Where did the need for middle management come from? At some remote moment in time did legerdemain wrest from a right thinking soul his mind, leading him to bifurcate the simple task of getting from one point to the next. This folly now festers within many a good enterprise, weeding it with the idiocy of mediocre minds bent on making much of nothing as a means to extend their needless " contributions ".
Incendiary? Only to those so exposed. Those tedious individuals complicating already complicated lives with redundancy, stupidity, and out right buffoonery all in the name of self justification, i. e. I'm here, so it must be important. Bullocks! Layering of responsible builds insulation to the morons in the middle-
To those of you out there who are competent in your managerial skills and feel the need to take umbrage at my wild accusations; don't bother. You know your abilities are vastly overwhelmed by the dross of bald faced mediocrity committed by the rest. Protest if you must, but don't try to deny the obvious.
-allowing them to wallow in their idiocy to the detriment of those trying to get something important or productive done.
But why?
Are they not supposed to be facilitators; ably smoothing out the kinks; allowing those on the front lines to be properly supported so they may achieve the qualities of efficiency and capability in the service of their employer? Are they not the means by which those on the front lines are ably represented to the poo-bahs at the top, those making long term decisions that affect all concerned. If the two statements above are true, or hoped or meant to be, does that not place a burden of solemn responsibility on the shoulders, or heads, of these mid level apparatchiks?
I believe it does!
And yet are they such as asked above? My experience is a deflating No. And, dear reader, this is fully in league with the cognoscenti and the diaspora of those chilled, CHILLED to the bones by the prodigious wailing of those, across all spectres of this great land, laid low by the nitwits foisted upon us by upper management twits eager to hand off to a army of goofs while they go off to engage in deep thinking rather than command a crack group of dedicated hard working employees. It is truly a bummer, man.
Somewhere a gaggle of idiots are in deep conference; if you can call it that, given some rudimentary bureaucratic function to oversee for the perfunctory purpose of covering the company's sorry butt in case of injury or outrage. This solemn occasion is juxtaposed by the asinine members of said committee brooding ever vigilantly in an effort to make the mundane stupefyingly pointless, witless, and without any redeeming value.
Something that those of us with actual work to do look forward to with baited breath.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
The Total Dude
In our ever delightful conflict between self interest and selflessness; the idea that we can control our destiny versus the notion that we are small cogs in a great machine over which we have no control and that might grind us up at any time, is the question of resolution to this conundrum. Do we take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them; to quote Hamlet, or do we let the sea envelop us and carry us along with the tide depositing us wherever it may flow?
Questions.
Naturally, one would think; and perhaps that IS the question, this leads to the philosophical nature of existence, and correspondingly, HOW we react to the miasma of this little adventure called life.
Maybe.
I bring this little niblet to the fore after much ado about the merry bands of Truthers, Birthers, and such good folks who make the Glenn Becks of this world the media darlings that they are. As we know, any good conspiracy theory needs its avatar. It comes along with the good news that being positive all the time is a real downer; evidently intently visualizing happiness, or it's attending agents, whether by fantasy or the wizardry of advertising, does not always produce the desired or hoped for results. Consequently, and this is exacerbated in these gloomy times, it leaves the former believers discontent. I personally believe this goes against human nature, this idea that we must all be upbeat morons, but I'm a renowned crank. It is also these times when good folks feel the most vulnerable to forces, be they market or governmental, spiritual or otherwise, over which they have no control. It is therefore unremarkable that some of them suspect, sometimes with seething ferocity, that, as Kelly Bundy would say; something is rotten in the state of Denver.
My answer? Seek to realize your Total Dude.
Now, granted, this is a play on terms, but is, I believe, essential to a healthy realistic approach to life in these turbulent times.
Which means what?
Exuding your natural intrinsic being. How's that for gobbledygook? Perhaps better said; accept who you are; be who you are. Whether one of those happy go lucky types or a bitter old troll; embrace who thoust art. This nihilism; masquerading as joyful conformity foisted upon us by management bureaucrats, must be denied. Mankind, humankind for those of you so incensed, is in it's essence, a panoply of wild emotion; some good, some bad. Without giddiness or melancholy, grim determination or nary a care in the world, we are but automatons beating out a vapid rhythm of little true cheer. Revolt my bothers and sisters. Lay joyous claim to your polyglot idiosyncrasies; be as the bard so noted; to thy self be true.
I will, of course, be miking this of it's own crass commercialism.
Questions.
Naturally, one would think; and perhaps that IS the question, this leads to the philosophical nature of existence, and correspondingly, HOW we react to the miasma of this little adventure called life.
Maybe.
I bring this little niblet to the fore after much ado about the merry bands of Truthers, Birthers, and such good folks who make the Glenn Becks of this world the media darlings that they are. As we know, any good conspiracy theory needs its avatar. It comes along with the good news that being positive all the time is a real downer; evidently intently visualizing happiness, or it's attending agents, whether by fantasy or the wizardry of advertising, does not always produce the desired or hoped for results. Consequently, and this is exacerbated in these gloomy times, it leaves the former believers discontent. I personally believe this goes against human nature, this idea that we must all be upbeat morons, but I'm a renowned crank. It is also these times when good folks feel the most vulnerable to forces, be they market or governmental, spiritual or otherwise, over which they have no control. It is therefore unremarkable that some of them suspect, sometimes with seething ferocity, that, as Kelly Bundy would say; something is rotten in the state of Denver.
My answer? Seek to realize your Total Dude.
Now, granted, this is a play on terms, but is, I believe, essential to a healthy realistic approach to life in these turbulent times.
Which means what?
Exuding your natural intrinsic being. How's that for gobbledygook? Perhaps better said; accept who you are; be who you are. Whether one of those happy go lucky types or a bitter old troll; embrace who thoust art. This nihilism; masquerading as joyful conformity foisted upon us by management bureaucrats, must be denied. Mankind, humankind for those of you so incensed, is in it's essence, a panoply of wild emotion; some good, some bad. Without giddiness or melancholy, grim determination or nary a care in the world, we are but automatons beating out a vapid rhythm of little true cheer. Revolt my bothers and sisters. Lay joyous claim to your polyglot idiosyncrasies; be as the bard so noted; to thy self be true.
I will, of course, be miking this of it's own crass commercialism.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
I got nothing
Insane killer caught. Recent headline in our local paper. Was taken out for a field trip, decided to grab some freedom, escaped, did some stuff ( apparently none of which was illegal apart from escaping ), and then gave himself up. Yet he's still insane. I recognize that the reason for an insanity plea is a comprehensible lack of understanding the consequences of your actions; that any trial would be a futile act if it did not impress upon the convicted of the gravity of their deed, but..........
this guy been insane for some time; twenty plus years. This begs the question: were his present day actions indicative of an insane person, or the rational act of an irrational mind?
Maybe that's saying the same thing.
Metaphorically speaking, this seems a rational act in an irrational world. As I've indicated in previous posts, I'm not exactly enamoured of our present day ministrations, but it is what it is. In reading about our local insane killer's day off, the thought occurred to me how many others trapped; imprisoned, so to speak, by their choices in life wouldn't like to escape for a while to experience a taste of freedom. God knows I would; but that's just me.
If you been insane for the better part of your life, but you are still rational enough for a field trip; rational enough yet again to plot an escape, when then are you no longer insane, and do you then begin the process of paying your debt to society? Or is your time while confined as insane enough? It is, one would think, problematic, and evocative of why people are leery of persons who are " insane "; especially if that has allowed them to avoid prison. They are still incarcerated, but the impression is that being held for insanity is better than plain old prison.
I couldn't tell as I've quote avoided both up to this point. I have, in my finer moments, felt imprisoned by my choices at times, but I assume all people do now and again.
I have a field trip coming up, so I have to go.
this guy been insane for some time; twenty plus years. This begs the question: were his present day actions indicative of an insane person, or the rational act of an irrational mind?
Maybe that's saying the same thing.
Metaphorically speaking, this seems a rational act in an irrational world. As I've indicated in previous posts, I'm not exactly enamoured of our present day ministrations, but it is what it is. In reading about our local insane killer's day off, the thought occurred to me how many others trapped; imprisoned, so to speak, by their choices in life wouldn't like to escape for a while to experience a taste of freedom. God knows I would; but that's just me.
If you been insane for the better part of your life, but you are still rational enough for a field trip; rational enough yet again to plot an escape, when then are you no longer insane, and do you then begin the process of paying your debt to society? Or is your time while confined as insane enough? It is, one would think, problematic, and evocative of why people are leery of persons who are " insane "; especially if that has allowed them to avoid prison. They are still incarcerated, but the impression is that being held for insanity is better than plain old prison.
I couldn't tell as I've quote avoided both up to this point. I have, in my finer moments, felt imprisoned by my choices at times, but I assume all people do now and again.
I have a field trip coming up, so I have to go.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The American character
In watching the ministrations of fury and folly that is our dyspeptic and near psychotic relationship with our government; particularly the jihad over health care, whether for or against, I must remark on the telling disconnect on what we think or believe ourselves to be, and what we really are.
Are we a pull up our boot straps, when the going gets tough; the tough get going, self reliant, can do people? Or was that our forebears? Are we less so? Are we more demanding of government, whether we're ambivalent about it or not, than those who trod before us?
Have we been so debilitated over government by all the bad press, republican hatred ( loathing; despising, whatever adjective you might ascribe to ), and sob stories that we, at once, are certain we're nothing more than lemmings led over the proverbial cliff while, paradoxically, fearful of having no one, or no institution to look after us?
The government does belong to the people. And whether the government does good or bad; represents all of us, or those able to exercise influence through lobbying or insider contacts; is efficient or non-functioning, is a byproduct of our oversight and participation. It is, whether we like it or not; our mess!
Whatever you may think of the good folks venting their spleens at the town hall meetings over health care, they do have a right to vent. They also ought to have the decency to sit down and shut up so others may vent their spleens. Evidently, based on the frenzied media coverage, this isn't happening. Rather than a spirited dialogue as to the nature and content of the bills the Congress is considering, we get to witness shouting matches and bizarre rants on the certainty of the governments plan to set up death camps for the elderly or any other non productive members of society who may burden our already over burdened health care system. There's a joke about that applying to members of Congress, but we won't go there. Seems unlikely. These are also the good folks who are certain that the gubmint is going to take their guns, that the UN runs the country, that good middle American folks will be run over by rapacious illegal immigrants who will suck every last dollar out of the public coffers first. Well, maybe not all of them; certainly some. It has also been pointed out by others that this wave of illegal immigration has been steady since 1492. I know a goodly number of folks who have many guns and none have had them confiscated or been forced to abide by pernicious and constraining laws.
Yet many of these same folks who are certain that the gubmint want to do great harm to them in their pursuit of happiness, are demanding that the gubmint forcefully, and through the full malice of the law, decide how others should pursue theirs. Judicial advocacy is good only when it is advocating what you may believe, and bad when it's for something you don't. So long as the great unwashed masses are not sucked into any overly distorted propaganda, most of this hand wringing happens on the fringes of society, as they say. Of course, history is replete with bad situations giving the fringe the power over the masses resulting in some of, if not the worst of, human terror. Remember, before the Great Depression, the Nazis were nuts on the right fighting the commie nuts on the left. Fringe groups ignored by the center.
That's not to say that the venters we see today are in the same boat as Hitler, although it's remarkable that republicans would liken Obama to him, but we risk losing the forest for the trees if we stand on the sidelines and allow their rants to shape the discussion on health care, particularly as it has no actual relevance to health care as so far written.
The fears about health care are, more over, revelatory as to our ambivalent feelings towards government control over it. Never mind that government already controls elder care which is happily roaring into insolvency. This is a byproduct of our inability to focus on what needs to be done before it becomes a crisis. So we'll wait until it is insolvent and then rush in as we did with the financial meltdown. Do we wait until health care itself reaches the point where it is unaffordable before we enact the necessary changes? I personally would not be surprised if it comes to that.
If so, then that answers our question. Doesn't it.
Are we a pull up our boot straps, when the going gets tough; the tough get going, self reliant, can do people? Or was that our forebears? Are we less so? Are we more demanding of government, whether we're ambivalent about it or not, than those who trod before us?
Have we been so debilitated over government by all the bad press, republican hatred ( loathing; despising, whatever adjective you might ascribe to ), and sob stories that we, at once, are certain we're nothing more than lemmings led over the proverbial cliff while, paradoxically, fearful of having no one, or no institution to look after us?
The government does belong to the people. And whether the government does good or bad; represents all of us, or those able to exercise influence through lobbying or insider contacts; is efficient or non-functioning, is a byproduct of our oversight and participation. It is, whether we like it or not; our mess!
Whatever you may think of the good folks venting their spleens at the town hall meetings over health care, they do have a right to vent. They also ought to have the decency to sit down and shut up so others may vent their spleens. Evidently, based on the frenzied media coverage, this isn't happening. Rather than a spirited dialogue as to the nature and content of the bills the Congress is considering, we get to witness shouting matches and bizarre rants on the certainty of the governments plan to set up death camps for the elderly or any other non productive members of society who may burden our already over burdened health care system. There's a joke about that applying to members of Congress, but we won't go there. Seems unlikely. These are also the good folks who are certain that the gubmint is going to take their guns, that the UN runs the country, that good middle American folks will be run over by rapacious illegal immigrants who will suck every last dollar out of the public coffers first. Well, maybe not all of them; certainly some. It has also been pointed out by others that this wave of illegal immigration has been steady since 1492. I know a goodly number of folks who have many guns and none have had them confiscated or been forced to abide by pernicious and constraining laws.
Yet many of these same folks who are certain that the gubmint want to do great harm to them in their pursuit of happiness, are demanding that the gubmint forcefully, and through the full malice of the law, decide how others should pursue theirs. Judicial advocacy is good only when it is advocating what you may believe, and bad when it's for something you don't. So long as the great unwashed masses are not sucked into any overly distorted propaganda, most of this hand wringing happens on the fringes of society, as they say. Of course, history is replete with bad situations giving the fringe the power over the masses resulting in some of, if not the worst of, human terror. Remember, before the Great Depression, the Nazis were nuts on the right fighting the commie nuts on the left. Fringe groups ignored by the center.
That's not to say that the venters we see today are in the same boat as Hitler, although it's remarkable that republicans would liken Obama to him, but we risk losing the forest for the trees if we stand on the sidelines and allow their rants to shape the discussion on health care, particularly as it has no actual relevance to health care as so far written.
The fears about health care are, more over, revelatory as to our ambivalent feelings towards government control over it. Never mind that government already controls elder care which is happily roaring into insolvency. This is a byproduct of our inability to focus on what needs to be done before it becomes a crisis. So we'll wait until it is insolvent and then rush in as we did with the financial meltdown. Do we wait until health care itself reaches the point where it is unaffordable before we enact the necessary changes? I personally would not be surprised if it comes to that.
If so, then that answers our question. Doesn't it.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Wither the Caveman
Evidently, I've been remiss in cataloging my peeves of late. I haven't bluntly stated my vehemence in more than a month. Therefore, with insouciant haste, I offer the following riposte:
I am not a man of my times. Shocking as that my sound, it is sadly true. While I have tried my best to follow the herd in how I look, operate, conduct myself, relate to others, counsel my children, maximize my materialism with all manner of modern dross ( although I will confess that there are some items that call to me ); that I remain resolute in the facility of the Capitalist model; the romantic model; et cetera, ad nauseum; I am, congenitally, disenchanted with this age I find myself condemned ( Is that too strong a term? ) to endure.
Well then, you may ask: what is your " Age ", Joyboy? If this one's not good enough, or right for you, which age is?
After much thought, and I am, if I may say so; a thoughtful man, I believe the age in which I would fit in best is...........................
Caveman. That's right, caveman. Hunter/Gatherer; one evolutionary step up from Neanderthal. Stone tools in hand; adorned in animal skins; roaming the savanna, the valley; wherever the hell I might be; for better or for worse.
