When the Great Depression hit, Nevada had a more serious problem than most.  The silver rush had waned, as all rushes do, and life in the desert was too hard for many.  The population dwindled, and the economy, already gutted by the mining bust, nearly imploded with the impact of the market crash.  The state had no resources to build any kind of economy.  Nevada needed population, and fast. 

The legislature came up with a brilliant plan.  Earlier in state history, unregulated gambling was rampant, but had since been shut down.  By reopening the gaming sector, regulating it, and taxing it, the state built an economy remarkably fast—gaming continues to be the primary pillar of the state economy.  Relaxed marriage and divorce laws also helped bring people into the state.  The Nevada government managed to, absent any significant natural resources, build an economy out of nothing by leveraging its sovereignty.

Iceland, in a similar, but rather more altruistic move, has passed what's called the "Iceland Modern Media Initiative".  The island nation has suffered terribly at the hands of both our current economic crisis, and a pretty mouthy volcano.  The country is essentially bankrupt, and, though I cannot find data to back it up, it would not surprise me if there were an exodus in progress.  As a response, Iceland is opening its doors to political dissidents.

The act will create legal fortifications against foreign libel suits, market the country as a giant server farm in the North Atlantic, and basically protect anyone who wants to live or store data there that wants to say things about oppressive governments, homeopathic remedies, or predator drones.  It's also got a FOIA that can deadlift a Nissan.

Is it enough to bring in the Uyghur-speaking and/or Wikileaks-loving masses?  Let's hope so—this kind of experiment in state marketing marries the leveraging of sovereignty with positive moral choices, rather than just permissive ones.  It would be proof positive that you can use your ability to control your own laws to bring in an economy without selling your soul.

Back in America, we have 50 of these guys running around, and only one has really done anything with their sovereignty or even their ambiance to reel in long-term dwellers. Folks, a computer programmer can live in New York just as easily as he can live in Oregon.  Start selling your image!  Utah, play up the family-friendly!  Post Donnie Osmond's image on every billboard!  New Mexico!  You've got a great place for solar power AND Hispanic culture!  Start telling us about it!

I'm looking at the states here as franchises of the U.S.  They exist as smaller iterations of the overall American Dream, and each of them has the ability to make itself into a place that people want to live in, work in, and vacation in.  And for some reason, they all focus nigh exclusively on that last one.  Of course, as franchises, they can't break any of the rules of the parent company, but they've got enough leeway to make themselves into something cool, at least for some segment(s) of the population.

This is why Arizona is run by fools.  Advice: when you're in a recession whose flashpoint seems to be your housing industry, and people leave like moviegoers after a barfing sound, you should not pass laws that potentially antagonize 30% of your population.  To quote those stupid cats: ur doin it wrong.  You want to invite people, not drive them away.  Whether you agree with 1070 in principle or not, you must admit that in practice, it's likely to deepen and length the recession in the state.

So, Day 1 passes without incident.  I barely miss Facebook, and I'm doing pretty well at avoiding the comments sections.  Not perfect, mind you, but pretty well.   This leaves me focusing more on other stresses, which was totally not the point.  I really didn't want to think so much about the fastidia of my non-political, non-online-friend life.

I take to focusing a bit more on sports, then bam!  The "Los Suns" debacle.  I'm tickled by my recently acquired home team's desire to stick it to the man.  This is going to be rough.

Day 2 is a lot like day 1.  Where before, politics and social networking provided a release from work when I needed a break or two, I now find myself looking over my own shoulder to avoid the comments and thinking a lot more about stressful things that actually matter.  Worse, the commentary on the "Los Suns" situation in growing, and I can't avoid it.  Even minor dips into the fray leave me bothered.

I am totally vindicated when los Suns beat los Spurs.  (Even though the latter also expressed its support to the cause.)

I have a conversation with Roger about the AZ immigration law, and I read the freaking bill.  It's just as I thought it was.  I don't, however, read Jan Brewer's op-ed on ESPN.  TL, friends.  DR.

Day 3, I actually stop thinking so hard about the whole thing, follow the British election, and have a long chat with my wife.  So good.

