Presentation on theme: "Before and After September 11 Xia Jiasi 2004-12-14."— Presentation transcript:
Before and After September 11 Xia Jiasi
Before and After September 11 Text (Part 1 Paras. 1-6 ) As the ruins of the of the World Trade Towers smoldered at the southern end of Manhattan and the breeze stirred the ashes of thousands of human beings, a new age of anxiety was born. If someone had slept through September 11 and awakened, Rip Van Winkle-like today, he would open his eyes on an astonishing new landscape.
Guardsmen toting M-16s are stationed at our airport. The president of the United States attends a World Series game and the airspace over Yankee Stadium is closed, a line of snipers positioned on the stadium rooftop. The vice-president ’ s safekeepers whisk him from place to place, just as his arch-nemesis Osama bin Laden is presumably moved from cave to cave halfway across the world. Anthrax panic sends Congress running from its chambers.
The events of September 11 divided our world into two radically different eras. We watch wistfully as the pre-9/11 world drifts away on its raft of memory, cast in Technicolor shades of nostalgia. We will remember that assassinated world as idyllic, secure ( never mind that it was neither ), we will speak of it in the reverent tones reserved for the dead.
Meanwhile, the post 9/11 era looms like an unmapped wilderness. As with other unclaimed territories throughout history, a fierce battle is being waged for its psychic, political and material capital. Former president Bill Clinton has called this conflict “ the struggle for the soul of 21st century ”, and the spoils of war include some of our most cherished values and liberties. Leading the charge are the warriors of the Bush Administration, a battalion of securitycrats and generals who are attempting to colonize the future with their own repressive agenda.
But there is a brighter side, a growing chorus of dissenting voices who reject paranoia and hubris and question the rush toward becoming a security state. There is a dialectic afoot in the country, a stirring of peaceful purpose that has been largely ignored by the mainstream media, which assumes the public is thinking in red, white and blue, when actually the spectrum of emotions, ideas and opinions is, like America itself, multihued.
Just before his death in November 2001, Ken Kesey described the state of the union in succinctly Keseyian terms: “ The men in suits are telling us what the men in uniforms are going to do to the men in turbans if they don ’ t turn over the men in hiding. ” With the prescience of a dying man, Kesey ventured that this was really a war between the brutal, aggressively male way things had always been and “ the timorous and fragile way things might begin to be ”. Like many Americans continue to do, Kesey nurtured great hopes for a future constructed on a model of mutual cooperation, trust and rational thinking.
Before and After September 11 Teaching objective: to learn the writing style of an argument of two approaches Focus: two radically eras by Sep. 11 Difficulties: cultural background: Rip Van Winkle, nemesis, Damocles, Maslow’s pyramid, nepenthe, etc. Method: group discussion Homework: summary of the discussion Time allocation: 8 periods
Two Approaches The two approaches towards September 11 are the most important thing the readers need to pay attention to in reading this article. What are they? What are two radically eras by Sep. 11 ?
Cultural Background Rip Van Winkle NEAR to the town, in a cottage small, Lived RIP VAN WINKLE, known to all As a harmless, drinking, shiftless lout, Who never would work, but roamed about, Always ready with jest and song- Idling, tippling all day long. "Shame on you, Rip!" cried the scolding vrows; And old men muttered and knit their brows.
Not so with the boys, for they would shout, And follow their hero, Rip, about, Early or late--it was all the same, They gave him a place in every game. At ball he was ready to throw or catch; At marbles, too, he was quite their match; And many an urchin's face grew bright, When Rip took hold of his twine and Kite. And so he frittered the time away-- "Good natured enough," they all would say. But the village parson heaved a sigh As Rip, in his cups, went reeling by, With a silly and a drunken leer-- His good dog Schneider always near.
Rip was fond of his rod and line, And many a time, when the day was fine, He would wander out to some neighb'ring stream, And there, with his dog, would sit and dream; Hour after hour, would he dozing wait, And woe to the fish that touched his bait. But the stream of his life ran sometimes rough, And his good "Vrow" gave him many a cuff, For she was never a gentle dame, And Rip was a toper, and much to blame.
But little did Rip Van Winkle care For his wife or his home--he was seldom there-- But tried in his cups his cares to drown; His scolding wife, with her threat'ning frown, At his cottage-door he was sure to see-- "Ah! this," said Rip, "is no place for me." So down to the tavern to drink his rum, And waste his time with some red-nosed chum, He was sure to go; for he knew that there He would find a glass and a vacant chair, And jolly fellows, who liked his fun, And the tales he told of his dog and gun. But his was still but a sorry life, For, sot as he was, he loved his wife;
But he would tipple both day and night, And she would scold him with all her might Thus Rip Van Winkle had many a grief, And up 'mongst the mountains sought relief. For lowering clouds or a burning sun He cared but little; his dog and gun Were his friends, he knew; while they were near He roamed the forests, and felt no fear. If tired at last, and a seat he took, And his dog came up with a hungry look, He had always a crust or bone to spare, And Schneider was certain to get his share.
