Liberal-oriented columns, commentary and archived articles on national and international news, politics, and the communication arts--with emphasis on China--by Joseph Bosco, author, journalist, director and actor; Professor of Drama and Communications at Beijing Foreign Studies University. 

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Some Smart New Thinking On An Old Bad Idea

Folks, you really need to click on over to Danwei and hook up with some new, yet common sense thinking on an old problem that remains new everyday, piracy of DVDs, CDs, books, etc.

It must be disclosed that I am married to its author, Ellen Sander, of The Crackpot Chronicles. That does not mean that I am biased; to the contrary, two working writers living under the same roof does not often make for creative agreements on style or even substance.

This is a fine piece of
thinking and writing:
Music and Movie Pirates: if you can't lick 'em...
 


7:00 PM / Editor / permalink    0 comments



Sunday, September 25, 2005

Neo-Carpetbaggers, "New South" Journalists vs. "Mississippi" Writers, and the Difference Between On-target Opportunists and Visionary Long Haulers

Hurricane Katrina has occasioned some excellent, even inspired, commentary journalism. I'm calling your attention to two such pieces, and their authors. One is by John Grisham, a native Mississippian better known for pot-boiling, record-selling fiction than literary nonfiction; the other is by Peter J. Boyer, a once-upon-a-time young sojourner and longtime fan of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, a noted nonfiction author and veteran staff writer for the best magazine written in English, The New Yorker.

In the past week, both of these accomplished wordsmiths wrote impressionistic, first-person narratives after viewing the destruction of much of the Mississippi Gulf Coast: Grisham in today's edition of The New York Times; Boyer in the current issue of The New Yorker. Both pieces are wonderfully written. Both pieces are mostly accurate on the Coast's history, its parallel developing forces of the sacred and the profane--more so in Boyer's longer piece--and the two hurricanes that have defined its modern existence: Camille in 1969, and Katrina, 2005.

But, each piece leaves its readers with vastly different emotions--at least this reader. If you would, please read them both--long though it is, you must read the Boyer narrative to its final punch, and a punch to the gut is exactly what it is--and then please come back to these pages and leave a comment.

I mean it, I really want to know what you think and feel? I know more than a few other folks who need to know how you think and feel about what's at issue. I've never really asked such a thing before. I am now. Take a moment; leave a thought. Please. Thank you.

Gone With The Surge, Peter J. Boyer, The New Yorker

The Gulf Will Rise Again, John Grisham, The New York Times
For titillation purposes, I am going to quote, anonymously, a line recently written to me by one of the best writers I know as a comment on Boyer's piece:
"The New Yorker article is very well done, and extremely honest in that it manages to depict Billy Guice as the crass heartless bastard he is."
 


4:45 PM / Editor / permalink    0 comments




Hu's on First...Second, Third, Short...But Zeng's Behind the Plate

Forgive the vaudevillian baseball metaphor in the title--I just couldn't help myself. As you know, I have not been doing much 'typical' blogging (as in commenting on and linking to other folks' writings) for quite some time--again, in this instance, I just couldn't resist the urge.

Why now? Intrepid, dogged journalism fills my sail; from time to time, The New York Times' Joseph Kahn does exactly that--he has cultivated some incredible sources. The latest example is his piece in today's edition of the Times, China's Leader, Ex-Rival at Side, Solidifies Power.

I will entice you with the first three graphs, and suggest you click on through.
BEIJING, Sept. 24 - Three years after becoming China's top leader, Hu Jintao has solidified his grip on power and intimidated critics inside and outside the Communist Party with the help of the man once seen as his most potent rival.

Mr. Hu, China's president and Communist Party chief, and Zeng Qinghong, vice president and the man in charge of the party's organizational affairs, have tackled the most delicate domestic and foreign policy issues as a team, governing as hard-liners with a deft political touch, former Chinese officials and scholars with leadership connections said.

