What fresh hell is this?

A new firewall has gone up in the computer network here at the Death Star (my temp job). Now joining a number of other websites barred from on-premises viewing is YouTube. Attempts to access the site are halted by an onscreen message saying that YouTube is “unavailable as a non-business related site” and, somewhat improbably, “categorized as: Sex.” Innocent web pages with inserted links to YouTube video-clips now display forlorn empty space where the videos used to play.

I started to notice these unexpected empty spaces a week or two ago, but thought that our data transmission was temporarily ailing. The possibility that unseen forces were placing further limits on my computer access was a horror I didn’t dare to contemplate.

I can’t say I’m surprised. Just demoralized.

Outlet

So, I’m doing The Artist’s Way. It was urged upon me by someone who knows what’s good for me.

The book is a 12-week course of exercises to “access creativity and realize dreams.” (Laugh if you will. Some of us need this.) The most important part of the enterprise seems to be the daily, non-negotiable task of free-writing three uninterrupted pages first thing in the morning. No editing, no subsequent review. I write, I put the three sheets of paper in an envelope and close them inside a drawer. Done.

It’s good medicine, both for me and for you. For me because I get a certain amount of mental blather out of my system first thing in the morning. For you because that mental blather is less likely to seep into this blog.

So let's all breathe a sigh of relief.

Self-intervention

I've become aware that reading the blogs of others is TAKING UP MORE OF MY TIME THAN IT OUGHT. So, in the spirit of giving up certain pleasures for Lent, I am going to declare one day per week "Blogs-Off-Limits Day." I haven't read anyone else's blog today. Instead of reading, I am posting.

I have a terrible itch today to check out the goings-on at, for instance, Fool's Gold Coast, except it's FORBIDDEN. Already I'm experiencing unpleasant withdrawal-like symptoms. But I'll soldier on.

Now then, I'm sure I have something interesting to say.
Er-

Well, Mr. Supersweetie and I went to Ikea this week and bought things. Our apartment is swiftly taking on a better appearance. Nothing's going to compensate for the fact that we need to apply a fresh coat of paint, though.

What else...
Um-

A friend of ours, named Tweet, is quitting his desk job to try his fortunes in the wildlife professions. He's moving away from Queens to spend the Spring bird-watching on Cape Cod. Professionally. For money. No, really. It's like something out of a novel, isn't it? Enviable Tweet.

Mr. Supersweetie and I went over to Tweet's apartment last night and helped ourselves to some of his discarded possessions. Tweet and I wear comparable clothing sizes, so I went home with a whole new wardrobe. Today, I've worn some of his nice desk job clothes to my temp job. Someone here remarked on the becoming shade of my shirt. It's pale green. Since I usually wear plain, no-fuss white shirts, today's shirt is a BIG contrast.

Not very interesting, am I.
I really don't deserve to blog.

From simpleton to sage -- Eichmann and the Holocaust

As I attempt to dip into Penguin's Great Ideas series again, I pose the question:

How do you even speak about the holocaust?

To begin with, I know far less about the holocaust than I ought to. Most of my knowledge of it is of a folkloric sort, without much of a sense of the details. The holocaust is such a loaded topic that even though the world must never forget it, people find something suspicious about the desire to examine it. It is too morbid to discuss. It is horrible. It is accursed. It is taboo, but strangely sacred at the same time.

Hannah Arendt’s job in 1963 was to report for the New Yorker on the trial of Adolf Eichmann, the former Nazi, held in Jerusalem, at which he was sentenced to death. The report, erudite, probing, fascinating, and gripping as it was, suffered sharp criticism after its publication as the book, Eichmann in Jerusalem. In the Postscript, which stands on its own as the best excerpt reprinted in Eichmann and the Holocaust, Arendt was able to answer her critics and explain what the book and the meaning of the trial really were.

Eichmann and the Holocaust offers the reader relatively little background, presuming a strong prior knowledge of the facts. Knowing nothing about Eichmann, I was at a disadvantage. From what I gather in these excerpts, Eichmann was the man largely responsible for designing and carrying out the mass executions of millions of Jewish people during World War II. Arendt touches on the personality of Eichmann and others, their deeds, and some of the issues that arose in the trial. It is all endlessly fascinating stuff: why did these Nazis do what they did? Why did so few people protest? How could justice be done in this unprecedented situation? It’s just too much to cover in 130 pages. I’d suggest skipping this slim edition of well-meant excerpts, and devoting some serious attention to the original book in its entirety.

Some great ideas I picked out:
-- Eichmann’s character inspired Arendt to coin the expression, “The banality of evil.” (90)

-- “[Eichmann] knew quite well what it was all about… He was not stupid. It was sheer thoughtlessness -- something by no means identical with stupidity -- that predisposed him to become one of the greatest criminals of the period.” (115)

-- “Had the court in Jerusalem understood that there were distinctions between discrimination, expulsion, and genocide, it would immediately have become clear that the supreme crime it was confronted with, the physical extermination of the Jewish people, was a crime against humanity, perpetrated upon the body of the Jewish people, and that only the choice of victims, not the nature of the crime, could be derived from the long history of Jew-hatred and anti-semitism.” (93)