Steven Givler Online

Bezoar Stone

2009-11-06T09:52:00.001-08:00

Ever heard of a bezoar stone? It's a mineralized hairball sometimes created by the digestive systems of ruminants like cows, llamas, or, in this case, camels. I'd been looking for one ever since my last camping trip, which was back in April or May. Today I just happened to be telling my friend Paul about them as we were driving across the desert west of Riyadh. "Keep your eyes open for a softball-sized sphere," I told him, "Kind of like that one right there."

Sure enough, next to the skeleton of a camel or a goat (Yes, I know there's quite a difference between camels and goats, but there wasn't much left of this one so it was hard to tell.) this fine specimen was shining in the sunlight.

Apparently, these were much sought after in ancient times as an antidote for poison. Unlike some remedies, these actually have the ability to remove or neutralize arsenic, according to this source: http://curiousexpeditions.org/?p=371#comment-6346

How about that? Now if anyone ever tries to slip me an arsenic mickey, I'll just dip my bezoar stone in it and I'll be just fine. Now if I could just get it to fit into my pocket...

Falconry in Saudi Arabia

2009-11-05T03:09:00.001-08:00

Near the souk of Dira in central Riyadh, they're pulling down the old mud and timber buildings and putting up new, modern offices and shopping centers. As the city is modernized, the old markets are being squeezed out. The Hawk Souk, which is just one of many souks that comprise the old area (There's a carpet souk, a gold souk, an incense souk, and lots of clothes souks, for instance.) is on the edge of the market area, which means it's in the zone that is being swallowed up by development. Still, there are several shops that remain in business, and now that the cooler weather is here, the bird men can be found on a Thursday morning gathering there, drinking tea and arguing about the value of birds from Iran, Morocco, Pakistan, and any number of other countries. As they argue, they lounge on cushions arranged around an elevated area filled with sand. Pedestals on long spikes are stuck into the sand, and hawks, falcons, and eagles perch regally on the pedestals, regarding the men with large, inscrutable eyes, or listening with their heads cocked to one side, sporting tiny leather hoods that cover their eyes and keep them from trying to fly. From the ceilings of these shops hang all manner of falconry paraphernalia - jesses, lures, creances. Near the doors, dusty display cases contain measuring scales and lead weights, and obscure bits of what-have-you that I couldn't begin to identify.

After tea and arguments, the men go outside to a small gravel area under the shade of some acacia trees. Here they stake the birds' perches where prospective buyers can circle them and make their offers.

As the new city encroaches, the romantic, mysterious, exotic souks that I love to explore are becoming a thing of the past. I'm glad I got the chance to see this while it was still here, and I'm glad I can share it with you.

Say Cheese

2009-11-05T03:03:00.001-08:00

Most Saudis I've met have been reluctant to let me take their picture, but everyone I met today was very accomodating.

2009-11-05T02:56:00.000-08:00

Behind this hawk, a covey of quail fidgets in the yellow crate. They will be released as training devices for the birds of prey. Also for sale in this shop were jesses, gloves, feathered lures for training, radio tracking devices and nets - everything you need to get into falconry. All you need is money, lots and lots of money. Some of these birds were untrained and relatively cheap, selling at about $1,000, but those that were trained and had earned a reputation for killing the most desirable types of game were commanding four times that amount.

Awaiting their turn

2009-11-05T02:51:00.000-08:00

These birds, a hur or hawk, above and a shahin or falcon, below, stand by while potential buyers examine another hur in the background.

Incidentally, the man holding the bird in the background is a member of the Mutawa, which is the religious police. You can tell this because of the shortness of his thobe, which is the robe he's wearing, and the absence of an iqal, which is the black coil worn on the heads of other men of Arabian Gulf countries.

My personal esperience with mutawaeen has been limited, but they have a reputation for shouting and brandishing sticks at women whose hair is uncovered and for being brusque with foreigners. This man, however, was very friendly, even to the point of allowing another man to take pictures of him shaking my hand.

A tough Place to Make a Living

2009-11-03T12:02:00.000-08:00

This is a look down onto a small bedouin camp. I'm standing on the edge of the Plateau upon which Riyadh is situated, looking west, toward Mecca. Not far from this spot is one of the places where steps were carved into the escarpment so that camel caravans could make the climb safely.