But what about our age of plenty; the lack of want, be it food or shelter, or the latest flat screen TV? While I would miss watching baseball in HD, the seemingly endless pursuit of material goods foisted upon me by our insatiable consumerism seems utterly pointless after a while. How many TVs is too many? How many cars? Suits? Well, maybe not suits, unless you are a Suit. Anyway, you get the point. Or do you? ( It might be judicious to point out that in our land of plenty there are those who sadly still go without the basics. Does that make it better or not? )
So let us compare, shall we. Perhaps you'll come to see my point. Perhaps you'll come to understand that I'm in the last desperate throes of my mental free fall.
Foremost is work. While there are those who have fulfilling careers, the vast majority of us spend the best years of our live laboring in boxes, working for peanuts, enduring "managers" more predisposed to personal politics than the overall betterment of their charges who endlessly throw their mediocrity at us, so that we can retire, at some point, when we've used up the best of our physical and mental potential ( one would hope, but there's no guarantee of that ); to do what? I've never quite bought into the idea of the retirement village. That bucolic idle where all is golf and cards in the southern sun. Do you work till you die? Probably, after all those material goods have to be paid for. There is also the nagging suspicion that such things as health care, food, shelter will be more costly as we trudge along.
A caveman goes out, hunts, and gathers up the Earth's bountiful goodness. Sure there are certain limitations; one's abilities, the general gathering positives of the region in which you've settled, and the other carnivorous animals duelling with you for the day's catch. Yes, it's physically demanding, but guess what? That's actually what we're designed for; being out and about, not rotting in a chair, staring into the luminescence of your monitor, vacuously working through the latest batch of pointless emails. I'm fairly athletic, enjoy being outside, and like the idea of having the rest of the week off after I've made my catch. Which allows me to say that I've contributed to the common welfare of the tribe.
Which brings us to our political institutions. As a caveman I have my tribe. Maybe there's a strong man running the show; maybe it's a autonomous collective; maybe it's a loose collection of families and the occasional outlier. Who knows. What it's not, is a vast bureaucracy built for the express purpose of stupefying, befuddling, and frustrating the masses. Say what you will about Nation States, be they capitalist, socialist, communist, or totalitarian, inevitably they exist to subjugate by willful manipulation and thuggery, by demagoguery, or by the sheer force of their entrenchment in our everyday lives to wear us down. Even here in the US of A, try to live free of government; can't be done. Whether by the noblest of intentions or the malice and terror of the worst, we live in the age of vast government. Wherever you may roam; you are within the jurisdiction of some governmental body. Not so in caveman days. Certainly there are tribal boundaries; but they ebb and flow. Walk a while and you're on your own.
Alright, let's get down to business. I freely admit to what I'd be losing; government services; fire, police, a social safety net, whether stable or precarious, and a national identity. I receive all of these by participating in society, by working within established business or government norms, allowing me to earn, hopefully, enough to support myself and my family, assuming I have one, and to pay my share, however that may be determined by government will or fiat, in taxes to support the government and it's programs. I may, or may not, have health care coverage. For that I live within the strictures of modern society. I have the privilege of living in an age of phenomenal scientific and technical advances unknown to generations not long before us. I will no doubt live twice as long as I would as a caveman. If I get injured, or suffer a life threatening event, I can reasonably expect to be taken to a hospital where I, at least, have some hope of survival. I wouldn't have to live in a cave, and for the few who do, they've converted them to modern versions there of with all the conveniences we've grown accustomed to. I can travel vast distances in a relatively short time; if opportunity affords it, I can see the world. Certainly by those standards, we live in a wonderful age.
So what's my problem?
It makes no sense to me. Do I buy stuff I need? Or do I consume simply as a lifestyle? What's the point? Will what I buy last, or should I care? I can always buy more. It seems pointless. We pick vocations based on probable income ( yeah, maybe not everyone, but it's the seducer everyone knows is in the room ), assuming we even have that choice, in order to satiate a need to collect stuff that requires more and more room. Big houses to store our material goods, of which we have so much that most garages, be they 1, 2, 3, or more, often have no room for the cars themselves. All of which has to be disposed of at some point. Our gift to our children, so they may negotiate with one another over who gets the bounty, or more likely, the joy of getting rid of it. Wearily we drag ourselves to jobs, controlled by persons, or persons unknown, who one minute extol us of our unique value to the company, and then have us escorted off the property when we become unwanted or unneeded. A lifetime in a grind for the purposes of continuing the consumeristic flog. We give up our freedom, our time in the sun; literally; our time with our children. We all lead separate lives flailing away to gain something we cannot hold, splintering families, all off on their own, so at the end we can die lonely in a home with other lonely, dying consumers.
I don't want to be kept alive just because I can be. I don't want to be part of a big impersonal machine.
I know that as a caveman I'll probably die young. Be it sickness, injury, exposure; having a tiger rip out my throat and feast upon my carcass. People die of those things still, although the tiger thing is, I would think, fairly rare ( Like my carcass! ). I'd have my family because you couldn't survive without it. I wouldn't live in a world of mass genocide. Sure, the horde over the horizon may come after us, but they'd have to kill up close and personal. No 600 yard kill shots, and the terror of bombs screaming into your world meant to obliterate everything. I wouldn't be bombarded by politicians more interested in themselves and their " agenda " than the common welfare of all citizens. Self righteous blowhards disgracing themselves with fearful bromides intent on stirring up peoples fears and hatreds. If that means I'd have to give up baseball in HD, so be it.
I'll sit at the edge of my cave, surrounded by nothing more than the sounds of the world, looking up into the heavens sparkling down upon me. God can be with me as nothing more than the Universe and a small carved figure. And if the tigers get me tomorrow, at least I know my place in the world.
I am not a man of my times. Shocking as that my sound, it is sadly true. While I have tried my best to follow the herd in how I look, operate, conduct myself, relate to others, counsel my children, maximize my materialism with all manner of modern dross ( although I will confess that there are some items that call to me ); that I remain resolute in the facility of the Capitalist model; the romantic model; et cetera, ad nauseum; I am, congenitally, disenchanted with this age I find myself condemned ( Is that too strong a term? ) to endure.
Well then, you may ask: what is your " Age ", Joyboy? If this one's not good enough, or right for you, which age is?
After much thought, and I am, if I may say so; a thoughtful man, I believe the age in which I would fit in best is...........................
Caveman. That's right, caveman. Hunter/Gatherer; one evolutionary step up from Neanderthal. Stone tools in hand; adorned in animal skins; roaming the savanna, the valley; wherever the hell I might be; for better or for worse.
But what about our age of plenty; the lack of want, be it food or shelter, or the latest flat screen TV? While I would miss watching baseball in HD, the seemingly endless pursuit of material goods foisted upon me by our insatiable consumerism seems utterly pointless after a while. How many TVs is too many? How many cars? Suits? Well, maybe not suits, unless you are a Suit. Anyway, you get the point. Or do you? ( It might be judicious to point out that in our land of plenty there are those who sadly still go without the basics. Does that make it better or not? )
So let us compare, shall we. Perhaps you'll come to see my point. Perhaps you'll come to understand that I'm in the last desperate throes of my mental free fall.
Foremost is work. While there are those who have fulfilling careers, the vast majority of us spend the best years of our live laboring in boxes, working for peanuts, enduring "managers" more predisposed to personal politics than the overall betterment of their charges who endlessly throw their mediocrity at us, so that we can retire, at some point, when we've used up the best of our physical and mental potential ( one would hope, but there's no guarantee of that ); to do what? I've never quite bought into the idea of the retirement village. That bucolic idle where all is golf and cards in the southern sun. Do you work till you die? Probably, after all those material goods have to be paid for. There is also the nagging suspicion that such things as health care, food, shelter will be more costly as we trudge along.
A caveman goes out, hunts, and gathers up the Earth's bountiful goodness. Sure there are certain limitations; one's abilities, the general gathering positives of the region in which you've settled, and the other carnivorous animals duelling with you for the day's catch. Yes, it's physically demanding, but guess what? That's actually what we're designed for; being out and about, not rotting in a chair, staring into the luminescence of your monitor, vacuously working through the latest batch of pointless emails. I'm fairly athletic, enjoy being outside, and like the idea of having the rest of the week off after I've made my catch. Which allows me to say that I've contributed to the common welfare of the tribe.
Which brings us to our political institutions. As a caveman I have my tribe. Maybe there's a strong man running the show; maybe it's a autonomous collective; maybe it's a loose collection of families and the occasional outlier. Who knows. What it's not, is a vast bureaucracy built for the express purpose of stupefying, befuddling, and frustrating the masses. Say what you will about Nation States, be they capitalist, socialist, communist, or totalitarian, inevitably they exist to subjugate by willful manipulation and thuggery, by demagoguery, or by the sheer force of their entrenchment in our everyday lives to wear us down. Even here in the US of A, try to live free of government; can't be done. Whether by the noblest of intentions or the malice and terror of the worst, we live in the age of vast government. Wherever you may roam; you are within the jurisdiction of some governmental body. Not so in caveman days. Certainly there are tribal boundaries; but they ebb and flow. Walk a while and you're on your own.
Alright, let's get down to business. I freely admit to what I'd be losing; government services; fire, police, a social safety net, whether stable or precarious, and a national identity. I receive all of these by participating in society, by working within established business or government norms, allowing me to earn, hopefully, enough to support myself and my family, assuming I have one, and to pay my share, however that may be determined by government will or fiat, in taxes to support the government and it's programs. I may, or may not, have health care coverage. For that I live within the strictures of modern society. I have the privilege of living in an age of phenomenal scientific and technical advances unknown to generations not long before us. I will no doubt live twice as long as I would as a caveman. If I get injured, or suffer a life threatening event, I can reasonably expect to be taken to a hospital where I, at least, have some hope of survival. I wouldn't have to live in a cave, and for the few who do, they've converted them to modern versions there of with all the conveniences we've grown accustomed to. I can travel vast distances in a relatively short time; if opportunity affords it, I can see the world. Certainly by those standards, we live in a wonderful age.
So what's my problem?
It makes no sense to me. Do I buy stuff I need? Or do I consume simply as a lifestyle? What's the point? Will what I buy last, or should I care? I can always buy more. It seems pointless. We pick vocations based on probable income ( yeah, maybe not everyone, but it's the seducer everyone knows is in the room ), assuming we even have that choice, in order to satiate a need to collect stuff that requires more and more room. Big houses to store our material goods, of which we have so much that most garages, be they 1, 2, 3, or more, often have no room for the cars themselves. All of which has to be disposed of at some point. Our gift to our children, so they may negotiate with one another over who gets the bounty, or more likely, the joy of getting rid of it. Wearily we drag ourselves to jobs, controlled by persons, or persons unknown, who one minute extol us of our unique value to the company, and then have us escorted off the property when we become unwanted or unneeded. A lifetime in a grind for the purposes of continuing the consumeristic flog. We give up our freedom, our time in the sun; literally; our time with our children. We all lead separate lives flailing away to gain something we cannot hold, splintering families, all off on their own, so at the end we can die lonely in a home with other lonely, dying consumers.
I don't want to be kept alive just because I can be. I don't want to be part of a big impersonal machine.
I know that as a caveman I'll probably die young. Be it sickness, injury, exposure; having a tiger rip out my throat and feast upon my carcass. People die of those things still, although the tiger thing is, I would think, fairly rare ( Like my carcass! ). I'd have my family because you couldn't survive without it. I wouldn't live in a world of mass genocide. Sure, the horde over the horizon may come after us, but they'd have to kill up close and personal. No 600 yard kill shots, and the terror of bombs screaming into your world meant to obliterate everything. I wouldn't be bombarded by politicians more interested in themselves and their " agenda " than the common welfare of all citizens. Self righteous blowhards disgracing themselves with fearful bromides intent on stirring up peoples fears and hatreds. If that means I'd have to give up baseball in HD, so be it.
I'll sit at the edge of my cave, surrounded by nothing more than the sounds of the world, looking up into the heavens sparkling down upon me. God can be with me as nothing more than the Universe and a small carved figure. And if the tigers get me tomorrow, at least I know my place in the world.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
A ethereal wind
While the world works it's way through the death of Michael Jackson, with all it's sideshows, lurid or otherwise, there are those of us who have been mourning the loss of the man; the musician, for some time. The loss of opportunity, the wasting of resources, all the possibilities now surely gone, but that had long been buried beneath the celebrity and notoriety.
The question now is where does Michael Jackson belong in the pantheon of music, be it African-American, pop, soul; where is his place among the greats in music? Where does he belong? Compared to others, his discography is limited, but given that, does it compare in quality to his contemporaries, his predecessors, or to the icons some suggest he now joins? I think as far as his contemporaries are concerned, be it Prince, Lionel Richie, Madonna ( never thought I'd give the 80's that much....................thought ), or U2, he certainly eclipsed them by sheer volume and number. That he was dubbed the King of Pop, a crown worn in previous eras by Elvis and Sinatra, certainly speaks to his status in those days. But, musically, was he better, or more influential, than his contemporaries? Prince and U2 were more restless and creative; pushing themselves to be more than one dimensional, but then they weren't " pop " stars in the traditional sense, or more properly, moved through the popular firmament for a time, before returning to their own particular venues. Richie, suffered from the dominance of Jackson; Madonna appropriated the iconography and ran with it, producing albums in the idiomatic style of that particular moment in Pop.
What of his place with his predecessors? Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Smokey Robinson, and the many other greats of Motown and Stax. He and his brothers came up through that time and obviously were influenced and mentored by that group. Does his work measure up to theirs? Is Thriller the equal of Marvin Gay's What's Going On? Thriller sold more, but what album by any individual or group is going to measure up to that? Is that the parameter that defines his place in history?
Is he among the great? Can he stand along side Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, or Ray Charles? Can he match their contributions to music; the songs, the styles, the impact on successive musicians; the weight of their legacies? I believe most discerning critics and historians of music would say no. Some of that is due to the category in which his music falls. Pop is, by and large, disposable; remembered mostly by those who age group is defined by it's time, and largely forgotten or unknown to others. It's like talking about the Beatles to a seventeen year old; he might like or appreciate the music; he might not, but he'll never understand the context of the time or the sensation, anymore than I would the Swing era, even though I truly enjoy Swing.
I do think that, for some of us; and I do include myself, there is a sense of what Michael Jackson might have created musically, had Thriller been a big hit rather than the monster he could never replicate. There's no doubt that he had a real feel for what he wanted to do musically, and success certainly can reinforce the belief that you can do no wrong, but the question that will never be answered was if that's all he really had; that Thriller was the culmination; that there wouldn't be anything better; that everything that followed would be a failed attempt at recreating the Thriller magic. Historically, you could say that his subsequent recording bear that out. They were good, but not great. Had Thriller not been the monster that it was, would Michael Jackson have moved on musically; creatively? Would he have had the opportunity to expand his musical palette; to try new thing and sound without being restrained by expectations, or was he, simply what he was; the best for a time, but only for that time, and then eclipsed by the next big thing.
The question now is where does Michael Jackson belong in the pantheon of music, be it African-American, pop, soul; where is his place among the greats in music? Where does he belong? Compared to others, his discography is limited, but given that, does it compare in quality to his contemporaries, his predecessors, or to the icons some suggest he now joins? I think as far as his contemporaries are concerned, be it Prince, Lionel Richie, Madonna ( never thought I'd give the 80's that much....................thought ), or U2, he certainly eclipsed them by sheer volume and number. That he was dubbed the King of Pop, a crown worn in previous eras by Elvis and Sinatra, certainly speaks to his status in those days. But, musically, was he better, or more influential, than his contemporaries? Prince and U2 were more restless and creative; pushing themselves to be more than one dimensional, but then they weren't " pop " stars in the traditional sense, or more properly, moved through the popular firmament for a time, before returning to their own particular venues. Richie, suffered from the dominance of Jackson; Madonna appropriated the iconography and ran with it, producing albums in the idiomatic style of that particular moment in Pop.
