One of the recurring, albeit underlying, themes in my plays is the examination of human behavior: Can people change? Because we are animals, must we at root behave like animals? Are we to some degree naturally moralistic, or are these  morals constructs created by us to civilize behavior? I don’t usually set out to write about these things. Usually I set out to write about people in conflict in some way, or sometimes (rarely) I have a beginning notion or perhaps some latest outrage in the news gets my juices flowing, but often this central question of “what does it mean at core to be human” comes up.

I was reminded of this again the other day when I got an email from a friend who had seen my play “Next Time” in Fullerton on an evening I happened to be there. (And, if she’s reading this, I apologize for not responding yet to the email. But I will.) Among other things, she said she was glad to see another one of my plays that deals with ethics. I hadn’t realized this was another of my plays that deals with ethics, so to speak, but upon reflection I’ve realized she’s right; at one point the protagonist’s inner self (and, therefore, himself) questions all the behavioral systems he’s set up, pointing out that there’s no proof that anyone or anything else exists. (That point of view, it occurs to me as I’m writing this, is the perspective of a sociopath; I’ve written a few of them, too.) In my play “Animals,” a character named Social Realist gives us a tour of mankind’s base brutality through the prism of four interconnected lives (a man, a woman, a “Bad Friend” who may have had an affair with the man, and a contract killer), as well as his own experience when young of seeing a dog eat all her own pups.

Given my subconscious interest in this topic, this news story jumped off the web at me. In essence, according to this research as reported in the current issue of Science, humankind is more ethical and less self-interested than its closest cousin, the chimpanzee.

Key finding #1:

Economists used to say that people are self-interested and rational, maximizing whatever payday is within reach. But recent studies have blown that idea to smithereens. When people are given the choice of accepting or rejecting the split of some spoils that a partner offers—say, how to divide the $10 that researchers have given them in an experiment—they reject offers perceived as unfair. So if you offer me $2 and propose to keep $8 for yourself, I’ll walk away and leave us each with nothing—stupid, considering that I’m rejecting $2 in free money, but consistent with the emerging idea that humans have a strong, evolved sense of fairness that trumps immediate self-interest. Something like this probably underlies people’s tendency to punish cheaters, free-riders and noncooperators. The game has been played uncounted times in labs, and the basic finding is that proposers typically offer 40 to 50 percent of the pot, and responders walk away from any offer less than 20 percent.

I find this true in my own life, as I’m sure you do. Today we had some work done at our office by a professional firm and, before leaving, their workers subtly shared with my business partner that if we ever needed more work of the same sort done these guys would gladly come without telling their employers and charge us less. When I heard this, I was outraged. Not only are they moonlighting as direct competitors to the people who employ them, they’re doing it within their employers’ customer base. That’s doubly, or triply, cheating. Is it in my self-interest to be outraged? No, because the value proposition they offered would save us money. Nevertheless, I would never call these guys privately to come work for me, and I’m thinking about how to anonymously alert their employers.

Evidently, chimps see this sort of thing differently:

In a study being reported today in Science, researchers had 11 chimpanzees at the Wolfgang Köhler Primate Research Center in Germany play this “ultimatum” game. One chimp, the “proposer,” sat beside the “responder.” The proposer pulled out a tray as far as he could. The tray held two dishes with raisins, separated by a see-through divider: one for the proposer and the other for the responder. The proposers first chose which tray to pull out; if the responder liked what he saw—and he could see how many raisins he and the proposer would each get, by seeing how many raisins were on each side of the divider—he accepted the offer by pulling the tray the rest of the way out. Both chimps would then chow down. If the responder did not like the offer, he refused to pull the tray the rest of the way out, and neither chimp got a snack.

If the dishes held the same number of raisins, the responder chimp almost always accepted a 50-50 offer and rejected a 100-0 offer. Unlike people, though, they rarely rejected 80-20 offers—only 5 to 14 percent of the time. And unlike people, who fume when confronted with unfair offers, the chimps almost never took umbrage, throwing a tantrum at an unfair offer a mere 2 percent of the time.

