Americans Cheating Themselves Out Of News

Celebrity gossip, banter, and rumors over flood newspapers, websites and become the top stories accompanied with the boldest headlines. They seem to draw as many hits, if not more, than the ongoing healthcare debate or the war in Iraq. And lucky for the American public those celebrities obviously can’t stop having extramarital affairs and are practically keeping the mainstream media in business, but seriously, enough is enough. Tiger Wood’s mistress is not news. It’s hardly a surprise. “Breaking” news regarding one of the greatest athletes of all time and his thirst for women other than his wife isn’t breaking; it’s an expectation, right Kobe?

This is no way condoning Woods behavior or saying that there is nothing wrong to cheat on your wife when you’re disgustingly rich and famous, but it’s not surprising, and if anything, the topic reads more like a weather report. These celebrity affairs that seem to dominate public conversation is a disgrace and cynical reflection of our society. Plus, the world should know by now there is no such thing as perfection, other than Tiger Woods’ golf game. He’s not paid to be your husband or father or marriage counselor. He’s simply unbelievably gifted with iron sticks but again, no one must remind you why he’s one of the most recognizable figures in the celebrity world.

Hugh Hefner echoed this opinion, but again, not a SURPRISE.

“I think the only surprise in it, quite frankly, is that anybody would be surprised," Hefner told E! News. "If you're a good-looking guy and young and healthy, the notion that there would be something else going on, well, marriage is just a convenience.”

And Hollywood, money, and marriage know more than a thing or two about convenience: it’s called marriage and that’s marriage to wealth and keeping status as a celebrity and someone of importance. Although, this is a society I’d prefer not to be apart of, it’s a reality, and not NEWS. There are reasons why Americans divorce at astronomical numbers.

According to Divorce Rate, “It is frequently reported that the divorce rate in America is 50%. This data is not accurately correct, however, it is reasonably close to actual. The Americans for Divorce Reform estimates that "Probably, 40 or possibly even 50 percent of marriages will end in divorce if current trends continue.", which is actually a projection.”

So, please pick up your jaw and shut your yapper the next time you’re in line at Starbucks ordering your non-fat decaf caramel macchiato and how appalling and atrocious some unassigned role model cheated on his wife, because you too are probably in the midst of your own settlement other than getting the proper amount of foam applied to your drink.

Cheating isn’t news. How Woods is able to pay for his car crash medical bills while millions of American are unable to is.

SF State Has NBA Fever

In the early stages of the NFL season and almost 24 hours before Game 1 of the World Series with the Philadelphia Phillies and New York Yankees, students on campus SF state were excited about another kick off in the sports world; the NBA season.

A number of students on campus were Lakers fans and predicted another championship for Kobe and Company. As the season starts tonight for the Lakers with an opener against hometown rival Clippers, fans came to school, including Roxy Romero, 19, proudly wearing her home game Kobe Bryant jersey and expected that off seasons acquisitions of Ron Artest will help the boys in purple and gold.

“They’re going to win another championship,” said Romero. “Artest is going to help them defensively.”

Other Laker fans like Ivan Lok, 25, didn’t have the same level of certainty, but expressed some level of confidence.

“I think it’s possible,” confessed Lok. “I think they’ll win.”

But it wasn’t only Laker fever that was spreading amongst the student body. The newly improved Detroit Pistons and Cleveland Cavaliers with the addition of the Big Diesel, Shaquille O’Neal also had students talking about the possibility of Lebron Jame’s first ring.

“Detroit has a lot of good players like Hamilton,” said another 19-year-old student. “I think the Cavaliers will be the hardest team.”

The reaction to stick with and put your money on the defending champs isn’t all that surprising, but as the Celtics learned last year and the Spurs a year before that, defending your precious crown is no easy feat. The Lakers definitely have their work cut out for them, but when you have number 24 and the Zen Master, Phil Jackson, himself getting in touch with his spiritual side and 10 championship rings, your chances always look pretty good.

Reporting contributed by Media Academy students Sergio Alvaredo, Roberto Ramirez, and Zaid Mohamed.