What of his place with his predecessors? Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Smokey Robinson, and the many other greats of Motown and Stax. He and his brothers came up through that time and obviously were influenced and mentored by that group. Does his work measure up to theirs? Is Thriller the equal of Marvin Gay's What's Going On? Thriller sold more, but what album by any individual or group is going to measure up to that? Is that the parameter that defines his place in history?
Is he among the great? Can he stand along side Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, or Ray Charles? Can he match their contributions to music; the songs, the styles, the impact on successive musicians; the weight of their legacies? I believe most discerning critics and historians of music would say no. Some of that is due to the category in which his music falls. Pop is, by and large, disposable; remembered mostly by those who age group is defined by it's time, and largely forgotten or unknown to others. It's like talking about the Beatles to a seventeen year old; he might like or appreciate the music; he might not, but he'll never understand the context of the time or the sensation, anymore than I would the Swing era, even though I truly enjoy Swing.
I do think that, for some of us; and I do include myself, there is a sense of what Michael Jackson might have created musically, had Thriller been a big hit rather than the monster he could never replicate. There's no doubt that he had a real feel for what he wanted to do musically, and success certainly can reinforce the belief that you can do no wrong, but the question that will never be answered was if that's all he really had; that Thriller was the culmination; that there wouldn't be anything better; that everything that followed would be a failed attempt at recreating the Thriller magic. Historically, you could say that his subsequent recording bear that out. They were good, but not great. Had Thriller not been the monster that it was, would Michael Jackson have moved on musically; creatively? Would he have had the opportunity to expand his musical palette; to try new thing and sound without being restrained by expectations, or was he, simply what he was; the best for a time, but only for that time, and then eclipsed by the next big thing.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The paradox of Dr. Manhattan
I have, of late, been wading in the pools of the Watchmen. First, the film, then the book, and lately, I've been reading a book on the philosophy of the story and it's characters. I find it remarkable that a comic can contain such a variety of subtexts. Every character is seriously flawed, and either suffers from doubt, or is certain of their convictions; oblivious to moral hazard. To say the book flays the comic book super hero is an understatement; the book obliterates the genre. Altruism has no hold on these vigilantes, from the sociopath Comedian to the surety of Ozymandias. All act beyond the bounds of society, bent to their own profundities, all the while hiding behind the facade of protecting the common good.
The oddball of the group is Dr. Manhattan. He being the only one of them who actually possesses powers beyond any ordinary human. He is by definition the only one who can profoundly alter the world around him. Yet, he is captive to his human limitations. He seems trapped by these limitations that having once been human place upon him. Maybe these are inherent flaws in the story, but they bring up interesting aspects to the idea of a human coming into possession of power to which he must then acclimate. How do these human limitations conflict with his apparently infinite physical power?
These problems manifest themselves as he is being manipulated by Viegt ( Ozymandias ); driving him into self exile on Mars. Finding himself having to defend the ( mistaken ) belief that he was causing those close to him to contract cancer, he becomes defensive and literally takes off. Evidently cosmic power does not necessarily imply cosmic understanding. He also seems smitten with what he can do without actually facing up to what these actions mean to the people around him; or to the human race as a whole. If, in fact, he can manipulate matter on a subatomic level, then realistically there's no reason he couldn't then dictate to the world how it would behave. The point of nuclear weapons, on the face of it, would be of little use, other than to guarantee annihilation for the usurper. That Dr. Manhattan is an American seems to count only for a little while. The US houses him and his girlfriend, the Silk Spectre, and provide him with a place to carry out whatever it is he's into; other than his own disassociation, there's not much in the book about what he's up to. The film purports that he working with Viegt on the, unbeknownst to him, weapon with which Viegt carries out his plan to save humanity. Both in the book and the film, the main thrust of Dr. Manhattan's evolution is his disassociation from humanity. That this would happen seems self evident. Once released from the constraints of physical being; having to never worry about eating, sleeping, aging, dying; when you begin to see time as spatial and inter-dimensional; this is explained by his seeing the events of his life concurrently rather than sequentially, and seeing events to come, the idea that he would begin to move to a different kind of consciousness would be expected.
With this, naturally, would be movement away from the perceived present of those around him. They're still trapped in their time slot; he is not. They're doomed to die; he is not. He can move throughout the universe, free to discover it's mysteries; they are not. That he would begin to see them as merely points in a line rather than beings to relate to, is a forgone expectation. Freed from their immediacy, he can look at humanity as a history, as a fluid movement,and not be constricted by time and place.
Philosophically, Dr. Manhattan is seeking peace, or perhaps more prosaically, happiness. Having been freed of his human bonds, he finds respite in the universe; in it's timelessness; it's function, and it's order. The exact opposite of the meandering chaos of human endeavor. That he acquiesces to the twisted logic and aftermath of Viegt's murder seems more a point of departure for him; a means to an end, allowing him to free himself of any earthly responsibility and finally move on to his cosmic bliss.
The final irony is his contemplation of creating life.
The oddball of the group is Dr. Manhattan. He being the only one of them who actually possesses powers beyond any ordinary human. He is by definition the only one who can profoundly alter the world around him. Yet, he is captive to his human limitations. He seems trapped by these limitations that having once been human place upon him. Maybe these are inherent flaws in the story, but they bring up interesting aspects to the idea of a human coming into possession of power to which he must then acclimate. How do these human limitations conflict with his apparently infinite physical power?
These problems manifest themselves as he is being manipulated by Viegt ( Ozymandias ); driving him into self exile on Mars. Finding himself having to defend the ( mistaken ) belief that he was causing those close to him to contract cancer, he becomes defensive and literally takes off. Evidently cosmic power does not necessarily imply cosmic understanding. He also seems smitten with what he can do without actually facing up to what these actions mean to the people around him; or to the human race as a whole. If, in fact, he can manipulate matter on a subatomic level, then realistically there's no reason he couldn't then dictate to the world how it would behave. The point of nuclear weapons, on the face of it, would be of little use, other than to guarantee annihilation for the usurper. That Dr. Manhattan is an American seems to count only for a little while. The US houses him and his girlfriend, the Silk Spectre, and provide him with a place to carry out whatever it is he's into; other than his own disassociation, there's not much in the book about what he's up to. The film purports that he working with Viegt on the, unbeknownst to him, weapon with which Viegt carries out his plan to save humanity. Both in the book and the film, the main thrust of Dr. Manhattan's evolution is his disassociation from humanity. That this would happen seems self evident. Once released from the constraints of physical being; having to never worry about eating, sleeping, aging, dying; when you begin to see time as spatial and inter-dimensional; this is explained by his seeing the events of his life concurrently rather than sequentially, and seeing events to come, the idea that he would begin to move to a different kind of consciousness would be expected.
With this, naturally, would be movement away from the perceived present of those around him. They're still trapped in their time slot; he is not. They're doomed to die; he is not. He can move throughout the universe, free to discover it's mysteries; they are not. That he would begin to see them as merely points in a line rather than beings to relate to, is a forgone expectation. Freed from their immediacy, he can look at humanity as a history, as a fluid movement,and not be constricted by time and place.
Philosophically, Dr. Manhattan is seeking peace, or perhaps more prosaically, happiness. Having been freed of his human bonds, he finds respite in the universe; in it's timelessness; it's function, and it's order. The exact opposite of the meandering chaos of human endeavor. That he acquiesces to the twisted logic and aftermath of Viegt's murder seems more a point of departure for him; a means to an end, allowing him to free himself of any earthly responsibility and finally move on to his cosmic bliss.
The final irony is his contemplation of creating life.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The great cosmic joke, pt 1
Alright, now that I've reeled you in with my incisive wit, and deep penetrating intellect; it's time to run the gauntlet ( sorry, couldn't resist ) and throw out some thick gooey darkness at the end of town.
Life is a great cosmic joke.
The fun, of course, is we play it on ourselves. We can, or some can; as I don't believe this view is universally held, blame this on God. It is, after all, his house of cards. That we're seated at the back of the room; I don't feel, should be held against him ( you may insert whatever relevant pronoun you feel is applicable if you don't care for " him " ). We set ourselves down this particular lane; admonitions to the contrary, and we're doomed to see it to the end. I doubt we, as a collective, will one day hearken to a blinding vision, turn on a dime, and change course. And why should we; we've convinced ourselves of our inestimable value to the universe, and to deny that now would be somewhat hypocritical. We are Humanity, dammit! We carry the favor of God's eye. Our many sacred texts bear this out. That we have a hubristic finger in all these pies apparently is beside the point. God is on our side and he wouldn't abandon us, or play a cruel joke on us either. Would he? If we are created in his image, and we have a sense of humor, the depth and quality of which is remarkable ( assuming you are not a person of ill humor ); the obvious conclusion is that God does as well. As such, his may be cosmologically transcendent!
In an intellectual exercise; such as this, let us break our argument into three components; the cosmological, the biological, and the psychological.
Cosmologically, we are dust in the wind. By simply noting the size and scale of the universe, and our small, and by that I mean our incredibly small, little part of it; we are nearly infinitesimal. In cosmological time, our lives are nanoseconds; as was once proverbially noted, a blink in the eyes of God. The immense scale of the universe works against our notions of being special; one offs, if you will. As the universe is governed by the same laws regardless of location, and is made up of the same elements; as well as the same dynamics, the idea that there aren't many more carbon based life forms out there is self serving. There are many more of us out there, brother. That we struggle to bridge the time and distance inherent in a universe of this magnitude, as well as our biological limitations; the great impediment to our Star Trek fantasies, does not diminish the existence of others. The lack of evidence or contact is not, in and of itself, proof that no other sentient beings are out there. The cosmology of the great joke is probably the least diabolical, if not the greatest to overcome. We are what we are, where we are, and are bound by the immutable forces that govern the universe. Try as we may, we can only hope to understand the consistency of the soup we're in.
The biological conundrum is that, for some of us, the accumulation of knowledge and experience is juxtaposed by the inevitable disintegration of the body; including the brain, which is part of the body. That seems to be forgotten from time to time. In a society that fawns and obsesses over the physical, rather than revering the wisdom that presumably comes with age, there is great comedy in watching people desperately trying to defy the ossification of their cherished vessels. Surgery, creams, potions, appliques; all designed to forestall decay for a nominal service charge. This is high comedy. Our advertisements are filled with the lithe, the fit, and the young hawking products for the old, sedentary, and fat promising them a way to eternal life, or at least some bargain basement approximation of it. A good diet, exercise, moderation, and restraint are too much work. And while they will have an effect on the quality of your life; they may not have as big a desired effect on the superficiality of our visual selves. At one point in the mists of time, it was a compliment to say someone has aged gracefully. Given the bloating of the American public in this age of plenty, you don't hear that much anymore. Add to the fact that no one wants to get old anymore, and it's probably just as well. Of course, in the long run no of this matters. We'll get to that later.
Last, but not least, is the psychological. The iron clad belief that this all means something; that we're no just here out of cosmological and biological forces that we can't control. We're here to do God's work in whatever catechism we happen to believe in. We're born into circumstances we can't control, which has a predominant say in how our life will mature. Our life is shaped further by the actions of individuals we both know and don't know; for better or worse. That we are masters of our domain is mostly ephemeral. None the less, we continue to pray at the alter of the exception; that for everyone who toils in anonymity, a few will rise up to take their place in our histories and lore. It's very seductive. It plays to our vanity and greed.
The joke, of course, is that, cosmically, it matters not. As was famously stated, we fret and strut upon the stage til our part is over, to be played no more. Whether remembered or not. And remembrance is illusory as well. Some events and characters retain their place, but only a few. There can be but one Alexander. We have our histories, but they are incomplete and by human nature biased. The greatness of individuals is harnessed within memory of their time, after which it is in the hands of people to whom they are nothing more than pictures, words, and someone else's memories. It takes quite a character to truly impact human history. All the rest? Dust in the wind. I can only see my own family's face back to my great grandmothers. Anyone further back and I have no physical connection. Only what is passed down by those who knew or heard of them. What of all the human beings that have populated the earth from the beginning? Come and gone. Consumed by their needs and the vagaries of the age. We all simply pass through. The day will come that the dying sun's expansion will make the earth uninhabitable; later it will consume the earth as it dies. All our history; all the artifacts we leave behind go with it. Maybe we'll shoot it all into space, assuming the atmosphere isn't too filled with debris. Maybe we'll build an ark to ferry humanity to another world full of bucolic splendor. Maybe we'll kill ourselves off never having reconciled our ability to create with our darker impulses of destruction. Maybe.
Next we have a conversation with God. What does he think?
Life is a great cosmic joke.
The fun, of course, is we play it on ourselves. We can, or some can; as I don't believe this view is universally held, blame this on God. It is, after all, his house of cards. That we're seated at the back of the room; I don't feel, should be held against him ( you may insert whatever relevant pronoun you feel is applicable if you don't care for " him " ). We set ourselves down this particular lane; admonitions to the contrary, and we're doomed to see it to the end. I doubt we, as a collective, will one day hearken to a blinding vision, turn on a dime, and change course. And why should we; we've convinced ourselves of our inestimable value to the universe, and to deny that now would be somewhat hypocritical. We are Humanity, dammit! We carry the favor of God's eye. Our many sacred texts bear this out. That we have a hubristic finger in all these pies apparently is beside the point. God is on our side and he wouldn't abandon us, or play a cruel joke on us either. Would he? If we are created in his image, and we have a sense of humor, the depth and quality of which is remarkable ( assuming you are not a person of ill humor ); the obvious conclusion is that God does as well. As such, his may be cosmologically transcendent!
In an intellectual exercise; such as this, let us break our argument into three components; the cosmological, the biological, and the psychological.
Cosmologically, we are dust in the wind. By simply noting the size and scale of the universe, and our small, and by that I mean our incredibly small, little part of it; we are nearly infinitesimal. In cosmological time, our lives are nanoseconds; as was once proverbially noted, a blink in the eyes of God. The immense scale of the universe works against our notions of being special; one offs, if you will. As the universe is governed by the same laws regardless of location, and is made up of the same elements; as well as the same dynamics, the idea that there aren't many more carbon based life forms out there is self serving. There are many more of us out there, brother. That we struggle to bridge the time and distance inherent in a universe of this magnitude, as well as our biological limitations; the great impediment to our Star Trek fantasies, does not diminish the existence of others. The lack of evidence or contact is not, in and of itself, proof that no other sentient beings are out there. The cosmology of the great joke is probably the least diabolical, if not the greatest to overcome. We are what we are, where we are, and are bound by the immutable forces that govern the universe. Try as we may, we can only hope to understand the consistency of the soup we're in.
The biological conundrum is that, for some of us, the accumulation of knowledge and experience is juxtaposed by the inevitable disintegration of the body; including the brain, which is part of the body. That seems to be forgotten from time to time. In a society that fawns and obsesses over the physical, rather than revering the wisdom that presumably comes with age, there is great comedy in watching people desperately trying to defy the ossification of their cherished vessels. Surgery, creams, potions, appliques; all designed to forestall decay for a nominal service charge. This is high comedy. Our advertisements are filled with the lithe, the fit, and the young hawking products for the old, sedentary, and fat promising them a way to eternal life, or at least some bargain basement approximation of it. A good diet, exercise, moderation, and restraint are too much work. And while they will have an effect on the quality of your life; they may not have as big a desired effect on the superficiality of our visual selves. At one point in the mists of time, it was a compliment to say someone has aged gracefully. Given the bloating of the American public in this age of plenty, you don't hear that much anymore. Add to the fact that no one wants to get old anymore, and it's probably just as well. Of course, in the long run no of this matters. We'll get to that later.
Last, but not least, is the psychological. The iron clad belief that this all means something; that we're no just here out of cosmological and biological forces that we can't control. We're here to do God's work in whatever catechism we happen to believe in. We're born into circumstances we can't control, which has a predominant say in how our life will mature. Our life is shaped further by the actions of individuals we both know and don't know; for better or worse. That we are masters of our domain is mostly ephemeral. None the less, we continue to pray at the alter of the exception; that for everyone who toils in anonymity, a few will rise up to take their place in our histories and lore. It's very seductive. It plays to our vanity and greed.