A thought struck me on the way to Prescott, AZ, to support my wife's go of the Whiskey Row Marathon, which was this:

• I am really stressed out.

Upon searching my feelings, I realized that an undue amount of this stress came from reading what I considered crazy ranting on the part of friends, acquaintances, and total strangers on the internet.  I realized that I needed to take a break from controversy and politics for a few days.  I decided that few days would be three weeks, and starting tomorrow the 4th of May, these are my rules:

• No Facebook, Twitter, or Buzz.
• Blogs are ok, even politically charged ones, but the comments are out
• TV is ok, even political TV, but no discussing politics unless someone else brings it up.
• Posting on political topics is ok.
• Google News is ok, but again, no comments sections.

I found immediate results.  On Day -2, I outlined a giant post (which, not ironically, is political in nature), and worked on a novel (which is not).

I also discovered that I haven't told anyone my thoughts on tiny government.  They are this: we live in a world with giant corporations.  Like it or not, if we vastly shrink our government, we'll have a power vacuum which corporations will gladly fill.  They're already trying--look at the Apple prototype debacle.

On Day -1, I found myself worrying less about life in general.  I got really tired after a few minutes in bed thinking: "Everything's going to be ok."

It really will be.  So what if the big stupid law in my newly adopted state doesn't get overturned?  It'll probably be alright anyway.  So what if the deadlock in Congress isn't resolved and we maintain a Tom-and-Jerry legislature?  I'll still be fine.

On Day 0, I tried to implement the rules.  I temporarily cut off my access to Google Buzz, had my wife change my Facebook password, and I make an active effort to continue to forget my Twitter password.  I've failed to stop reading the comments sections, but I'll make a better effort on Day 1.

An overactive rivalry between the major political parties in America has made things pretty tense.  Call it the Culture Wars, call it the Big Sort, call it what you will, but there is definitely some rancor in the Home of the Brave these days.  You know who else has had cultural strife and a divided nation?  Plenty of other countries, but I'd specifically like to look at the Ivory Coast.  Starting in 2002, the Ivorian Civil War ripped the country apart, and not just with rhetoric.  Bombs, trucks full of M-16-wielding militants, airstrikes.  Child soldiers, UN intervention.  But, then, in 2006, a curious thing happened: the World Cup.  It appears that both sides of the conflict had a limit to their hatred, and that limit was exceeded by sweet, sweet association football.

Seems like the good ol' Stars and Stripes could use a little of that love.  Alas, however, the Olympics don't really seem to do much in that regard.  Even post-2004, basketball seems like a gimme, and we have to wait two more years for that anyway.  No, what we want is to watch our political fantasies play out on the gridiron, and since there's no one to pick on in that sport (Canada?  Really?  Huh, never would have guessed), we'll just have to beat up on each other.  It may not be unifying, but it's still better than the comments section of the average msnbc article.

So, here's the thought: A Red Team and a Blue Team, composed of college players.  Like another Pro Bowl game, but each team represents a major party.  This presents a few complications, which I will address by discussing three possible ways I see this playing out:

• Teams are divided by the political preference of the state where the school is located.  This is pretty awkward as University of Texas becomes more conservative than the school actually is, but how much more awkward would it be to have the average Texan's favorite players hucking and running for the Liberal Team?
• Teams are divided by the political preference of the school itself.  That may end up a secular school / religious school battle, which would be fun but really scary and lopsided.  And controversial.
• Players themselves are sorted by their political preference.  This would be super awesome as you'd get to find out the stances of your favorite players, but my concern is that perhaps not all college football players care about politics.  That being the case, even if only the ones that do care play, it would still make for a really interesting game.

There's not much else to this post--it's really just a whimsical sketch of what I think would be a pretty interesting occurrence, with the hope that some of the rage that is fueling the current political climate would instead be used in a place more appropriate to its illogical fervor.  What do you think?  Go ahead and post on the facebook link or here on the blog.

In recent years, popular psychology has seen an increase in interest in the effect of the social network on individual behavior.  Jonah Lehrer of The Frontal Cortex psychology blog, notes an interesting example of that phenomenon in this post: It appears that both generosity and obesity spread through social networks.  In the generosity experiment specifically, the "pay it forward" attitudes of the children involved seemed to show that kindness is, in fact, a virus (in the sense that it spreads as a contagion would).

