Communism on Campus

Marx and Lennon Soviet Propaganda PosterIt was my first month on campus, and I was still getting settled into my routines. I stopped by the International Center to grab some lunch after class, and that’s when I saw a guy handing out pamphlets. Or rather, he saw me. Before I could walk away, he started talking to me, telling me about Communism.

If the guy had been a preacher or missionary, I would have gotten away quickly, but instead I stopped to talk to him. A bone fide communist. This was the late 1990s, and Communism had just suffered a fatal blow a few years before. So encountering a communist on campus was like running across a rare panda or some other endangered species. I had to talk with the guy for a few minutes just to see if he was serious.

He was indeed serious. Very serious. In fact, he seemed to have no sense of humor at all. But he didn’t mind an argument. Since I had just joined the student government, I was looking for a good debate. I brought up the fact that Communism had simply failed in country after country. He told me that it was Stalinism that had failed. The brand of Communism in Russia and Eastern Europe was based on the ideologies of Josef Stalin, who had corrupted the pure Communism of Marx and Lenin.

I brought up the fact that the Russian royal family had been killed under Lenin’s regime, not Stalin’s. He just shrugged and started telling me about Leon Trotsky. That was when he got the really crazy look in his eyes. Trotsky had it all figured out, he told me, and if I’d sign up for his email list, he would give me a copy of his newsletter so I could see the truth for myself.

I didn’t want my name on any crazy Trotskyist mailing list, so I politely declined. Then I got the hell away from him. It turned out the Campus Communist wasn’t much different that the crazy preachers out by Wells Hall. He wasn’t any different than the other right and left extremists on campus. He was just another ideologue. He wanted to tell me what was right and wrong, and he wasn’t looking for a conversation.

 

Atchafalaya: The Future Mississippi River

Huck Finn and Jim on a RaftRight on the southwest corner of the State of Mississippi, there is a confluence of rivers. The Red River, which separates Texas from Oklahoma, meets up with the Mighty Mississippi. A mile to two downstream, a third river splits off from the Mississippi. This is the Atchafalaya River, a distributary river cutting through the heart of Cajun country. But if/when Mother Nature has its way, the Atchafalaya will become the main course of the Mississippi, cutting off both Baton Rouge and New Orleans from the mighty river. This is a distinct possibility, and when it happens, it will be a worse economic catastrophe than Hurricane Katrina.

Dancing Rivers

The Red River used to run all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, running parallel to the Mississippi River. Then, around 500 years ago, the Mississippi meandered into the Red River and overwhelmed it. At that point, the northern part of the Red River became a tributary of the Mississippi, while the southern half of the old Red River became the Atchafalaya. When American settlers took over the region, they found their steamboats took a long time to go through this messy confluence of rivers, so a riverboat captain named Henry M. Shreve built a canal to make it easier to get through the region. This canal helped with navigation, but it also directed a lot more water into the Atchafalaya, deepening and widening the river. The result was a shorter, straighter and steeper outlet to the ocean. This drew more water into the Atchafalaya, which in turn became an even bigger river able to handle more water. This would be fine if the area was uninhabited, but it’s not. Most of the existing infrastructure of the State of Louisiana is built along the current outlet of Mississippi, and if the river changes course, the shipping routes for a large chunk of the country will be destroyed as the old Mississippi silts up into a backwater bayou.

The Old River Control Structure

After World War II, the Army Corps of Engineers realized there was a disaster brewing on the river, so they built a series of dams called the Old River Control Structure. They measured the outflow the of the river system and found that 70 percent of the water went down the Mississippi while 30 percent went into the Atchafalaya. Then they built a series of dams and spillways to keep this 70/30 split. Since the complex was built in 1963, it has withstood two major floods, in 1973 and 2011. However, both of these floods came close to overwhelming the whole system. And as the constant flow of water continues, erosion causes havoc with the whole river flow. It’s a classic Man vs. Nature problem. We can control the river only at a few key points, like Old River and the Morganza Spillway. This seems impressive, but Nature works its magic on every square inch of the river. We can’t stop erosion and silting in the whole hydrological system, so we better prepare for the worst.

The Catastrophe

This is how it’ll happen. The river will flood, as it does every few years, and the Army Corps with open the sluices and fill the spillways. But the water will keep on coming, quickly eroding the soft, silty soil. In a matter of days, or even hours, the flow into the Atchafalaya River will increase beyond our ability to control it. Once this does, the Atchafalaya River will instantly cease to exist. Instead it will just be the new Mississippi Delta. The old Mississippi, deprived of water, will capture the silt from upriver, until the entire course is just a creek or bayou. Dredging won’t help at this point, since there won’t be enough water to form a shipping channel. Every warehouse and port facility from Angola to the ocean will dry up overnight. Barges will be beached, and boats upriver will be stuck in place until the new Atachafalaya shipping channel can be dredged and made safe for riverboat traffic. This will effect the economy of Louisiana and every major city upstream: Memphis, St. Louis, Minneapolis, even Pittsburgh. And despite our best efforts, this isn’t a matter of “if”; it’s a matter of “when”.

Embrace the Atchafalaya

Humankind has invented some awesome technology in the last few centuries, but we’re still very much at the mercy of our environment. In a Man vs. Nature fight, always bet on Nature. Rather than trying to control the river, we should accommodate it. The government at all levels should try to spur development along the Atchafalaya. We should build new shipping facilities along the new course of the river while weening Baton Rouge and New Orleans off their current economic models. Then, at some point in the future, we can open the flood gates and let nature take its course. In the end, this would be best, from both an ecological and economical perspective.