Outside the Gate

2009-11-03T11:58:00.000-08:00

A small caravan kneels beside the city wall.

Stopping For Noon Prayer

2009-11-03T11:56:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I'm finally able to upload photos again. I'm so far behind with posting paintings that I'm not sure which I've posted and which I haven't. Forgive me if you've seen one or two of these before. I'm posting quickly without looking back to see if they're up already, just in case my service provider suddenly stops working again.

Annunciation - Version One

2009-11-03T11:54:00.000-08:00

A client commissioned me to do a painting of the scene of the annunciation. This was my first version. There's a lot I like about it, but there were some aspects that I just couldn't accept, so I started over again.

Annunciation

2009-11-03T11:53:00.001-08:00

This is the final version.

Rockpile

2009-11-03T11:49:00.000-08:00

Plants grow in the desert here any place where they can find a bit of shelter. This acacia tree was tucked into the base of a granite outcrop.

Date Harvest

2009-11-01T09:47:00.000-08:00

Amazing: it looks as if my internet service is letting me upload photos again. I'm not sure how long it'll last, but here's recent painting for now, and I'll try to add more soon.

Not long ago, the dates ripened and were harvested from the trees. That's what inspired this particular painting.

I Scooped Newsweek by a Month!

2009-10-12T04:05:00.000-07:00

You may have seen this at HotAir.com, (Joe Biden, White House Truth Teller) or you can go directly to it here: http://www.newsweek.com/id/217090 in either case, it’s clear that Newsweek, although a little slow in the uptake, has caught on to what I pointed out on 12 September in “Joe Wilson, Joe Biden, and the Dangerous Truth Strategy.” (http://stevengivler.blogspot.com/2009/09/joe-wilson-joe-biden-and-dangerous.html)

The point I made is that Biden’s celebrated tendency to blurt out the truth might actually be a clever ruse, as opposed to a simple case of Tourette syndrome.

The Cliffs above Dira

2009-10-11T12:17:00.000-07:00

Apparently I'm able to upload photographs again. Keep your fingers crossed and hopefully this isn't a temporary condition.

I took a quick photo safari today. This is a shot from the edge of the plateau upon which Riyadh is located. You're looking southeast, and you can just make out the village of Dira in the distance.

High School Teacher Named, "Surgeon of the Year."

2009-10-11T11:12:00.000-07:00

The Journal of the American Medical Association has announced that, in a departure from its usual practice of awarding its “Surgeon of the Year” award to a board-certified surgeon, it will present this year’s Golden Caduceus to Ms. Sandra Buttermilk, a poet and high school English teacher from Hazelton, Pennsylvania.

Doctors, nurses, and hospital administrators across the country were caught off guard by the announcement, which was made, as is customary, at midnight during the annual JAMA pig roast. One attendee, neurologist Doctor Arty Feipfer, was so surprised that he dropped his cigar into his brandy snifter. No one was injured in the resulting conflagration, but the announcement had to be paused while the flames were subdued.

After the fire department personnel had departed the banquet hall, JAMA prize committee spokesman, Dr. Neil Matterhorn explained, “It has always been difficult for us to pick a winner. Year after year there are so many great American surgeons who contribute so much to helping people through advancing the medical arts that it becomes almost impossible to pick one above the others. But this year we are inspired by the approach of the Nobel Peace Prize Committee, which bestowed this year’s award on President Obama based on his vision for world peace.” After a brief round of applause, Dr. Matterhorn went on to say, “We are pleased to follow suit, and to present this prestigious award to a woman who dares to not only envision a world free of disease and suffering, but through her poetry, to share that vision with others.”

Matterhorn did not mention it in the official announcement, but during an interview at the after-party, he explained that Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi was another nominee who had been closely considered by the committee. “Her tremendous efforts to almost pass health care reform did not go unnoticed,” he said, “but ultimately it came down to Ms. Buttlemilk’s ability to find rhymes for words like psoriasis and myocardial infarction.”

Doctor Jerome Bladwort, pioneer of a revolutionary technique for pediatric heart valve surgeries, and widely considered the favorite to win this year’s award, was on vacation and could not be reached for comment. According to his office, he spends every October in Benin, working at a free clinic for terminally ill children.