That study, though interesting, was a little bare on details.  The facts regarding behavior propagation don't really help THAT much unless they can be analyzed and utilized.  Sure, being happy makes your friends happy.  Great.  But to actually harness that information into something useful, you have to know how it works.  When will quitting smoking make others quit smoking?  Why do certain people resist the wave of generosity?  The answers to these questions will yield usable knowledge for everyone from the individual to charitable and public health organizations, all the way to government entities.  But what are the trends, and how is that information obtained?  It seems as though the psychologists are at a loss to explain the principles behind behavioral propagation within social networks.

This is where an otherwise completely obscure field of study comes in.  As part of the 20th Century's linguistics explosion, the study of the interface between sociology and linguistics, sociolinguistics, focuses in part on describing the principles by which language change is propagated.  Language was known to be viral before other behaviors, it appears.  Interesting parallels might be discovered by comparing these behavioral propagations to linguistic ones.  For example, Peter Trudgill noticed in 1974 that urban centers tended to influence each other's speech like celestial bodies do.  The more massive (populated) an area was, and the closer it was to another population, the more likely it was to affect its speech.  (This may also account for musical subgenres occurring by geographical location, e.g. East Coast / West Coast rap.)

There are literally tons (depending on the weight of the paper used, of course) of sociolinguistic papers that contain principles that can be applied to behavioral propagation.  Psychologists: go wild.

In recent years, the word "narrative" has taken on special meaning in the American military sphere, specifically in the Strategic Communication world, and even more specifically in the anti-terrorism activities we are currently engaged in.  I will not go into great detail as to what it means, as this article has done a much better job.  As an overview, a narrative is cohesive content that explains events for which facts are unattainable.  In previous posts, I have explored the limitations of humanity's access to fact, and its ability to recall and utilize it, so the ability to produce, transmit, receive, and store narratives is essential to the human experience: it's what gives that experience cohesion.  Narratives do not have to be uniform for all equal sets of sensory input.  Let's take this example: There are two cars pulled off to the side of the freeway.  One is a truck, one is a red sports car.  There is a man in jeans and a t-shirt changing a tire on the sports car, and a woman in business attire talking frantically on a cellphone.  One person passing the scene might think that the woman's car was the one in distress, and that the man pulled off the freeway in a truck to assist her.  Another might think it is the man's car that was in distress, that the woman pulled off to see what she could do, and was calling for assistance on the man's behalf.  Both narratives explain the data.  But they are different.

Narratives come in much larger sizes than this, of course.  Religion (and irreligion) is essentially a narrative.  A number of national histories and identities are narratives, or at least based in narratives.  These larger narratives tend to be self-reinforcing, because of the human tendency to reject data that doesn't fit into an existing worldview, as seen here (I will link to this article till the end of time, folks.  It's so good.)  Currently in America there are a number of political narratives that influence the way we process national and world events.  A shift has been occurring regarding these narratives over the last few decades, though.  It's not a shift in what the narratives say, as much as a shift in how they are used.  In general, narratives, like any content pieces, are viral.  Information is passed almost involuntarily between humans for reasons that are still somewhat obscure, and that political narrative, in the past, worked quite a bit like any other viral content.  Parties worked on policy and public relations, attempting to sway independents and those who weren't dogmatically partisan.  The vote was disposable, being purchased with promises of cooperation and wise policy.  Over the course of the years, the narratives associated with the parties began, in a small part, to shape the partisans' cultures, and the country began to divide itself out, in what journalist Bill Bishop calls "The Big Sort" (Please, I beg of you, find a copy of his book by the same name and read it.  Now.)