Downtown Rowlett, Texas

Rowlett, Texas is a suburb of Dallas on the far eastern edge of the DFW Metroplex. It’s about as far out as you can go and still be in the surburbs. Once you travel into Rockwall County, the landscape becomes more exurban. Last year, the Dallas Area Rapid Transit authority (DART) extended its light rail system to Rowlett. The Blue Line now goes from Ledbetter Station in South Dallas, through the canyons of Downtown Dallas, past White Rock Lake to Downtown Rowlett station. This got me to thinking, what and where is Downtown Rowlett? For the most part, Rowlett is a town without a center, a suburb full of big box stores and tract housing. But long before the suburban sprawl, long before the commuter rail, the turnpike or even the lake, there was a little village with a Main Street. I drove out there to see what remained of Downtown Rowlett

For the most part, I think it’s a little too generous to call this stretch of buildings “Downtown Rowlett”. “Old Rowlett” might be a better term for it, since there is no real downtown to speak of. Then again, perhaps I have the cause and effect reversed. Maybe they’re calling it Downtown Rowlett because they want it to be a proper downtown. Maybe with the DART station and some new mixed-use development, they could make it a cool little area. Even if most of the buildings were new construction, it could feel like an old-fashioned hamlet with with right mix of buildings. Downtown Rowlett is nothing now, but let’s give it a few years and see what happens.

Smacked in Madrid

Coat of Arms of SpainIt was my first day in Spain. After an unexpected date, I met up with my friends and checked into our hostel. After dropping off our luggage, we took a walk around the heart of Madrid, ending up on a narrow sidestreet with an even narrower sidewalk. Two old men meandered in front of us, deep in conversation, using the kind of emphatic gestures that you see with bad Italian stereotypes. Though both small of stature, they blocked two-thirds of the sidewalk. We would have to pass them single file. Making sure to stay out of the lane of traffic, I skirted between the old men and the sidewalk.

BAM! I got smacked right in the face. Fairly hard, too. The old man who hit me stopped. He looked as bewildered I must have. After a moment of stunned silence, my accidental assaulter took off on a tirade of utterly incomprehensible Castilian. Even with eight years of Spanish classes under my belt I couldn’t make out a damn word he said. I couldn’t even tell whether he was apologizing profusely or chewing me out for getting in his way. My friends seemed just as confused as me, because they stood there mouths agape. The old man’s friend looked equally confounded.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just started apologizing, “Perdón. Lo siento. Perdón. Discúlpame. Perdón.” I didn’t even know why. I just didn’t know what else to do. I was just a couple hours off the plane, and already I was pissing off the locals. I didn’t want to burn my bridges just yet, so I just kept saying “perdón”.

This seemed only to rile him up. I didn’t know, he might have been apologizing as much as I, but it also sounded kind of angry. He continued rambling as we walked away, hollering until we were out of earshot. To this day, I don’t know what he was saying, but if I had to guess, I’d say he was probably complaining about me being a fat American tourist. Or something like that. In any case, it was a weird start to my summer.

How Mario Got His Mustache

Super Mario Bros. is one of the most successful video game franchises of all time. For people of a certain age, Mario and Luigi are better known than old-school cartoon characters like Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny. But the interesting thing about Mario is that he didn’t just jump out of a pipe one day. Mario evolved through a series of fortuitous accidents. Let’s take a look at what happened.

Super Mario Evolution

Popeye to Jumpman

It started with Popeye the Sailor Man. Or rather, without him. Back in the Golden Age of Arcade Games, an upstart Nintendo wanted to create a game based on the famous comic strip “Popeye”. But licensing agreements turned out to be more difficult than they thought, and they had to invent new characters for the game. Hence Bluto, the burly bad guy, became Donkey Kong while and Popeye became a nondescript hero known as Jumpman.

Jumpman to Mario

Video games in the early 1980s had very crude graphics, so early games favored function over form. (After all, Pac Man is just a yellow circle with a wedge-shaped mouth.) For a human character such as Jumpman, it was hard to animate hair, so they gave him a hat. It was hard to do a realistic mouth, so he got a bushy mustache. And it was difficult to distinguish his arms from his torso, so he got overalls. This was the character sent from Japan to America. The American developers in Seattle thought that Jumpman looked a lot like their office landlord, an Italian American named Mario Segale. Soon the name Mario stuck, and a modern icon was born.

Mario to Luigi

Nintendo wanted to make a two-player game, but their was no room in the code to animate a second character. So instead they simply did a palette-swap, changing Jumpman/Mario’s red clothes to green. The American developers, after making Jumpman Italian, realized that his brother needed an Italian name as well. So they named him after a local Italian restaurant, creating the perennial sidekick known as Luigi.

Mario vs Luigi

Luigi was originally just a green version of Mario, but he soon became a character in his own right. Once again, the change came from another franchise, a Japanese game called Doki Doki Panic. This game featured a family of four wandering around the desert. Nintendo adapted it into Super Mario Bros. 2 for the American market. This adaptation mostly involved changing the graphics to show the existing Super Mario Bros. characters. But unlike the early Mario games, the Doki Doki Panic characters had different looks and different abilities. This meant that the adapted Luigi character was taller than the adapted Mario. And the adapted Luigi had different abilities, jumping higher but landing less exactly. These traits were soon integrated into his character, and ever since, Mario and Luigi have been different characters, not just the same Jumpman in different clothes.

With dozens of video games over four decades, spin-off cartoons and toys and a horrid movie adaptation, the Mario series is steeped in mythology. But a lot of it comes back to the basic technology. If it weren’t for a few fortunate accidents over the years, Mario and Luigi wouldn’t even exist.

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