The Post-Party Blues

I'm sure it has become evident to all that the Beantrarian Party did not fare well in the recent presidential election.  We at Beantrarian headquarters are despondent and dismayed that our campaign was fruitless.  Despite our best efforts and a fervent belief in our cause, it appears that we did not garner a single vote for our Lully/Anonymous the Fourth ticket.  So in true political fashion, we have decided to blame our shortcomings on the other candidates and move on to a life of inspirational speeches and ghost-written memoirs.

The lessons we have learned are many.  First and foremost it appears that the people of the United States prefer living candidates.  It is not enough that they have great hair (Lully's Baroque powdered wig was above reproach) or appeal to the religious conservatives (Anonymous IV is frequently mistaken for the Pope).  Voters want a flesh and blood president that can stand before them and promise panaceas for all their ills.  And as we all know, what voters want, voters get.  So what, exactly, did we get?

We got the most expensive presidential campaign in the nation's history, somewhere north of 4.2 billion dollars.  This is a staggering amount of money.  The costliest symphony orchestra in America, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, has an annual operating budget of 97 million dollars.  For this modest fee they provide phenomenal public service in the form of concerts of Beethoven, Bach, and Brahms.  Or consider the South Dakota Symphony with an annual budget of 2 million dollars.  For just 2 million smackers countless farmers, ranchers, and cowboys get a little culture.  I like the mental image that Mozart wafting over the prairie conjures.  This is much more appealing than the ceaseless robocalls and political adds that barraged my home in the days leading to the election.  Living in a contested state brought as many as 8 robocalls a day. Enough!  Does anyone really think a pre-recorded, non-personalized message will change my mind?

Doctors Without Borders, to randomly choose a charity I think does good work, has an annual budget of 400 million dollars.  With this money they improve the quality of life in war-torn, impoverished nations.  What could they have done with 4.2 billion dollars?  Just imagine the lives they could have saved, the peace and goodwill they could have fostered.  America spent that much to encourage more bickering, arguing, name-calling, the list goes on.  I would like to propose a cap of $2.50 per candidate for the next election.  That's enough for a cheap cup of coffee and an interview on the Charlie Rose Show.  That's all any quality candidate should need.  We can then spend the rest of the 4.2 billion on things that really matter.

As the staff at Beantrarian Headquarters takes down the banners and removes the streamers, we are discouraged that a nation of such good people is so foolish with it's resources.  We will all soon go back to our lives of obscurity, 4.2 billion poorer.  Lully and Anonymous IV have returned to their assigned places in history as a musical despot and complete unknown.  And we are left singing the Post-Party Blues, touchingly rendered here by the Beantrarian composer-in-residence.

 

One Singular Sensation

I was cruising through town with Gustav a few days ago when I heard the most astounding report on NPR.  It appears that we are training too many lawyers in America.  Statistically speaking, 75,000 jobs for lawyers are expected to be available this decade.  This is bad news for the expected 300,000 law school graduates coming through the pipeline in the next 8 years.  Gustav and I snickered.  Too many lawyers?  Say it ain't so!  (Gustav really does snicker, especially in the lower gears.  I'm sure a mechanic would tell me it's time to check the transmission, but I know better.  My car snickers).

Well, what can one do with depressing news of this nature?  We must find somewhere for all these lawyers to go.  Perhaps they could learn a really useful skill, such as potato peeling, lint picking, or dust bunny hunting.  These are jobs that are always available and in demand.  Better yet, perhaps they could aspire to be something different and original.  Why follow all the other 299,999 lemmings off the cliff of unemployment?  Be brave, find your own voice, strike a new path.

A singular voice in the music world left us this week.  It is a sad, but not untimely passing.  Elliott Carter was born December 11, 1908, and died on November 5, just a few weeks shy of his 104th birthday.  He composed brilliant music all his life, refusing to dim as the years went by.  He never grew stale or became a caricature of himself.  He was constantly refining the "Carter sound."  The Stravinsky inspired neo-classicism of his youth gave way to dense, intricate counterpoint in the middle years followed by graceful transparency in the latter decades.  String Quartet No. 2 is a wonderful example of the Carter qualities I enjoy.  Complex, yet passionate, it compels me to listen in anticipation of what will happen next.  There's something surprising around every corner.  Love him or hate him (and like all true originals, he has his detractors) one must acknowledge his unique vision.  We won't have 300,000 more Elliott Carters this millennium, let alone this decade.