"The Onion" sues Nobel Prize Committee

2009-10-09T15:27:00.000-07:00

The Onion sues Nobel Prize Committee

Noted satirical newspaper, The Onion (www.theonion.com) announced today that it is suing the Nobel Peace Prize Committee for plagiarism and theft of intellectual property.

At issue is yesterday’s announcement by the Committee of its selection of U.S. President Barack Obama as this year’s recipient of the coveted Peace Prize and 1.4 million dollar award. According to Vernon Coldwater, a spokesman from The Onion legal department, his employer can prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the idea of awarding Obama the Peace Prize is the intellectual property of staff writers from The Onion political satire department, and that it was stolen by spies from Oslo.

“They did this to us before,” Coldwater said, under the condition that he remain anonymous. “Where else do you think they came up with Jimmy Carter as a recipient? Fool us once, shame on you,” Coldwater quoted, “but fool us twice and we’ll sue your skinny European butts.”

Coldwater said that The Onion legal staff are still preparing their case, but when they are finished, they will be able to prove that the Prize Committee plagiarized the idea for a series of satirical pieces on Jimmy Carter as a Peace Prize nominee, and then stole The Onion’s thunder by nominating Carter for the prize. The Onion was unable to prove the original theft, but, expecting a repeat, the writers carefully documented every step of their creative process as they reworked the story with Obama as the nominee.

In addition to time-stamping all their drafts, they surgically implanted a tracking chip in the shoulder of Anrid, the Norwegian intern, after a night of heavy aquavit drinking. Data from the tracking chip, according to Coldwater, will reveal that Anrid was a mole, stealing The Onion’s best material, and spiriting it back to Oslo.

But why would the Prize committee be interesting in pilfering satirical material? Coldwater said, “The Committee has been moving into the satire business for years. Bestowing prizes is decent work, but world economic conditions have caused the committee members to look for alternative sources of income, and satire has always been big in Norway.” The counselor added, “Satire has an even stronger appeal the closer you get to the Arctic Circle, so the demand is pretty strong, year-round in Norway. The thing that really bothers us,” Coldwater said, “is that they’re quite good at it already, without stealing our material. I mean, Yassir Arafat as a prize nominee? I wish we could say they stole that one too, but that was all theirs.”

My Internet Service Provider is a Weasel.

2009-10-07T01:42:00.001-07:00

I am neither dead, nor have I given up painting.

I am, however perilously close to strangling my internet service provider, who I informed WEEKS ago, that I'm unable to upload or email photographs. I went back to his office yesterday to renew my complaint. Have you ever had the experience of calling a customer service number only to find that, instead of having your concerns addressed, you provided a free English lesson to someone of East Asian lineage? That's exactly what my visit was like, except, of course, that it was in person, instead of over the phone - so it was much more satisfactory.

Or not.

It's very difficult to discuss internet connectivity issues with any degree of specificity when you have no language in common with the person with whom you are having the discussion. We both worked very hard at communicating in English but one of us (I'll not say which.) doesn't really have a solid grasp of that language. I switched to Arabic, seeing as the conversation was taking place in Riyadh, but that wasn't any better. I know; it's my fault for not speaking Bengali or Urdu or Hindustani. Stupid American.

Ultimately, all I came away with was an assurance that the problem had been fixed, and that if I'd simply checked before leaving for work that morning, I'd have already discovered that it was fixed and so I was actually wasting time that was valuable to both of us.

So I went home, feeling a little bit stupid for not having checked before complaining (a third time.) And yet, even as I felt that way, something was at work in the back of my mind, prodding me with the sharp elbow of skepticism, so that, by the time I'd logged in at home, I had cataloged all the little indications my friend had exhibited that would have made it clear, were I a police investigator or a CIA interrogator (waterboarding or otherwise) or just a man of reasonable intelligence, that my internet service provider had been lying through his teeth, and had actually made no effort whatsoever to fix my internet connection.

Of course, when my interminable login processes had run their courses and I tried to upload a photo - nothing. As per usual. So I returned today to the dingy little office where the Peter Lorre doppelganger was cowering in a gloomy corner, and I tried once again, to impress upon him the importance of restoring the service for which I am paying large amounts of cash in monthly installments.