There has long been a debate over whether chimps are able to sense fairness, much less tolerate unfairness. These results suggest that chimps behave “according to traditional economic models of self-interest, unlike humans, and that this species does not share the human sensitivity to fairness,” the scientists write. As scientists find fewer and fewer fundamental human traits to be unique (see the previous post on tool-using animals), at least we can keep hold of this one.

There are two lessons for me in all this:

1. I guess there’s more hope for humankind after all, because chimp wars are truly vicious and the issue of fairness never intrudes.
2. Economists think people act like chimps (but we don’t). Now I better understand the origin of Reaganomics and its present-day ilk.

In the 1970’s, comics artist Neal Adams did a heroic thing: He personally committed himself to a campaign to cajole and embarrass DC Comics into doing something to help Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the creators of “Superman.” While DC had made untold hundreds of millions of dollars with this character — in publishing, in lunch boxes and Halloween costumes and action figures, on TV and radio and seemingly everywhere else all around the globe — Siegel was eking out a living as a typist at $7,000 a year and Shuster was going blind and unable to work. While the “work for hire” agreement the two had signed in the 1940’s may have been the letter of the law, it sure didn’t feel like Truth, Justice, and the American Way. Adams’ very public campaign culminated shortly before the release of the first Christopher Reeve “Superman” movie, and thus succeeded in embarrassing DC into giving the two creators an annual “salary” of $35,000, and amount that has grown over the years and is now paid to their heirs.

Most of us probably thought that was the end of it.

But now, according to Portfolio magazine, Siegel’s widow (who was the inspiration for Lois Lane) has contracted Hollywood’s most hated lawyer to represent her in a battle to recover all rights to Superman — and evidently he’s had success with similar cases.

Here’s the story.

Here’s a story I found delicious because the misuse of language is only slightly less entertaining than Yogi Berra. The story is headlined “Giuliani faces tough NRA crowd.”

To begin with, reading the story reveals that the “tough crowd” didn’t exactly pepper spray the candidate, or even ask difficult questions; rather, they were reduced to tepid applause and wondering if perhaps they might be able to some day bring themselves to support him even though he’s from New York and “hard” on guns. If Giuliani ever becomes president, he’d better be prepared to face far tougher crowds than this.

Here’s my favorite quote from the story:

“I think he is sincere; I just don’t know if he truly believes it down deep inside,” said Thomas Crum, a retired trucking executive from Scottsdale, Ariz. “I have a little difference with him just beginning to realize what his position really is.”

Mr. Crum, here is what “sincere” means: “free of deceit, hypocrisy, or falseness; earnest.” So if you think he is sincere, then you should know he truly believes it down deep inside. If somehow you think he is sincere but don’t know if he truly believes it, then you are having thoughts that are disconnected from knowledge — not surprising given the environment you found yourself in during Giuliani’s speech. This may be a medical condition called psychosis, one you should have checked out.

Someone else at the NRA event struggled with sincerity’s close kin, truthfulness:

Sitting next to Bell at lunch Friday, Joe Rogers was keeping a scorecard for each of the presidential candidates on the conference’s brochure. While some speakers had check marks, Giuliani was the only one with a zero next to his name. The Wilmington, N.C. salesman said even Democratic presidential candidate and New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson scored better during his taped remarks.

“I don’t think there’s anything he could have said and been truthful about to win over the crowd,” Rogers said of Giuliani. “To his credit, he spoke the truth.”

From this, I take it that Mr. Rogers is saying Giuliani could have won some of the crowd over had he chosen to lie, something some of the crowd would have welcomed (although not Rogers himself); most of the crowd awards no credit for truth. Given the track record of the GOP from Reagan to present, I believe the crowd is going to be delighted with what it’s getting. And that Giuliani would be better off drinking that particular flavor of Kool-Aid now so he can get used to it for the long months to come.