Ramparts Gallantly Streaming

Ramparts Magazine shouldn't get any other reputation, other than the consensus that it was a serious magazine that wrote serious stories. In its 13 year lifespan, Ramparts caused a fair amount of controversy and managed to raise more than a few eyebrows, but it wasn't purely about creating a buzz. It was born in the Bay Area and was originally created as a Catholic literary quarterly, but blatantly pushed the New Left agenda at the time of strong, clear opposition of the Vietnam war and arguably failing, religiously oriented Right Wing ideologies. And it looked good too.

In his recent New York Times book review, writer Dwight Garner mentions that Ramparts "was printed on glossy stock and, rare for an alternative magazine, had national distribution."

But then points out "Ramparts’ politics were grainy, shifty, hard to define. The magazine spent so much time savaging the liberal consensus in its editorials, Mr. Richardson suggests, that it afflicted conservatism less than it should have."

Peter Richardson, author of A Bomb In Every Issue, a new concise overview of Ramparts history and purpose, says that the magazine "had this Bay Area irreverence." And contrary to what some writers are saying about Ramparts being in the same conversation as other underground publications of the same time such as The Berkeley Burb, "it was not an underground publication. In fact it was quite the opposite," says Richardson. "It was off the ground."

Ramparts was founded by Edward M. Keating and over the years, had a great number of well known contributors including Angela Davis, Noam Chomsky, and Cesar Chavez.

And as far as Garner's argument that Richardson's book had very little on the "history of America’s alternative, rabble-rousing press, from Tom Paine’s days through our own," Ramparts was prominent, influential, and a publication part of an entirely different era. How could it possibly be compared to the writing of Paine's days?

"Tom paine? That's from the colonial era!," says Richardson. "I can't join him on that one." Neither can I.

Today, I wish we could watch more Ramparts that are so gallantly streaming... right now in the media and on the news stands.

Help Me! I Can't Breathe

This isn't strictly inspired from the fraudulent fat free Dunkin donut example that was demonstrated in class as a prime starting place for blogging, but rather an appropriate opportunity to voice a concern I've had for quite some time about my own health. My concern is literally a nightmare every night not for me and sometimes for others as well.

I snore. On the surface it doesn't seen too out of the ordinary or that big of a deal for that matter, but I'm a dreadful snorer and I'm afraid it's taking a toll on my life. My loud, obnoxious snoring might very well be sleep apnea, but unless I spend a night in the ER anytime soon, I'll never know. I should have known things would get worse when my own mother and brother would have to constantly hit, smack, and roughly nudge me even when I was a small child sleeping soundly, well not soundly, but loudly unconsciously next to them during Saturday Night Live. Then as I got older, even my own friends would throw objects and physically abuse me during sleep overs like i was Gomer Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. It's almost as if it's virtually impossible to become a morning person living with me.The worst part is, I can't help it! It's not like I had control over this obvious day in and day out situation. I'm convinced it's been a plague from birth. Damn genetics and the hereditary curse that has been bestowed upon me! The blame doesn't even way heavier on one side of my family more than the other as both my father and mother are prominent snorers, but my dad doesn't just take the cake, he takes the whole bakery. Like father like son, I guess.

When I was younger, I didn't think of the long term effects or the negative impact it may have on health later in life, but college lifestyle certainly hasn't helped me become a more silent sleeper. I drink, I smoke, and will indulge in some very late night snacking. This is all textbook things of what not to do to, according public college enemy #1 Web MD, but isn't this what a lot of young adults do? Sure, but they're obviously not bringing down the house with James Gandolfini type breathing like I do.

• Lose weight and improve your eating habits.
• Avoid tranquilizers, sleeping pills, and antihistamines before you go to bed.
• Avoid alcohol, heavy meals, or snacks at least four hours before you sleep.
• Establish regular sleeping patterns. For example, try to go to bed at the same time every night.
• Sleep on your side rather than on your back."

Regular sleeping patterns? That's practically foreign language to an American college student in their early 20's. Avoid alcohol and heavy meals? Sure, take away all life's pleasures. As I edge closer to graduation, I'm only starting to realize what feeling normal (sober) is like again. But I do know, if I don't change or find help in some way, it's only going to get worse and who knows what consequences it'll bring. I sure as hell don't want it ruining any future love lives. What's more important is my own life.

