An Apology for Misrepresenting the Peace-Loving Religion - or Else.

In “I Was a Tool of Satan”, an article by Doug Marlette, the author raises two questions – censorship and the consequences of the lack of it. When his cartoon with the caption “What Would Mohammed Drive” was published on an online page of The Tallahassee it triggered a series of complaints, some going as far to threaten the author’s life. In his response “With All Due Respect, an Apology Is Not Needed”, Marlette pointed out that his attack was not aimed at the religion of Islam, rather the fanatics of the Muslim religion.

The central point of the article is undoubtedly the author’s opinion on the freedom of speech guaranteed by the First Amendment. Not only does he describe today’s society as ruled by an “anti-intellectual mobocracy”, but he even goes on to describe today’s censorship masked by “marketing surveys and focus-group findings”. He describes his sort, that of political cartoonists as on the verge of extinction, caused by a mock-sensitivity which allows misinterpretation to become a cause for threats.

The question the reader is left with is that which should, perhaps, not even be posed. Isn’t art supposed to comment on reality? If any author must contain his comments about his society in fear of his life, then perhaps this same society is undermining one of the most important human rights: that of free opinionation.

Nothing in Particular, Really

In his article “Under God”, Samuel Huntington explores the controversy that arose when the line “under God” was taken out from the Pledge of Allegiance. Keeping a rather objective stand, he makes a point of stating the arguments both for and against the omission of the particular line.

The issue arose when atheists, a minority in the United States of America expressed their dissatisfaction of being “outsiders, not full members of the political community” (Huntington, 2). To be made to refer to a god can be seen not only unconstitutional, but also in conflict with the ideals the nation was built on – a promise of religious equality amongst all. However, Huntington also addresses the importance of religion in American society, stating an opinion that by omitting “under God” from the Pledge, atheists are imposing their beliefs, or lack of, on the rest of their community.

Gary Markstein, on the other hand, gives the reader a very subjective view on the matter. By replacing the debated line with “one nation under nothing in particular” he makes a point that without religion, there is no true ideal that creates a connection between the people of America. This can also be seen as harsh criticism of the society, seeing that Markstein seems to believe that, except for religion, nothing is really a striving force for the nation.

While the two authors address the same subject, in their works we can see a difference of opinion, one which undoubtedly mirrors that of the very nation of the United States of America.

Don't Be Stupid. Protect Yourself.

In order to sell certain merchandise to potential customers, an advertiser must at first awaken in them the impression of needing the product. This is often achieved by subliminal messaging, or simply put, deceitful persuasion. Advertising companies often use techniques such as invoking in the target customer a sense of familiarity. Coca-Cola Hellenic chose to achieve this by recreating a family atmosphere of bickering at the dinner table. Henkel aims at invoking in their consumers a sense of guilt by bombarding them with images of nearly fluorescently white laundry.

On the other hand, there are those bold advertisers who chose to expose their targets straight to the point. This is mostly the case with organizations which have certain goals, such as PETA, WWF, WHO and others. A series of ads I found interesting exactly for not beating around the bush is a campaign by CondomShop.ch, an online prophylactic dealer.

In their advertisements they chose to depict unprotected intercourse by using clear metaphors. Those practicing unsafe sex were shown facing extreme situations such as extinguishing a fire or fighting in a battle without any protective gear. These situations can be seen as dumbing-down the consequences of carelessness in intercourse, for they make a point that sexually transmitted diseases can be just as dangerous as a burn or a bullet to the chest. Furthermore, they chose their slogan to be “Don’t be stupid, Protect yourself” which is to evoke in the viewer a sense of being responsible by using protection.

One must not forget that these are advertisements and aim at selling certain products, however, I find it far more acceptable than the emotional blackmail of detergent-makers. With the focus on a goal which is beneficial – fighting HIV and AIDS – CondomShop.ch actually managed to raise awareness in addition to creating a successful campaign (which so often rely on selling hot air to unsuspecting customers).

Dress codes in dance class are

1) necessary in early stages of ballet training.

2) a formality in exam classes.

3) not enforced in most dance companies.

4) a way of teaching students discipline in their attitude towards dance.

5) helpful in removing distractions for ballet teachers in class.