Seeing the country separate ideologically and physically, the parties began to dabble in a new strategy to ensure votes: shoring up the base.  The idea here is that, while hope for wise policy is a good incentive to vote, fear of poor policy is also a great motivator.  Instead of courting those who had not decided which candidate they preferred, an appropriate party narrative was selected (all parties, including third parties, have multiple narratives, whether they call them that or not) and propagated to a targeted audience.  Whether this was purposeful and planned or not, I don't know.  The tactic seemed not to turn Lefties to Righties, Righties to Lefties, or undecideds to either side, but to galvanize people who already leaned to one side, increasing voter turnout from existing party members.  This was total ideological war.  Apparently, it has been working well for the parties.  The problem is that of desensitization.  What was at one point considered a bit too "over the edge" is now an acceptable thing to say, and the narratives that are most commonly believed are increasingly accusative of opposing sides.  Like the junkie that needs more and more to get a fix, the parties need fierier and fierier rhetoric to stir the base.

It is my opinion that there is no way to predict how this war of the worldviews will end, but it does not look pretty for the country.  Let me be clear: both major parties and many minor parties are deeply involved, and good governance is being left to the side because of it.

My friends, we are all smarter than this.  Let's cast off the ignorance being thrust upon us in the name of patriotism.  True patriots defend each other's ability to have differing opinions.

PS: Of course, I already know this is my own personal narrative.  It's unavoidable!

Disclaimer:  This is a blogpost about rhetoric and spin.  I have opinions, and they differ from yours.  I try to whitewash my leanings on the political spectrum out of this post, so as not to distance anyone from this content, which I believe important, by political differences.  If you can tell what my political opinions are from this piece, please try to ignore them and retain the general message, if at all possible.  Thanks.

The Facts Do Not Speak

"Before you try to convince anyone else, be sure you are convinced, and if you cannot convince yourself, drop the subject. " -J.H. Patterson

"Being convinced" and "not being convinced" are all the rage these days.  "Being converted" also, in a similar vein.  Companies and causes have "evangelists", and people talk of the "gospel of" this or that.  Certain ideas are considered "dangerous".  Talk of "being converted" and "being convinced" is a little deceptive, as it takes the agent out of the equation: oneself.  That is, we all choose to believe what we believe.  No matter the reasons for our belief, we alone are responsible for it, not to other people, institutions, or governments, but to ourselves.  Crusaders for truth, no matter their guise, are actually crusaders for belief.  This is not necessarily a bad thing, but the semantic distinction, I believe, is an important one.  Some of the new belief being peddled today is pretty basic, but most of the new propositions produced in our modern world are difficult and unavailable to our senses.  An engineering firm may claim to have broken the land speed record or to have produced a cheap, efficient alternative energy, but no matter the video, audio, data, and testimonial proof, we cannot rely on our senses to assign an unassailable truth value to those statements.

An example: A man is on trial for murder.  The prosecution brings in 50 witnesses from all walks of life, apparently unconnected, that claim to have seen the man in flagrante delicto.  Is it proven, absolutely, that the man did it?  Are those 50 witnesses equivalent in value to having seen it yourself?  Might someone, somehow still be convinced that the man did not commit the crime?  Absolutely.  It is unlikely that the man is innocent in this case, and the law allows for testimonial evidence because otherwise there would be very few convictions (note the word), but a number of possible scenarios may exist in which the man is innocent.

Imagine this scenario again, only in this case, the prosecution has 40 witnesses and the defense has 10, that swear that they saw the same man in a different place at the time of the murder.  In this instance, with both versions of the story having a large number of witnesses, does the majority rule?  Can truth be voted into existence?  Is it clear that the man is still guilty?  I would say no, and many would agree with me.

An interesting mathematical analogue is Gödel's set of "incompleteness theorems", which state that any system of logic cannot both be consistent (that is, never produce a contradiction) and complete (that is, prove something about all possible statements).  Indeed, requiring either completeness or consistency out of the much-messier-than-abstract-logic world we live in usually produces that oft-sung fear, uncertainty, and doubt.

Where does that leave us?  In our court example, each side will likely try to paint the other as corrupt or crazy— when a clear window into truth is unavailable, the way to influence the choice of belief is to shutter the others.

