Just in time for Christmas, Another Chicago Magazine drops my story about how cruise ships are from Satan
I don't want to take up your valuable time on Christmas Eve. (Who are those of you visiting this site today? Go be with your family!) But when you get around to it, and if you're so inclined, please visit Another Chicago Magazine, who just dropped my story about cruise ships, social inequity, and the end of the world. It's kind of long, so sorry to those of you who don't like reading digital versions of long text.
Here's the Randy Stonehill song I heard back when I was sixteen-year-old Bible thumper that probably first put the seed of this story in my head thirty years ago. This song plus maybe Johnny Cash's "When the Man Comes Around" are a good soundtrack for this story.
Thanks for reading! And thanks to ACM for believing in this story!
Ok, I guess it's safe to post now even though it implies that I'm not sitting in a room staring at my family because it's Christmas and that's what people do (I've added that topic to my "essays to write" list).
I really enjoyed this story. It combines the search for the stereotyped authenticity that fuels the sales of all kinds of crafts, foods, and art products while those who actually produce from an authentic place are ignored or scorned, with the "safe slumming" the upper crust so enjoys while they ignore the very real problems they themselves create for the not-upper-crust.
One emphasizer is the cruise ship itself - I've never been on one, but it's my understanding they do everything they can to keep guests from realizing they're aboard a ship: round the clock indoor entertainment and food, and if you want to swim, why, there are pools with simulated waves. Portland (TOS) is a cruise stop in the summer, and it's amazing how people clluster together in shopping areas and restaurants (many merchants say it's a myth that they bring increased sales) or take "Duck tour" sightseeing to ride down Congress street, which is probably sold as "see the real Portland" (natives in their natural habitat, that's me, I always want to wave) but really is an attempt to show them where to spend money. Another underline, though more subtle, is the *wink factor* that the experiences of a Nigerian woman are written by a white American man.
As for the ending - I think it's interesting how at this moment the most ostentatiously religious are acting as though they expect no final reckoning, while at the same time the more humanistically-inclined are wishing they could take comfort in the promise of an old fashioned Judgment Day.
I just was stuck not knowing how to end it, so I figured if that's how the best-selling book of all time bailed itself out when it needed an ending, it was good enough for me.
Ok, I guess it's safe to post now even though it implies that I'm not sitting in a room staring at my family because it's Christmas and that's what people do (I've added that topic to my "essays to write" list).
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this story. It combines the search for the stereotyped authenticity that fuels the sales of all kinds of crafts, foods, and art products while those who actually produce from an authentic place are ignored or scorned, with the "safe slumming" the upper crust so enjoys while they ignore the very real problems they themselves create for the not-upper-crust.
One emphasizer is the cruise ship itself - I've never been on one, but it's my understanding they do everything they can to keep guests from realizing they're aboard a ship: round the clock indoor entertainment and food, and if you want to swim, why, there are pools with simulated waves. Portland (TOS) is a cruise stop in the summer, and it's amazing how people clluster together in shopping areas and restaurants (many merchants say it's a myth that they bring increased sales) or take "Duck tour" sightseeing to ride down Congress street, which is probably sold as "see the real Portland" (natives in their natural habitat, that's me, I always want to wave) but really is an attempt to show them where to spend money. Another underline, though more subtle, is the *wink factor* that the experiences of a Nigerian woman are written by a white American man.
As for the ending - I think it's interesting how at this moment the most ostentatiously religious are acting as though they expect no final reckoning, while at the same time the more humanistically-inclined are wishing they could take comfort in the promise of an old fashioned Judgment Day.
I just was stuck not knowing how to end it, so I figured if that's how the best-selling book of all time bailed itself out when it needed an ending, it was good enough for me.
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