Examplification:

1) In order to be able to see the dancer's positioning, the teacher must be able to see not only their body, but also the way their muscles work. This is why beginners of classical ballet are often advised against wearing tights which, even though they are very thin, can be a barrier in observing the dancer's technique.

2) By having a dress code in exam classes, students are encouraged to step up to the occasion not only in performance but also in acknowledging it as a formal event.

3) Dance companies do not enforce dress codes mostly because of the preference of each dancer for certain types of warm-up clothing. Furthermore, the lack of a dress code gives dancers the opportunity to develop their individuality and grow in different directions.

4) By following the rules of dress codes, dance students are taught to take their dance genre seriously and as a discipline as well as an art form.

5) Teachers can be easily distracted by baggy clothing, seeing that these disable them from seeing mistakes in a student's technique. When the whole class looks the same, a teacher can focus on pinpointing mistakes more easily, thus giving him or her the ability to correct more students.

Comparison:

Dress code: dancers are equal, teachers are able to correct them, there is a sense of discipline in the studio.

No dress code: dancers are individualized, teachers may find difficulties in correcting technique.

Casualty:

Dress codes in dance classes, especially classical ballet classes, are something on which everybody has different views on. Most prestigious schools and studios require their students/dancers to dress a certain way, while there are those which do not have special requirements beyond the usual leotard, tights and ballet slippers. However, in professional companies, these dress codes are rarely enforced, which may be seen as wrong in the way that the ballet masters are restricted in their ability to improve a dancer's technique by corrections.

Effects:

Dress codes in ballet schools will certainly lead to dancers attempting to stand out in class in more subtle ways such as wearing jewelry (if allowed), head-wear, and makeup.

A Sentimental Journey through Pigtails and other Reflections

Reading is like blonde pigtails shining in the afternoon September sun, like melted milk chocolate, like long walks in search for chestnuts.

It all started when I was five years old, my brother was a bun just out of the oven and our mother had all the time in the world to dedicate to Emil and me. I remember how fascinated I was by letters and how I insisted on having reading and writing lessons every day, considering them so important that I found it a requirement to dress up in my fluffiest dresses, to sit as straight as I could and be as gentle as the most fragile little swan from, my then favorite, Swan Lake Pas de Quatre.

Those first workbooks that lead me to conquering the magical worlds of Lottie and Lisa and Emil and the Detectives I only remember through a mist. I know that they were green and orange, with geese and raccoons on the covers, and for some reason they were appealing to my young self. And these were not the only strange looking books that I thoroughly enjoyed.

One of my most cherished possessions as a child, besides a Barbie doll’s horse, was a battered and worn book of fairytales by the brothers Grimm. I called it “rongyos könyv”, or as it would translate into English: the raggy book. It had no covers, they were probably lost somewhere between the sixties and the seventies when my mother was a child, and not only were the pages filled to the brink with beautiful letters, but they seemed to be overflowing from the way that every leaf was searching for a way to escape the confines of the single tome. The only other book that I ever loved to bits, literally, was J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan, now held together only by some adhesive tape which gives it a smell that offers me comfort and a sense of security years after I’ve last read it.

Starting elementary school, I soon discovered the magical worlds of Harry Potter and Frodo Baggins, allowing myself to get lost in these narratives, substituting Neverland for Hogwarts and Middle Earth. Reading became an opportunity to discover all that which my scientifically inclined parents never even thought of teaching me. I would defy gravity and gobble up stories about universes where laws of physics did not apply and transporting was possible with no more than a pinch of floo powder. I spent most of my teens treading the grounds of fantasy in search for new discoveries.

As I got older I acquired a taste for irony and the absurd, an appreciation for the classical, a strange pull to the sentimental, a fascination with the dark and respect for the unconventional. I started off with Shakespeare and ended up with e. e. cummings. I glorify Keats and admire Dorothy Parker. I sing of Whitman and always keep a little Dickinson on my bedside table. My fluffy pastel dresses and blond pigtails have turned into sonnets, my fantastic adventures into narratives. From those ragged books I have come to speak Yossarian, dance Bovary, and breathe The Fair Youth. I am shaped by what I read, I become what I write.