The joke, of course, is that, cosmically, it matters not. As was famously stated, we fret and strut upon the stage til our part is over, to be played no more. Whether remembered or not. And remembrance is illusory as well. Some events and characters retain their place, but only a few. There can be but one Alexander. We have our histories, but they are incomplete and by human nature biased. The greatness of individuals is harnessed within memory of their time, after which it is in the hands of people to whom they are nothing more than pictures, words, and someone else's memories. It takes quite a character to truly impact human history. All the rest? Dust in the wind. I can only see my own family's face back to my great grandmothers. Anyone further back and I have no physical connection. Only what is passed down by those who knew or heard of them. What of all the human beings that have populated the earth from the beginning? Come and gone. Consumed by their needs and the vagaries of the age. We all simply pass through. The day will come that the dying sun's expansion will make the earth uninhabitable; later it will consume the earth as it dies. All our history; all the artifacts we leave behind go with it. Maybe we'll shoot it all into space, assuming the atmosphere isn't too filled with debris. Maybe we'll build an ark to ferry humanity to another world full of bucolic splendor. Maybe we'll kill ourselves off never having reconciled our ability to create with our darker impulses of destruction. Maybe.
Next we have a conversation with God. What does he think?
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tea anyone?
I don't know if I should celebrate our collective ignorance, or shrug, and accept that this is what we've become; for better or for worse. It's evident that a great many Americans do not know how their government works; do not have much of an understanding of economics ( and I don't profess to being Paul Krugman ), or how taxes are doled out. That's too bad, because there might be some real heat in these less than stellar times.
I live in Washington state; a great place to be rich. We have a regressive tax base, so everyone pays the same. Maybe that sounds fair, but with no state income tax, we rely on spending rather than income. For a state that considers itself progressive in most things, it's a real poke in the eye. The more money you have in this state the less you have to pay, as a percentage of your worth. Obviously you can spend more, but you don't have to. You can choose to pay what the poorest pay. The basics cost what they cost regardless of who's paying; food, housing, medical care; the things we need to survive. Sales taxes; property taxes; business taxes; that's our tax base, so no surprise when times get tough, when people lose their jobs, when the rest of us over-extend; the state's tax revenues drop like real estate valuations. One year we're in the black, the next we're down by billions; 9 over the next two years.
There goes money for education; there goes money for the less fortunate, for those in poor health. Even as more join their ranks; there's no money. History means nothing, even as it speaks to the direct benefit of education for the growth of business, the growth of innovation, the betterment of society as a whole. Yet the notion of more taxation equity is a non starter. The rich don't even need to lobby themselves; they have the Tea Party movement, such as it is, to lobby for them, Never mind that the great majority of these worked up folks aren't rich and would probably benefit from a more progressive tax base. It's already been pointed out that the country has been given a substantial tax break by the new administration, and that as a percentage of their income Americans are paying less than they have in decades.
It is, of course, the great American tradition to hate taxes and hew to our own individual wants. We inherently know what's best; when the chips are down we have confidence in ourselves. In and of themselves, those aren't bad things; in fact, it's what has made American great, and what has distinguished us from the rest of the world. But we seem resistent to the nature of the government we have today. It is not a small nimble organization. It's huge. We ask much more from it than we care to acknowledge. We expect it to be well organized and managed, yet we expect it to be there for us in time of need as well as want, even if those wants are counter-intuitive to our beliefs. Yet we allow it to be a pravaricator of small minded needs rather thanwhat best for the whole. If we believe in self reliance, then there's little need for Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid; jobless benefits beyond what we put in to support them; which poses the question of whether there're needed or not if we are truly self reliant. No need for pensions and the like; we're smart enough to handle our own affairs far from the intrusion of big government.
That government fails us, or fails to live up to the perceptions that are our own, fall squarely on our own shoulders. We elect the people who represent us. It is their job to set the laws; derive the structure of the government, appoint those who will administer it, and judiciously tax to support its function. If government fails; it is our failure. You can't, one the one hand, claim self reliance and then expect the government to bail you out when you find yourself in the dumps; but we do. Or I should say some do. The sheer size of our economy, and it's inter-connectedness to our daily lives, as well as our government, is the reason behind our now massive indebtedness. If we were as self reliant as we'd like to believe, then we'd have let the chips fall where they may. The banking and lending industries would probably end up massively smaller. With job losses and consumer debt so high, spending would fall off the table, which in turn would create more business and job loss in those sectors that cater to our consumer lifestyle. Values plummet. The economy shrinks. A lot. Let me say that again; a Lot. That means a lot of people out of work with nothing to do. Historically that tends to be not so good for a stable society.
That's the problem. The lot. That the government has decided to spend far beyond it's means is nothing new. We as a society seem reluctant to pay for what we demand. We're attacked; we respond, yet when comes up to paying for it, we don't; we cut taxes instead. And for those who can most afford it. It makes no sense. It makes sense to pay for what you need. It makes sense to save for the inevitable crashes, in the good times, so the hard time are at least cushioned. Unfortunately good sense isn't politically expedient. There are any number of things that the government can do to cut the debt; restructure Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid; reduce military spending to what we really need for 21st century security. Those are the big spenders; entitlements and the military. If you don't want to pay to cover those cost; you have to cut and restructure. Most of the bailout money will be repaid, and once the banks find their footing; the financial crisis will work itself out. The government will have to deal with it, as it has many times before. An ordered society isn't free, and doing your own thing has it's costs as well. Nothing is without cost. Bitching about it, while a temporary balm; solves nothing.
Either way; limited, overarching, or something in between; whatever government you want still has to be paid for.
I live in Washington state; a great place to be rich. We have a regressive tax base, so everyone pays the same. Maybe that sounds fair, but with no state income tax, we rely on spending rather than income. For a state that considers itself progressive in most things, it's a real poke in the eye. The more money you have in this state the less you have to pay, as a percentage of your worth. Obviously you can spend more, but you don't have to. You can choose to pay what the poorest pay. The basics cost what they cost regardless of who's paying; food, housing, medical care; the things we need to survive. Sales taxes; property taxes; business taxes; that's our tax base, so no surprise when times get tough, when people lose their jobs, when the rest of us over-extend; the state's tax revenues drop like real estate valuations. One year we're in the black, the next we're down by billions; 9 over the next two years.
There goes money for education; there goes money for the less fortunate, for those in poor health. Even as more join their ranks; there's no money. History means nothing, even as it speaks to the direct benefit of education for the growth of business, the growth of innovation, the betterment of society as a whole. Yet the notion of more taxation equity is a non starter. The rich don't even need to lobby themselves; they have the Tea Party movement, such as it is, to lobby for them, Never mind that the great majority of these worked up folks aren't rich and would probably benefit from a more progressive tax base. It's already been pointed out that the country has been given a substantial tax break by the new administration, and that as a percentage of their income Americans are paying less than they have in decades.
It is, of course, the great American tradition to hate taxes and hew to our own individual wants. We inherently know what's best; when the chips are down we have confidence in ourselves. In and of themselves, those aren't bad things; in fact, it's what has made American great, and what has distinguished us from the rest of the world. But we seem resistent to the nature of the government we have today. It is not a small nimble organization. It's huge. We ask much more from it than we care to acknowledge. We expect it to be well organized and managed, yet we expect it to be there for us in time of need as well as want, even if those wants are counter-intuitive to our beliefs. Yet we allow it to be a pravaricator of small minded needs rather thanwhat best for the whole. If we believe in self reliance, then there's little need for Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid; jobless benefits beyond what we put in to support them; which poses the question of whether there're needed or not if we are truly self reliant. No need for pensions and the like; we're smart enough to handle our own affairs far from the intrusion of big government.
That government fails us, or fails to live up to the perceptions that are our own, fall squarely on our own shoulders. We elect the people who represent us. It is their job to set the laws; derive the structure of the government, appoint those who will administer it, and judiciously tax to support its function. If government fails; it is our failure. You can't, one the one hand, claim self reliance and then expect the government to bail you out when you find yourself in the dumps; but we do. Or I should say some do. The sheer size of our economy, and it's inter-connectedness to our daily lives, as well as our government, is the reason behind our now massive indebtedness. If we were as self reliant as we'd like to believe, then we'd have let the chips fall where they may. The banking and lending industries would probably end up massively smaller. With job losses and consumer debt so high, spending would fall off the table, which in turn would create more business and job loss in those sectors that cater to our consumer lifestyle. Values plummet. The economy shrinks. A lot. Let me say that again; a Lot. That means a lot of people out of work with nothing to do. Historically that tends to be not so good for a stable society.
That's the problem. The lot. That the government has decided to spend far beyond it's means is nothing new. We as a society seem reluctant to pay for what we demand. We're attacked; we respond, yet when comes up to paying for it, we don't; we cut taxes instead. And for those who can most afford it. It makes no sense. It makes sense to pay for what you need. It makes sense to save for the inevitable crashes, in the good times, so the hard time are at least cushioned. Unfortunately good sense isn't politically expedient. There are any number of things that the government can do to cut the debt; restructure Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid; reduce military spending to what we really need for 21st century security. Those are the big spenders; entitlements and the military. If you don't want to pay to cover those cost; you have to cut and restructure. Most of the bailout money will be repaid, and once the banks find their footing; the financial crisis will work itself out. The government will have to deal with it, as it has many times before. An ordered society isn't free, and doing your own thing has it's costs as well. Nothing is without cost. Bitching about it, while a temporary balm; solves nothing.
Either way; limited, overarching, or something in between; whatever government you want still has to be paid for.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Please Sir, may I have another, pt.1
The following thoughts occurred to me over the last few day, of which I claim no exclusivity.
Guns. We need our guns, in all their infinite variety. Why? To protect our lives, properties, and, as it is continually threatened, our liberty. That they give voice to our odious violent tendencies is immaterial. Without them we are as vulnerable as the naked in the forest. If the Jews of pre-war Europe had had the access we do to AK-47s and the like, would there have been any holocaust? The Tutsi of Rwanda? The Muslims of Yugoslavia? I'm not trying to be glib, but small arms, in the hands of an untrained, marginally led ( if at all ) group, is no match against blunt military force.
It's why the idea of Obama taking away the guns of all good Americans is deeply flawed. It not worth trying to do, certainly not during this age. One, it would require an act of Congress; no president would dare act unilaterally on something like that, and the idea that Congress would ban all firearms is a pipe dream. There's no political will to ban or severely restrict gun ownership. Two, it would require the military to do it if force is required, rather than if required by law that had been approved by Congress with the support of a majority of the American public, then it would be up to law enforcement, and I doubt they'd be thrilled with the prospect. Again, no political will or enough public support. Third, if it came to violent confrontation, assuming that American military personnel would be willing to fire on their own people; it would be a bloodbath. I don't care how many assault rifles you have or how much ammo; you be taken out by any means necessary. That's the way it is. Our armed forces are too powerful for the " people " to defeat. You're as likely to defeat them as the Palestinians of Gaza are of defeating the Israeli army. No politician is going to endanger the American democratic system or guns. And yet, people are hoarding guns and ammo because they're certain the " gubmint " is coming for their guns.
Then there's the chimera of possessing a concealed weapons permit and carrying on your person a concealed weapon. The wisdom is that you have the means to protect yourself in the event that you need to protect yourself; someone tries to rob you, you see a crime in progress, although I don't believe law enforcement cares much for the citizenry utilizing deadly force in stopping crimes they come across in the course of their daily lives; the possible exception being armed intruders, and, as stated above, protecting your personal liberty from the clutches of a " socialist " president and his administration. As I noted in an earlier blog, the ability to make this work is contingent on your being ever vigilant; ever watchful, and being able to calmly execute ( lovely term ) all actions necessary, which to my mind requires a reasonable amount of practice. That's what our celluloid heroes do. Fortunately, for them, it's all smoke and mirrors; unfortunately for those of us in the real world, it is not. While bad guys may come at you in an orderly fashion in film; they don't in real life. Just ask Julius Caesar. They did not come at him one at a time. It only takes a few to concentrate your focus and that's time enough for a shiv to find your back. Nor are most rabble going to confront you in such a way as to give you time to assuage the situation and present your firearm to shock and awe. If the bad guy has a weapon and he thinks your up to something, he probably shoot you the minute you put your hand in your jacket or pocket or wherever you have your weapon. If he doesn't have a weapon and see you brandish one, he'll flee. The law, other than in Texas, generally doesn't abide shooting someone in the back; even while fleeing an attempted crime.
The other compelling nostrum is that it gives you a sense of control in a world in which there is only so much you can have any control over. The horrors brought to our attention on the nightly news, or Internet, magnify this lack of control. One day he's just another guy; and men perpetrate these crimes by a wide margin, the next he's wandering through WalMart killing everyone he sees. Maybe you'll have time to pull out your weapon and take charge, but it doesn't happen very often if at all. If we have so many people armed to the teeth, why aren't these massacres stopped sooner? Maybe it's because all they want to do, like everyone else, is get out and find a place of safety. Vigilance is exhausting if you have to be on alert all the time, if everyone you come across, assuming you trust friends and family, is a potential enemy. Soldiers exposed to this over long periods of time get PTSD, or battle fatigue, or shell shock. My fear is that leads to the kinds of mistakes you can never take back; killing an innocent bystander. No amount of rationalizing will heal the wounded or bring back the dead. It also hardens the police, who must assume we're all packing. If I start flashing a gun, even with the best of intentions, how are the police supposed to distinguish me from the others flashing weapons. It's worth noting that in the violence of the Depression that in a lot of cases law enforcement shot first and asked questions later. Bonnie and Clyde didn't get a "stop or we'll shoot " shout out before being gunned down.
We live in a violent society. We seem to accept the fact that many choose to resolve conflicts with violence. Guns won't stop a determined killer unless people are ready for it; and as we've seen, many are not. I don't believe we should be. I don't want to believe that everyone around me is a potential killer, even though that's possible. It sucks the life out of you. Other than my children, there's nothing I have that's so important, or so necessary, or irreplaceable that I'd need to kill someone because of it. Most victims of gun violence, or violence in general, know the perpetrator. Random act of senseless violence I can't control. If one day someone comes up behind me and shoots me, it's unlikely I'll know anything before it happens. I do what I can to minimize those possibilities, but I can only control what I do.
I can have an arsenal of weapons, but I'm not going to go around armed to the teeth; someone will just call the cops. Or some other person with a concealed weapons permit might shoot me; certain they're protecting themselves from sure destruction.
As I said; I don't know how they save me, other than by happenstance or luck.
Guns. We need our guns, in all their infinite variety. Why? To protect our lives, properties, and, as it is continually threatened, our liberty. That they give voice to our odious violent tendencies is immaterial. Without them we are as vulnerable as the naked in the forest. If the Jews of pre-war Europe had had the access we do to AK-47s and the like, would there have been any holocaust? The Tutsi of Rwanda? The Muslims of Yugoslavia? I'm not trying to be glib, but small arms, in the hands of an untrained, marginally led ( if at all ) group, is no match against blunt military force.
It's why the idea of Obama taking away the guns of all good Americans is deeply flawed. It not worth trying to do, certainly not during this age. One, it would require an act of Congress; no president would dare act unilaterally on something like that, and the idea that Congress would ban all firearms is a pipe dream. There's no political will to ban or severely restrict gun ownership. Two, it would require the military to do it if force is required, rather than if required by law that had been approved by Congress with the support of a majority of the American public, then it would be up to law enforcement, and I doubt they'd be thrilled with the prospect. Again, no political will or enough public support. Third, if it came to violent confrontation, assuming that American military personnel would be willing to fire on their own people; it would be a bloodbath. I don't care how many assault rifles you have or how much ammo; you be taken out by any means necessary. That's the way it is. Our armed forces are too powerful for the " people " to defeat. You're as likely to defeat them as the Palestinians of Gaza are of defeating the Israeli army. No politician is going to endanger the American democratic system or guns. And yet, people are hoarding guns and ammo because they're certain the " gubmint " is coming for their guns.
