The bane of our existence.....

Let us return, gentle reader, to the stone age, to our caveman ancestors squat upon the savanna, kicking back after a hard day of hunting and gathering; collecting their thoughts on the meaning of life, and the next big thing.
One would think, believe, that survival; eking out a life of subsistence, would naturally be at the forefront of any particular discussion between individuals of their day. Danger, disease, exposure all lurk out in the great expanse of the land between the sky and the sea.

Yet, were a modern man to be set amongst the greatest of grandfathers, could he comprehend the distance humanity has travelled in so short a time. I'm speaking geologically, astronomically, archaeologically; not in the vain spacial sense that we existing humans tend to think of as time passing. 30,000 years out of millions is small potatoes. Still, a human is a human is a human, is he not? Would not a modern man be able to commiserate with gramps on the sometimes woeful state of being a dude?

In light of these mostly cogent thoughts, the following questions/concerns come to the fore:

Like, is it possible to be a total dude without showering regularly? Does covering ones self in mud mitigate other perceived short comings such as male patterned baldness, which I'm certain cave dudes had to contend with, or a lack of teeth? This also speaks to the importance of oral hygiene, halitosis, and the need for breath sprays or strips. It is through such insights that we begin to discern the truly wrenching live our caveman ancestors had to endure. Without the necessary creams and lotions, not to mention multi-blade shavers and aftershave balms, how is the average cave dude supposed to compete with the elites of his day, be they physical or intellectual, in order to properly slay the cave babes? There is more to life than scrapping by on berries and the occasional rabbit, no, man must also propagate the species, improve the bloodline, and get jiggy with it! There is no greater challenge be ye an important historical figure, or merely an anonymous troglodyte.

Then there's the question of ability, or lack thereof in the man department. Thanks to incessant advertising, we moderns are fully aware of the need to talk to our medical professionals about the dangers of impotence, or as it's now called; erectile dysfunction. Imagine two total dudes out and about after a hard day tracking an antelope, or gazelle, boar, maybe even the notorious jackalope, then heading back to their man caves ( man, how time have changed, eh boys) wondering how they're going to explain not only their lack of success this day, or that Bob got eaten by a bear, but what about the pressure to perform when it's a struggle to pitch the tent. Life's tough enough when you're living in a cave, much less alone. Yeah, maybe there's no need to sweep now, or move those rocks like you promised; you even have time to finish that cave painting you've been talking about for years, but the motivation is lost. Pity the lonely cave dude.
So the next time you're desperately dousing yourself with Axe body spray, or which ever one causes the ladies to jump all over you ( this is assuming that's a good thing and that they are not, in fact, attacking you for that odious scent you insist on fumigating yourself with ) in order to avoid another lonely night, thank god for the chemical companies for allowing you to foolishly believe you're any better off than that lonely cave dude.

Committee of Idiots

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.