At the same time, I tried very hard not to impress upon his throat, the marks from 8 fingers and two thumbs. Where there is life, after all, there is hope, and dead, my internet service provider is even less likely to help me than if I leave him breathing.

I'll keep you posted.

PS I know - a photograph appears atop this post. That's because I posted this from my office. I can't, however put my digital camera card, upon which my recent painting photos are stored, into my computer here at work, and, like I said, I can't email the photos to myself here at work since I can't upload or email from home. So, old photos of Peter Lorre - yes. New photos of paintings - no. Sorry.

Granite Outcroppings, Nafuth Ad Dehi, Saudi Arabia

2009-09-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

About seven hours southeast of the Mecca Highway, in a section of the desert called the Nafuth Ad Dehi, the flat, dusty hardpan begins to erupt into towering outcroppings of granite. This is a view of the two that made the greatest impression on me.

Just to Be Clear

2009-09-21T02:46:00.000-07:00

Just to be clear, I would like to make it known that I did not participate in the now-infamous National Endowment for the Arts conference call of Monday August 10th. (Click on the title of this post for more info.)

The call was hosted by the NEA, the White House Office of Public Engagement, and United We Serve, and was intended to include “a group of artists, producers, promoters, organizers, influencers, marketers, taste-makers, leaders or just plain cool people to join together and work together to promote a more civically engaged America and celebrate how the arts can be used for a positive change!” (Their exclamation point, not mine.)

Despite being referred to almost daily as an "artist, influencer, taste-maker," and most certainly "just plain cool" I was not invited to join this conference call.

Are my feelings hurt? Let me assure you they are not. I learned years ago that one of the burdens of taste-makerness and just-plain-coolness is that one often finds oneself ahead of the pack, blazing new trails upon which the common man will not feel comfortable until long after one has moved on to greater things. I was wearing a Member's Only jacket in 1979, for crying out loud, but by the time Martha Quinn and company were making their appearances on MTV, I was had shed it for a red leather jacket with a multitude of zippers. Where do you think Michael Jackson got the idea?

Anyway, even were I not so leading-edge as to be passed over by these poseurs (really - United We Serve? They are SO passe.) I would have had to send my regrets. Don't these people know that the age of patronage is behind us? What self-respecting forward-leaning progressive art dissident would willingly align themselves with a government movement? Since when have artists needed to collude with The Man to decide how to do their work?

That was a rhetorical question, but now that I've asked it, it seems worth answering. Not since the fall of the Soviet Union.

Joe Wilson, Joe Biden, and the Dangerous Truth Strategy

2009-09-12T14:46:00.000-07:00

Politicians and pundits alike were shocked by the outburst of Representative Joe Wilson, (R-South Carolina) during President Obama’s speech the other day, but if they were caught off guard by his calling the President a liar, they have been even more amazed by the campaign contributions that have rolled into his campaign coffers as a result.

Originally considered a faux pas by his colleagues on both sides of the aisle, the unexpected financial effect of Representative Wilson’s brush with tourette syndrome has earned it a second look. As campaign contributions from his small, lower-middle class district top one million dollars, members of Congress are considering shifting to a campaign strategy they would never have considered just a week before. From the prominent to the obscure, elected representatives are meeting with their campaign managers and discussing the unheard-of possibility that occasional truth-telling, under carefully controlled circumstances, might actually work to their benefit.

Legendary democratic strategist James Carville, on his way to his crypt before dawn today, acknowledged at least the slim possibility that the truth might actually work in some cases. “Yeah, well, thas a poss bility, ahthough, in ah ‘sperience, ah candidates haven’t ‘zacly represented constit encies that we considered suscep able to that sort of puh suasion.”

Now many have come to reevaluate what they had previously considered the Vice President’s Achilles heel – his frequent tendency to blurt out statements that were disastrously off-topic, and even more disturbingly, true. In the light of Joe Wilson’s truth strategy, should we question whether Joe Biden is more Machiavelli than Rain Man? Could his truth-blurting be, not a series of entertaining gaffs, but instead, a cleverly laid plot to ingratiate himself with the electorate while the President sinks lower and lower in the polls? The prescience required for such a master plan boggles the mind, but there it is: We must consider the possibility that the Vice President, hiding behind a façade of vacuity, concealed beneath a camouflage of hair plugs, recognized before anyone, a growing truth-bias among the electorate, and not only recognized it, but put into action a subtle program to benefit from it by gradually, imperceptibly, insinuating himself into the growing undercurrent of the truth counterculture.