Take the current and ongoing discussion of climate change, for example.  Both those who accept it and those who deny it take certain evidence as sufficient to foster belief, and reject the evidence to the contrary.  On the pro side, earth scientists have gathered mountains of data that support the idea that human societal emissions are raising the air and surface temperature of the planet.  Believers reject the recent massive snowstorms as proof negative, and any of the reporting regarding some of the scientists' motives being tainted as inconsequential to the matter. 

On the reverse, skeptics believe that recent, very cold meteorological occurrences disprove anthropogenic global warming.  They find reports on Climategate to be vindication for a disbelief in the suggested phenomenon, and point to other qualified scientists' opinions that disagree with those who believe in global warming.

Despite what each side wants to believe of the other, both are basing their opinions on facts.  The facts appear to be contradictory, and they cannot be disentangled, unless we all become super-scientists and mega-sleuths.  When they are reported rather than perceived directly, the facts do not speak for themselves.  They do not speak at all.

The Act of Assigning Truth

What is it about certain facts that convince us where others do not?  In many cases, it seems to be only those facts that already fit our worldview that are acceptable to us.  This is not just the case for the uneducated or closed-minded, but as this Wired article discusses, affects many whose lives are spent in pursuit of facts, and those theories that give them voice.

Facts are generally presented in a way that makes them simpler to recipients.  Whether it be plain language, a visualization, or some other method of presentation, all simplification decreases the neutrality of the data, which, in turn, has been slanted in some way through its collection by the preconceptions of the collector, no matter how neutral they try to be.

A great example of this is the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009, also known as the "Stimulus Package".  Some say the Act is effective, working to resolve the economic problems the country is facing at the moment.  Some say the Act is ineffective, and others claim the Act is exacerbating the current economic recession.  There's a lot of data out there, and it seems that much of it can be spun in any direction—note the comments section of this post featuring a visualization in favor of the ARRA.

Fight With Words

In any report of information, there must be a presentation.  Words must be chosen and facts must be selected.  Some facts will be omitted.  All in all, "spin" in any report of information, purely factual or not, cannot be avoided.  In many cases, spin is actually sought out, of course.  The intent of many reports is to convince rather than to inform.  The tools of the trade are those ancient and modern rhetorical devices intended to convert, which can also be used to deceive.

We don't really have to go through all of those tools in order to recognize them, but it's interesting to note the following being used as fail-safes in the current political discussion—

• Straw Man: a clearly incorrect assumption is attributed to an opposing party as if it were their primary argument in an issue.  It is quickly diffused by the speaker, proving his or her point.

• Astroturf: It is made to look, often through electronic means, as though a certain position or candidate has broad "grassroots" support when they do not (hence the name).

• Appeal to Common Sense:  An argument is based on a very basic premise, which is presented as if it were so obviously correct as to not require further explanation or discussion.

• Excluded Middle:  Extremes are presented as the only options, creating a binary decision out of a continuum of choices.  A very large part of the current political arena operates in this manner.

• Begging the Question:  The premise of an argument either is not proven or is not actually a logical precursor of the argument.

• Factcheck: It's very easy to "factcheck" something, because few people, if any, will actually review the sources you use to perform the check.  It's much easier to simply believe or disbelieve your statement, rather than investigate it.  If you claim to have investigated something, and claim to be neutral, it's easy to convince people you're right.

Rhetoric is so popular because the media needs to sell hits or papers or adspace, and because candidates need to attain and retain offices, and because of the nature of ideas: people want to propagate them.  Often, these attempts to persuade are directed not at those who clearly disagree, but at those who already agree or almost agree.  It's easier to move someone's worldview an inch than a mile, and it's easier to sell news to people who agree with your spin.

Arbiters

As an undergraduate in a small, close-knit student apartment complex, I awoke one morning to a paper on my door.  Some enterprising and outraged young woman or women had been upset with the behavior of at least one of the men in the complex, and had taken it upon herself (or themselves) to post a notice on each door calling us to the carpet, disguising the message in a pseudo-humorous fashion, in the style of The Scarlet Pimpernel.  A few mornings later, a young man responded in kind.  A third, somewhat less eloquent poster appeared.  A neighbor had had it, and issued a rather humorous decree intended to end the debate.  I, amused by this last posting, and wishing to contribute to the end of this discussion, posted, on my door alone, a scorecard, rating the rhetoric of each attempt.  While the political debate is posted on the internet and over the airwaves, rather than on our doors, I think it would benefit us all to rate the rhetoric being used to convince us.  Every content provider and every candidate from every party in every country spins their statements.  Every one.  If the facts spoke for themselves, we would have no problem choosing universally popular leaders and policies.