Then there's the chimera of possessing a concealed weapons permit and carrying on your person a concealed weapon. The wisdom is that you have the means to protect yourself in the event that you need to protect yourself; someone tries to rob you, you see a crime in progress, although I don't believe law enforcement cares much for the citizenry utilizing deadly force in stopping crimes they come across in the course of their daily lives; the possible exception being armed intruders, and, as stated above, protecting your personal liberty from the clutches of a " socialist " president and his administration. As I noted in an earlier blog, the ability to make this work is contingent on your being ever vigilant; ever watchful, and being able to calmly execute ( lovely term ) all actions necessary, which to my mind requires a reasonable amount of practice. That's what our celluloid heroes do. Fortunately, for them, it's all smoke and mirrors; unfortunately for those of us in the real world, it is not. While bad guys may come at you in an orderly fashion in film; they don't in real life. Just ask Julius Caesar. They did not come at him one at a time. It only takes a few to concentrate your focus and that's time enough for a shiv to find your back. Nor are most rabble going to confront you in such a way as to give you time to assuage the situation and present your firearm to shock and awe. If the bad guy has a weapon and he thinks your up to something, he probably shoot you the minute you put your hand in your jacket or pocket or wherever you have your weapon. If he doesn't have a weapon and see you brandish one, he'll flee. The law, other than in Texas, generally doesn't abide shooting someone in the back; even while fleeing an attempted crime.
The other compelling nostrum is that it gives you a sense of control in a world in which there is only so much you can have any control over. The horrors brought to our attention on the nightly news, or Internet, magnify this lack of control. One day he's just another guy; and men perpetrate these crimes by a wide margin, the next he's wandering through WalMart killing everyone he sees. Maybe you'll have time to pull out your weapon and take charge, but it doesn't happen very often if at all. If we have so many people armed to the teeth, why aren't these massacres stopped sooner? Maybe it's because all they want to do, like everyone else, is get out and find a place of safety. Vigilance is exhausting if you have to be on alert all the time, if everyone you come across, assuming you trust friends and family, is a potential enemy. Soldiers exposed to this over long periods of time get PTSD, or battle fatigue, or shell shock. My fear is that leads to the kinds of mistakes you can never take back; killing an innocent bystander. No amount of rationalizing will heal the wounded or bring back the dead. It also hardens the police, who must assume we're all packing. If I start flashing a gun, even with the best of intentions, how are the police supposed to distinguish me from the others flashing weapons. It's worth noting that in the violence of the Depression that in a lot of cases law enforcement shot first and asked questions later. Bonnie and Clyde didn't get a "stop or we'll shoot " shout out before being gunned down.
We live in a violent society. We seem to accept the fact that many choose to resolve conflicts with violence. Guns won't stop a determined killer unless people are ready for it; and as we've seen, many are not. I don't believe we should be. I don't want to believe that everyone around me is a potential killer, even though that's possible. It sucks the life out of you. Other than my children, there's nothing I have that's so important, or so necessary, or irreplaceable that I'd need to kill someone because of it. Most victims of gun violence, or violence in general, know the perpetrator. Random act of senseless violence I can't control. If one day someone comes up behind me and shoots me, it's unlikely I'll know anything before it happens. I do what I can to minimize those possibilities, but I can only control what I do.
I can have an arsenal of weapons, but I'm not going to go around armed to the teeth; someone will just call the cops. Or some other person with a concealed weapons permit might shoot me; certain they're protecting themselves from sure destruction.
As I said; I don't know how they save me, other than by happenstance or luck.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The American consumer in repose
It has been said; you are what you eat. It therefore may be said also, you are what you consume, and as such are defined by the advertisements that pull your little heartstrings of desire; the window into our very souls. That may be pure conjecture on my part; probably, but given the state of advertisements in this country, and the fact that we have evolved into a consumerist society, they; advertisements, indeed cater to our definitive selves. Or, more darkly, we define ourselves by the perceived qualities that those products that appeal to us, consciously or subconsciously; allow us to project, both outwardly and inwardly, who we want or wish to be. A bit of a mouthful to be sure. The other side of the coin is what these advertisements say about us as a society. I bring this up because I have deep concerns, alright maybe just facile concerns, about what commercials and ads say about the prototypical American here at the dawn of the Twenty-First Century.
The most prevalent common denominator, certainly as far as men are concerned, is that we are a nation of idiots; that we are immature, if you are a young adult; or racked with maladies if you are older. The only time you're on the ball is when you are a child; and, not surprisingly, you are also manipulative and devious. Plus, you're wise beyond your years.
Then you lose it!
Look at the characters in beer commercials. Coors Lite lauds itself as the coldest beer; note that quality of taste is not mentioned. Naturally if a beer is very cold the first thing you'll notice is not the taste, but that your tongue has gone numb. What does that say about someone who consumes this beer; I don't care about taste so long as it's really cold. Then there's the new Heineken commercial where the women are squealing over the big new walk in closet, while the men are squealing over a walk in fridge filled with beer. Doesn't exactly exuded confidence in the future of humankind. Now that Miller has thrown down the gauntlet on the " high life "; that it's for the common man in all his glory, so long as that doesn't include $10 burgers served in ritzy restaurants, sky boxes where no one knows the score, clueless barbecuers, and VIPs ensconced behind velvet ropes, I'm waiting for another beer company to declare itself the beer for the extra special man, or woman. Beer specifically brewed for when you're behind velvet ropes with other extra special people. One can dream.
Then there's the time worn idiocy that all a man needs to be a hit with the ladies; to " slay the babes ", is to use the right cologne, after shave, body spray, razor. Once a complete loser; now never at a loss for female companionship, and not just any female companionship, but hot, sexy babes just ready to give you anything you want. Who falls for this stuff? Never mind that the men in these commercials are good looking; imagine the outcry if fat, hairy, middle aged guys were used. No one would buy it because we know it's bull. It's like the beauty aids foisted onto women to keep them looking young and beautiful, and the models are at a age, early 20's, where they don't need the stuff and have very little body fat. Where are the middle aged women for whom the product is geared? Evidently, no one wants to see that either. More to the point, what does it say about the people who buy into this stuff? Is there anybody who actually believes any of this? Yet it's normal business practice to do customer surveys, etc, to gage the marketplace, one would think, before putting these products into stores. Someone confessed to believing they needed these. Cynically, I guess it's possible they lies for the money, but not everyone gets paid to do surveys.
Old guys, or mature men, if you prefer, seem to suffer from any number of life threatening maladies; grey hair in their beards ( never mind their balding heads; little or no hair seems to be the rage these days regardless of age ), weak urinary stream; there's nothing better than sitting through commercials of bromances ( surely the truest sign that the Apocalypse is upon us ) interrupted by multiple potty breaks, and, of course, erectile dysfunction or ED ( which I always thought stood for Emergency Department ). Despite the fact that most men who suffer from these problems are sedentary, overweight, diabetic, and have heart and or circulatory issues; or some combination thereof, the men in these ads are active, trim, and attractive. The only thing that surprises me is that they don't use young guys in their ads, as mentioned above for women's anti-aging cosmetics; maybe that's a little TOO cynical.
I did note a number of blogs ago that I'm certain we're sliding into our own Wall-E world, and the idea that people are deluding themselves into believing they will not only cure the ailment, but turn the user into a stud muffin or hot babe if they use the products, does little to dissuade of that notion. Unfortunately I don't think that'll include a spaceship to cater to our every need until the Earth is remade ( they didn't even get that in the film ).
It's been noted that the earlier you subject an individual to the idea that there is a perfect way to look or behave, the earlier they begin to obsess on their flaws and limitations, and the lower their opinion of themselves. We fear aging. We long for a kind of idealized image that's manufactured for us by entities that have ulterior motives.
Is this the point of our lives? Is this the extent of our existence? Solipsistic consumers chasing something just beyond our reach?
I need a beer. Only which one is me?
The most prevalent common denominator, certainly as far as men are concerned, is that we are a nation of idiots; that we are immature, if you are a young adult; or racked with maladies if you are older. The only time you're on the ball is when you are a child; and, not surprisingly, you are also manipulative and devious. Plus, you're wise beyond your years.
Then you lose it!
Look at the characters in beer commercials. Coors Lite lauds itself as the coldest beer; note that quality of taste is not mentioned. Naturally if a beer is very cold the first thing you'll notice is not the taste, but that your tongue has gone numb. What does that say about someone who consumes this beer; I don't care about taste so long as it's really cold. Then there's the new Heineken commercial where the women are squealing over the big new walk in closet, while the men are squealing over a walk in fridge filled with beer. Doesn't exactly exuded confidence in the future of humankind. Now that Miller has thrown down the gauntlet on the " high life "; that it's for the common man in all his glory, so long as that doesn't include $10 burgers served in ritzy restaurants, sky boxes where no one knows the score, clueless barbecuers, and VIPs ensconced behind velvet ropes, I'm waiting for another beer company to declare itself the beer for the extra special man, or woman. Beer specifically brewed for when you're behind velvet ropes with other extra special people. One can dream.
Then there's the time worn idiocy that all a man needs to be a hit with the ladies; to " slay the babes ", is to use the right cologne, after shave, body spray, razor. Once a complete loser; now never at a loss for female companionship, and not just any female companionship, but hot, sexy babes just ready to give you anything you want. Who falls for this stuff? Never mind that the men in these commercials are good looking; imagine the outcry if fat, hairy, middle aged guys were used. No one would buy it because we know it's bull. It's like the beauty aids foisted onto women to keep them looking young and beautiful, and the models are at a age, early 20's, where they don't need the stuff and have very little body fat. Where are the middle aged women for whom the product is geared? Evidently, no one wants to see that either. More to the point, what does it say about the people who buy into this stuff? Is there anybody who actually believes any of this? Yet it's normal business practice to do customer surveys, etc, to gage the marketplace, one would think, before putting these products into stores. Someone confessed to believing they needed these. Cynically, I guess it's possible they lies for the money, but not everyone gets paid to do surveys.
Old guys, or mature men, if you prefer, seem to suffer from any number of life threatening maladies; grey hair in their beards ( never mind their balding heads; little or no hair seems to be the rage these days regardless of age ), weak urinary stream; there's nothing better than sitting through commercials of bromances ( surely the truest sign that the Apocalypse is upon us ) interrupted by multiple potty breaks, and, of course, erectile dysfunction or ED ( which I always thought stood for Emergency Department ). Despite the fact that most men who suffer from these problems are sedentary, overweight, diabetic, and have heart and or circulatory issues; or some combination thereof, the men in these ads are active, trim, and attractive. The only thing that surprises me is that they don't use young guys in their ads, as mentioned above for women's anti-aging cosmetics; maybe that's a little TOO cynical.
I did note a number of blogs ago that I'm certain we're sliding into our own Wall-E world, and the idea that people are deluding themselves into believing they will not only cure the ailment, but turn the user into a stud muffin or hot babe if they use the products, does little to dissuade of that notion. Unfortunately I don't think that'll include a spaceship to cater to our every need until the Earth is remade ( they didn't even get that in the film ).
It's been noted that the earlier you subject an individual to the idea that there is a perfect way to look or behave, the earlier they begin to obsess on their flaws and limitations, and the lower their opinion of themselves. We fear aging. We long for a kind of idealized image that's manufactured for us by entities that have ulterior motives.
Is this the point of our lives? Is this the extent of our existence? Solipsistic consumers chasing something just beyond our reach?
I need a beer. Only which one is me?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Is this a pointless life?
I'm at an age where I question, a great deal, the world I find myself in, and the choices I've made because of it. I've heard that 50 is the new 40 is the new 30, etc, so evidently I still have plenty of time to work this over in my mind, distill it, ruminate, pontificate; bellow. At some point it'll all become clear.
I'm not buying it.
It's all the other stuff I've bought, and bought into that concerns me, and if I'm honest; has for some time.
Capitalism. Individualism. Consumerism. Rubric of our present existence. You make money doing what you want, without unwanted government or state interference, collecting a surfeit of goods that define your time on our blessed mortal coil. If you're lucky, fortunate, driven to succeed; in the right place at the right time, you may well become a captain of industry, leaving your mark on history, employing many, and advancing the quality of life for those who follow you. All well and good. For the rest of us, for whatever reason, who do not obtain that lofty status, we still benefit from the innovations, inventions, and advancements.
I've done my part. I'm reasonably educated, have a decent job, which pays well by most standards, and have done my share of consuming, be it homes, or cars; furniture, vacations, electronics, music, the arts, and all the other miscellaneous dross I might come across and covet. I've periodically culled the pile, donating the usable, and tossing the junk. Occasionally I've been roped into the Sturm und Drang of the proverbial yard sale. At times I marvel at all the stuff I've accumulated over the years and wonder at the idea of this multiplied by the millions. All the stuff we build, buy, replace, and throw away. That's our existence. A not so inconsequential byproduct of the fact that a good many of us in this country do not have to concern ourselves with basic subsistence, being surrounded by more than we could ever need or use ( this obviously is much less so by those caught in the maelstrom of our current economic woes or the truly sorry fact that there are still those in this country who want for enough to eat ). We are inundated with commercials and ads, sirens calling to our desires and greed; with products and services on which to spend our hard earned pay or readily available credit ( again mostly, depending on your all important credit rating, assuming you have any credit left at all).
So we devote our life to consuming, cradle to grave, with the endpoint being what? How much stuff we have? The quality or worth of it? So you have something to leave to those you leave behind, survive you, or those to whom you may bequeath? Do you consume for others? For those who need or want? Is it any better or worse than devoting yourself to others rather than yourself? To deny yourself the trappings of any particular lifestyle in the American tradition, be it rogue, salary man, suburbanite, artist, bum, politician, salt of the earth, farmer, cowboy, entrepreneur, feckless automaton, malcontent, laborer, or anger white guy ( there may some classifications I've missed ). Maybe I'm missing something.
I know, this is the world it which we live. In many other parts of the world, life is a struggle to survive. A struggle most of our ancestors spend their lives dealing with. I can love it or leave it. I can not worry about it; over think it. It is what it is. I guess if you're happy with what you do, and don't see the point in over analyzing the every detail of your existence, then go f**k yourself!
Sorry; cheap laugh.
None of this is to say that I wouldn't like the house of my dreams; well appointed to my tastes. A nice car, and the wherewithal to live whatever fantasy life I might dream up that day. I have no real desire to be an ascetic. Nor am I fool enough to think that times were better in yon days; maybe if you were wealthy, but disease still killed off plenty of them as well. Mostly it's the total bombardment of the consumer lifestyle; the inculcating blast furnace telling , cajoling, amusing, demanding, inferring, inciting us to buy, buy buy! And we did buy, buy, buy; whether we could afford it or not. People played to their avaricious, greediest impulses to squeeze every possible dollar out of us; legally, ethically, or otherwise.
Does it ever stop?
Makes you hope for reincarnation just so you can go back and buy what you didn't get to the last time.
I'm not buying it.
It's all the other stuff I've bought, and bought into that concerns me, and if I'm honest; has for some time.
Capitalism. Individualism. Consumerism. Rubric of our present existence. You make money doing what you want, without unwanted government or state interference, collecting a surfeit of goods that define your time on our blessed mortal coil. If you're lucky, fortunate, driven to succeed; in the right place at the right time, you may well become a captain of industry, leaving your mark on history, employing many, and advancing the quality of life for those who follow you. All well and good. For the rest of us, for whatever reason, who do not obtain that lofty status, we still benefit from the innovations, inventions, and advancements.