Now that the cat’s out of the bag, legislators are seeking to understand this newest voting demographic. A survey of the most prominent Washington-area consultants who specialize in public opinion data shows that prior to last week, the vast majority of them were concentrating their efforts on finding the most palatable way to present healthcare reform for illegal immigrants. Since Representative Wilson’s truth outbreak, however, each of them has shifted their attention to identifying the truth demographic, and finding the best ways to secure its loyalty for their clients.

But the Truth Strategy is not for everyone. While Representative Barney Frank’s (D-Massachusetts) early numbers show some success for his first forays into Truth (He has begun experimenting on focus groups by interrupting his own speeches with cries of “Hideouth!, Tweacherouth,” and “Dethpicabew!”) some legislators are finding that they are physically incapable of using Truth, even in its simplest forms.

Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, (D-California) for one, has discovered what appears to be an allergic reaction to Truth. In recent sessions with her consultants, she slipped into anaphylactic shock and narrowly avoided assuming a permanent vegetative state when, for test purposes, she tried to say, “The stimulus package may not have been entirely successful.”

“It was awful,” said an eyewitness. “Her face just kind of froze, and she sat there, immobile.”

A colleague said, “At first we just thought it was another botox treatment, but then we realized she wasn’t breathing. It took nearly 20 minutes to find someone to administer CPR.”

Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nevada) acknowledges a similar affliction, although his reaction seemed to be less extreme. When he tried to say, “Government is sometimes not as efficient as the free market,” he suffered a severe asthma attack, which required administration of a corticosteroid inhaler from the Congressional Free Medical Clinic. Although he turned a lovely shade of blue, the senator said that the Truth experiment was not something he was willing to repeat in the future. “Much too dangerous,” he cautioned. “In fact,” he said, suddenly looking better than he had all day, “Truth is so dangerous that in the near future I will be proposing legislation to regulate it.”

Other members of Congress have been less precipitous in their attempts to benefit from Truth, and so sustained reactions that were much less severe. Senator Al Franken (D-Minnesota) developed a case of hives when he whispered, “The Founding Fathers meant what they said and said what they meant,” while Senator Barbara Boxer (D-California) suffered a nose bleed.

While these and many other legislators were dismayed to discover their inability to profit from the Truth Strategy, they have, at least, discovered a silver lining in their dark cloud. Senator Olympia Snowe, (R-Maine) proudly waved her newly-minted handicapped parking placard. “This represents a major blow against the injustices suffered by the less-enabled,” she said, as she spoke in glowing terms of the government benefits that would now be extended to truth-impaired members of Congress.

Wind-scuplted Dunes

2009-09-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

As threatened, another painting of sand dunes.

Michael Kiefer, one of 2,996

2009-09-11T02:08:00.000-07:00

I know I posted this a couple days ago, but I wanted to bring it back up to the top page, now that today is the Eleventh of September.

After posting this for the first time a couple of years ago, I was privileged to exchange correspondence a few times with Michael's mother, Pat. I can tell you that even with the passage of years, she and her family still missed her son terribly. These 2,996 are gone, but they left behind families and loved ones. It's as much for them - those still suffering from their loss - as much as for the 2,996, that we take this day to remember what happened nine years ago.

On 11 September, 2001 I was in Amman, Jordan. I was the senior member of a small American military detachment getting a refresher course in Arabic at the Royal Jordanian Military Language Institute. At the time of the attacks, I was just signing onto my email account at an internet cafe in central Amman. I saw a news banner announcing that two planes had crashed into the towers of the World Trade Center. I was certain that I was looking at an advertisement for a movie. Within two minutes, my embassy cell phone rang. "Get all your people to the embassy right away." I was told. That's when I knew it was no movie ad.

As I was scrambling to get my colleagues together, 26 year-old Michael Kiefer was breathing his last in New York City. Michael was one of the 2,996 innocents who lost their lives in Al Qaeda's most successful attack on our nation. Maybe you remember it? In case you've forgotten, let me remind you by telling you about Michael, because Michael Kiefer is a shining example of what our nation lost in that attack.