Their bond is a surprise because Mr. Zeng was the longtime right-hand man of the previous No. 1 leader, Jiang Zemin. A skillful backroom political operator considered to have strong military ties, Mr. Zeng was long viewed as the only person capable of challenging Mr. Hu for power.
Keep on reading at: The New York Times.
 


3:54 PM / Editor / permalink    0 comments



Wednesday, September 21, 2005

The Skipjack is No More...

Skipjack

Some of you may remember a post in these pages about my lifelong friend David Sheffield, one of the most successful screenwriters in America. If not, give a click for a more detailed introduction.

David and I share a history dating back to the late 60's. Oh so sadly, that sharing continues. Below is an e-mail from David and his beautiful wife Cynthia, also a brilliant poet, playwright and screenwriter; she too hails from Mississippi.
Dear Friends and Family:

The day before Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, the entire Sheffield Family was gathered in Biloxi for a family reunion and to honor brother Buddy who was named Biloxian of the Year. As the storm approached we all scrambled for high ground, and, we are very relieved to say, all the Sheffields escaped unharmed. Brother Richard's house in Ocean Springs was totally gutted. Neil [David's other brother] and Kay lost everything too.

We also lost Skipjack, the 48-foot Biloxi lugger that has been our family boat and like a second home to us for the past 14 years. She was up on Bill Holland's boat yard on the Back Bay of Biloxi being replanked. Swept away by a ferocious storm surge, Skipjack was completely destroyed. Nothing remains but fond memories and photographs.

We are in the process of putting together a web site to commemorate Skipjack. In the meantime, please find attached a picture of her in happier days, anchored near Big Woman Key, west of Key West.

We'd like to thank everyone for their calls and concern. Please give generously to the Red Cross if you haven't already. There are so many who have lost so much more.

Best,

David Sheffield and Cynthia Walker
Fond memories and photographs indeed; there is one particular series of photos that have fortunately remained relatively unseen: about a half-dozen members of the Hollywood "Mississippi Mafia" (officially known in L.A. as the Cavaliers) dropping our drawers at exactly the right moment, "mooning" the media boat from the Skipjack during the triumphal pass of lead boats in one of Biloxi's most prestigious yachting regattas.
 


11:56 AM / Editor / permalink    0 comments



Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Ouch! When it rains...

While I undoubtedly have an emotional personality with intensity as its stamp, throughout my life I have mostly demonstrated a physical stoicism during crises--work or activity coming first, doctors and hospitals be damned. That is no longer true.

Last Thursday (September 8), after three days of progressing chest pain and a strange numbness and throbbing pain radiating down my left arm, I mentioned the symptoms to Ellen while on our balcony during a brief respite from the Katrina horrors on television and the frustration of repeatedly failing to reach loved ones back home on the telephone.

Within an hour I was in the emergency room of one of the best hospitals in China surrounded by medical folks administering every test and using every high-tech diagnostic device imaginable to ensure that a foreigner did not die of a heart attack on their watch. This took many hours of fitful dozing and being rolled from one medical-gadget room to another.

They found an elevated count of one type of white blood cell that told them I had an infection of some kind somewhere, and the presence of pneumonia in both lungs. Neither fact however accounted for my symptoms. Consequently, late that afternoon, I was sitting in the lobby of the ER about to go home with a fuzzy diagnosis, zero prognosis and a bunch of antibiotics when a tall, distinguished, middle-aged Chinese doctor came and sat next to me with stethoscope in hand.

He did a lot of listening to all parts of my upper torso; at one point he pulled up my shirt. Upon seeing two small areas of a "rash," one just below the left breast and one on my back just below my left shoulder blade, in pretty good English, he immediately ordered me back into an ER bed. Once there, he assembled all of the ER staff of doctors, nurses and technicians and started teaching--one of the functions of the Beijing Hospital of the Ministry of Public Health.

