“If workers were paid better, there wouldn’t be so much of a demand problem, would there? But then we stumble upon a contradiction: the entire recovery in corporate profitability that began in 1982 came from squeezing wages and workers. The trajectory of profit expansion is very uplifting — returns are roughly double what they were in the early 1980s… So here’s the demand problem: there’s no longer an endless supply of easy credit to make up what’s not in the paycheck. The greatest product of the productivity revolution is the production of profits, which has enabled a vast upward distribution of income and wealth.”

Mr. Leonard Norman Cohen, an artist out of Montreal, turns 77 today. I suppose that’s reason enough to make it through another grim box on the calendar. If I had 139 disposable dollars I would absolutely drop them on this, but I’ve got all the material anyway and until they start handing out bourbon for free on street corners I need to be responsible with how I spend what I’ve got. In any event, I am hopeful that the rumored new record comes to fruition, and I am wishing the man many, many, many happy returns on the day.

The Fascinating Art On Show At The California State Bar Convention

by Maria Bustillos and Philo Hagen

Maria Bustillos: The 59th Annual Bench and Bar Art Exhibit, which is part of the annual convention of the California State Bar, took place last weekend in Exhibit Hall B of the Long Beach Convention and Entertainment Center. The artwork on exhibit was produced by California lawyers and judges, and anyone can wander in to see it. This is exactly the kind of thing that Philo cooks up for an afternoon outing, so off we went.

Philo Hagen: Anticipation of the show had me all a wonder. What exactly would the creative pursuits of artistic-minded lawyers and judges look like? What could we learn, if anything, about the inner workings of the legal mind of California as seen through this portal of creative ingenuity? We were on our way to Long Beach, and what did I know of Long Beach other than the Queen Mary is parked there, and that they turned all those off shore oil wells into pretty little sea islands, at least they seem pretty if you’re looking from the shore.

MB: It’s a pleasant little town, in many ways. But the Long Beach Convention and Entertainment Center is super-sterile and concrete-plated, monolithic even by convention-center standards. There was a sea breeze, though, and it was a beautiful afternoon, and we descended into the bowels of the Hyatt in a state of pleasurable anticipation. Plus, we intended to repair afterward to L’Opera, which is a really very good Italian restaurant on Pine Avenue. I already knew that because I am from Long Beach.

Given the habitual splendor in which lawyers seem to ply their trade, we’d been imagining a very grand display. Right?

PH: Once we’d wormed our way through all of exhibit booths and found the show, my first thought was that I was underwhelmed.

MB: It turned out to be the most modest-looking trade show I have seen almost ever, with pipe and drape booths throughout. The fanciest booth was a big Westlaw one (follow us on Twitter!) and even that was pretty low-key. Then the Art Exhibit turned out to be in two plain trade-show booths, hung on pegboard walls!! And it was totally harum-scarum, design-wise, with no attempts whatsoever at creating any kind of an arrangement for the viewer, let alone a pleasing one.

PH: And then I noticed the ribbons. Blue ribbons, red ribbons, there was a veritable plethora of award-winning works of art here, people, with honors given in categories ranging from oils and acrylics to sculpture and beyond.

MB: It was a most delightful little show. The most interesting thing about it, aside from the surprisingly unpretentious presentation, was the vast range of skill on display.

MB: Some of the works were for sale and others not. I thought this was by far the best deal on offer, a ceramic sculpture of Baphomet giving birth for just $300. It’s an accomplished work, full of occult sap and vim, with a lovely celadon glaze. The details, especially the teeth, are really beautifully carved. But my husband would have had such an apoplexy if I’d returned from my afternoon out with a $300 ceramic demon, so. If he is interested in seeking a wider audience, the sculptor would do well to visit La Luz de Jesus Gallery, I was thinking. They would maybe love this.

Baphomet, by the bye, is the quasi-Satanic figure that Aleister Crowley borrowed from the Knights Templar, describing him as “the Androgyne who is the hieroglyph of arcane perfection.” Baphomet also appears as The Devil in the Rider tarot deck, which is why he might look familiar.

PH: I found the pentagram carved into the top of his head disturbing, not so much in the sense that pentagrams are, like, disturbing, but that artist Robert Crook felt his piece needed one. I mean, we have horns, we’ve got dual genitalia, we’ve got the two-headed demonic baby.

MB: Well, the pentagram appears in all the 19th-c. renderings of this figure, so it’s, erm. Accurate.

MB: “Portrait of Larry” may not be the most proficient painting ever, but it makes you love Larry, and the painter. And Life.

PH: Agreed. Larry is what good things in life are all about. I wish I knew Larry. He was beautiful. Painted by Vivien Cienfuegos Ide of Fullerton.

