I realize that the Presidents constituency of my readership is running dry, so I'll start with a relation to the current presidential race.

Drew Magary recently posted an entry on sports blog Deadspin about the human need to experience history. Drew says, and I quote:

"The main reason that I’m voting for Obama is because he offers something that McCain does not: an opportunity for me to “be a part” of a historic moment. It’s an inescapable fact for both candidates that a black man winning the White House would be a far a greater milestone in American History than if another oldass white guy were to keep the streak alive... There’s something immensely appealing to me about the prospect of living through that sort of moment. I was born in 1976. I have lived through exactly one seminal moment in American history, and that was 9/11. I would very much like something to counterbalance it."

Now, the political scholar in me isn't really any more interested in trying to convince you that you should or should not vote a certain way, as I've adopted the "campaigns don't matter" viewpoint from my limited life experience - or at least, national campaigns don't. If you'll forgive my brief indulgence into the kind of cliche that's infected the rhetoric of Obama supporters everywhere, I'm excited to vote for Obama because of the new kind of politics he promises - but not only that, that he'll be the first president where race doesn't matter, who has experience in the Chicago slums, who doesn't have the Vietnam war as the formative moment of his adolescence. I think Drew is a little bit off - the expectation isn't just that he'll be remembered as the first black president, but it's also a new political era (I believe one of the Schlesingers recently suggested that 1932-1968 was the era of Roosevelt, and 1968-2008 is the era of Reagan, and we're about to enter a new one). I think Drew sold himself a little short - history isn't so one dimensional - who really cares that JFK was the first Catholic president? It'll be a historic presidency, but not for such bland reasons.

I'm not saying this as an endorsement, as I don't want to nitpick over policy. Rather, I'd like to use this as a parallel to my own view of pop culture. When my parents ask me for my opinion on a movie, they usually don't get too much - they say that I just "like everything." And I do, really. There are very few movies that I've seen and disliked. Whether that's because I pick good movies to see or because I'm not picky, or even because the quality of film has just been high over the last few years - I really don't know. But part of my affection for film is that I genuinely want to look back and say "this film that I saw, just because I wanted to see it, is something that's going to be appreciated for generations. This is art. This is a classic." Now, I've applied that to lesser films (I don't know anyone who likes Hollywood Homicide as much as I do) but I've got a conscious thing going on, where I like to see these films and think that this kind of media is going to influence who I am, the things I appreciate, when I'm old and dying.

I saw WALL-E last night. Pixar films, as I've said to friends, are quite possibly the closest thing to high art this decade has accomplished. I don't mean ahhhht art, where there's a conscious effort for every single symbol and idea in the movie to be so deep (did anyone see Me and You and Everyone We Know? that movie sucked) but that these are friggin' classics with the highest level of quality imaginable. It's iconic, rapturous entertainment, and as far as I'm concerned that's enough qualification for high art as I'll need. But I love this idea of popular media as art, that culture is something that's being so unassailably formed and re-formed, that this is a part of who we are as citizens of the world in this era.

Pitchfork, the oft-maligned music website, recently reviewed the new record by Girl Talk (which, if you didn't know, is a raving success on every level). The opening paragraph was particularly telling of the two contradictory approaches to pop culture that people take:

"As I was finishing an interview with Gregg Gillis in July 2006, he casually mentioned his desire to see M. Night Shyamalan's just-released fantasy movie Lady in the Water. Given the film's wretched reviews-- a pitiful 24% on Rotten Tomatoes-- and the train-wreck hype surrounding it, I thought he was kidding. He wasn't; Gillis liked some of Shyamalan's other flicks, so he wanted to check this one out. Simple. And it's this omnivorous, pleasure-seeking attitude toward pop culture that defines his work as Girl Talk. (Luckily, his taste in music is superior to his taste in film.)"

On the one side, you have Greg Gillis, who is "omnivorous" and "pleasure-seeking," free to appreciate all the glee in pop culture, that everything's got some value, that we're forming a culture here that should be celebrated. On the other hand, you've got Pitchfork, who sneers that he's got better taste in music than in film. I'm pretty sure they completely bulldozed their point in an effort to be a culture snob with that last parenthetical remark.