To say Michael was a fireman does not do justice to the drive and the passion he brought to his work. Some people have a job they do and others have jobs that they are; by all accounts, Michael was one of the latter. From his early years he knew that he wanted to be a fireman. Childhood photos show him wearing a fireman costume, and people tell of how, as a boy, he was so accomplished at mimicking the sound of a siren that he once convinced his school bus driver to pull aside for a firetruck that wasn't there. Michael earned perfect scores on his physical and written entrance exams and began training to become a fireman in October, 2000. He graduated in December of the same year. He drew one of the busiest assignments, engine Company 280/ladder Company 132 Firehouse of Crown Heights Brooklyn. In achieving his lifelong dream, we could say that Michael Kiefer accomplished more in his short life than will many men who live to see a century, but that would be only half his story.

In addition to being a fireman, Michael was a committed Christian, beloved son to Pat and Bud, and older brother to Kerri and Lauren. He was saving his money to buy a ring for his girlfriend, Jamie Huggler. Son, brother, boyfriend. He was the kind of guy who dedicated himself to a job that would put his life at risk in order to save others. He was just one of 2,996, but in him was a reflection of all the strength, the selflessness, the goodness, that we love about America. On this anniversary of our nation's loss, take a moment to remember Michael. Say a prayer for the peace of mind of those who knew him, and give thanks that our nation is still the home of men like him.

Overlook

2009-09-09T01:20:00.000-07:00

I've been having a terrible time uploading pictures to this site lately, so I have a backlog of paintings to post. I'll get them up as quickly as I can.

This is a little (postcard-sized) one.

Dark Dunes

2009-09-06T08:34:00.000-07:00

I don't think I'll be done painting sand dunes for a long time to come. Like the ocean, sand dunes change their appearance depending on the weather, the light, and any number of other factors. The shortening and lengthening of shadows alters their contours, and the angle of the sun affects their color. This fascinates me, so, like I said, I'll be painting scenes like this for quite a while, I think.

Michael Kiefer, One of 2,996

2009-09-02T01:43:00.000-07:00

On 11 September, 2001 I was in Amman, Jordan. I was the senior member of a small American military detachment getting a refresher course in Arabic at the Royal Jordanian Military Language Institute. At the time of the attacks, I was just signing onto my email account at an internet cafe in central Amman. I saw a news banner announcing that two planes had crashed into the towers of the World Trade Center. I was certain that I was looking at an advertisement for a movie. Within two minutes, my embassy cell phone rang. "Get all your people to the embassy right away." I was told. That's when I knew it was no movie ad.

As I was scrambling to get my colleagues together, 26 year-old Michael Kiefer was breathing his last in New York City. Michael was one of the 2,996 innocents who lost their lives in Al Qaeda's most successful attack on our nation. Maybe you remember it? In case you've forgotten, let me remind you by telling you about Michael, because Michael Kiefer is a shining example of what our nation lost in that attack. To say Michael was a fireman does not do justice to the drive and the passion he brought to his work. Some people have a job they do and others have jobs that they are; by all accounts, Michael was one of the latter. From his early years he knew that he wanted to be a fireman. Childhood photos show him wearing a fireman costume, and people tell of how, as a boy, he was so accomplished at mimicking the sound of a siren that he convinced his school bus driver to pull aside for a firetruck that wasn't there. Michael earned perfect scores on his physical and written entrance exams and began training to become a fireman in October, 2000. He graduated in December of the same year. He drew one of the busiest assignments, engine Company 280/ladder Company 132 Firehouse of Crown Heights Brooklyn.

In achieving his lifelong dream, we could say that Michael Kiefer accomplished more in his short life than will many men who live to see a century, but that would be only half his story. In addition to being a fireman, Michael was a committed Christian, beloved son to Pat and Bud, and older brother to Kerri and Lauren. He was saving his money to buy a ring for his girlfriend, Jamie Huggler. Son, brother, boyfriend. He was the kind of guy who dedicated himself to a job that would put his life at risk in order to save others. He just one of 2,996, but in him, was a reflection of all the strength, the selflessness, the goodness that we love about America. On this anniversary of our nation's loss, take a moment to remember Michael. Say a prayer for the peace of mind of those who knew him, and give thanks that our nation is still the home of men like him.