And then if a squirrel chanced to stray In range of his gun, he would blaze away, And he held it too with a steady aim-- Rip never was known to miss his game. But over his ills he would sometimes brood, And scale the peaks in a gloomy mood; And once he had climbed to a dizzy height, When the sun went down, and the shades of night Came up from the vale, and the pine-trees tall, And the old gray rocks, and the waterfall Grew dusky and dim, and faded away, Till night, like a pall, on the mountain lay. Full many a mile he had strayed that day, And up in the mountains had lost his way; And there he must stay through the gloomy night, And shiver and wait for the morning light.
He thought of the stories, strange and old, Which the graybeards down in the village told; "And what," said he, "if the tale were true I have heard so oft of a phantom crew, Who up in the Catskills, all night long, Frolick and revel with wine and song." Just then a voice from a neighb'ring hill Cried, "Rip Van Winkle!" and all was still Then he looked above and he looked below, And saw not a thing but a lonely crow.
"Ho, Rip Van Winkle!" the voice still cried, And Schneider skulked to his master's side. Just then from a thicket a man came out-- His legs were short and his body stout, He looked like a Dutchman in days of yore, With buttons behind and buttons before; And held a keg with an iron grip, And beckoned for help to the gazing Rip. Rip had his fears, but at last complied, And bore the keg up the mountain side; And now and then, when a thunder-peal Made the mountain tremble, Rip would steal. A look at his guide, but never a word From the lips of the queer old man was heard.
Up, up they clambered, until, at last, The stranger halted. Rip quickly cast A glance around, and as strange a crew As ever a mortal man did view Were playing at nine-pins; at every ball 'Twas fun to see how the pins would fall; And they rolled and rolled, without speaking a word, And this was the thunder Rip had heard.
Their hats looked odd, each with sugar-loaf crown, And their eyes were small, and their beards hung down, While their high-heeled shoes all had peaked toes, And their legs were covered with blood-red hose; Their noses were long, like a porker's snout, And they nodded and winked as they moved about They tapped the keg, and the liquor flowed, And up to the brim of each flagon glowed; And a queer old man made a sign to Rip, As much as to say, "Will you take a nip?" Nor did he linger or stop to think, For Rip was thirsty and wanted a drink.
"I'll risk it," thought he; "it can be no sin; And it smells like the best of Holland gin;" So he tipped his cup to a grim old chap, And drained it; then, for a quiet nap, He stretched himself on the mossy ground, And soon was wrapped in a sleep profound. At last he woke; 'twas a sunny morn, And the strange old man of the glen was gone: He saw the young birds flutter and hop, And an eagle wheeled round the mountain-top; Then he rubbed his eyes for another sight-- "Surely," said he, "I have slept all night." "Ie thought of the flagon and nine-pin game; "Oh! what shall I say to my fiery dame!"
He, faintly faltered; "I know that she Has a fearful lecture in store for me." He took up his gun, and strange to say, The wood had rotted and worn away: He raised to his feet, and his joints were sore; "Said he, "I must go to my home once more." Then, with trembling step, he wandered down, Amazed, he entered his native town. The people looked with a wondering stare, For Rip, alas! was a stranger there; He tottered up to his cottage-door, But his wife was dead, and could scold no more;
And down at the tavern he sought in vain For the chums he would never meet again; He looked, as he passed, at a group of girls For the laughing eye and the flaxen curls Of the child he loved as he loved his life, But she was a thrifty farmer's wife; And when they met, and her hand he took, She blushed and gave him a puzzled look; But she knew her father and kissed his brow, All covered with marks and wrinkles now; For Rip Van Winkle was old and gray, And twenty summers had passed away--
Yes, twenty winters of snow and frost Had he in his mountain slumber lost; Yet his love for stories was all the same, And he often told of the nine-pin game. But the age was getting a little fast-- The Revolution had come and passed, And Young America, gathered about, Received his tales with many a doubt, Awhile he hobbled about the town; Then, worn and weary, at last laid down, For his locks were white and his limbs were sore-- And RIP VAN WINKLE will wake no more.