"Severe nightly episodes of interrupted breathing during sleep - commonly known as sleep apnea - double the risk of death for middle-age men, according to a new study being called the largest ever conducted on the disorder,' said Stephanie Desmon. (http://www.baltimoresun.com/health/sns-health-snoring-health-risk,0,2027434.story)

This was recently printed in an article by The Baltimore Sun and the article only gets more bleak...

There's still that issue of relationships and the news isn't good. In a recent articled published by the Associated Press, they pointed out snoring's effect in the bedroom.

"Snoring is a “big relationship divider,” said Dr. Laura Berman, a relationship and sex therapist in Chicago. She said snoring creates frustration and resentment on both sides: the snorers, who can’t help it, and those suffering next to them." (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16545178/)

Either I must sleep on my stomach for the rest of my life or simply marry someone with terrible hearing. This is worrying me all too much. To think I'm potentially killing myself every night and maybe ruining any chances of a healthy relationship... I can't take it anymore, I'll just sleep on it... Well, maybe that's exactly what I shouldn't do.

Pardon My Polish-French

Sorry American Government, but pardon my Polish-French: Spare us the brutal agony of yet another ongoing, absurdly drawn out celebrity scandal in which a single crime is turned into an unnecessary Hollywood bloodbath right out of a Quentin Tarantino script. Let us not go through another George Michael, Michael Jackson or Kobe Bryant. Let the man walk. Don't you have real bad guys you should be targeting? Because even the victim this time doesn't even want to go through it.

After a collaborative 31-year-long witch hunt by U.S. authorities for having sex with then 13-year-old Samantha Gailey, Academy Awarding winning director Roman Polanski was unnecessarily captured and arrested by Swiss authorities ironically on his way to the Zurich Film Festival to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award. Obviously, he never had his moment and now maybe will be reveling in any creative and artistic achievement behind bars undeservedley. Authorities couldn't have committed a bigger party foul. Seriously, talk about a buzz kill.

On two different occasions Samantha Geimer has made clear that there's no need to waste any more time and energy on Polanski's mistake.

In 2003, Geimer said, "Straight up, what he did to me was wrong. But I wish he would return to America so the whole ordeal can be put to rest for both of us."

Then very recently in 2008 she even asked for forgiveness.

"I think he's sorry, I think he knows it was wrong. I don't think he's a danger to society. I don't think he needs to be locked up forever and no one has ever come out ever - besides me - and accused him of anything. It was 30 years ago now. It's an unpleasant memory ... (but) I can live with it."

Are you listening you big bad power tripping people with badges? You've taken your eye off the ball. Maybe you're just mad he got away and that Martin Scorsese didn't want the award for Best Director in 2002.

"In the same way that there is a generous America that we like, there is also a scary America that has just shown its face," rightfully said French Culture Minister Frederic Mitterrand. Yes, and that face is foaming at the mouth for the big bad director once and for all.

Don't get me wrong: no one is above the law but it's not as if Polanski has never been through his fair share of punishment. He's been fugitive for years and fleeing for his life sure as hell isn't something new to him. He escaped the Nazi persecution, but others in his family weren't as lucky. In 1942, his mother was killed in Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp. In 1969, Charlie Manson and his deranged followers brutally took his wife Sharon Tate and soon to be child and in 1978, Polanski actually spent 42 days in prison during this crime. He made the daring flee into France in a small window of opportunity while the judge at the time was considering sentencing him to more time. Since then, he has been exiled from the United States and hasn't been truly allowed to film movies on American soil or accept his deserved Oscars. Remember the victim here America. It's seriously time to bury the hatchet.

Journlaism Offers Some Good Diaz

For once it didn't come in the wave of depressing, pessimistic bad news. A special presentation by veteran journalism John Diaz of the San Francisco Chronicle surprisingly wasn't another way of saying I chose the wrong field or that I shouldn't give up being the next Kurt Cobain. There's hope! Okay, not to get to ahead of myself, but there was some very encouraging advice.

I'd like to think of myself as a very opinionated person. Anyone would tell you I'm practically opinion oriented and not remotely afraid to show it. And a little direction coming from Diaz how to succinctly, concisely, and convincingly do this on paper was better than any Walter Cronkite wannabe telling me that the internet ruined journalism, our generation's a real piece of work or that rock and roll ended when John Lennon died.

