- UID
- 782396
- 在线时间
- 小时
- 注册时间
- 2012-7-17
- 最后登录
- 1970-1-1
- 主题
- 帖子
- 性别
- 保密
|
大过年的就提前一天发作业了咯~这是星期天的 哈哈哈哈哈 估计大家都得后补上吧 ~~~新年快乐 恭喜发财 希望我们都能有志者事成！！！身体健康合家欢乐~~吃好喝好~~一起奋斗！！！！各位小主 给小的发个红包吧哈哈哈哈哈！！！
SPEED
[Time1]
Fritz Kreisler’s other hoax
Fritz Kreisler is known for perpetrating one of the great hoaxes in music history—passing off his own compositions as the works of early masters. But long before that scandal broke in 1935 Kreisler involved two major composers in a clever hoax.
Born on February 4th, 1875, Kreisler was only seven when he entered the Vienna Academy in 1882. His teacher for harmony and music theory was the great Anton Bruckner, a strong supporter of the music of Wagner. Kreisler and some other boys decided to make a case against Wagner.
Bruckner had a chubby dog named Mops who stayed with the boys during the lunch hour while Bruckner took off for more serene surroundings. The boys put Mops to work. They made a habit of slapping and chasing the dog as they played music by Wagner. Then they would play a theme from Bruckner’s Te Deum , during which they’d feed the dog. After a while they had Mops conditioned so that the mere sound of the Wagner would make him run from the room, while the Bruckner brought him trotting back joyfully.
One day when Bruckner returned from lunch the boys put their joke to the test. “Master Bruckner,” they said, “we know that you’re devoted to Wagner, but we don’t think he can even compare to you. Why, even a dog would know that you’re a greater composer than Wagner.” Bruckner blushed at the praise and asked what they meant.
Out came Mops. The boys played their Wagner. Howling, the dog ran from the room. Then they played their theme from Bruckner’s Te Deum. Back came Mops, wagging his tail and pawing expectantly at their sleeves. Bruckner was convinced and visibly moved. A young Fritz Kreisler and his friends had decided one of the great musical controversies of the 1880’s—with the help of a dog named Mops.
（311）
[Time2]
Why did men stop wearing high heels?
Although Europeans were first attracted to heels because the Persian connection gave them a macho air, a craze in women's fashion for adopting elements of men's dress meant their use soon spread to women and children.
"In the 1630s you had women cutting their hair, adding epaulettes to their outfits," says Semmelhack.
"They would smoke pipes, they would wear hats that were very masculine. And this is why women adopted the heel - it was in an effort to masculinise their outfits."
From that time, Europe's upper classes followed a unisex shoe fashion until the end of the 17th Century, when things began to change again.
"You start seeing a change in the heel at this point," says Helen Persson, a curator at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. "Men started to have a squarer, more robust, lower, stacky heel, while women's heels became more slender, more curvaceous."
The toes of women's shoes were often tapered so that when the tips appeared from her skirts, the wearer's feet appeared to be small and dainty.
Fast forward a few more years and the intellectual movement that came to be known as the Enlightenment brought with it a new respect for the rational and useful and an emphasis on education rather than privilege. Men's fashion shifted towards more practical clothing. In England, aristocrats began to wear simplified clothes that were linked to their work managing country estates.
It was the beginning of what has been called the Great Male Renunciation, which would see men abandon the wearing of jewellery, bright colours and ostentatious fabrics in favour of a dark, more sober, and homogeneous look. Men's clothing no longer operated so clearly as a signifier of social class, but while these boundaries were being blurred, the differences between the sexes became more pronounced.
"There begins a discussion about how men, regardless of station, of birth, if educated could become citizens," says Semmelhack.
"Women, in contrast, were seen as emotional, sentimental and uneducatable. Female desirability begins to be constructed in terms of irrational fashion and the high heel - once separated from its original function of horseback riding - becomes a primary example of impractical dress."
High heels were seen as foolish and effeminate. By 1740 men had stopped wearing them altogether.
(379)
[Time3]
The Insourcing Boom
For much of the past decade, General Electric’s storied Appliance Park, in Louisville, Kentucky, appeared less like a monument to American manufacturing prowess than a memorial to it.
The very scale of the place seemed to underscore its irrelevance. Six factory buildings, each one the size of a large suburban shopping mall, line up neatly in a row. The parking lot in front of them measures a mile long and has its own traffic lights, built to control the chaos that once accompanied shift change. But in 2011, Appliance Park employed not even a tenth of the people it did in its heyday. The vast majority of the lot’s spaces were empty; the traffic lights looked forlorn.
In 1951, when General Electric designed the industrial park, the company’s ambition was as big as the place itself; GE didn’t build an appliance factory so much as an appliance city. Five of the six factory buildings were part of the original plan, and early on Appliance Park had a dedicated power plant, its own fire department, and the first computer ever used in a factory. The facility was so large that it got its own ZIP code (40225). It was the headquarters for GE’s appliance division, as well as the place where just about all of the appliances were made.
By 1955, Appliance Park employed 16,000 workers. By the 1960s, the sixth building had been built, the union workforce was turning out 60,000 appliances a week, and the complex was powering the explosion of the U.S. consumer economy.