Nemesis in Greek Mythology In Greek mythology, Nemesis was the goddess of retribution. She appears in the Theogony of Hesiod as the daughter of Nyx (the goddess of Night):Nyx "Baneful Night bore Nemesis, too, a woe for mortals..." It is interesting to note that just prior to this mention of the birth of Nemesis, the poet Hesiod also makes reference to the dreadful power of some other daughters of Nyx, including the Fates and the Keres. Taken together, these daughters of Night were often feared because of their ability to punish the transgressions of mortals. And certainly, considering her position as the personification of retribution, it was probably thought best to avoid making Nemesis angry.Fates
There is another aspect to the tale of Nemesis, and that was her role as one of the many paramours of the god Zeus. According to one source of the legend, Zeus (who was always fond of beautiful females) became enamored of the goddess. However Nemesis wanted nothing to do with him. She tried to flee from the god's unwelcome advances by transforming herself into a series of fish and animals. Finally, Zeus caught the object of his affection - some versions say that Zeus assumed the form of a swan while Nemesis was in the guise of a goose. In these shapes the pair mated, and as a result Nemesis later laid an egg from which the famous beauty Helen of Troy hatched (however, it is important to remember that other versions of the birth of Helen claim that it was Leda who laid this egg).ZeusLeda
Damocles Dionysius was a fourth century B.C. tyrant of Syracuse. To all appearances he was very rich and comfortable, with all the luxuries money could buy, tasteful clothing and jewelry, and delectable food. He even had court flatterers (adsentatores) to inflate his ego. One of these ingratiators was the court sycophant Damocles. Damocles used to make comments to the king about his wealth and luxurious life. One day when Damocles complimented the tyrant on his abundance and power, Dionysius turned to Damocles and said, "If you think I'm so lucky, how would you like to try out my life?" Damocles readily agreed, and so Dionysius ordered everything to be prepared for Damocles to experience what life as Dionysius was like. Damocles was enjoying himself immensely until he noticed a sharp sword hovering over his head, which was suspended from the ceiling by a horse hair. This, the tyrant explained to Damocles, was what life as ruler was really like. Damocles, alarmed and quickly revising his idea of what made up a good life, asked to be excused. He then eagerly returned to his poorer, but safer life.
1) Physiological: hunger, thirst, bodily comforts, etc.; 2) Safety/security: out of danger; 3) Belonginess and Love: affiliate with others, be accepted; and 4) Esteem: to achieve, be competent, gain approval and recognition. 5) Cognitive: to know, to understand, and explore; 6) Aesthetic: symmetry, order, and beauty; 7) Self-actualization: to find self-fulfillment and realize one's potential; andSelf-actualization 8) Self-transcendence: to connect to something beyond the ego or to help others find self- fulfillment and realize their potential.Self-transcendence
nepenthe SYLLABICATION:ne · pen · the NOUN: 1. A drug mentioned in the Odyssey as a remedy for grief. 2. Something that induces forgetfulness of sorrow or eases pain. OTHER FORMS:ne · penthe · an — ADJECTIVE
What is Wrong With SUVs? SUVs represent a paradox to consumers - television advertisements present them as a way to return to nature, yet they actually accelerate existing environmental problems. Commercials often depict happy families driving on mountain roads, avoiding falling rocks and enjoying the flowered wilderness in leather-seated comfort. The sad truth is that these vehicles are contributing to the destruction of our natural resources.
In reality, only 5 percent of SUVs are ever taken off-road, and the vast majority of these vehicles are used for everyday driving. And there are a lot of them on the roads. In 1985, SUVs accounted for only 2 percent of new vehicle sales. SUVs now account for one in four new vehicles sold, and sales continue to climb.
Driving an SUV has a much greater impact on the environment than driving other passenger cars. In large part, this is due to double standards set by law and government regulations. For example, current federal regulations allow SUVs to have far worse fuel economy than other vehicles. The federal corporate average fuel economy (CAFE) standards set the fuel economy goals for new passenger cars at 27.5 miles per gallon (mpg). But under the law, SUVs are not considered cars - they are characterized as light trucks. Light trucks only have to achieve 20.7 mpg. It should be noted that this is an average for all light trucks, which is why it is possible to have SUVs on the road that only achieve 12 mpg. In fact, some SUV, like the massive Ford Excursion, are so large that they no longer qualify as "light trucks," and are not subject to any kind of fuel economy standards.
When CAFE was instituted in the 1970s, there were few SUVs and light trucks on the road, and they were primarily used for farm and commercial work. Today, however, the demographics of an SUV buyer are quite different. The amount of gasoline burned by a vehicle is important for several reasons. The most crucial is the threat of global warming.
Zeitgeist Zeitgeist is German for "the spirit of the age," and Zeitgeist is a chamber ensemble wholly committed to enriching and articulating that spirit. Founded in 1977 to present the music of living composers with passion and authority, Zeitgest has won the admiration of composers and audiences across North America and Europe.
In its determination to map the full complexity of our pluralistic and turbulent fin de siecle, the group has explored an astonishing variety of musical idioms, developing close ties with such avant-garde luminaries as John Cage, Terry Riley, La Monte Young, Frederic Rzewski and Harold Budd, and paying special attention to nurturing younger composers. Believing that the range of significant new work is wider than any individual's current sympathies, the musicians of Zeitgeist seek constantly to broaden their acquaintance with existing and emerging styles, making the ensemble a magnet for all that is vital in today's music.John CageTerry RileyFrederic RzewskiHarold Budd