Diaz had answers and many of them. He gave specific words of wisdom and didn't pause to things nicely. Well, he did have one warning.

"Never raise your own personal consumer issue," Diaz laid it down flat early on but then reminded us that we should "expose a little about yourself."

Diaz's important things to consider weren't obvious and probably overlooked at times by writers with some burning, fiery emotion that just has to reach out to a naive, torn, or simply confused society.

THE TOPIC, WHO'S WRITING THE PIECE, A UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE... and most importantly, DETAIL.

"Even though you are going to use your own experience, you still need to report," Diaz reminded our class. He's right. It's never easy, but sometimes maybe different.

Wilco's The Band That Loves You Story and Photo by Me, Ryefish

A sold out Roxy Theater in San Francisco’s Mission District erupts with applause watching Wilco play the final notes of “War on War.” The guitars, drums, bass, and piano piercingly work their way to a traditional rock show climax as the last song prepares to come to a dramatic ending. Guitarist Nels Cline whiplashes back and forth with his Fender guitar while drummer Glenn Kotche, drenched in sweat, makes his final rounds on his elaborate kit. Jeff Tweedy, the band’s illustrious front man, screams “You have to die if you want to be alive!” but is perfectly composed and in tune. They are not actually standing on stage but are being projected on screen as Ashes of American Flags, Wilco’s new film about their American tour last year, plays for only the second time ever. Almost everyone in the audience would give anything to actually be there singing along and dancing to Wilco’s act in person, but even on screen, their live performance is emotional, exhilarating, and so damn loud that each person is nearly convinced that they are. The credits roll and the audience begins cheering as director and producer Brendan Canty stands in front of the room. Very cunningly but assertively, he says into a microphone, “More than anything, I wanted to capture that Wilco is in fact the best live band in the world.” The crowd roars with approval, but unfortunately, no encores or bonus footage tonight.

 

In Ashes of American Flags, Wilco does not play in sold out stadiums or arenas. Screens the size of basketball courts are not visibly hanging behind them demonstrating any new hi-tech, visually stunning screen savers capable of paralyzing Seth Rogen and James Franco on their couch for hours. Forget the fireworks or MacBook Pros, Wilco only brought their instruments and plenty of them. 70 or so to be exact, but most of them packed for precaution. In a great, (sorry Canty, the “best”) live rock and roll band, you can never be too careful. Wilco’s simply gunning for this title the old fashioned way. Gig and gig whenever you can, but not necessarily wherever you can. Sure that’s easy for a band from Chicago that’s been together for 15 years, headlined festivals, won a Grammy and have probably endured nearly every problem, setback, and broken string known possible in the rock world. But even on the verge of releasing their 7^th studio album, Wilco The Album, Wilco apparently has something to show and in the words of Bill O’Reilly, “fuck it”; they’ll do it live.

“They are sublimely talented musicians who put on a solid, if not a tad understated live show,” says MTV Music writer James Montgomery. “Compare that to a band like the Hold Steady, who are also constantly touted as 'the best live act in America,' and are the antithesis of 'understated.' Maybe the secret is in the statement.”

 

Maybe this is because this isn’t The Hold Steady or the same Wilco fans and critics have seen since 1994 when they first started or even in 2001 when their first documentary, I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, an unveiling but disconcerting film by Sam Jones on the highly tense and problematical making of their fourth studio album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, was released. Major changes to the group have happened since then. Members have come and gone. Or maybe because they’re rock and roll veterans with a lengthy track record and don’t feel the necessity to compete with newer mainstream acts like Coldplay, The Killers, or Radiohead. It could simply be a matter of reaching their peak with the intention of never coming down, at least not anytime soon.

                       

“I think Wilco are certainly in their prime popularity wise,” says Montgomery. “They're never going to sell 1 million albums or have songs on the radio, but since when do either of those things matter in this day and age? They will always sell-out tour dates, they will always make money, which means they are the text-book example of a 'successful' 21st-century rock act.”