He pointed out a small red "ridge" that clearly connected the two areas of "rash" and prompted questions. There was much clucking recognition and approval from all. It was then that the young ER doctor who had been with me for most of the day proudly explained that the tall doctor was the "Chief of Staff." I was honored; albeit still confused. And was even more so when all of these folks up and left.

Then a woman doctor appeared with an upbeat manner and excellent English. She was a dermatologist. She looked at the "rash" that was blistering quickly before our eyes, and said: "You have Herpes Zoster."

I yelped: "Herpes? I haven't had sex with anyone but my wife!"

"No. No," the doctor said. "This is a different disease." Ellen had returned from paying the bill at this point and asked, "Shingles?"

"Yes, Yes," the Chinese dermatologist answered. Then she asked what was going on in my life of late, had I been under any great stress, or perhaps too much work for too long?

When Ellen told her about Katrina and my family's experience with the hurricane, the doctor was even surer of her diagnosis. And all too soon, I learned exactly what was wrong with me and just how bad of a time I was in for: major league pain for an indefinite period--from a few weeks to a few months.

I had heard of "Shingles," but knew absolutely nothing about it. I know a great deal more now. If one ever gets chicken-pox, the virus that causes it will lie dormant in one's nerve cells until it is triggered into horrific action by extreme stress, physical exhaustion, or any of a number of immune deficiency conditions, AIDS being the worst.

The disease is incurable; it will run its course in its own time and fashion. The symptoms can be treated, and somewhat mitigated. It is estimated that two out of every ten adults will get the disease, most commonly after the age of 50.

I am taking a lot of medicine and I am under orders to rest as much as possible. The university and my department are being wonderful about the problem, and have cancelled my classes for the immediate future.

It flat-out hurts like hell--excruciating is the word, but it is a cliche. It is also very ugly, with a large band of red and blistering skin from mid-chest to mid-back. Wearing a shirt is like a visit to the nearest torture chamber.

While almost everyone that witnessed Katrina firsthand was traumatized far greater than I was, that damnable storm was still mean enough to enact a "gotcha anyway" from a distance of some 10,000 miles.

I suspect there are any numbers of folks who might say I had it coming. I might even be one of them. After all, I am not there while the people I love most in this world are going through a living nightmare.

I am still waiting for pictures of our family home; however, the photos below pretty much tell the story. They are all from the Sun-Herald, my hometown newspaper until I was almost 25 years old.

This is what's left of the bridge between Biloxi and Ocean Springs. If you look at the right end of the far Ocean Springs treeline, our house was only a long hickory nut's throw away


This is the Ocean Springs end of the bridge. The pilings on the right are all that's left of the Ocean Springs Yacht Club; this is also the beginning of historic Ocean Springs Front Beach Drive. Our house was a little under two miles up the beach from here.


This is all that's left of a small condo complex just a few thousand yards from the old Bosco beach house. We have very dear friends who lived there. (They are safe and sound.)
 


8:19 PM / Editor / permalink    3 comments



Monday, September 12, 2005

Better Days In Deep Dixie

Soon I will post pictures of the wrath that Katrina visited upon the Bosco family, stretching from Jefferson Parish in Louisiana to Jackson County in Mississippi. At this moment, though, I'd like to share with you more images of the Bosco family before Katrina.

I will also update family news. The biggest and best news is that I have talked directly with Sylvia, my absolutely irrepressible sister, via cell phone, twice!

Sylvia, Mom, and my niece Reagan were in Ocean Springs during the storm and, as it turns out, for more than a week thereafter. They stayed with a family friend whose house is on some of the highest ground in Gulf Hills; my steadfast nephew Chris drove up to Ocean Springs from Orlando, Florida, almost immediately in a truck toting a generator.

On the fourth day of Katrina, Sylvia was finally able to cut her way to 509 Beach Drive and see what to both of us is the greatest nightmare possible: the historic old home is gone; there is a crater where the living room used to be; the several hundred-years-old oak tree in the front yard not only came down it disappeared.

After days of picking through the rubble of our memories, with everything shutdown, they finally got away and went to Orlando to stay with Chris until things improved enough for their return. They are there now.