MB: Then there was “Thinking Punk,” which really kind of looks better on the screen than in real life.

PH: True. I never really figured out if it was a punk who was thinking or if artist Azar Elihu of Los Angeles was doing some punk thinking.

MB: And “Lickin’ Good,” a photograph by Scylla Stancliff Nagel of Valencia (NFS). Philo, how many pieces in this show featured dogs sticking their tongues out?

PH: Three, surprisingly. “Lickin’ Good” clearly was the best of the dogs with their tongues hanging out genre though.

MB: For such a competent draftsman as Martin Baker of Modesto, I wondered, why is the nose of this portrait kind of swimming across the guy’s face? With the title, “Milam” as a clue, we were able to figure out the reason, which is that this man’s nose really looks like that. Only it doesn’t say “Peace” and “Love” on the real face, it says “Aryan” and “Honor.” The subject’s name is Dion Milam, and he’s in jail for murder. Then he got into some more trouble when his brother-in-law tried to mail him some meth, apparently.

His other painting commemorates the 1998 lynching of James Byrd Jr. It is also a good painting, though bleak and troubling.

PH: And let’s not forget his Columbine portrait. Most curious here is Baker himself, recapturing all these horrific images. The “peace” and “love” additions reveal his use of art as a tool towards equanimity.

MB: I’m not sure about that. I saw it as more of an ironic statement? Gave me the willies, either way.

PH:: “Jasper, TX” captures the stillness of the aftermath of a terrible crime. I mean we have Byrd, a black man, who had his feet tied to the rear of a pick-up trick by three white men, who dragged him for two miles along a rural Texas road. Disembowelment, decapitation and a yellow police tape near the spray-painted word “HEAD,” presumably where his head was found, quietly disclosing there are real-life horrors like this.

PH: In Lucas Aardvark’s Obsolete Law Books Series, the artist has found a use for outdated printings that have been replaced by new technology, incorporating the vintage pages and bindings into his actual art, as seen here in “Helter Skelter.” Would you see him as a green artist, Maria?

MB: I would see him as a completely confusing artist.

PH: And “Mirage of the Caves” continues to haunt me. As much as I love shiny objects, I’m still not sure if I’m seeing a cave or a mirage or a face or what exactly. And not to be limited in her artistic mediums, this is by Scylla Stancliff Nagel as well. Nagel, hmmm. It’s so mysterious.

MB: No comment other than crikey, Philo. What the hell?

PH: Death seems to always be fashionable in art; why limit yourself to the here and now when you can take yourself back a couple thousand years — as does this piece by Dale Lasella of Altadena entitled “Pompeii.”

MB: I love this little figure. It’s only about ten inches long. It has the most interesting, curious surface that looks like a vitreous glaze, and also like the markings of a jungle cat from outer space. I’ve never seen a glaze quite like it, and couldn’t figure out how it was achieved. Explanations welcomed.

MB: Technically, I thought this still life was way the finest painting in the show, with the most articulation, depth and richness. The surface, too, is lovely, painterly. Is it a copy?? I didn’t recognize the image, but then I am a really poor art historian. If it isn’t a copy, even the composition is great because it is nearly impossible to make a still life non-clumsy. So well done, Jenny Fischer.

PH: Incredibly thoughtful and complex indeed, and from a fellow Angeleno no less. I love this, too.

PH: I think I’m in love with Theresa Muley of Dublin. First we have her “Early Morning Tequila” painting which just says it all, doesn’t it? Then we have her amazing “Portrait of My (Other) Self.” Were her works for sale? I think she’s onto something.

MB: She was the most prolific and the most eclectic artist in the show. I didn’t love all her work but this drawing is just spectacular. I guess technically it might not thrill an expert draftsman so much but wow, the subject. We could scarcely tear ourselves away. It’s a great comfort knowing that there are lawyers like this running around loose.

PH: Truly. If I needed an attorney, I’d hire Ms. Muley in a heartbeat.

Maria Bustillos (text) is the author of Dorkismo and Act Like A Gentleman, Think Like A Woman.

Philo Hagen (text and photos) is the overlord of Hooping.org and Night Owl Nation.