 

For Jeff Tweedy, making more records isn’t a personal ambition to some way escalate Wilco into a new level of popularity or success. The man just loves writing songs and feels misplaced without it. In an exclusive interview with GQ in March, Tweedy admitted this dependence on writing and creative process.

 

“It’s something I love to do, and it doesn’t hurt anybody. And the world probably doesn’t need any more songs, but I need more songs,” confesses Tweedy. “It’s satisfying and lovely to do. I feel better, and as a band—I think I can speak for everyone—we feel better making something that wasn’t there ten minutes ago.”

 

Creditably conveying this burning musical fortitude live seems like an entirely different ballgame, but certainly something Wilco and their fans again feel capable of mastering without platinum records or technological assistance. For last year’s Sky Blue Sky tour and the performances shown in Ashes of American Flags, Wilco intentionally booked many of their concert dates at what they felt were forgotten but significant American venues. This way the band felt more able to connect to the audience, the cities, and what they found was a rapidly changing United States. This type of touring may start converting Wilco into a different type of accessible band because you simply can’t expect them to only play Madison Square Garden or the Hollywood Bowl. Their fixation over old, classic and yet nearly extinct ballrooms and concert halls is more appealing to them. And as a band with a mounting reputation for their performances, Wilco finds this setting a threshold for their finest performance state.

 

“The venues are places that represent something that kind of doesn’t exist anymore. Like Cain’s Ballroom in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for instance—just sort of a disappearing part of America,” Tweedy tells GQ. “These are places that, I guess in a romantic way, we identify as the best parts of America, the most unique. Regional places that still have a regional flavor.”

 

And they sure do adapt wherever they go, wherever they land. Concertgoers and critics obviously aren’t always craving light shows and stage props as a primary reason for considering Wilco a worthy nominee for the best live act. Then what on earth are they talking about? The music? Well, yes that and a fan’s perpetual desire to feel part of the the magic, the show that one can’t help but think about obsessively and vividly weeks after the stage’s been torn down or the concert doors have been closed.

 

Wilco’s on stage demeanor and sense of humor is irresistible. An overabundance of jokes, one-liners and straightforward talking make them a humbling and very personal group of musicians. Audience participation and interaction is never out of the question.

 

“Why don’t you guys keep the beat for a moment,” Tweedy encourages the crowd of thousands during the middle of “Spiders (Kidsmoke)” at last year’s first annual Outside Lands Festival in San Francisco. “I know you can do this.” Thousands of hands hold themselves above hands and begin clapping simultaneously… but only for a moment.

 

Every member of the band silences their instrument, except Mike Jorgensen who steadily plays a few notes on the electric piano repeatedly to let everyone know where they are in the song. As the music becomes softer, the claps get louder and progressively out of sync. Something potentially remarkable has turned itself into a real mess, but it’s all in good fun and a result Wilco seems accustomed too. Wilco’s game of “Can You Keep The Beat?” is officially a failure and the now disgruntled, but good-humored audience boos the metrically hopeless.

 

“All you guys had to do was keep your hands above your head and clap,” mocks Tweedy wearing a short-sleeved black shirt and a pair of slick orange Aviator sunglasses. Tweedy’s lighthearted wit causes the audience to laugh. “But this is San Francisco. Home of the greatest concert goers on the planet!,” he reminds them. Cheers roar across the crowd; no one in the audience naturally disputes.

 

“I generally want to be enthralled. Excited. Moved,” Montgomery says of live shows. “I think the band has to take the crowd with them on a voyage. They have to make them believe. To me, musicianship is almost secondary to showmanship … this is probably why I don't like jam bands.”

 

Exactly. Don’t expect 20-minute drum solos or guitar jam frenzies from Wilco that would leave Jimmy Page, Ginger Baker or the crowd at a Dave Matthews concert pulling their blood shot eyes out. The closest Wilco can do is play a highly electric and pulsating guessing game of “Spiders (Kidsmoke).” In that game, no one ever knows when the band’s going to shoot out the song’s hard anthem riff and entangle the audience in a syncopated web of sharp distorted chords and thudding crashes. But even during a song like “Spiders”, Jeff Tweedy loves to get his audience in on the action. He even likes to test their musical ability by having them clap along and only endearingly teases them when the audience establishes that they are rhythmically illiterate.