Many of us can be referees.  We can, in our minds and on our blogs, make judgments about the rhetoric used against (or for!) us, be aware of the forces moving to convince us, and retain control of our own decision-making, not leaving that faculty to easy manipulation from the outside.  All in all, I still believe we can wisely choose what to believe.

or, "An Augmented Reality Is Now a Necessity to Be Free"

 "Conversations aren't contests!"
 "OK, a point for you, but I'm still ahead."
    -Calvin and Hobbes (not in that order)

We used to proclaim the coming of a great Age of Information, where our world would be shaped by the free dissemination of knowledge, causing unpredictable, miraculous changes to our culture.  Now that it's here, we're still trying to figure out what the ramifications are.  Socially, it seems that there are new structures being constructed electronically that have no analogs in the flesh-and-blood world.  In the realm of pure information, a wide and cacophonous sea has arisen, full of truth, falsehood, trivia, rumor, news, and entertainment.  The internet hosts information with a half-life rather than a shelf life, self-destructing in days, hours, or, in the case of some personal news on social networking sites, minutes.  The rise of the meme, a small unit of virally-spreading social importance, has produced culture on the same scale.  Nigh infinite specialized blogs give otherwise tiny interests worldwide audiences.

We continue to produce music, film, television, literature (and other reading material), and other art, and more people have access to it—and to content produced before the Electronic Era.  In this way, the entire universe of human discourse is expanding at an amazing rate.  What does not seem to be expanding, however, is our ability to retain it—at least, not fast enough.  It appears that as this expansion of content continues, the average human brain will need a peripheral device in order to process it.

I don't have the research to back everything I'm about to say.  Truthfully, I don't think the research has been done, and in some cases, the research may not be possible.  I have listed here three assumptions about our society and its content that support the idea that the human mind cannot suffice forever as a solitary data processing device.

The Three Assumptions

1. The universe of content is expanding faster than our rate of daily content consumption
2. The rapidly dividing nature of social groups is making content less accessible overall
3. Intertextual depth is increasing the difficulty of making all the connections available in a work

I'll explain them.  Number one.  There is a lot of information in the world.  The internet has made it so easy to produce content that everyone is doing it.  (Almost literally.)  As the number of content producers increases and the amount of content they produce increases, our ability to consume it all (and our desire, to be honest) can't keep pace.  That's fine: no one expects you to read the whole Internet.  In fact, I would advise heavily against it.  But it does mean that at some point, there will be so much content to refer to that our shared universes of discourse will become more separate.

Think about that.  When was the last time you talked to a friend about a basketball game, a movie, a book? Now delve deeper.  When was the last time you talked about an issue, in which both parties had read similar material?  What about a webcomic or a flash game?  As we create a larger universe, we might eventually produce enough content that most of our communication will be in hypertext.

Number two.  Culture naturally separates out, like old dairy products.  One clump here, another there, divided by preferences in religion, politics, language, genetic background, tastes in music, age, and hairstyles.  Modern culture separates more than it used to.  In college, for example, I ran with a crowd that came from mostly the middle of the political spectrum, listened to indie music, watched indie film, but all dressed reasonably normally.  We did not mingle well with groups that were slightly different politically and had stranger hair, even if they liked the same music and movies.  We had enough in common with those groups, but there was clearly a divider.

Today's dividers are many, as there are many things to be divided over, and separate less dissimilar strata.  Can it be that these strata produce content that is left unread by the others?

Number three.  Back in the day there wasn't much content to refer to.  The writers of the classics basically referred to religious texts and classics that were even older than them.  Today, you can't get through an episode of Psych without a couple dozen references to other works.  Some of those works refer to other works.  Intertextual depth is what I'm calling that networking of references, and it makes full comprehension of a work difficult, turning pieces of content into a set of nesting dolls.  Perhaps this depth could become too much for the human mind.