We are a little obsessed with yachts, simply because they are floating piles of burning f-you money, the most astounding sort of consumption. When “Eclipse” was completed in 2009, everyone said, “wow, that’s a big boat!” But then earlier this year, we noted that two even bigger boats were being built in Germany (including “Topaz” and another) and, oh no! Now it’s time for the Monaco Yacht Show. MORE BIG BOATS. Get ready, the Times reports: “Sales of superyachts correlate directly with the rising number of billionaires in the world.” Who would have thunk? Still, turns out they took a hit in the first dip of the recession: “Although the financial crisis reduced purchases of sailing cruisers in the 24-meter-plus category more than 20 percent, to 34 in both 2009 and last year from 44 in 2007, ‘this segment remains strong.’” Yes sure, whatever, but even better news: virtual tours of yachts at Monaco! Try “H20ME.” IT’S FOR SALE. €14,500,000! Just consider what you’d do with it. Sell it to save Greece? Drive it into a cliff in an act of scorn? Just sit on its upper deck and think about how lonely you are and how empty your soul is? Maybe so.

A study has found that obese people have a harder time not eating high-calorie food than people who are not obese. Because of their brains.

“If you look up at the Milky Way through the eyes of Carl Sagan, you get a feeling in your chest of something greater than yourself. And it is. But it’s not supernatural.”
 — It’s worth reading the profile of evolutionary biologist and atheist warrior hero Richard Dawkins in the Science section of today’s Times.

A companion piece collects quotes from some of his books, such as this one from 1998’s Unweaving the Rainbow, “The feeling of awed wonder that science can give us is one of the highest experiences of which the human psyche is capable. It is a deep aesthetic passion to rank with the finest that music and poetry can deliver.” I should maybe read one of those books. That guy really pumps my nads.

“Obama is on the verge of deporting more undocumented immigrants in a single term than Bush did his full eight years in office.” Liberals. What can you do.

“Without her rent-a-guinea pig service, the owner would have to purchase a new, probably younger guinea pig as a companion to the ageing survivor, whose eventual death would force the purchase of yet another guinea pig, locking the owner into an endless cycle of guinea pig purchases in order to adhere to Swiss law — even though he or she may only ever have wanted one guinea pig in the first place.”

September 15, 2011

Dear Mr. Soufan,

My boyfriend made me watch “Frontline” the other night, and because of you I’m so glad I did. I know people are probably always thanking you for being such a great American, or are impressed with you for having the ultimately useless insight that could have stopped the attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center, or for being the only Arab-speaking FBI agent in the New York area at the time of the attacks. And that stuff’s all great. But that’s not why I’m writing. I’m writing because after seeing “Frontline” (I had never heard of you before; sorry!), I listened to you on “Fresh Air,” read your Wikipedia page, Googled you several times (sometimes I accidentally type ‘Souftan’), read the transcript of all your interviews and your 2009 and 2010 New York Times editorials, then watched “Frontline” again, and then came to the conclusion that you are a stone fox.

Can we Facebook? My name’s Gideon Rayburn. Actually, that’s not my name. That’s the name of a character in a book I wrote about a kid who goes to prep school and finds that he’s totally out of his element. Then he becomes obsessed with this Argentine girl named Pilar Benitez-Jones, because she is just so hot. Like you!

I long to sit on the floor and drink tea with you and argue about religion and politics, because I have been listening and I know that’s what you like to do. I will try to let you draw me out a little but it might be hard because I just want to tell you everything.

Best,
Sarah Miller (a.k.a. Gideon Rayburn on Facebook)

September 17, 2011

Dear Mr. Soufan,

I haven’t heard from you yet. Maybe you’re in Yemen. This is so crazy, but one of my best friends, her husband wrote a book about some Al Quada (sp?) person and HE KNOWS YOU. I emailed him all these questions about you, like what kind of bourbon do you drink and did you look hot in white shirts — you always wear blue ones on TV but I bet in Guantanamo you wear white, right?, because it’s so hot there — and he hasn’t written back yet. Maybe you’re both in Yemen.

I’m really not stupid. I have a theory, actually, that middle-class, well-educated white women sometimes become stupid, especially when the only stuff they can get people to pay them to write is dumb. But I swear I went to a good college. Calvin Coolidge, Burgess Meredith and Dr. Drew all went there. (If you’re ever in a green room with Dr. Drew stay away. I did a Q&A; with him once and afterwards we chatted, and he relayed to me his absolute and strangely triumphant certainty that I had contracted a deadly parasite from drinking raw milk. Seriously, the guy is bananas.)

I wanted to tell you something funny I said the other day that sort of has to do with you. I have a lot of friends who believe all kinds of conspiracy theories and the other day one of them said to me, “You know, Mohamed Atta is still alive. He lives in Tehran.” And I said, “Oh, really? What’s he do? Work at the Tehran Ikea?” I said how he would be such a genius person for them to get to work in Returns. Can you imagine saying to Mohamed Atta, “Yes, I think this Billy shelf is missing one of those little l-shaped wrenches.” He’d just stare at you, and you’d see yourself burning to death in the thicket between his eyebrows. And you’d be like, “Okay, no big deal, I’ll figure it out.”