I've done my part. I'm reasonably educated, have a decent job, which pays well by most standards, and have done my share of consuming, be it homes, or cars; furniture, vacations, electronics, music, the arts, and all the other miscellaneous dross I might come across and covet. I've periodically culled the pile, donating the usable, and tossing the junk. Occasionally I've been roped into the Sturm und Drang of the proverbial yard sale. At times I marvel at all the stuff I've accumulated over the years and wonder at the idea of this multiplied by the millions. All the stuff we build, buy, replace, and throw away. That's our existence. A not so inconsequential byproduct of the fact that a good many of us in this country do not have to concern ourselves with basic subsistence, being surrounded by more than we could ever need or use ( this obviously is much less so by those caught in the maelstrom of our current economic woes or the truly sorry fact that there are still those in this country who want for enough to eat ). We are inundated with commercials and ads, sirens calling to our desires and greed; with products and services on which to spend our hard earned pay or readily available credit ( again mostly, depending on your all important credit rating, assuming you have any credit left at all).
So we devote our life to consuming, cradle to grave, with the endpoint being what? How much stuff we have? The quality or worth of it? So you have something to leave to those you leave behind, survive you, or those to whom you may bequeath? Do you consume for others? For those who need or want? Is it any better or worse than devoting yourself to others rather than yourself? To deny yourself the trappings of any particular lifestyle in the American tradition, be it rogue, salary man, suburbanite, artist, bum, politician, salt of the earth, farmer, cowboy, entrepreneur, feckless automaton, malcontent, laborer, or anger white guy ( there may some classifications I've missed ). Maybe I'm missing something.
I know, this is the world it which we live. In many other parts of the world, life is a struggle to survive. A struggle most of our ancestors spend their lives dealing with. I can love it or leave it. I can not worry about it; over think it. It is what it is. I guess if you're happy with what you do, and don't see the point in over analyzing the every detail of your existence, then go f**k yourself!
Sorry; cheap laugh.
None of this is to say that I wouldn't like the house of my dreams; well appointed to my tastes. A nice car, and the wherewithal to live whatever fantasy life I might dream up that day. I have no real desire to be an ascetic. Nor am I fool enough to think that times were better in yon days; maybe if you were wealthy, but disease still killed off plenty of them as well. Mostly it's the total bombardment of the consumer lifestyle; the inculcating blast furnace telling , cajoling, amusing, demanding, inferring, inciting us to buy, buy buy! And we did buy, buy, buy; whether we could afford it or not. People played to their avaricious, greediest impulses to squeeze every possible dollar out of us; legally, ethically, or otherwise.
Does it ever stop?
Makes you hope for reincarnation just so you can go back and buy what you didn't get to the last time.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
To arm or not to arm
As the last weeks have illustrated, the human penchant for destruction continues unabated. Whether due to economic or relational turmoil, many in this country have turned to their darker selves; murdering strangers and family alike. Anger unleashed in terrible orgies of violence. It seems at times almost incomprehensible. Nary a day goes by anymore without inexplicable violence being broadcast to the masses. While I don't expect to be gunned down by any immediate family members, or distant ones for that matter, the spate of individuals systematically killing people they don't know to vet their anger and despair is truly depressing. Should I worry that I, or those whom I care for or about, might soon be victims of this?
does this mean I need to arm myself. Just in case.
Emotionally maybe. Rationally I'm skeptical. Theologically? I think it's problematic.
Having heard the many reasons why I might need a gun; it's my constitutionally protected right, it allows me to protect myself from whatever miasma of uncertainty I might encounter, it's empowering; I think, I should rush out and obtain the necessary firepower to protect myself and the fruits of my good fortune. Should any whack job threaten me, I can blow his sorry ass to hell and beyond. Like the many heroes, and anti-heroes, roaming the big and not so big screens that capture my waking moments, I won't be a passive statistic, but rather a man in control.
Now it's not as if these images and beliefs haven't been beat into the ground time and time again, but rationally, or in the real world ( remember keeping it real? ), I have my concerns. Consider:
The utilization of any weapon in an effective manner is dependent upon the individual having the training, situational know how, and experience. Love that kind of talk; don't you? Anyway, plainly put, if you're blindly trying to find, load, aim, or discharge a firearm either half asleep or hopped up on adrenaline, you're more likely to kill yourself or a loved one or an innocent bystander than any intended intruder or bad guy. How many people possessing firearms drill themselves? Know which situations to anticipate possible trouble and the best course of action? I know many have had military training and one would think that would help, but it's not self defense training per Se; a means to protect house and home; it's meant to train individuals for the vicissitudes of combat and war. I'm not particularly enamored with the idea that we should all be packing heat to dissuade would be miscreants. Gunfights in our homes, which probably occur the most often, stores,and streets don't lend themselves to a safe and orderly society. Nor do they allow justice to prevail. At some point, hopefully, it's better for cooler heads to ascertain guilt or innocence.
Theologically, if you believe in an afterlife, and expect it to be much better than life on earth; then why would you be concerned with what may happen to you here? Granted, nobody wants to be a victim of violence, but we live in a world of violence, and sometimes violence finds you. Which do you ascribe to; turning the other cheek, or an eye for an eye? I don't see how it can be both. It's what bothers me about certain adherents to Christianity; they want salvation, but not the pacifism.
I don't carry a gun; nor own one, because I fear with it I'll do more harm than good. I don't want to live as if everyone I come across is a potential threat that I must be ready for. I have enough to think about as it is. I'm not necessarily advocating passivity, or doing nothing, but having been taught to use firearms; having used them, if only in preparation for possible violence, I know their ability to do great harm.
Still ( there's that word again ), there's a sense of impotence when someones anger compels them to do great evil and we're left to deal with the aftermath. There's no salve for lost lives, often no way to keep people, who before their terror, were like all the rest from acting out in the most obscene ways. Anger can be a terrible thing.
I just don't know that a gun can save me from that.
does this mean I need to arm myself. Just in case.
Emotionally maybe. Rationally I'm skeptical. Theologically? I think it's problematic.
Having heard the many reasons why I might need a gun; it's my constitutionally protected right, it allows me to protect myself from whatever miasma of uncertainty I might encounter, it's empowering; I think, I should rush out and obtain the necessary firepower to protect myself and the fruits of my good fortune. Should any whack job threaten me, I can blow his sorry ass to hell and beyond. Like the many heroes, and anti-heroes, roaming the big and not so big screens that capture my waking moments, I won't be a passive statistic, but rather a man in control.
Now it's not as if these images and beliefs haven't been beat into the ground time and time again, but rationally, or in the real world ( remember keeping it real? ), I have my concerns. Consider:
The utilization of any weapon in an effective manner is dependent upon the individual having the training, situational know how, and experience. Love that kind of talk; don't you? Anyway, plainly put, if you're blindly trying to find, load, aim, or discharge a firearm either half asleep or hopped up on adrenaline, you're more likely to kill yourself or a loved one or an innocent bystander than any intended intruder or bad guy. How many people possessing firearms drill themselves? Know which situations to anticipate possible trouble and the best course of action? I know many have had military training and one would think that would help, but it's not self defense training per Se; a means to protect house and home; it's meant to train individuals for the vicissitudes of combat and war. I'm not particularly enamored with the idea that we should all be packing heat to dissuade would be miscreants. Gunfights in our homes, which probably occur the most often, stores,and streets don't lend themselves to a safe and orderly society. Nor do they allow justice to prevail. At some point, hopefully, it's better for cooler heads to ascertain guilt or innocence.
Theologically, if you believe in an afterlife, and expect it to be much better than life on earth; then why would you be concerned with what may happen to you here? Granted, nobody wants to be a victim of violence, but we live in a world of violence, and sometimes violence finds you. Which do you ascribe to; turning the other cheek, or an eye for an eye? I don't see how it can be both. It's what bothers me about certain adherents to Christianity; they want salvation, but not the pacifism.
I don't carry a gun; nor own one, because I fear with it I'll do more harm than good. I don't want to live as if everyone I come across is a potential threat that I must be ready for. I have enough to think about as it is. I'm not necessarily advocating passivity, or doing nothing, but having been taught to use firearms; having used them, if only in preparation for possible violence, I know their ability to do great harm.
Still ( there's that word again ), there's a sense of impotence when someones anger compels them to do great evil and we're left to deal with the aftermath. There's no salve for lost lives, often no way to keep people, who before their terror, were like all the rest from acting out in the most obscene ways. Anger can be a terrible thing.
I just don't know that a gun can save me from that.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Fast ball in the side pocket
As the weather begins to turn towards Spring; here, anyway, in the great northwest, Spring likes to tease and flirt rather than show up with a smile and welcoming arms, those of us with a baseball Jones start to scratch that itch with an almost manic enthusiasm. And I'm not thinking so much about the professional boys as the rest of us, from the T-ballers to the geezers long dispossessed of any big league notions. We pay to play whether for ourselves or our kids, watch the weather like hawks; hoping it doesn't case too many disruptions or reschedules ( or drizzly games in low 40's temperatures ), and take pleasure in a simple yet demanding game.
I got back into baseball after getting my sons into it as little kids. Unlike the drop and leave parents content to know their kids are up to something supervised, though the quality of that supervision often merits debate, I tended to stay either to watch or help out, be it prepping the fields, umpiring, doing the score book, or helping to coach. Enjoyable as that was, it's not the same as being out there, and having discovered that there were adult leagues, I jumped right back in.
Jumping in allowed me to renew my love for the game. It also opened my eyes as to the difficulty of playing the game well. I have a very healthy respect for anyone who plays, or attempts to play, at the highest levels. That's not to say that the level of play in my league is a joke; it's not. We have amazing players in our league who are not just out of the MLB or the minor leagues, although we do have guys who did play minor league baseball, but at my age; late forties, there aren't too many would did. Don't kid yourself though; they still stand out. But, it's nowhere near the big league game.
Before this gets out of hand, the result of getting back into the game was to force me to focus more on the mechanics and nuances of the game; in order to be a better player myself, with the result that I came to realize just how hard it is to play well at the big league level, or for that matter, any level. I grew up at a time when there weren't the kinds of year round baseball programs that exist now; baseball was a spring/summer sport, and we played other games the rest of the year. And while there probably were places to truly learn the mechanics of the game, I didn't hear of or know of any. Consequently, my knowledge was rudimentary; the stuff that most people know from playing when they were young, and any gleaned from watching the game. Now, of course, there are a great many resources by which an individual can learn more about the mechanics of hitting, fielding, and pitching; as well as organizing practices and managing games. This has given me a deeper understanding of the game which I wished I had know earlier, both when I was younger and when my kids were younger.
Because of this recently acquired insight, I now appreciate more how hard it is to try to hit off a pitcher who throws hard with movement and control, as well as how hard it is to pitch a ball so that it moves, changes speed, and hit it's spots. It ain't easy. I know; I've been humbled enough. The beauty of this humiliation is that I'm much more understanding, and in many cases much more forgiving ( assuming that's the right word ) of those I watch play; and I'm an inveterate consumer of baseball. I watch my friends kids play in Little League, I go to the HS games, even though my kids weren't quite good enough to make the team, the local college teams, the teams in my adult league; if I pass a field and I've got nothing better to do, I've stop and watch. I've watched a lot of baseball and no doubt will until my dying day.
Here are a few observations:
A lot of people; fans, parents, and sadly, even coaches, don't know a whole lot about the game.
Perennial favorites;
throw strikes. Think about that for a minute; especially for kids. It presupposes that these kids are cognizant enough of their abilities that they can, on any given pitch, throw a strike, but choose not to for reasons unknown. The ones who can throw strikes do. The others are doing their damnedest to do so as well but lack the ability mainly because they don't know how and haven't been adequately taught the body mechanics necessary for the repeatability needed to consistently place a pitch in the strike zone. For better players, those in college, the minor leagues, up to the big leagues, just being able to put the ball over the plate isn't enough. It's why the prodigies we all watched as kids never make beyond a certain level. To pitch at a high level requires velocity, movement, and the ability to change speeds while utilizing the same arm speed and angle because that's what good hitters key on. Even if you throw 95 MPH ( and this is an old baseball saw ); if you put it over the heart of the plate without good movement; say a sinker, a good hitter is going to put it over the fence, and at that level, that's all you're going to face; very good hitters. Good, and great pitchers live on the corners. If they can't, they don't survive. It obviously irritates fans because you hear them all the time complaining when a pitcher walks guys, falls behind in the count ( and then has to groove one ), and gives up a lot more runs than they want or expect him to. If they were pitching to me, I have no doubt they throw it over the plate because they know that I'm not that much of a threat. But then, I'm not Josh Hamilton.
The other big one, for me, is: getting worked up over what a hitter will and won't swing at. There aren't many good instinctual hitters out there, and they're easy to spot early on. They have a natural swing, meaning they have good mechanics naturally, rather than being taught or corrected. They drive the ball. They're the hitters that draw the oh's and ah's; the players that people come to see. However, as with the stud HS pitchers, there are those HS hitters that don't make it because they can't adjust to big league breaking balls; curveballs, sliders, and off speed pitches; split fingers, changeups, etc. Lots of good hitters can drive a good fastball, but flounder against a good split or curveball. I've never heard a coach for younger kids ever talk about having a plan when the kids go up to bat; probably due to a lack of time in practice, or ignorance there of, but any good big leaguer has one because no hitter can hit every pitch well. That's the beauty of the big league game. Hitters looking for and getting the pitch they hit well, to pitchers putting hitters in counts that force them to deal with pitches they don't see or hit well. That's hard to do with kids who are just trying to hit the ball period. Parents throwing out pointless advise serve no perpose other than to teach their kids to tune them out out. Just let them play, or better yet, study the game and then teach them what to do. I don't think the average dad would do any better than his kid, and would probably do worse. And to the fans working themselves up over a player not swinging a pitch down the middle, or flailing at a slider down and away, you wouldn't do any better.
To me the beauty of the game is in the play. I don't have much of an interest anymore in stats. I'm not interested in trying to predict the out come of a particular player or team, or divine the future so I can win a fantasy league. I like to see how the players meet the challange of that game, and other than big leaguers, I'm not going to have any stats to rely on anyway, so it's all in that game at that time. The next game might be different. Some teams improve; some don't. Some players improve; some decline; some never change. That way it stays a game.
I got back into baseball after getting my sons into it as little kids. Unlike the drop and leave parents content to know their kids are up to something supervised, though the quality of that supervision often merits debate, I tended to stay either to watch or help out, be it prepping the fields, umpiring, doing the score book, or helping to coach. Enjoyable as that was, it's not the same as being out there, and having discovered that there were adult leagues, I jumped right back in.
Jumping in allowed me to renew my love for the game. It also opened my eyes as to the difficulty of playing the game well. I have a very healthy respect for anyone who plays, or attempts to play, at the highest levels. That's not to say that the level of play in my league is a joke; it's not. We have amazing players in our league who are not just out of the MLB or the minor leagues, although we do have guys who did play minor league baseball, but at my age; late forties, there aren't too many would did. Don't kid yourself though; they still stand out. But, it's nowhere near the big league game.
Before this gets out of hand, the result of getting back into the game was to force me to focus more on the mechanics and nuances of the game; in order to be a better player myself, with the result that I came to realize just how hard it is to play well at the big league level, or for that matter, any level. I grew up at a time when there weren't the kinds of year round baseball programs that exist now; baseball was a spring/summer sport, and we played other games the rest of the year. And while there probably were places to truly learn the mechanics of the game, I didn't hear of or know of any. Consequently, my knowledge was rudimentary; the stuff that most people know from playing when they were young, and any gleaned from watching the game. Now, of course, there are a great many resources by which an individual can learn more about the mechanics of hitting, fielding, and pitching; as well as organizing practices and managing games. This has given me a deeper understanding of the game which I wished I had know earlier, both when I was younger and when my kids were younger.
Because of this recently acquired insight, I now appreciate more how hard it is to try to hit off a pitcher who throws hard with movement and control, as well as how hard it is to pitch a ball so that it moves, changes speed, and hit it's spots. It ain't easy. I know; I've been humbled enough. The beauty of this humiliation is that I'm much more understanding, and in many cases much more forgiving ( assuming that's the right word ) of those I watch play; and I'm an inveterate consumer of baseball. I watch my friends kids play in Little League, I go to the HS games, even though my kids weren't quite good enough to make the team, the local college teams, the teams in my adult league; if I pass a field and I've got nothing better to do, I've stop and watch. I've watched a lot of baseball and no doubt will until my dying day.