While I’m on the topic of the cartoons of Ruben Bolling, which I usually enjoy, here’s one where he misses by a mile. For the Village Voice he recently did this strip, which purports to be “Toy Story 3,” but written by Cormac McCarthy. While Bolling does get McCarthy right a couple of times, as with Woody’s line “I aim to,” for the most part he’s clueless about what distinguishes McCarthy. The abundant presence of commas is an immediate tipoff. McCarthy largely ellides them. Because he doesn’t use them he must find other ways to write sentences for clarity and it is this which gives him his rhythm. (Which I’ve just attempted to emulate, with limited success.) It is the spareness of the writing, the lack of reflection in narration, the surgical skill in selecting precisely the right word, the narrative drive unblocked by commas, and the wide-open spaces he uses for setting that make McCarthy’s writing seem existentialist. It’s not directly about God. Either Bolling doesn’t know anything about McCarthy (perhaps because he hasn’t read him), or in this case he’s got poor judgment.

(If you can’t see the strip below, click here.)

Good friend and longtime finder of cool things in pop culture Rich Roesberg tells me I have to read this strip. It seems to concatenate several of my interests: comic books, literary revisionism, and that pesky God fella.

Now you can read it, too.

There’s a movement here in LA to save Charles Bukowski’s bungalow from redevelopment by naming it a cultural landmark. This should strike anyone who has read his books as deliciously ironic: Bukowski was always tearing down cultural landmarks of one form or another, as when he said that writers like Camus always wrote as though they were sipping fine wine. (While Bukowski was guzzling rotgut, which I suppose was somehow better.)

If you’re of a mind to get involved in preserving said bungalow, the necessary information follows. You’ll also note the poem below, which is so bad that it works against the main argument.

For those who can’t be there, you can send your letter and/or email of support before September 20 to:
Attn. Mary Martin, 200 N. Spring St., Rm. 620, Los Angeles, CA 90012
(or edgar.garcia@lacity.org)

In a poem dedicated to his publisher John Martin, Bukowski wrote: “and thank you/ for locating me there at/ 5124 De Longpre Avenue/ somewhere between/ alcoholism and/ madness./ together we/ laid down the gauntlet/ and there are takers/ even at this late date/ still to be/ found/ as the fire sings/ through the/ trees.”

—

Bukowski fans–there’s a meeting to try and save the Hollywood Bungalow where the dirty old man lived and wrote for many years:
Thursday, Sept. 20th, 10 AM, LA City Hall

Lend your voice to preserve the cultural heritage of literary LA. More details and article links are below.

May the Muse be with you,

Nicole

Explosive PR wrote:

Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2007 20:18:51 -0700
From: Explosive PR
To: “esotouricbustours@esotouric.com”
Subject: [Esotouric] Charles Bukowski’s Bungalow in Time;
Preservation hearing on Thursday

Gentle reader,

Matt Kettmann of Time Magazine has covered Lauren Everett’s campaign to save
Charles Bukowski’s bungalow apartment, saying “The little bungalow at 5124
De Longpre Avenue in East Hollywood was the epicenter of a cultural
earthquake that continues to rock Los Angeles’s literary landscape. It is
the house where Charles Bukowski went from blue-collar postman to full-time
writer, eventually becoming world famous for his bawdy tales of lust,
liquor, and love.” Richard has some nice quotes, too.

On Thursday morning, the city’s Cultural Heritage Commission will decide the
building’s fate, and we’d like to invite any interested people who can get
there to join us for the hearing, and to speak if they feel moved. Hearing
details are below.

The Cultural Heritage Commission has agreed to put 5124 De Longpre Ave. on
the agenda for their September 20th meeting. They will hear a presentation
on the property, and will decide whether to proceed with the landmarking
process.

Members of the public may attend the hearing, and following the formal
presentation that Lauren Everett will be making, can speak up in favor of
the preservation of this building. If you wish to speak, please contact
Lauren so that all interested parties can meet on the morning of the hearing
and plan the best possible presentation to our friends at the CHC. Reminder:
this Commission has nothing to do with boarding up De Longpre, can help us
enormously, and should be treated with respect and appreciation.

Hearing information: Thursday Sept. 20, Room 1010 of Los Angeles City Hall,
200 N. Spring St., 90012. Meeting starts at 10:00 am.

Contact link

Time Magazine article

yrs,
Kim
Esotouric

Because according to a new book, it is an evolutionary warning that you are about to get eaten alive.

