Video Games are Shifting Evolution in Reverse

When I venture into stores, I often have emotional reactions - especially when I'm in stores I'd rather not support. In Walmart, I'm generally overwhelmed by the sheer mass of crap, and disgusted at how easily I let myself wander from a very limited shopping list - "necessities" I just can't find in locally owned shops - to buy things I don't need. Also, having read Barbara Ehrenreich's excellent Nickel and Dimed, I'm hypersensitive to the aggregious working conditions. "Kids, take in all this plight!" but without the National Lampoon humor.

The other day I found myself in a Game Stop store. Holy schmoly what a creepy place. But first for my brief confession - I own a Playstation 2, purchased in the throes of Seasonal Affective Disorder last January when we had about 8 feet of snow and it was too cold to get out and enjoy it. I bought 3 games, all rated "E" for everyone: an American Idol karaoke game, a horse racing game and one based on the movie "Cars." In the past year the thing has probably gotten about 6 hours of play - not counting the times when it filled in as a dvd player. But it's cold and snowy again, so I decided to see if I could find a Harry Potter game. Lily is all things Harry Potter now, thanks to her Dad's nightly read-alouds of the books (about to start #4).

Back to the store. I had some difficulty finding the used Quiddich Cup game, overshadowed as it is by the shocking variety of violent games. Even some of the "E" rated games involve swordfights and the like, but I guess as long as there isn't any gushing blood it's considered okay for the under 10 crowd. When I saw the rows of used Grand Theft Auto I couldn't help but think about the young men who had been indoctrinated into this world. It's shudder-worthy. Then, standing in line I had some time to check out my fellow patrons. There was a decided lack of females, and the men/boys, well...let's just say there seemed to be some hygiene issues. Honestly, it was sociopath central. It was a good tonic against doing anything more than dabbling in this pastime!

Wanted: Leadership, not Bean-Counting

Vermont is a special place. One of the unique features that makes Vermont so special is our close connection to decision making; from the open, accessible State House, to the citizen legislature whose members we can easily contact and talk with about issues important to us.

On December 19th, the Joint Fiscal Office will vote on whether to submit to the Governor’s short-sighted plan and push through interim budget cuts without the full engagement of our newly elected legislators. To their credit, the committee resisted demands to cut even more, but the cuts they are proposing will have an impact on vulnerable Vermonters, including people with disabilities, the elderly, and low-income families. And perhaps more importantly, these cuts signal a policy direction that will impact many, many more Vermonters, without engaging in vigorous debate about whether our budget woes should be addressed by cutting spending.

A December 14th editorial in the Times-Argus questioned how, after six years of Governor Douglas’s “leadership” there could possibly be any budgetary fat to trim? His dogmatic unwillingness to consider serious revenue-side solutions runs counter to the best thinking of economists, not to mention historical points of reference. That’s right – this isn’t the first time the country or Vermont has experienced budget shortfalls and economic crisis. And every time, the way out was to spend more, not less.

A fairly high-ranking state employee recently told me that until the administration can see the light at the end of the tunnel, deficit spending and increasing revenue in a meaningful way are “off the table.” Thing is, it is government’s role to create the light at the end of the tunnel, to be the safety net when the free market fails. It’s time for the Governor to worry less about the 20,000 ultra-wealthy Vermonters he referenced during his appearance on Vermont Public Radio last week and put all options on the table for the benefit of the other 600,000+ of us.

This fall, Vermonters overwhelming sent a message that we want to do things differently. We elected Barack Obama by one of the highest margins in the country, understanding his vision for pulling the country out of economic free-fall would involve deficit spending –lots of it, and not just in response to collapsing industries. Around the state new faces were elected to the Legislature. These are the representatives we want engaged in a thoughtful dialogue about how to create light at the end of the tunnel. We need big, bold leadership and visionary thinking to prevent policy decisions that are at best penny-wise, pound foolish.

Shades of Ex-Pat

I recently returned from a stay on the Puerto Rican island of Vieques - a brief and relaxing stay in one of the most lovely and uncrowded beach destinations in the Carribean. I recognize the irony in being happy that I enjoyed such an unspoiled*, uncrowded beach.


Vieques seemed to have a moderate sized gringo ex-pat community. One of the transplants we got to chat with a bit had relocated from Key West a couple years ago when it became too commercial and overrun. She was looking for the next undiscovered, extremely laid back tropical home, and found it in Isabel II, the larger of the two towns on the island. She was friendly and forthcoming about a number of things, but had surprisingly little knowledge of the culture of her adopted home. As we sat at her sidewalk cafe, a young man rode by on one of the distinctive Paso Fino horses that roam the island in various states of domestication (or not), with their exagerated, quick, high step. One of my companions thought there might be a name for that step, so we asked our friendly hostess, who seemed quite befuddled and told us it was the horseshoes that made the sound. It was apparent that she wasn't in Vieques for the native culture, and hadn't bothered to study up for her hospitality role.



By contrast, my travel companion Z found a fairly comprehensive history book of the island (post-Columbus), read it on the beach one day, and became an excellent resource for the group - able to provide, for example, context for the military bunkers we drove by as we looked in vain for a remote beach.

I have other ex-pat friends who immerse themselves in the culture of their adopted home countries, and act as one-woman tourism offices, ethnographers and cultural attaches. I just can't imagine moving to a new place and not being remotely curious about the differences.

Then again, I also don''t understand staffing the tourism office with a non-English speaker who doesn't know whether hiking Mt. Pirata is safe and acceptable (the guidebook said to ask, as the rules governing access to the former military property are ever changing). But hey, it was too hot to hike anyway!

More later about the trip...


*except for the depleted uranium left from years of Navy occupation, testing and war games.