There are really two ways to approach culture - there's celebration, and there's refinement. This is rarely a conscious effort, I think, but just the way we are. I know a lot of people who come out of a film to take apart the different elements - what they did and didn't like. That's fine! For me, for the large majority of media, I'm happy to really lie back and say that this is something that's going to influence me as an individual, I've been told a story that I'm going to remember. It works for proficient music of any genre, and it works for any engaging video games with some real thought put into them.

This isn't to say I'm undiscerning, or that I've got some kind of enlightened taste, but rather that the range of what I like is grand and I like to bask in my enjoyment, to really spend some time appreciating it. What's this all got to do with either of the focuses of my blog? I started with Presidents, sure, but this is a flimsy premise, you say. Fuck you, I say, I'm getting to it.

The current CD in my car is Wale's 100 Miles and Running, his 2007 mixtape. On it, he repurposes Justice's D.A.N.C.E., Dirty Harry by Gorillaz, Rehab by Amy Winehouse, and Smile by Lily Allen. He repurposes each of these superbly, bringing them fantastic new context and at the same time paying tribute to the artists that are just on the cusp of whatever genres they inhabit (that Wale is signed to Mark Ronson's label certainly doesn't hurt. Spoiler alert: my favorite MCs are signed to Allido records). Unique, modern songs that established themselves immediately as classics to whatever their demographic might be just because of their sheer incomparability. And hip hop music, for what it's worth, has always been a cultural time-capsule - not just because of its tendency to reference, but also because of its attachment to trend. What genre is more regionally and chronologically dependent than hip hop?

My cultural awareness is admittedly just hitting its stride, and I can't speak to earlier hip hop as well as I can speak to the present day. But the tradition of collaboration, of repurposing, of improving has been such a positive one and makes hip hop the ideal art form for anyone who's an admirer of pop culture in general. The latest Wale mixtape is a tribute to Seinfeld - Seinfeld of all things. Rap, in general, is so well suited to the Wikipedia generation, ceaseless consumers of information and trivia that we are.

The last few decades have been notable as critics of American culture have criticized us for our materialism. But with the advent of the internet, especially, I think we're shifting toward informationalism. I spend a lot of my excess cash on books, movies, video games, and music. I love adding new things to my own repertoire. And I celebrate that. Rap has a unique opportunity to take part in that celebration, and I think that'll continue to be a key point of hip hop in the next few years. Mixtape culture, mashup culture, sampling, and even the hipster rap epidemic are going to help hip hop not be just any old genre, but another layer on the musical world that has an appreciation for just about everything. It's a good time to love hip hop.

Labels: barack obama, girl talk, mark ronson, mixtapes, pitchfork, rap, wale, wall-e

It should come as no surprise that I, as a person who is a fan of Smart People, endorse Barack Obama for president in 2008. I'm confident he's significantly smarter than anyone else running. Enough has been made of his vague promises to change the Washington atmosphere, but his specific plans on just standard governmental business is just fascinating.

I have, however, pledged not to make this a politics blog so much as a political history blog. About Presidents.

With that in mind, I'd like to direct you to the following piece Nightline did on Barack Obama.



There's a moment at the end where the anchor mentions that the Clinton campaign has already released a rebuttal to the interview, which they hadn't yet seen in full. The precise quote was "Considering that Senator Obama was a state senator just three years ago, he is the last person to be questioning anyone's experience. If he is elected, he would have less experience than any American President of the 20th Century."

Hold the fuck on.

The first thing I thought when I heard that was "Woodrow Fucking Wilson" and I immediately darted off to Wikipedia to confirm my suspicion. Now, Obama has talked a lot about how he has the "right kind" of experience, even if it's not necessarily enough. But let's see if we can talk about the experience question - in the modern, dominant, and embattled presidency of the 20th Century, how much experience does an aspiring President traditionally have?

Well, first, what counts as experience? Barack is keen to point out that he has more time in elected office than either of his chief competitors - Hillary Clinton will have eight years of Senate experience by the time the 2008 election rolls around, John Edwards will have had six. Barack will have had four, but eight years in state government before that. Of course, Hillary spent twenty years as the first lady of somewhere or other, but are we counting that? I don't think that's a position in the constitution.