Maybe you’re not on Facebook. I’m sarahlovescali on Twitter. It’s because Sarah Miller is such a common name, and I really love California. I never thought about what a total dipshit I was and how incredibly trivial and even sort of suburban I was until I thought of trying to get someone like you to like me. I read Anthony Trollope and Henry James novels, for fun, so why do I represent myself with a Twitter handle that’s something a thirteen-year-old girl would write on her Math Basics notebook and surround with butterflies?

I’m pretty sure the only reason I got into such a fancy college is because my dad went there. My brother went there too. I think he’s maybe even a little bit dumber than I am. We both took Spanish for twelve years and can’t speak a word of it. I once asked an editor at The New Yorker who Tony Blair was. He’d been prime minister for like a year. A couple people asked me which editor it was and what time of day it was, and when I told them they all said he was probably drunk and not to worry about it. Still, every time I think about it I feel kind of sick.

Your friend,
Sarah Miller

September 18, 2011

Dear Mr. Soufan,

I’m sorry, but I have listened once on “Frontline” and once on “Fresh Air” to you explaining the way that you got Osama bin Laden’s body guard to confess that the eight hijackers were members of Al-Qaeda — and I still don’t get it. This isn’t an affectation. I really don’t. I feel like all the people you’re explaining it to don’t get it either. And if I do understand it, maybe it’s not really that big a deal? I keep wanting to be more surprised by the way the conversation panned out, but the truth is, the end of The Usual Suspects surprised me a lot more. I should probably mention here that when I was in fifth grade, we had to take a state exam measuring general aptitude for various skills and levels of comprehension, and I found out that 94 percent of ten year olds in the state of Massachusetts had better space relations than I do.

I know that you’re married, but I don’t know who your wife is. I know you bought a $1.7-million apartment in NYC because I Googled your name and “wife” but that’s all I could find out. I don’t know if you have kids or not. I don’t know if she’s prettier than I am. My first husband was Lebanese. He remodeled old cars. His aunts both became addicted to Xanax during the civil wars. Do you have any aunts who are addicted to Xanax?

In case you can tell I am running out of things to say to you. My boyfriend is not like you at all. He makes a lot of fart jokes, and they’re really funny, but for some reason, seeing you on TV so much in the last few days, just really taking in the gravity of your life, well. It’s left me in a daze of both self-hatred and longing and I can’t laugh at fart jokes anymore. I haven’t been able to write a single Facebook update since I started liking you because I know you don’t write them. What would you say? “I look awesome in a thawb?” I loved the way you were so polite and restrained about George W. Bush on “Fresh Air.” Also, the way you kept distinguishing between ‘cooperation’ and ‘compliance.’ My friend’s boyfriend once was being interviewed on the radio and he promised her as a sort of secret message to her, he’d work the word ‘cleave’ into the conversation. I heard him do it, and I was so jealous. If you get this, could you do that for me next time you’re on TV or radio? But can you use the word ‘sandbagged’?

Love,
Sarah Miller

September 19, 2011

Dear Ali Soufan,

So there it is.

Charlie Rose asked you straight out, “Did you feel sandbagged by the arrival of the CIA consultant?” and you looked right at the camera and said, “’Sandbagged’ is not the word I would use. I would never, ever use that word.”

Naturally, this is my final letter. My parents taught me not to give up, but I don’t think they meant all the time.

There is only one thing wrong with you — other than that we are not together. That is that you sometimes use the word “myself” instead of “me,” as in, “The only ones interrogating Mohammed al-Qahtani were myself and my partner.” ‘Myself’ is not a noun. It’s a reflexive pronoun.

Right before I saw you on “Charlie Rose” my boyfriend found the letters I wrote you. He was, in his own simple way, very prescient about any interest you might have in me. He demanded to know if I thought I could get you, and I cried, “I don’t know, I don’t know!” and then he said, “Do you know what Ali Soufan would say to you if he wrote back?” And I said, “No,” because I honestly didn’t, and he said, “He would say this,” and then he farted. I didn’t laugh at the time, but I’m going to laugh now. I don’t have anything else to do.

Sarah Miller

Sarah Miller is the author of Inside the Mind of Gideon Rayburn and The Other Girl, which are for teens but adults can read on the beach. She lives in Nevada City, CA.

Here is the heartwarming tale of a baby penguin who was abandoned by his relatives because he was bald, only to be welcomed back into bosom of family once his condition reversed itself and he was able to grow hair. The lesson, as always, is if you’re going to be different, you’re going to be alone.