However, the Ocean Springs school system just announced it's planning on going back to business on the 26th of this month (September). Consequently, Sylvia will soon return to Ocean Springs, where she teaches at the high school from which we both graduated a millenium or two ago (Sylvia and I are only 22 months apart in age) and stay with a family friend until at least one home can be rebuilt.

My son Joseph, his wife Michelle, his mother Linda Bosco, Pat and Allen Mocklin (Michelle's parents) are still in Dallas, Texas, staying with Linda's sister and brother-in-law. It turns out that the Mocklin's home in New Orleans had only minor flooding, Linda's house in Algiers, and Joseph's and Michelle's brand new condo in the trendy warehouse district of uptown New Orleans, had no damage at all.

For whatever cosmic reason, it was the Mississippi branch of the Bosco family that suffered the most grievous harm; all told, six family homes were destroyed in Ocean Springs and Pascagoula.

Sylvia and Mom, 4th of July, 2004

Linda watching our son Joseph and his bride Michelle coming down the aisle at their wedding

Joseph and Michelle coming down the aisle

Joseph dancing with his mother

Joseph and Michelle dancing
 


12:17 PM / Editor / permalink    4 comments



Monday, September 05, 2005

If You Give a Damn About Basic Human Decency and Dignity, You Must Read This

My emotions are not yet up to writing coherently, much less eloquently, on the ugly politics and the even uglier great American Class Divide exposed to the world by Katrina. Fortunately, that is not the case with Jim Amoss, Editor of The Times-Picayune, New Orleans' only daily newspaper. It was my hometown newspaper for 25 years; the first newspaper to carry my byline.

Please read Mr. Amoss's editorial from the Sunday Edition of The Times-Picayune; it is reproduced in full below:

An open letter to the President

Dear Mr. President:

We heard you loud and clear Friday when you visited our devastated city and the Gulf Coast and said, "What is not working, we're going to make it right."

Please forgive us if we wait to see proof of your promise before believing you. But we have good reason for our skepticism.

Bienville built New Orleans where he built it for one main reason: It's accessible. The city between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain was easy to reach in 1718.

How much easier it is to access in 2005 now that there are interstates and bridges, airports and helipads, cruise ships, barges, buses and diesel-powered trucks.

Despite the city's multiple points of entry, our nation's bureaucrats spent days after last week's hurricane wringing their hands, lamenting the fact that they could neither rescue the city's stranded victims nor bring them food, water and medical supplies.

Meanwhile there were journalists, including some who work for The Times-Picayune, going in and out of the city via the Crescent City Connection. On Thursday morning, that crew saw a caravan of 13 Wal-Mart tractor trailers headed into town to bring food, water and supplies to a dying city.

Television reporters were doing live reports from downtown New Orleans streets. Harry Connick Jr. brought in some aid Thursday, and his efforts were the focus of a "Today" show story Friday morning.

Yet, the people trained to protect our nation, the people whose job it is to quickly bring in aid were absent. Those who should have been deploying troops were singing a sad song about how our city was impossible to reach.

We're angry, Mr. President, and we'll be angry long after our beloved city and surrounding parishes have been pumped dry. Our people deserved rescuing. Many who could have been were not. That's to the government's shame.

Mayor Ray Nagin did the right thing Sunday when he allowed those with no other alternative to seek shelter from the storm inside the Louisiana Superdome. We still don't know what the death toll is, but one thing is certain: Had the Superdome not been opened, the city's death toll would have been higher. The toll may even have been exponentially higher.

It was clear to us by late morning Monday that many people inside the Superdome would not be returning home. It should have been clear to our government, Mr. President. So why weren't they evacuated out of the city immediately? We learned seven years ago, when Hurricane Georges threatened, that the Dome isn't suitable as a long-term shelter. So what did state and national officials think would happen to tens of thousands of people trapped inside with no air conditioning, overflowing toilets and dwindling amounts of food, water and other essentials?