Note that I am not asserting that all three of these assumptions are correct, or indeed that any one of them is.  But if any one of them stands true, it stands to reason that someone wishing to converse in the future should be supplied with a device running an algorithm to search for the meanings of references in any given conversation, so that information can flow unhindered.  At least, I hope so, because I'm kind of getting sick of looking things up on wikipedia while I'm instant messaging people.

Why the President should take his cues from the newest cop show on basic cable

Ironically, what I know about the State of the Union, I read online.  I did not watch the address, not out of any protest or anything, but just because I only have an hour or so a day to watch TV, and I wanted to watch White Collar, USA Network's new show, which is basically a serialization of the last half-hour of Catch Me If You Can.  Note: I don't really have a functional TV, so I have to watch all my shows a day late.

This choice seems fortuitous, as the series seems to be one step ahead of the President.  I'll explain what I mean: White Collar premiered this season, to quite a number of critical accolades; its pilot was very well done, and promised a lot of con man intrigue, some decent humor, and an Odd Couple-style sensibility that would make for a light, quirky success, as most of USA's offerings have been in recent years.  Critics were a little disappointed as the season progressed.  The show seemed to be more of a lightweight than originally guessed, and the back story really offered little more than "ex-con looks for ex-girlfriend": the protagonist, work-released con man Neal Caffery, believes that a rogue Fed kidnapped his girl for leverage against him.  Then comes the big reveal: Caffery's mentor (and the other half of the odd couple), Peter Burke, is seen meeting in a hotel room with the girl, while Caffery is on a wild goose chase elsewhere in (presumably) the same hotel.  This was what we were left with before USA's traditional winter hiatus/hibernation.

People went nuts.  There were rumors of the network trying to rein in the show runner for his apparent transgression against his fans.  There were a lot of Twitterers (Tweeple?  Twits?) who threatened never to watch again.  Of course, no one actually missed the first episode back after the break.  In it, we find out that Burke was not the bad guy, and were presented with a pretty awesome episode—involving boiler-room scammers and vacuum-sealed comics vaults—to boot.  Not looking to repeat his earlier mistake, showrunner Jeff Eastin put up a backstory-heavy, very tense, and very cool second episode of the new semester.  He knew better than to hope that we would be sated with just the revelation that Burke isn't evil.

Now for Obama.  Much like the show, his pilot episode got killer reviews (and like White Collar's premiere, killer ratings), but the series dropped off after the plot of saving the country from a Second Great Depression wore on viewers, and the show seemed to turn to "ramming things through Congress".  As a season finale, Scott Brown wins in Massachusetts, removing the supermajority from the Senate.  We went into the second season of Obama wondering: How does that change things?  How will he respond?

And though I didn't watch it myself, I know enough about the President to venture that it was a good show.  The man can certainly get his speech on.  I think that the things that will affect viewers the most, as a whole, are the points he made regarding contrition for losing touch with the (still pretty moderate) general citizen electorate.

And, like last week's episode of White Collar, not everyone's convinced by this offering.  If Obama's going to keep his viewers from watching Lost instead of participating in government, he's going to have to do something universally popular in a public way.  And fast.

(Note: much of this material comes from Nils Bergeson's blog and the Center Movement page.)

I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a lot of political extremists out there these days.  It seems that every issue has become one where you're either a brave defender of freedom and the other guy is a despot intent on taking your precious liberties, or you're a protector of the innocent and downtrodden and the other guy is a plutocrat or a nut with an axe to grind.

This is pretty natural and normal--political extremism has been prevalent throughout our country's history, and vilifying the dudes across the aisle has always been a good way to gain the point.  Western society's morals are founded on the idea that most of life can be explained by an eternal struggle between good and evil.  Societies that base their philosophy on the Chinese tradition have an idea of yin and yang--opposites that work in harmony.  The American two-party system was truly intended to be the latter, whereas too many consider it the former.