My new one-act play, “Next Time,” opened Saturday night at Hunger Artists Theatre in Fullerton. Here’s a trailer for the “Beyond Convention” festival it’s part of. (And no, my particular play is not one that involves making a sandwich, or digging a grave, or leaping through the air with sheets.)

One great tonic for the fear-based culture is a strong daily dose of humor. One place I like to get that is from New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast. Chast finds dementia in the daily outlandishness of human relations and household appliances.

Another humorist I enjoy is Steve Martin, he of the stand-up act, the arch fiction pieces, the witty plays, the banjo and balloons, and recently several unfortunate family comedies.

Here is a wonderful video I found online today in which Mr. Martin interviews Ms. Chast about her work. If you’ve had a bad day, well, ever — this is the cure. The entire interview is positively delightful, the cartoons are hilarious, and Martin and Chast, who clearly adore and admire each other, are having the time of their lives. I think Steve Martin deserves an interview show all his own, and I hope that some day we get it. If used properly, this video, which you really should watch, could bring more good to the world than anything currently transpiring in the highest echelons of power.

In our graduate writing program at USC, one of the things taught is creative non-fiction. Every so often I’ll have to explain to a lay person what “creative non-fiction” is, because it sounds oxymoronic. In essence, it’s a novelistic approach to factual events. (For an example, read Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood.” Or anything coming out of the White House.)

This morning’s newspapers had me thinking about creative non-fiction, or fictionalized reporting, or something akin, as I studied two rather different versions of the same story.

From today’s Los Angeles Daily News, I learned “Heat wave blamed in 12 deaths.” (That’s the headline.) That sounds pretty bad. Except the front of today’s LA Times reports, “Heat blamed in the deaths of at least 16.” So it’s either 12, or it’s at least 16. I don’t know which is true, and their mutual placement on my breakfast table casts doubt on both. It also leaves me wondering if there isn’t another verb except “blamed.” How about “Heat wave claims 16 lives”?

Reading further, I discover that “one of the deaths is a Pasadena woman in her 80s whose body was discovered in her apartment, where the temperature was 115 degrees.” (LA Times)

Except the Daily News reports “82-year-old Lugassi Max Menahem and his wife… were among a dozen residents believed to have died from the weeklong heat wave. … Their apartment window was open, letting the 110-degree air in, and their working air conditioner was turned off.”

I applaud the Daily News for the vivid irony in its reporting (a dead couple found lying beside a working air conditioner that would have saved them). I don’t find the dead spouse in Times. Even more troubling, the Daily News says it was 110, the LA Times says it was 115, and I suspect that both are reporting from an official report rather than stationing journalists outside with thermometers to personally check the temperature. If that’s so, why does the official quoted, or the official report quoted, disagree in these two stories?

Apply this sort of thinking toward the war in Iraq. Or any other news reporting. This is not an arena where one wants creative non-fiction.

Some years ago I wrote an absurdist play entitled “Uncle Hem” in which a family’s reality comes unglued because they can’t agree on basic facts, including what they read in the newspaper. The following exchange is based on coverage of the day, in which every major newspaper save one reported the dire consequences of a passenger jet. The sole holdout, the relentlessly positive USA Today, rejoiced in the miracle of  survivors. (By this logic, more than 220 million Americans have survived the war in Iraq.)

MUM
But is that yesterday’s paper? You’ve read everything in it?

DAD
I just finished the legals.

MUM
Then it’s at least yesterday’s. But you read one newspaper, it says
“Plane crash disaster: 39 killed!” You read the other, it says, “Plane
crash miracle: 61 survive!” That could be last weekend’s
newspaper, with the wrong date. Or we could have the wrong
weekend in mind for Uncle Hem’s visit. Or that could be last year’s
newspaper and you’re a very slow reader.

DAD
When the new one comes I’ll compare them. I’ll compare the dates.

MUM
Claude, I already compared two newspapers! Two liars! Don’t
trust either one of them!

DAD
I don’t know what to think.

MUM
Oh, you’re like a bit of fluff in a hurricane.