 

In 2001, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot constituted the arrival of drummer of Glenn Kotche but departure of long time member Jay Bennett and record label Warner/Reprise. Wilco remained adamant during this time about getting what they wanted and refused to a make a more commercially sound album, a questionably haunting asterisk to their mainstream success but a very grateful decision by beloved fans nonetheless. In 2003, Wilco went back into the studio to record new record, A Ghost Is Born. For the album’s tour, Tweedy brought in three new musicians, three ringers that remain with the band until this day. Keyboardist Mike Jorgensen, multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone and guitarist Nels Cline officially joined Wilco in 2004. They arguably became the three key ingredients Wilco missed during those years, particularly Cline.

 

 “Cline is really the key. He's dangerous and kind of a maniac up there,” says Montgomery. “He's pulling solos out of guitars, playing them with screwdrivers … he's a ridiculously good musician. And I think he's added a level of unpredictability, of chaos to the live set, and a degree of art-rock cool. He's the razor-sharp, bad-ass Yin to Tweedy's shambling, shaggy Yang. Plus he looks great in those rhinestone suits. You cannot downplay the importance of that.”

 

Since 2004, Wilco and current lineup have released Kicking Television: Live in Chicago and a sixth studio album Sky Blue Sky, but nothing has properly encapsulated and epitomized this Wilco as perhaps the greatest live act, even Ashes of American Flags. Anyone who has had the opportunity to catch Wilco’s act would agree that you really have to see the modern Wilco for yourself.

 

“Wilco is truly one of the best live bands I have seen in a long time. Jeff Tweedy and company are everything that’s right about rock music today,” says fellow MTV writer Matt Elias. “In age when pseudo-country power crooners like Nickleback are dominating the rock charts, we could use more Wilcos out there.”

 

Others don’t even glance into their past.

 

 “I don’t consider any incarnation of Wilco other than the current lineup,” says David Wurzburg, Manager of Business Development at Rock River Music and long time fan.

 

Obviously, a band’s personality or change there of evidently can be everything for the audience, fashion too. Wilco is a typically casually dressed band, but isn’t afraid to stick on a cowboy hat or button up one of those rhinestone suits. For them, sometimes anything goes. Maybe it depends on where they are.

 

“Tweedy is certainly the everyman,” acknowledges Montgomery. “Tons of frat guys and insurance adjusters like Radiohead, and I don't understand why. Maybe because they feel cool for liking them? Like, in their circle of friends and/or co-workers, they're that music guy? I think Wilco probably falls under the same category: safe, competent, vaguely arty music that's not going to make anyone uncomfortable.”

 

Later during that sunny Sunday afternoon performance in Golden Gate Park, another notable exchange takes place. After an epic execution of “Handshake Drugs”, a female voice yells out from the crowd, “We love you Wilco!” Everyone seemed to take notice of the bold declaration, including the band. Instead of playing it cool or ignoring the classic words of concert affection, Tweedy walks up to the microphone, stares into the direction of the voice and sweetly responds, “We love you too person… in a massive… crowd of people.” More smiles and laughter emerge from the audience. Seconds later, Tweedy is handed another acoustic guitar with a capo on the 5^th fret. Not everyone realizes it yet, but with the capo at that position on the guitar, the band is revving themselves for “Jesus Etc.”, Wilco’s perhaps most popular song fromYankee Hotel Foxtrot.

 They are gliding through the first verses and chorus of “Jesus Etc.” with an emotional but effortless tranquility. The crowd redeems themselves with a soft karaoke like following of the lyrics. Tweedy lastly arrives to the song’s most distinguished words of affection and directs them to the outspoken female admirer. With open arms and a candid smile, he looks towards the fan and sings, “Our love… our love… our love is all we have!”  At that moment, everyone could have had fallen in love with Jeff Tweedy, even Matt Elias.

 

“Interaction with the audience is key,” agrees Elias “No one wants to see a band rip through their set without acknowledging the audience, especially after they’ve paid a bundle to see them live.”

 

In their live shows, Wilco give the audience more than acknowledgment. They present themselves no more than gracious performers who simply love their fans and are best at what they do by knocking down the fourth wall.