So this brings us back to the lawyer problem.  Inspired by Elliott Carter, I have a solution.  Each law school graduate should find a niche, a specialty that only needs one brave soul (or perhaps two, at most)   to meet the requirements, thus eliminating undue competition and provide jobs for all.  Here are a few suggestions;

Official Litigator of Cheese - In the EU only certain cheeses meeting strict requirements can have names such as "Parmigiana" and "Roquefort."  There is a desperate need for someone to sort out which cheese gets what title.  (Note, this position is not to be confused with "Official Litigator of Those Who Cut the Cheese."  That is an entirely different job).

Advocate General for Endangered Fungi - There are 265 species of endangered fungi in the world and it's time they had a voice.  The candidate for this position must be willing to speak before the UN and endure Hillary Clinton's company.

Public Restroom Defenders - It is common knowledge that public restrooms are rapidly disappearing and are frequently in deplorable condition where they do exist.  We need committed candidates who are willing to dedicate their lives to saving this important U.S. institution and preserving our citizens' rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of crappiness.

Armed with my helpful advice, I'm confident that law students everywhere can now boldly step into the future fearing nothing.  And as for Elliott Carter, may he rest in peace.

Elliott Carter

Law School graduating class of 2013

To be or not to be...nice

In Stephen Sondheim's musical, Into the Woods, Little Red Riding Hood, upon being eaten by the Wolf and then rescued by the Baker, sings a charming song called "I know things now."  She enumerates all the wonderful things her experiences have taught her, such as, she should have heeded her mother's advice, and to be wary of strangers.  My favorite bit of Little Red's hard-won wisdom is the line "Nice is different than good."  People use the word nice so blithely, so easily.  "Oh, she's so nice," we say, as if bestowing a boon.

I had a close friend who said to me recently, "Nobody really likes you.  You aren't very nice."  (You may be wondering, justifiably, why a close friend would say such a thing, but that's a topic for another day.  Notice this friend is past tense.)  How could I not be nice?  I'm well-mannered, I bathe regularly, and chew my food with my mouth closed.  Surely these things are nice.  A perusal of Mr. Webster's tome reveals that nice can mean many things, including, "pleasing, agreeable, polite, socially acceptable."  Admirable qualities all, and apparently I am lacking in some of them, but how do they compare to good?

Krzysztof Penderecki is a Polish composer whose music I unabashedly admire.  He was born in Debica, Poland in 1933.  Influenced by such luminaries as Webern and Boulez, he began to experiment with large tone clusters and extended instrumental techniques.  In 1960 he composed Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima, a massive, gut-wrenching work for 52 string instruments.  To listen to the Threnody is to be assaulted by plagues, ill winds, weeping, wailing, the gnashing of teeth, sackcloth and ashes, bones popping, bodies disintegrating, and every other apocalyptic image your brain can conjure forth.  Even air raid sirens seem to make an appearance.  It is not a nice piece, not in the slightest.  But it is precisely the lack of "niceness" that makes it so very, very good.

Nice is such a slippery word.  We talk about the nice weather, a nice party, a nice song, nice people.  In each instance we mean something different.  There's even, "Nice job, buddy" which of course is not nice at all, but quite the opposite.  There is a thread that ties it all together, however.  In each instance nice refers to something ephemeral, a superficial quality that does not necessarily reveal what lies beneath.

Good, on the other hand, is a core value.  Mr. Webster lists "true, honorable, virtuous, just, commendable."  Good is something real, not a facade or a public image we must adopt on occasion in order to be "socially acceptable."  And perhaps at times it is good to be disagreeable, when the things we are expected to agree with are morally reprehensible to us.  Little Red learned her lesson well.  The Wolf was nice.  So nice.  He lured her off the path with his blandishments and suave manners.  Then he ate her.  I must thank my old friend for his left-handed compliment.  I'd rather be good.

Krzysztof Penderecki