far more important, but also that people seem to be completely unaware of the context in which these events occurred.

Let's get one thing straight. Osama bin Laden targeted and killed civilians. It didn't matter that they might not have agreed with America's policy on bases in the Middle East, it didn't matter that they had nothing to do with the grievances Osama had against the US. He killed them anyway, because that's how his organization operates. Logically, and morally, if you want a foreign invader out of your country, you target his troops or installations. Even his government. But civilians? Individuals whose opinions on and involvement in the matter you don't even know? Whose work isn't even related to the people causing you harm? Osama's actions were no better than those of the Japanese at Nanking, or the Americans who bombed Dresden. It was purposeless wanton destruction of human life and it was wrong.

Am I supposed to now not be happy that this man will never kill again? That the pointless, stupid war we've been fighting without success at least accomplished something? It doesn't make the war right, worthwhile or smart, but even though we should condemn the tragic error that is the War on Terror, there is nothing wrong with our joy that a murderer has been stopped permanently.

The sanctimonious defenders of bin Laden's dignity lack perspective. They say killing is wrong, without stopping to consider whether there are circumstances where this might not be true. Certainly murder is wrong. Killing someone in cold blood when you know they can't hurt anyone anymore is wrong and evil. Killing someone to protect yourself and others from someone who is attacking you is not. They say that it is wrong to feel joy at someone's death, without stopping to consider what that death actually means. To arbitrarily celebrate someone's death, is depraved and neurotic. To celebrate the fact that a man who murders and destroys has been stopped is natural.

We should be tolerant of many things, but evil is not one of them. He who uses evil as a weapon should not be surprised to find that it has rebounded on him, and finding joy in the prevention of evil does not make he who experiences that joy himself evil. Osama bin Laden was a murderer whose methods brought nothing but pain and destruction. May he rest where he belongs, and may his bones be eaten by the fishes.

99 Bottles of Beer

I will be the first to admit that I don't fully understand drinking. At my school in Pennsylvania there is a currently an event going on called Springfest. The point of this event, if the behavior of the participants is to be believed, it to become astoundingly drunk; American students really like to be drunk and it doesn't stop when they leave the country either. There are a few people in the study abroad group I'm in who don't seem go places to see things as much as they go places to drink, so that at the end of this trip they won't have learned about the culture and social life of Mainz or Wissembourg, they'll just have been drunk in Mainz or Wissembourg. Why even go then? You can get drunk alone in your room. (Hell maybe they do that too; I don't know.)

It's not people getting drunk that bothers me though. It's the pride. It's like a badge of honor. "My mind was so chemically altered last night that I urinated somewhere I wouldn't normally. Fucking awesome man!" Yeah, you're cool. But take pride in not ingesting a drug in order to act like an idiot and see how far that gets you socially.

And then there's the reasons for drinking. "I loosen up and become more social when I drink." (I'm boring and awkward so I need a drug to help me interact with others.) "It's fun to be out of control." (I'm afraid and incapable of making decisions in my life.) "I drink because other people do it." (I have no personality, or I'm too afraid or too uncomfortable with it to express it.)

However, while I don't get drinking, I don't mind that people do it, because the best reason I've heard is just that it's fun, and well, ok. I don't personally think it would be, but I really can't argue with that. Which brings me to the point of this post.

I personally have never been drunk. That being said, do I like alcoholic beverages? Yes. Have I had them before I was 21? Well that would be a dumb thing to admit to in a public blog if I had, wouldn't it? So I'll let the reader guess. And the fact that I know exactly what that reader will guess is exactly why drinking laws don't work.

Being in Germany really widens your perspective on alcohol. It's everywhere and kids can buy it. Sure, they card, but if you're 16 you can buy beer, and if you're 18 you can buy vodka. Do people get drunk? Certainly. Are they annoying in public? Yes. Do they commit alcohol related crimes or vandalism? Well I'm sure it happens, but I sure haven't seen it yet. Now step foot on any US college campus on a Friday night, at, say, three in the morning. It is out of control. Completely and utterly out of control. Yes, it's safe. But you still watch yourself, especially if you're a female student. (I'm not trying to be sexist to either gender; I'm just explaining the prevailing attitude on campuses.)

There are a million cultural differences that could explain this, but one of the more important is that Germans are brought up with the view of alcohol, not as something shady, but as a part of life, and as such, are far more aware and familiar with it. A very similar argument could be made for firearms: if they were treated as a tool, a part of life, instead of something sinister, people would be be more familiar with them, and fewer accidents would occur.

Alcohol, like a firearm, cannot hurt you unless you choose to use it irresponsibly. If you decided to drink to the point of danger, or use a loaded weapon like a toy, you and those around you will pay the consequences. If you are familiar with them, you will understand why you must not misuse them.

Kids drink in America all the time. The law isn't even effective because if it was enforced it would lead to more crime as it did in the 20s, and as drug regulation does today. Kids drink all the time in Europe too. The difference is that, even while drunk, they generally have a greater understanding of what's going on because they grew up with alcohol. Kids in the US on the other hand, are told from an early age that alcohol is bad and that they shouldn't drink it. They're given horrific stories designed to deter underage drinking which they then find out aren't true, and if adults lied to them about that, kids figure, they probably lied about everything else too. Then people wonder why kids become alcoholics or drink to excess on a regular basis.

Kids shouldn't be lied to to scare them into not drinking or not doing drugs. Part of the thrill many people derive from drinking underage is based on the discovery that their parents lied to them about what it would do and the fact that they're doing something taboo to rebel against their elders. In Germany where everyone gives you a beer as a teenager, you probably don't find anything particularly exciting about it, and you'll probably learn exactly how it affects you as you grow up. Kids in the US don't get that education. The only "education" kids in the US get is a stern warning that drinking will turn you into an alcoholic, kill you and set the devil loose on the world, and they're told when they're smart enough to know it's not true, but dumb enough to go overboard when they find out, so they have their first drink, like it, and continue to drink to the point where they're completely wasted, because they were never told there's a middle ground, and they continue to do it because they think that's how alcohol in a social setting works.

Our drinking age is set so high that we, as Americans, can legally drive, own a long gun and join the military before we can legally taste alcohol. It doesn't make sense and it doesn't work. Kids obtain and drink alcohol long before they're 21. Making it illegal doesn't change that and, in fact, makes it worse. Most kids even know that, like speeding limits and marijuana prohibition, drinking laws will hardly ever be enforced. There is no point to such a high drinking age in a country such as ours and certainly no point to the way we treat drinking. When we make drinking taboo, we encourage what we are trying to stop: excessive and harmful drunkenness. Take the fun out of drinking, and fewer people will do it to excess. It's as simple as that.