The arc that followed is familiar. Employment kept rising through the ’60s, but it peaked at 23,000 in 1973, 20 years after the facility first opened. By 1984, Appliance Park had fewer employees than it did in 1955. In the midst of labor battles in the early ’90s, GE’s iconic CEO, Jack Welch, suggested that it would be shuttered by 2003. GE’s current CEO, Jeffrey Immelt, tried to sell the entire appliance business, including Appliance Park, in 2008, but as the economy nosed over, no one would take it. In 2011, the number of time-card employees—the people who make the appliances—bottomed out at 1,863. By then, Appliance Park had been in decline for twice as long as it had been rising.
(379)
[Time4]
Recess appointments: Obama oversteps
the judges. The Senate should not be cut out of the confirmation process so easily.
The panel went further, noting that the Founding Fathers referred to “the recess”, not “a recess”, when circumscribing thSenator Obama watched the Democrats block George W. Bush’s nominees in just this way. But President Obama rather liked being able to appoint who he chose when he chose. So last January he decided that despite the gavel-banging the Senate had in fact recessed, and he was therefore free to appoint three members to the National Labour Relations Board (NLRB) and a director of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB), both controversial components of the president’s regulatory regime.
At the time Republicans called it a cynical power grab, and on January 25th a three-judge panel of a federal appeals court agreed. If the president can decide when the Senate was in recess, then he can make appointments when the chamber is at lunch or when he is merely displeased with its inertia, reasoned e president’s powers. It therefore decided that the only time a president could install his nominees without Senate approval was during the break in between formal sessions of Congress, which usually occurs once a year. Two of the three judges further ruled that only vacancies arising during this time could be filled in this way.
The specific case overturned a decision by the NLRB, which would not have had a quorum without the recess appointments. But it calls into question all of the NLRB and CFPB’s work from the past year, not to mention hundreds of recess appointments made by previous presidents during Senate breaks. A similar challenge to the CFPB is now winding through the judicial system—but a graver one, because the body was vested with greater powers by the same questionable method. The issue seems destined for the Supreme Court.
Although Mr Obama is seen to have overstepped, his supporters claim he was pushed. A bevy of the president’s nominees await action in the Democrat-controlled Senate, where Republicans have used the filibuster to prevent up-or-down votes on the candidates. On January 24th the body approved small changes to the procedure, which allows a stubborn minority to block measures not supported by 60 of 100 senators. But supermajorities are still needed to get most work done, meaning that Republicans can continue to frustrate a chastened president.
(394)
[Time5]
The question is rather something else: What about other thinkers who operate outside this European philosophical pedigree, whether they practice their thinking in the European languages they have colonially inherited or else in their own mother tongues - in Asia, in Africa, in Latin America, thinkers that have actually earned the dignity of a name, and perhaps even the pedigree of a "public intellectual" not too dissimilar to Hannah Arendt, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Michel Foucault that in this piece on Al Jazeera are offered as predecessors of Zizek?
What about thinkers outside the purview of these European philosophers; how are we to name and designate and honour and learn from them with the epithet of "public intellectual" in the age of globalised media?
Do the constellation of thinkers from South Asia, exemplified by leading figures like Ashis Nandy, Partha Chatterjee, Gayatri Spivak, Ranajit Guha, Sudipta Kaviraj, Dipesh Chakrabarty, Homi Bhabha, or Akeel Bilgrami, come together to form a nucleus of thinking that is conscious of itself? Would that constellation perhaps merit the word "thinking" in a manner that would qualify one of them - as a South Asian - to the term "philosopher" or "public intellectuals"?
Are they "South Asian thinkers" or "thinkers", the way these European thinkers are? Why is it that if Mozart sneezes it is "music" (and I am quite sure the great genius even sneezed melodiously) but the most sophisticated Indian music ragas are the subject of "ethnomusicology"?
Is that "ethnos" not also applicable to the philosophical thinking that Indian philosophers practice - so much so that their thinking is more the subject of Western European and North American anthropological fieldwork and investigation?
We can turn around and look at Africa. What about thinkers like Henry Odera Oruka, Ngugi wa Thiong'o, Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Okot p'Bitek, Taban Lo Liyong, Achille Mbembe, Emmanuel Chukwudi Eze, Souleymane Bachir Diagne, V.Y. Mudimbe: Would they qualify for the term "philosopher" or "public intellectuals" perhaps, or is that also "ethnophilosophy"?
Why is European philosophy "philosophy", but African philosophy ethnophilosophy, the way Indian music is ethnomusic - an ethnographic logic that is based on the very same reasoning that if you were to go to the New York Museum of Natural History (popularised in Shawn Levy's Night at the Museum [2006]), you only see animals and non-white peoples and their cultures featured inside glass cages, but no cage is in sight for white people and their cultures - they just get to stroll through the isles and enjoy the power and ability of looking at taxidermic Yaks, cave dwellers, elephants, Eskimos, buffalo, Native Americans, etc, all in a single winding row.