State Rep. Karen Carter was right Friday when she said the city didn't have but two urgent needs: "Buses! And gas!" Every official at the Federal Emergency Management Agency should be fired, Director Michael Brown especially.

In a nationally televised interview Thursday night, he said his agency hadn't known until that day that thousands of storm victims were stranded at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center. He gave another nationally televised interview the next morning and said, "We've provided food to the people at the Convention Center so that they've gotten at least one, if not two meals, every single day."

Lies don't get more bald-faced than that, Mr. President.

Yet, when you met with Mr. Brown Friday morning, you told him, "You're doing a heck of a job."

That's unbelievable.

There were thousands of people at the Convention Center because the riverfront is high ground. The fact that so many people had reached there on foot is proof that rescue vehicles could have gotten there, too.

We, who are from New Orleans, are no less American than those who live on the Great Plains or along the Atlantic Seaboard. We're no less important than those from the Pacific Northwest or Appalachia. Our people deserved to be rescued.

No expense should have been spared. No excuses should have been voiced. Especially not one as preposterous as the claim that New Orleans couldn't be reached.

Mr. President, we sincerely hope you fulfill your promise to make our beloved communities work right once again.

When you do, we will be the first to applaud.
 


5:55 PM / Editor / permalink    4 comments



Sunday, September 04, 2005

Before Katrina...

While there is so much I need to express about the freakishly skewed metaphysics of Mother Nature lethally thrashing my beloved upper Gulf Coast with the "Storm of a lifetime" twice in my lifetime (Camille, 1969), I do not have the emotional strength to do it yet. Instead I will simply state the latest news about the Bosco family's sudden Diaspora and post some photos of very recent and vastly better times.

I have only been able to speak directly with my son, Joseph; I have also had e-mail contact with cousins, nieces and family friends. This much I know:

Joseph, Michelle, her parents (the Mocklins), and Linda, are safe and sound in Dallas. When the New Orleans branch of the Bosco family will be able to return to the city is anybody's guess. My brand new in-laws lost their home; Joseph and Michelle, and Linda, did not. Linda's car was lost.

My mother Wilma and my niece Reagan have made their way to Orlando to stay with my nephew Chris. Sylvia, my wonderful, irrepressible sister, is staying with friends in Ocean Springs tending to the affairs of two lost homes and whatever happened to our family's commercial properties in Biloxi.

My Uncle Julie's (Dr. Julius Bosco) house on Front Beach in Pascagoula is still standing but severely damaged; his sons and daughter did not fare as well, their homes were destroyed.

All of the photos except the first were taken by Ellen during our visit home only weeks ago.


The beach house in the mid-50's, with Mom, Sylvia, Prince and me. Originally built in 1893 as a summer cottage, the house has been remodeled many times.


That's the old dude wondering when we're gonna eat.


Joseph and Michelle are watching and wondering the same thing.


My two "almost" sisters Diane and Marie are working on it.


Sylvia, Mom and the old dude.


My niece Reagan.


The view from the porch of old 509 Front Beach Drive.
 


10:32 PM / Editor / permalink    0 comments



Thursday, September 01, 2005

"Not Much Left"

I have received an e-mail from my son; a slightly edited copy is below. The news is very good--and also very bad. I cannot yet express what I feel at learning of the loss of 509 Front Beach Drive, Ocean Springs, Mississippi, the wonderful old beach house (built in 1893) where I grew up--and where my soul forever resides...
Dad,

We got word from Rickie and Carol Davis. Sylvia and Reagan and I am assuming grandma are OK. They rode the storm out in Gulf Hills. We heard Reagan got to the beach house...not much left. We are here in Dallas waiting for word on when and if we can return. It looks like the Westbank [Algiers] was spared water. [It] looks like our condo [in New Orleans] has avoided water for now. We will keep you informed

Love, Joseph
 


7:01 AM / Editor / permalink    2 comments



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