Here are a few observations:
A lot of people; fans, parents, and sadly, even coaches, don't know a whole lot about the game.
Perennial favorites;
throw strikes. Think about that for a minute; especially for kids. It presupposes that these kids are cognizant enough of their abilities that they can, on any given pitch, throw a strike, but choose not to for reasons unknown. The ones who can throw strikes do. The others are doing their damnedest to do so as well but lack the ability mainly because they don't know how and haven't been adequately taught the body mechanics necessary for the repeatability needed to consistently place a pitch in the strike zone. For better players, those in college, the minor leagues, up to the big leagues, just being able to put the ball over the plate isn't enough. It's why the prodigies we all watched as kids never make beyond a certain level. To pitch at a high level requires velocity, movement, and the ability to change speeds while utilizing the same arm speed and angle because that's what good hitters key on. Even if you throw 95 MPH ( and this is an old baseball saw ); if you put it over the heart of the plate without good movement; say a sinker, a good hitter is going to put it over the fence, and at that level, that's all you're going to face; very good hitters. Good, and great pitchers live on the corners. If they can't, they don't survive. It obviously irritates fans because you hear them all the time complaining when a pitcher walks guys, falls behind in the count ( and then has to groove one ), and gives up a lot more runs than they want or expect him to. If they were pitching to me, I have no doubt they throw it over the plate because they know that I'm not that much of a threat. But then, I'm not Josh Hamilton.
The other big one, for me, is: getting worked up over what a hitter will and won't swing at. There aren't many good instinctual hitters out there, and they're easy to spot early on. They have a natural swing, meaning they have good mechanics naturally, rather than being taught or corrected. They drive the ball. They're the hitters that draw the oh's and ah's; the players that people come to see. However, as with the stud HS pitchers, there are those HS hitters that don't make it because they can't adjust to big league breaking balls; curveballs, sliders, and off speed pitches; split fingers, changeups, etc. Lots of good hitters can drive a good fastball, but flounder against a good split or curveball. I've never heard a coach for younger kids ever talk about having a plan when the kids go up to bat; probably due to a lack of time in practice, or ignorance there of, but any good big leaguer has one because no hitter can hit every pitch well. That's the beauty of the big league game. Hitters looking for and getting the pitch they hit well, to pitchers putting hitters in counts that force them to deal with pitches they don't see or hit well. That's hard to do with kids who are just trying to hit the ball period. Parents throwing out pointless advise serve no perpose other than to teach their kids to tune them out out. Just let them play, or better yet, study the game and then teach them what to do. I don't think the average dad would do any better than his kid, and would probably do worse. And to the fans working themselves up over a player not swinging a pitch down the middle, or flailing at a slider down and away, you wouldn't do any better.
To me the beauty of the game is in the play. I don't have much of an interest anymore in stats. I'm not interested in trying to predict the out come of a particular player or team, or divine the future so I can win a fantasy league. I like to see how the players meet the challange of that game, and other than big leaguers, I'm not going to have any stats to rely on anyway, so it's all in that game at that time. The next game might be different. Some teams improve; some don't. Some players improve; some decline; some never change. That way it stays a game.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I don't know what I'm doing
A few moments ago, I overheard one of my fellow employees asking yet another fellow employee if he knew of any Biblical references to UFOs. I kid you not. The end is near people. Bask in the glory of end times.
Glib? Probably, but at some point you have to ask how it is that humanity ( and I still have to keep myself from using the sexist term Mankind; curse you 60's ) has survived for so long, and I now believe that the lack of technology has been, rather than being an impediment, the key to our longevity. In the dark ages people were dependent on one another for their community, their survival in bad times, their moral center, their............
One would think, but who knows. My dark ages were the 60's, so my reference may not be complete. I have read a lot of history, though, and yes, that may not count for much either.
Still ( I intend to overuse that word extensively in this post ), and I'll tell the reason I'm even bringing this up soon, I'm beginning to believe we on the road to our Wall-E period, and unlike the people in that whimsical cartoon; we're doomed. Well, those of us in the western tradition are doomed to self obsession. All you need to know is this one word; Twitter. The inorganic progression from the inane cell phone call. Now instead of calling one person to let them know you're going to the bathroom, you can now inform everyone else you believe is deeply interested in your every move and thought.
-----This has possibilities in product surveys and or endorsements. Does this brand of toilet paper have the wherewithal to cleave the damage done or does it come apart in your hand? Inquiring minds.------
As if our society isn't narcissistic enough.
This came into my febrile little mind when listening to a story about a photographer, recently deceased, who commented that people used to live in the streets ( not literally, although we know that is a part of human existence ); that that's where their community was; that's where the action was. No TV. They had the radio. Still, one would assume, connection came from actual human contact.
Back in the day.
Still ( annoyed yet ), great civilizations thrive on outward growth, not inward navel gazing, and an inordinate interest in the mundane of the everyman, or woman. Our lives just aren't that important or interesting. Yet technology is apace to drown us in the detritus of our collective existence. We no longer need to strive to survive; we got more than we'll ever need ( whether or not it's adequately share so no person goes without is another question ), by far, to survive. The question has been posed as to whether that's a good thing or bad. Are we more generous? Are we more knowledgeable? Are we more righteous before the Lord; assuming we're not consumed by Biblical references to creatures from beyond the moon? Are we, like all great civilizations before us, growing weak by our own satisfaction only to be consumed by one more vigorous and opportunistic society? Conservatives worry about such things; progressives see it as necessary change; nativists see it as evil, and the rest of won't notice because we're too busy following some vacuous celebrity on Twitter.
The pessimist see all of this as the end of the world; not the earth ( we'll talk about that another time ), but of humanity as we know it. Why? Because there ought to be more to life. Because if we corrupt the rest of humanity into self centered shop-a-holics then where is the glory of existence to go?
Still, it's possible that having a life where you're free to spend your life navel gazing, shopping, collecting any variety of objects has it joys and merits. The freedom not to worry about having enough to eat, a place of shelter, the opportunity to do and say what you want with only minor difficulties has it's charms. Charms which a great number of people on this earth do not have.
Still.
Glib? Probably, but at some point you have to ask how it is that humanity ( and I still have to keep myself from using the sexist term Mankind; curse you 60's ) has survived for so long, and I now believe that the lack of technology has been, rather than being an impediment, the key to our longevity. In the dark ages people were dependent on one another for their community, their survival in bad times, their moral center, their............
One would think, but who knows. My dark ages were the 60's, so my reference may not be complete. I have read a lot of history, though, and yes, that may not count for much either.
Still ( I intend to overuse that word extensively in this post ), and I'll tell the reason I'm even bringing this up soon, I'm beginning to believe we on the road to our Wall-E period, and unlike the people in that whimsical cartoon; we're doomed. Well, those of us in the western tradition are doomed to self obsession. All you need to know is this one word; Twitter. The inorganic progression from the inane cell phone call. Now instead of calling one person to let them know you're going to the bathroom, you can now inform everyone else you believe is deeply interested in your every move and thought.
-----This has possibilities in product surveys and or endorsements. Does this brand of toilet paper have the wherewithal to cleave the damage done or does it come apart in your hand? Inquiring minds.------
As if our society isn't narcissistic enough.
This came into my febrile little mind when listening to a story about a photographer, recently deceased, who commented that people used to live in the streets ( not literally, although we know that is a part of human existence ); that that's where their community was; that's where the action was. No TV. They had the radio. Still, one would assume, connection came from actual human contact.
Back in the day.
Still ( annoyed yet ), great civilizations thrive on outward growth, not inward navel gazing, and an inordinate interest in the mundane of the everyman, or woman. Our lives just aren't that important or interesting. Yet technology is apace to drown us in the detritus of our collective existence. We no longer need to strive to survive; we got more than we'll ever need ( whether or not it's adequately share so no person goes without is another question ), by far, to survive. The question has been posed as to whether that's a good thing or bad. Are we more generous? Are we more knowledgeable? Are we more righteous before the Lord; assuming we're not consumed by Biblical references to creatures from beyond the moon? Are we, like all great civilizations before us, growing weak by our own satisfaction only to be consumed by one more vigorous and opportunistic society? Conservatives worry about such things; progressives see it as necessary change; nativists see it as evil, and the rest of won't notice because we're too busy following some vacuous celebrity on Twitter.
The pessimist see all of this as the end of the world; not the earth ( we'll talk about that another time ), but of humanity as we know it. Why? Because there ought to be more to life. Because if we corrupt the rest of humanity into self centered shop-a-holics then where is the glory of existence to go?
Still, it's possible that having a life where you're free to spend your life navel gazing, shopping, collecting any variety of objects has it joys and merits. The freedom not to worry about having enough to eat, a place of shelter, the opportunity to do and say what you want with only minor difficulties has it's charms. Charms which a great number of people on this earth do not have.
Still.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Rashomon
One of my favorite films is Rashomon. I watched it recently, and as usual I found it deeply compelling. If you don't know, the film is about a rape and murder in feudal Japan. The characters are a woodsman, priest, commoner, bandit, samurai, his wife, and a medium. The commoner meets the woodsman and the priest at a dilapidated shrine during a monsoon. With nothing better to do to pass the time until the rains end, the commoner seeks to hear why the two men are inconsolable; the woodsman with what he has just witnessed at the courthouse, and the priest with his loss of faith in humanity, also a byproduct of what he has witnessed at the courthouse.
The woodsman recounts how he discovers the body of the samurai, tells the police, and comes to the courthouse to hear the witnesses. First up is the bandit. He sees the samurai and his wife on the road but feigns disinterest until a providential wind rouses him. He desires the wife and so connives to trick the samurai, ties him up, returns for the wife and then rapes her in the presence of the samurai. She at first resists him, but then submits. Afterward she wants to go with the bandit, then convinces the bandit to allow the samurai to defend his honor. After a mighty struggle, the bandit kills the samurai. The wife runs away.
Having been found hiding in a temple, the wife is brought to court to tell her side of the story. She recounts being brought to where her husband has been tied up, and being forced to yield to the bandit. Having been shamed in front of her husband, she tells them they must decide who she will go with. When she approaches her husband she recoils from his obvious contempt for her. She become angry at his failure to defend her honor. The bandit takes off. The wife realizing she has been abandoned by both of them, kills her husband with her pearl inlaid knife. She wails at her circumstances.
At this point a medium is brought to the court to channel the dead samurai. He laments his fall into darkness. His version is that after being foolish enough to be tricked by the bandit, and being forced to witness the rape of his wife, his shame, not only with his own foolishness, but also his wife's unwilling to commit suicide for her failure to resist the bandit; as well as her abandonment, leaves him no other choice but to regain his honor through suicide. He then kills himself with his wife's blade.
At this point the woodsman blurts out that the samurai was killed with a sword. The commoner goads the woodsman into admitting that he had done more than just find the body, that he had witnessed the whole affair. After explaining that he didn't want to get involved he told what he had seen. Turns out that after the rape, the bandit wasn't quite sure what to do; take the woman; leave the woman? The samurai was scornful of his wife, telling her the honorable thing to do would be to kill herself. The wife while weeping through most of this, lets out a laughing scream and curses the bandit and her husband, calling them weak and cowardly. By questioning their courage and manhood, she shames them into a fight it's obvious neither one wants, and as expected there is a lot of running and wild swinging of the sort you'd get from two people deathly afraid of being killed. after exhausting themselves circumstances find the bandit standing over the samurai with his sword ready to strike, but he clearly doesn't want to, and the samurai pleads that he doesn't want to die. The bandit plunges home the sword and runs away, as does the wife.
The woodsman doesn't understand why they would tell different versions of what happened. The priest doesn't understand either, but the commoner isn't surprised. That moment they hear a baby's cry and discover an abandoned child. The commoner takes the kimono left to keep the child warm. The others are shocked he would steal from a child. He mocks them saying the child was unwanted and left to die. He then accuses the woodsman of stealing the pearl inlaid knife of the wife; calling him a hypocrite and a liar. The priest takes the child appalled at the two of them; the commoner laughs at him; the woodsman, claiming that he already has six children at home can support another and takes the child. The priest, unconvincingly, sates his belief in humanity has been restored.
If you're looking for the redemption of humanity in this film you'll be disappointed. It is not uplifting. It does however make a damning commentary on how people choose to see their life and actions and how those views can differ markedly from what we would call literal truth, assuming we would know it. Each character represent an archetype and plays to that stereotype. The honest woodsman, the noble priest, the honorable samurai, the good wife, and the free wheeling bandit. The commoner is humanity in it's unvarnished form; selfish, grubbing, lacking in guile, unapologetic, and certain we've all got something to hide. It's not a particularly pleasant picture to see, but that's the point. Even in their worst moment, our characters seek to delude not only us but themselves as well. The bandit plays to his audience at the court with bravado and orneriness; believing that's what they expect to see. Never mind that when we first see him he is driving himself through the sand by the river, feverishly trying to scrape away the murder that hangs on him. The samurai sees himself as an honorable man put in a situation where the only acceptable outcome is suicide. The fact that he despises his wife, is not a prototypical samurai warrior, and is fearful of dying doesn't jibe with the social construct of how he is expected to behave.
The woodsman recounts how he discovers the body of the samurai, tells the police, and comes to the courthouse to hear the witnesses. First up is the bandit. He sees the samurai and his wife on the road but feigns disinterest until a providential wind rouses him. He desires the wife and so connives to trick the samurai, ties him up, returns for the wife and then rapes her in the presence of the samurai. She at first resists him, but then submits. Afterward she wants to go with the bandit, then convinces the bandit to allow the samurai to defend his honor. After a mighty struggle, the bandit kills the samurai. The wife runs away.
Having been found hiding in a temple, the wife is brought to court to tell her side of the story. She recounts being brought to where her husband has been tied up, and being forced to yield to the bandit. Having been shamed in front of her husband, she tells them they must decide who she will go with. When she approaches her husband she recoils from his obvious contempt for her. She become angry at his failure to defend her honor. The bandit takes off. The wife realizing she has been abandoned by both of them, kills her husband with her pearl inlaid knife. She wails at her circumstances.
At this point a medium is brought to the court to channel the dead samurai. He laments his fall into darkness. His version is that after being foolish enough to be tricked by the bandit, and being forced to witness the rape of his wife, his shame, not only with his own foolishness, but also his wife's unwilling to commit suicide for her failure to resist the bandit; as well as her abandonment, leaves him no other choice but to regain his honor through suicide. He then kills himself with his wife's blade.
At this point the woodsman blurts out that the samurai was killed with a sword. The commoner goads the woodsman into admitting that he had done more than just find the body, that he had witnessed the whole affair. After explaining that he didn't want to get involved he told what he had seen. Turns out that after the rape, the bandit wasn't quite sure what to do; take the woman; leave the woman? The samurai was scornful of his wife, telling her the honorable thing to do would be to kill herself. The wife while weeping through most of this, lets out a laughing scream and curses the bandit and her husband, calling them weak and cowardly. By questioning their courage and manhood, she shames them into a fight it's obvious neither one wants, and as expected there is a lot of running and wild swinging of the sort you'd get from two people deathly afraid of being killed. after exhausting themselves circumstances find the bandit standing over the samurai with his sword ready to strike, but he clearly doesn't want to, and the samurai pleads that he doesn't want to die. The bandit plunges home the sword and runs away, as does the wife.
The woodsman doesn't understand why they would tell different versions of what happened. The priest doesn't understand either, but the commoner isn't surprised. That moment they hear a baby's cry and discover an abandoned child. The commoner takes the kimono left to keep the child warm. The others are shocked he would steal from a child. He mocks them saying the child was unwanted and left to die. He then accuses the woodsman of stealing the pearl inlaid knife of the wife; calling him a hypocrite and a liar. The priest takes the child appalled at the two of them; the commoner laughs at him; the woodsman, claiming that he already has six children at home can support another and takes the child. The priest, unconvincingly, sates his belief in humanity has been restored.