(440)
[The Rest]
The same ethnographic gaze is evident in the encounter with the intellectual disposition of the Arab or Muslim world: Azmi Bishara, Sadeq Jalal Al-Azm, Fawwaz Traboulsi, Abdallah Laroui, Michel Kilo, Abdolkarim Soroush. The list of prominent thinkers and is endless.
In Japan, Kojin Karatani, in Cuba, Roberto Fernandez Retamar, or even in the United States people like Cornel West, whose thinking is not entirely in the European continental tradition - what about them? Where do they fit in? Can they think - is what they do also thinking, philosophical, pertinent, perhaps, or is that also suitable for ethnographic examinations?
The question of Eurocentricism is now entirely blase. Of course Europeans are Eurocentric and see the world from their vantage point, and why should they not? They are the inheritors of multiple (now defunct) empires and they still carry within them the phantom hubris of those empires and they think their particular philosophy is "philosophy" and their particular thinking is "thinking", and everything else is - as the great European philosopher Immanuel Levinas was wont of saying - "dancing".
The question is rather the manner in which non-European thinking can reach self-consciousness and evident universality, not at the cost of whatever European philosophers may think of themselves for the world at large, but for the purpose of offering alternative (complementary or contradictory) visions of reality more rooted in the lived experiences of people in Africa, in Asia, in Latin America - counties and climes once under the spell of the thing that calls itself "the West" but happily no more.
OBSTACLE
In Praise of Slow Journalism
I once asked my friend Paul Salopek for some thoughts on a writing project. He was a logical source of expertise, having won a couple of Pulitzers for his work around the world, though in this case my interest was more specific to his skills. I was going to spend a few weeks on foot, walking through rural Sichuan Province, and Paul was something of an expert on hoofing it, having walked two hundred and thirty days down the Sierra Madre, and having traipsed large swathes of Africa, Afghanistan, and the Amazon, among other places.
“So, any tips?” I asked.
He took the question seriously, and said finally, “If you’re going to take a mule, give yourself enough time to learn how to handle it. It’s more difficult than flying a plane.”
Then he told the story of a humbling moment when just such a beast broke his nose on the first day of his long walk in Mexico (a journey chronicled in “The Mule Diaries,” coming out this year from Random House). A few years ago, he started talking to me about another project, and now it has begun: a seven-year walk around the world.
He set off a week or so ago from Herto Bouri, Ethiopia, bound, first, for the Red Sea. The Out of Eden Walk is being chronicled in real time—blogging, publishing, tweeting—and then, of course, there will be the longer pieces. But all the technical accommodations can make it easy to overlook that the essential project is something we don’t see much of anymore, a kind of reporting Paul calls “slow journalism”—the process of reporting at “a human pace of three miles an hour.”
The start of Paul’s journey just happened to overlap with a reason to nod to another great practitioner of snail-paced journalism: Stanley Karnow, the historian and journalist who wrote so meticulously about Vietnam and Philippines, died on Sunday at the age of eighty-seven. I never knew Karnow, but for a kid growing up in America, interested in writing about Asia, the world he evoked—in “Vietnam: A History,” and “In Our Image: America’s Empire in the Philippines,” among other door-stop-sized volumes—was a good advertisement for the business. His friend Bernard Kalb, a former CBS reporter, once said that Karnow believed that “being a journalist is like being an adolescent all your life.” (Indeed, it wasn’t all heavy-lifting; Karnow’s book about his days of writing in Paris in the fifties made you resent your date of birth.)
There was another sentiment of Karnow’s that stayed with me: when covering Asia, he said, “you can be a specialist, but not an expert.” Humility, of one kind or another, is a quality we don’t universally celebrate in our business. For all of the effective skewering done by Stephen Colbert and The Onion, we still suffer from an industrial predisposition toward feigned, instant expertise. Something about Asia is especially attractive to charlatans. In Beijing, the joke among hacks is that, after the drive in from the airport, you are ready to write a column; after a month, you feel the stirrings of an idea-book; but after a year, you struggle to write anything at all, because you’ve finally discovered just how much you don’t know.
In a sea of ephemera, the sturdiest work is only more noticeable. My colleague Katherine Boo won the National Book Award last year for “Behind the Beautiful Forevers,” her chronicle of a Mumbai slum, which was based on three years of laborious interviews and documents. We binge on instant knowledge, but we are learning the hazards, and readers are warier than they used to be of nanosecond-interpretations of Supreme Court decisions. The economics of the business have not suddenly improved, but in the midst of all the opining with authority and speed, it’s nice to be reminded that the alternative doesn’t make you a luddite.
Journalism offers far fewer chances these days to roam the globe for a paycheck. But adventurers like Karnow and Salopek should give some solace to the aspiring vagabonds out there who wonder if foreign correspondence isn’t still one hell of a way of life.
Somewhere in Ethiopia this week, Paul thumbed out a tweet: “No wells. Bummed murky water off nomads in this enormity. Electric blue moonlight the color of pure thought.”
(721)
|
|
京公网安备11010202008513号 京ICP证101109号 京ICP备12012021号
发表于 2013-2-9 12:16:42
楼主
happy Spring festivel.