The benefits of the large American parties are, as I see them, two-fold: they allow the people to focus on candidates rather than choose among dozens of parties who ride policy hobby horses.  Also, with the two major parties, there's always a strong minority to keep a check on the party in power.  (see here for more discussion on that)

Further, whether you're pro-life or pro-choice (or, I guess, anti-life or anti-choice), or whatever other moral hot button gets your coffee percolating in the morning, issues that touch our personal philosophies and religion can make us crusaders for the rest of the party platform, even if we don't really care about it.  If the guy who agrees with me on gun rights / control says something I don't align with perfectly about taxes, I'm more likely to, over time, be swayed on the thing that I'm less vehement about.  In other words, it's natural to fall in line, "drink the kool aid", if you will.

Political moderation and distance from the extreme ends of either side of the spectrum (or ANY side, if you believe that the thing has four corners) is a better choice for most Americans, and this is why (please click on "why").

Extremists find their lives full of conflict.  We live in a world full of unavoidable social contact: at work, church, school, as always, but on the internet so much more than ever before, and in a medium through which honest opinions--even offensive ones--are not put through the same etiquette filters as they would be in face-to-face contact.  This leads extremists to either constantly feel attacked by those with opposing viewpoints, or to excise those on the other side from their world, both cases yielding increased negative feeling toward the other party.  In turn, this will result in a solidifying of the idea that those on your side are "good", and those on the other are "evil", which makes compromise more difficult.

A moderate voter is more likely to choose a moderate candidate, which in turn leads to progress.  Ignoring one side or the other incurs unwillingness to compromise, and all legislation at all levels has to be compromise.  True moderates will not choose a candidate because they agree on just one issue (no matter how important) without any consideration for the candidate's other qualifications.

Moderates in any political system are essential to prevent a wide-scale outbreak of disorder, as disaffected extremists are prone to the use of unusual measures to further their agendas.

(Note that I start capitalizing Moderate here.  This is on purpose, to indicate Moderate as a political position.)

I've recently come across the Moderate section of the blogosphere, and I've found it interesting to note the state of our group.  Only a couple of blogs that I've read really hit the mark on what a Moderate movement should focus on.  I haven't gotten through them all by any stretch, but here's what I'm seeing needs to happen:

Moderates need to be more unified.  There's a good facebook group right now, but moderates need to be communicating one with another.  That way, we can get the word out.  For example, Nils Bergeson talks about supporting groups that build an effective Civil Society (and explains that "Civil Society" doesn't mean Shadow Government).  If Moderates join together, they can discuss which groups they thing effectively meet that goal.  Further, if there are Moderates across the country, they can suggest which of their local candidates best serve the Moderate goal.  As all politics is local, this should have a positive effect on all politics.

Avoid focusing on an ideology other than moderation.  There is a lot of room for moral indignation in the middle, but that's not the purpose of the Moderate agenda, as I see it.  It appears to be that the moderate philosophy is and should be "There's another way to do that which keeps both sides' most important goals intact."  Passing judgment on general American morals, standards, and culture, except to condemn widespread extremism, is detrimental to the Moderate cause; it's like an umpire in a Yankees hat.

Recognize the limits of Moderate thought.  Even moderation should be taken in moderation, as we will all almost necessarily have one or two pet peeves that make us look like a righty or a lefty.  While mentioning that the parties are meant to be yin and yang, there will always be certain positions that people view as good and evil.  Hitler and Stalin weren't just political extremists--heavy yin and yang--they were evil.

Define your terms.  Is "Centrist" the same as "Moderate"?  Is "radical" the same as "extremist"?  Can there be a "Radical Center"?  I believe there can be, but we need to be on the same page here.

Find a voice.  Right now, the voice of the left is very powerful, and the voice of the right is gaining speed, but there isn't really a good voice of the middle.  This is a long-term goal, of course, but as we gain speed, we'll want to add satire, humor, and personal stories of life as a Moderate to our repertoire.  The appeal of the extreme Left right now has a lot to do with the amount of entertainers that espouse and are willing to evangelize their opinions, while the appeal of the extreme Right stems from pundits spouting supposed "common sense".  As Americans see how ridiculous the fringes are, and how much sense it makes to be a Moderate, we will hopefully produce our own well-loved content.