If you're looking for the redemption of humanity in this film you'll be disappointed. It is not uplifting. It does however make a damning commentary on how people choose to see their life and actions and how those views can differ markedly from what we would call literal truth, assuming we would know it. Each character represent an archetype and plays to that stereotype. The honest woodsman, the noble priest, the honorable samurai, the good wife, and the free wheeling bandit. The commoner is humanity in it's unvarnished form; selfish, grubbing, lacking in guile, unapologetic, and certain we've all got something to hide. It's not a particularly pleasant picture to see, but that's the point. Even in their worst moment, our characters seek to delude not only us but themselves as well. The bandit plays to his audience at the court with bravado and orneriness; believing that's what they expect to see. Never mind that when we first see him he is driving himself through the sand by the river, feverishly trying to scrape away the murder that hangs on him. The samurai sees himself as an honorable man put in a situation where the only acceptable outcome is suicide. The fact that he despises his wife, is not a prototypical samurai warrior, and is fearful of dying doesn't jibe with the social construct of how he is expected to behave.
The wife is stuck; there's no way she's going to come out of this in a good way. Not in that time; not in that society. She seeks sympathy at the court knowing that her life is irretrievably broken, but her character conspires against her and she seems pathetic and grasping. The woodsman and the priest expect to see society and it's participants in a clear cut way. The ambiguity and falsity of the characters at the court leave them unmoored and unsure how to navigate. The commoner sees them all as phonies and fools. He recognizes the fallacy of humanity believing itself to be better than it really is. He's not afraid to tell them what they are or to accept his own selfishness. He knows to put himself first; that life is hard and capricious; full of want and desire, and quick to end, whether good or bad. Sooner or later the reaper finds you, and no amount of subterfuge or wailing will save you. You do what you have to to survive.
Maybe it's the darkness that pervades the end of the film that is unsettling; there is no pat answers or happy ending. No one comes out of it wiser or for the better. They only shake their heads and wonder why and have no answers.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Wither Heaven, or some indeterminate other, Part 2
The big problem with most images or imaginations of heaven, or hell for that matter, is that they're merely perfections of an earthly life. Always wonderful; never tricky or foreboding, without the problems endemic to mortality; hunger, fear, corruption, and death. That's understandable in a sense; it's an extension of what we know, but presumes to know the unknowable and have control over something untouchable that is beyond our control. Truthfully, it's to exercise control over others in this life and beyond. To a large extent, in this life it's very doable; and is, but to extend it into the afterlife is trickier. Therefore it's important to play to the emotions that govern our behavior, that allow us to maintain some form of civility, and to control our baser instincts. Good behavior has it's rewards today and tomorrow, as does ill behavior demand retribution and or punishment.
The indeterminate other being hell, the void, nothingness; Annihilation-ism, the idea of giving up any afterlife at all rather than be subjugated to one that is not of our choice. It might also be none of the above. The idea that we know what's after is a dodge; we don't. We conjecture, we fulminate, we create what we wish to believe in, what we hope for, what we hope to avoid; what we believe others deserve. We anthropomorphize God in such a way as to have a means to control that which we don't know or understand. If God is in our image, as opposed to our being in his; which supposes that we understand the mind of God ( another assumption that God has a " mind " as we understand it ), then we can extrapolate our thoughts onto his, and by osmosis gleam his intentions and desires for us both on earth and after.
This impulse is described in Genesis through the story of Adam and Eve. Though warned not to consume the fruit from the tree of knowledge, Adam's hubris is manipulated by the serpent to contravene God's directive. Adam is sure he knows God's mind and is willing to disobey because he wishes to have God's knowledge which we are told is sublime and unending. God, naturally, is upset; this being the more demonstrative God of the early books of the Bible, and give Adam and Eve what they, and therefore the rest of humanity, so richly deserve; the desolation of only knowing a little; only enough to see how far they truly have to go to know God's " mind ". So we have treked since then ruminating our place, our beloved humanity, our gods and or God, longing to find our rightful place, and fearful that we're nothing more than bit player in a much larger and more consequential cosmic dance.
Next: this must be going somewhere? Right?
The indeterminate other being hell, the void, nothingness; Annihilation-ism, the idea of giving up any afterlife at all rather than be subjugated to one that is not of our choice. It might also be none of the above. The idea that we know what's after is a dodge; we don't. We conjecture, we fulminate, we create what we wish to believe in, what we hope for, what we hope to avoid; what we believe others deserve. We anthropomorphize God in such a way as to have a means to control that which we don't know or understand. If God is in our image, as opposed to our being in his; which supposes that we understand the mind of God ( another assumption that God has a " mind " as we understand it ), then we can extrapolate our thoughts onto his, and by osmosis gleam his intentions and desires for us both on earth and after.
This impulse is described in Genesis through the story of Adam and Eve. Though warned not to consume the fruit from the tree of knowledge, Adam's hubris is manipulated by the serpent to contravene God's directive. Adam is sure he knows God's mind and is willing to disobey because he wishes to have God's knowledge which we are told is sublime and unending. God, naturally, is upset; this being the more demonstrative God of the early books of the Bible, and give Adam and Eve what they, and therefore the rest of humanity, so richly deserve; the desolation of only knowing a little; only enough to see how far they truly have to go to know God's " mind ". So we have treked since then ruminating our place, our beloved humanity, our gods and or God, longing to find our rightful place, and fearful that we're nothing more than bit player in a much larger and more consequential cosmic dance.
Next: this must be going somewhere? Right?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wither Heaven, or some indeterminate other, Part 1.
The nature of our existence on earth is dependent on our expectations for what comes afterward. If we believe in an afterlife, then; one would think, our conduct on earth, or in our physical period versus an ethereal or metaphysical state, would directly affect our prospects in that afterlife. That is where the fun begins; do we conduct ourselves based on the here and now, the temporal, physical, sensual pleasures and pains, or do we temper ourselves knowing that if we maintain our collective dignities that a greater reward awaits us in the next life.
Makes you wonder.
While the idea of an afterlife has a lot going for it; assuming that it's better than the life we have on earth ( and I think it's reasonable to assume that this is the only heavenly body to which we are assigned; I don't know that I wish to moon over some possible other life on a planet in a galaxy far far away ), I don't know that a lot of thought has gone into what that entails. There is a great body of work dealing with the existence and argumentative nature of heaven and hell, but not too much on exactly how that would play out long term. Sure, there are descriptions of heaven and hell, along with the good, the bad, and the ugly, but not much in how an entity ( more on that later ) would cope with the eternity factor. Eternity, as they say, last a long time. The argument could go that as we would no longer be bound to earthly constraints, the idea or concept of time would be irrelevant. Is there day and night? Would we need to sleep? How approachable would your idols be ( if they're even remotely famous, you'd think having souls come up to you all the time talking about the same stuff would become tiring; of course we're all supposed to be enlightened munificent souls by that point ). Would your greatest sports heroes really want to spend their afterlife playing with the less athletic ( assuming a) that everyone is as they were at 25 and at their genetic potential ( which is another big question ) and b) much more athletically gifted than they were in life ( this also posits the question of whether athletes on earth are at their peak )) than with their earthly peers? I'm thinking; no. We'd still be spectators, although there would be the hope that some age old questions about one eras players going against another would be answered on the field of play.
What if all you wanted to do was farm? I'm also assuming no need for sustenance in the afterlife; although for gourmands that might just be a reason to gorge in this life and let the chips fall where they may. If you can eat in heaven then what about waste? Will food have the same taste? If there's no hunger or appetite; then is this a pointless question? Is it OK to do nothing; to be a complete waste, which one would think would be better thought of in heaven than on earth? There's no need to be a do gooder; all the crappy pieces of shit you had to tolerate in life are rotting in hell ( that's the hope is it not ). Consequently, there's no reason to do anything once you get there; having done the hard work during one's mortality.
Needless to say, the real assumption here is that time has no meaning in the afterlife, and that when one gets there there will be no moaning over the prospect of doing the same things till the end of time.
Then there's whether there's a need to define life after you've lived it. I think the pertinent question is whether all questions are truly answered in heaven. You think!
Makes you wonder.
While the idea of an afterlife has a lot going for it; assuming that it's better than the life we have on earth ( and I think it's reasonable to assume that this is the only heavenly body to which we are assigned; I don't know that I wish to moon over some possible other life on a planet in a galaxy far far away ), I don't know that a lot of thought has gone into what that entails. There is a great body of work dealing with the existence and argumentative nature of heaven and hell, but not too much on exactly how that would play out long term. Sure, there are descriptions of heaven and hell, along with the good, the bad, and the ugly, but not much in how an entity ( more on that later ) would cope with the eternity factor. Eternity, as they say, last a long time. The argument could go that as we would no longer be bound to earthly constraints, the idea or concept of time would be irrelevant. Is there day and night? Would we need to sleep? How approachable would your idols be ( if they're even remotely famous, you'd think having souls come up to you all the time talking about the same stuff would become tiring; of course we're all supposed to be enlightened munificent souls by that point ). Would your greatest sports heroes really want to spend their afterlife playing with the less athletic ( assuming a) that everyone is as they were at 25 and at their genetic potential ( which is another big question ) and b) much more athletically gifted than they were in life ( this also posits the question of whether athletes on earth are at their peak )) than with their earthly peers? I'm thinking; no. We'd still be spectators, although there would be the hope that some age old questions about one eras players going against another would be answered on the field of play.
What if all you wanted to do was farm? I'm also assuming no need for sustenance in the afterlife; although for gourmands that might just be a reason to gorge in this life and let the chips fall where they may. If you can eat in heaven then what about waste? Will food have the same taste? If there's no hunger or appetite; then is this a pointless question? Is it OK to do nothing; to be a complete waste, which one would think would be better thought of in heaven than on earth? There's no need to be a do gooder; all the crappy pieces of shit you had to tolerate in life are rotting in hell ( that's the hope is it not ). Consequently, there's no reason to do anything once you get there; having done the hard work during one's mortality.
Needless to say, the real assumption here is that time has no meaning in the afterlife, and that when one gets there there will be no moaning over the prospect of doing the same things till the end of time.
Then there's whether there's a need to define life after you've lived it. I think the pertinent question is whether all questions are truly answered in heaven. You think!
Monday, February 16, 2009
The nuisance of baseball purity
Although I know that all of you have been breathlessly awaiting my valuable insights on the mysteries of life, I would like to take a small detour as pitchers and catchers report to spring training; to throw in my two cents ( probably all the value it will ever achieve ) over baseball's inability to get over itself; or more properly, those who inhabit it's biosphere. Lo, with the gnashing of the teeth, and the renting of the garments, are we once again beside ourselves over the revelation that A-Rod used performance enhancing drugs. Many are the sports scribes and attendant voices raising the hew and cry over this latest punch to the gut of our beloved national pastime. So what. It's becoming too much to this particular individual. I say this as someone who invests a far greater part of his personal time to playing ( yes, an old guy leaguer to the bitter end ), watching, and observing the game of ball ( a lovely anachronism that I think should return to the popular vernacular of the game ) than he ought to. I am not an anti-sport crackpot. Nor am I an obsessive who has no personal life save the online community of stats geeks and virtual teams. I love the game; have loved it all my life, and no doubt will until I'm moldering in my grave. I am also someone who has a decent understanding of the history of the game and recognize that it is not, by any stretch of the imagination, pure as the driven slush.
It is therefore time to say enough is enough. Baseball history is replete with the sagacity of individuals doing whatever it takes to gain an edge. From doctoring balls and the tools of the trade, to the apartheid that kept the great players of color out of the game in the early twentieth century, to the many and various potions and drugs that players have imbibed from the game's beginning. Professional baseball is not a sport; it is a business, and has been for a very long time. It is not the sport of children, or amateurs; the game that the rest of us play for our own amusement at our leisure. Everyone involved in professional baseball is complicit in the latest era of the game. As early as the 90's, when it became obvious, even to the most casual observer, that players were no longer the same physically as their caveman ancestors, the suspicion that players were juicing, as powerlifters and body builders had been for some time, became an open secret.
Yet we all continued to go to the games.
All that money from those of us who go to the games, watch them on TV ( and the advertisers looking to sway us ) , buy the merchandise, only fueled the desire for those in control of the game from the owners, their mouthpiece Bud Selig ( let's not forget that he is a former owner and as commissioner the spokesman and front man for the owners ), the agents, and players to get their cut of the pie. With millions on the line, the idea that there wouldn't be individuals motivated to use any means at their disposal to give themselves an edge; or to do as most were doing; an important point to note, is naive and goes against human nature. Very, very few of us would turn down the kind of money being offered the guys to play. That includes fans and members of the media who were in on the play who chose instead to laud rather than to expose.
Let it go.
Hypocrisy is an ugly face no matter who chooses to wear it. Be honest and accept that the game has gone down this road with all of us cheering; whether we had a queasy feeling in our stomachs or not. If baseball chooses to try to stem the tide of PED's; let it try. Maybe someday they'll be as clean as football ( because as we all know it's normal for men to be that big and that strong and that fast naturally even if their football forebears were not ), or it won't be as important. If you are outraged; don't watch; don't participate; do something else with your time and energy. All these calls by the sirens of baseball is hypocrisy; plain and simple. Asterisks and fey calls to remove records only point to the absurdity of this precious little dance. It's our little piece of baseball history; no better or no more egregious that those of the past. Get over it.
Time to play. To the next era of the game.
Monday, February 2, 2009
I have to start somewhere
As if it's necessary for there to be one more voice floating out in the ether; and in more ways than one it's not, I feel compelled to add my valuable two cents. Not that I will be regaling you with lurid tales of my own personal fetishes; there seems to be plenty of that about; nor will I be dishing about other people as I know very few and I see no reason to offend what few people I still know. I feel the responsibility to pontificate in grave voice on the meaning of all things whether I know what I'm talking about or not. And let's be honest, this isn't a medium of august rumination; look at it's affectation: blog. More like something found in a living room after a party gone bad. It may turn out to be just that. A billion notes played in no particular order. This then is my toot. Whether I truly know anything is mostly beside the point, which is to throw out my notions, thoughts, and predilections. Some things hold my interest more than others, and since my job requires no real thought on my part, my brain tends to go off on it's own; leading to these profundities. So why write anything at all?
I'm interested in the base and the profound; simply, why are we here; what does it all mean; is there any real point to it; is it planned or happenstance; do we wait for some glorious or horrible afterlife, or do we make the most or least of our time because there's nothing beyond it? We, as humans, have the gift of seeing ourselves in outsized manifestations of our importance in the cosmos. We're not merely the byproduct of cosmological forces, over which we have no control; no, we are meaningful characters in God's infinite play; ready to strut and fret in our leading role. It is the scope and force of that actors distinction that gives us such dread. Are we really a leading force or a bit presence adding nothing more than diversity and color ( as if the universe needs more )? Perhaps a more simple way to state it is why are we here? Beyond the obvious; I'm at this location at this time doing the following for the following purpose. What exactly is the reason for life, for being, for existence? Are we part of a grand design? Are we just a cosmological ( I just love that word ) nanosecond; less than a blink in the eyes of the universe? What exactly describes what we're meant to do? What is life? Is it really anything other than a period of time existing on a planet in a galaxy in the universe? Are the answers in philosophy, theology; the works of humanity's great thinkers? Is it more than a way to kill time until the sun dies taking the Earth and all it's history with it?
Does there have to be something at the end? If so; why? Why can't it just end, or more specifically play out as all other heavenly bodies do when their energy is exhausted? Is that so terrible? Why do we seem so fearful of being nothing more than a small part of a much greater whole?
Those are the questions I intend to explore. I might also go on a periodic tangent as concerns politics and baseball and the pungent miasma that washes upon my shores.
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