If we're to play against Barack, we'll say that a position in national government, whether it means you're in the legislative branch, appointed by the president, or, what the hell, married to the president counts. Let's also say that having an executive position over any other government institution is also a reasonable way to have experience - say, Mayor, Governor, or if we're feeling salty, the Chairperson of the County Board (Just a few more years, Todd Stroger, and we'll elect you president!). And let's not count anything in state government, because that is obviously riding with training wheels.

The first President we'll look at is Teddy Roosevelt. War hero, right? He started as a state assemblyman and was on the United States Civil Service Commission from 1888 to 1895. Does that count? I'm not sure how important that was. Kind of a low level appointment, let's put that on the same level as State Senator, along with his experience as the president of the board of the New York City Police Commissioners for the two years after that.

T.R. was appointed Secretary of the Navy in 1897, and promptly resigned it in 1898 to serve in the Volunteer Cavalry in the Spanish-American War. He was in the military for less than a year, and was elected as Governor of New York in 1898. In 1900 he was forced upon McKinley as a running mate by Thomas C. Platt, became Vice President, served as VP for six months and then McKinley was shot and he inherited the Presidency.

So Teddy had, by our standards, about... four years of experience in National Government? Are we counting Military experience? Shit, why not.

William Howard Taft! Mediocre president, superb Chief Justice. Two years as the Governor-General of the Phillipines, and four as the Secretary of War. Filipinos loved him, though.

Next up was Woodrow Wilson, who I mentioned previously. He was the President of Princeton University for eight years, and then the governor of New Jersey for two. And while I respect his time as the president of a university, doesn't count. Two years. Didn't he lead us through World War I or something? I hear he was a racist. Fucking Wilson.

Harding had six years in the Senate, and two years as the Lieutenant Governor of Ohio. Silent Cal Coolidge was mayor for two years, Lieutenant Governor for three, Real Governor for two more, and Vice President for two before becoming president on accident. Hoover was head of the Food Administration for four years and Secretary of Commerce for eight. FDR was Assistant Secretary of the Navy for seven years and Governor for four. Truman was a Senator for ten years and VP for four months. Eisenhower had a bunch of important military positions for about eleven years that I don't really want to list. Kennedy spent fourteen years in congress, LBJ for 12 with two as VP. Nixon had four in the house, two in the Senate, and eight as VP. Ford spent an uneventful 24 years in the House of Representatives, including eight years as minority leader, and then less than one as VP. Carter spent four years as Governor, Reagan eight. Bush I was a representative for four years, ambassador to the UN for 2, head of the RNC for 1, head of the CIA for 1, and VP for eight. Clinton was governor for 12 years, GWB for 6.

What a lovely list! Now, I'm not entirely sure how we're sorting this list. What better prepares you for the presidency? Being President of a University? Serving in the Military? But one could argue that Wilson's greatest triumphs were leading the US through war and his postwar efforts at a new world order, or that Eisenhower's greatest legacy was his effective management of a nation in peacetime, with the Space Race, Social Security, the Interstate Highways and the nearly unrivaled prosperity. Is legislative experience less effective than executive? Truman and Kennedy did pretty well for themselves. Does a long, illustrious career make a glorious president? Nixon and Ford seem to be the exception to that rule. And of course, Wilson and Roosevelt, routinely ranked in the Near Great category of presidents (around #5 or #6) had less experience than Obama.

So what's the point? It's hard to tell what experience an effective President needs; it often seems to be associated with the historical circumstances of the era - General Wesley Clark could have been the spiritual successor to Ike had he run in a different era. Eisenhower and Wilson embraced their roles as outsiders in their successful presidencies. George Bush Sr. did a pretty good job in the early 90s despite being a longtime government insider (admittedly in a time where something like that was more of an asset - he handled the Gulf War and the breakup of the USSR well). One could pretty easily argue that now is the time for an outsider, given the rampant power abuses and corruption of this administration, while led by a supposed outsider but infested with longtime political institutions.

Does Barack Obama have the experience to be President?

No, he needs to be appointed Assistant Secretary of the Navy. But maybe after that.

Labels: barack obama, dwight d. eisenhower, george h. w. bush, presidents, teddy roosevelt, woodrow wilson