There is a vast and inescapable gulf between creators and the folks who enjoy stuff that’s been created. This gulf is inevitable. Art is created to convey messages, from top to bottom. Even art that’s created for the sole purpose of “this thing is aesthetically appealing” is still conveying a message about what “aesthetically appealing” is. Plot that’s merely created as a device to move a storyline is still conveying a message. In our post-post-modern times (this ironicist age) we’re inclined to reject the notion that the author has a message in the first place, that the work’s sole value is in the interpretations derived by the fandom of an object. This attitude is especially appealing in an environment driven by individualistic consumer capitalism, where works of art are ultimately only important inasmuch as they provide some compelling experience for us as individuals and can be later appropriated to build a self-image. If the author is irrelevant and our individual experiences paramount, anything can be perceived as supporting any kind of self-conceptualization we can come up with. The actual narrative or message of a story is ultimately irrelevant compared to our individual experience with a story. This is why we can tell bald morality fables even to folks diametrically opposed to the self-limiting concept of morals. The story doesn’t matter, just that it helped momentarily raise your dopamine levels and distracted you from your own mortality.
This is why Final Fantasy’s clear naturist spiritualism can be utterly 100% ignored in favor of, you know, “Aerith dies! Look how evil/badass Sephiroth is. Yuffie is mai waifu” and so on. The story is a bit standard of a paean to anti-pollution or general gaianism, but it’s literally the last thing you hear about final fantasy seven and the folks way into the game aren’t forming anti-pollution initiatives or standing outside at climate change rallies. The message (respect your planet because it’s the source of all life) doesn’t really matter to the people most invested in the actual work. And it’s endemic to every kind of story. Folks who’re big on neon genesis evangelion don’t come away with an idea that all people are more or less one and the same, that difference is an illusion created by an absolute terror field or psychological damage. The list goes on.
It’s possible to read a narrative and accept and internalize its message over its presentation. It’s not common, but it does happen. My contention is just that perhaps in this modern ironicist age, as we’ve broadly accepted the conclusions of post-modernism (that all meaning is constructed) and taken them to their illogical conclusion (meaning is false and sentimentality is lying), we’re less and less equipped with the ability to read a narrative for what message it’s attempting to convey and consequently modern artists are less and less interested in conveying a message. The very act of working a message into art is inauthentic; the message is assailable, the expression artificial and dishonest and untrue. The art itself of course is unoriginal, everything that can be made has been made already. In a culture where the authentic expression of oneself is a moral imperative, inauthenticity and unoriginality is anathema. This creates a tension within the arts community, whereby artists have to confront the conflict between awareness of a lack of originality/authenticity/honesty in their work and the overarching need to be original/authentic/honest.
Different artists solve this different ways, but I’m more concerned about the legions of folks left in the gutters, creatively paralyzed as a result of failing to meet an unrealistic internalized standard of expression created by the proliferation of mass culture. You may notice parallels between what I just wrote and the creation and sustention of beauty standards that leave millions of folks bodily and personally insecure (not to mention gender standards, wealth standards, ethnicity standards, all kinds of normativity). This is intentional, as all of these processes are the tandem result of mass media. Normativity in artistic presentation/consumption is just as ruinous as any other normativity.
What I’m here to tell you today: don’t be afraid to make any art. It’s easy enough to write out, but much harder to internalize. Don’t be afraid to write whatever ridiculous dreck you want. Don’t let your internal editor endlessly compare your work to anyone else’s. Don’t be afraid to read narratives for what they say. Don’t be afraid to embrace a philosophy or a politic or a position. We’re all going to be dead sooner than later and no one will remember us accurately so there’s really no reason to worry about it. It’s out of your hands.
The whole point of these missives, this writing exercise, those monographs is to share some kind of knowledge, some wisdom, some truth hard fought and hard won. You’re supposed to come away having a better appreciation for life and your place in it. The problem is, of course, that there needs something to be said before that writing can occur.
It’s 2:13 a.m. and I’m eating pepperjack and townhomes and feeling as lost and overwhelmed as I always do. If there’s some kind of truth in this, I don’t know where it is. If there’s wisdom, it’s not mine to share. All I can give you is my experience, which is all I can ever give you when it comes down to it.
There’s a narrative in anthropological academia, a narrative that implies that the reason anthropologists get into anthropology in the first place is because anthropologists don’t fit in well with their own culture and have the urge to explore other cultures to better understand why they’re personally wired that way. It’s a good narrative, one that describes a number of major figures. On top of the whole “reformer’s science” subtitle, a great many anthropologists are argumentative contrarians.
It’s sweet and sort of sentimental to read about these figures and discuss loosely what’s going down at the AAA convention, but it’s the sweet of nostalgia and daydreams, since it’s a culture that’s dying out every day – or rather it’s reverting to a pre-G.I. bill era where academia is a locked tower filled with overly wealthy dodderers. I’m supposed to graduate this semester, and really I’m getting out just in time. The budget cuts are deepening and major services are being slashed. The Children’s Center, an entire building on campus, is getting cut. There are fees for withdrawing from classes. There were talks of changing requirements to require transfer students to have to take something like 75% of their courses here; boosting tuition from otherwise (apparently) flighty transfer graduates.
On every campus in America there’s a bunch of clubs and activities designed to engage college students in some sort of collective spirit-building exercises. These constructs are designed purposefully to help ease college freshmen into college life, where they might feel suddenly isolated and uncomfortable removed from the high school they were previously attending. It’s a justifiable goal, though it also serves the purpose of extending adolescence and obscuring the financial cost of college through misdirection. For these clubs and for many Americans, college is just another step in the path to becoming a middle class adult. The thing is: college is also an ancient and erudite institutional method of intellectual development designed to acculturate and reiterate an intellectual class. Even further college is a road towards greater economic security, negotiated by ambitious individuals who still believe in class mobility. College for them represents a contract where in exchange for a series of individually pointless tasks they’ll earn leverage over their employers.
I’ve probably said this before (and I’ll gladly rant about it a dozen times more in person, willing didact that I am) but modern college is some kind of mutated aggregate of an assumed adolescent stage that’ll bottlerocket you off to middle classdom. Combined with our most recent “millennial” trend of victim blaming and the stagnant economy, college is actually a pretty bad deal. You’re paying tens of thousands of dollars to attend a place that treats you as an over-developed horny child in exchange for a piece of paper whose value drops every commencement. Then you’re jettisoned into the “real world” where your vain attempts at demanding recompense for your labors as per the implied social contract are met with cries of “entitlement” or “homeless with iphones” or “laziest generation.” It’s a catch-22 because the world loves catch-22s.
It’s not really worth it to go to college, but the biggest and worst problem is that it’s even less worth it to not go to college, to languish in entry level world as employers use arbitrary notions of “skill” to justify paying as little as they can get away with. Basically we’ve made college the modern indentured servitude, leading straight to the wage slavery constructed in the world.
There’s some argument out there that all the things that capitalism constructs are the same; that the story it tells is the same one over and over again. There’s some argument that all stories we tell are the same story. I don’t know if any of that is true and I don’t know what wisdom there is to curdle from them.
This segment is a bit more negative. Here, the camera focuses squarely on Halliwell and his insecurities. More to come, natch.
A Coffee shop:
“Where’s that guy? That Kevin fellow?”
“Dunno. Is that his name?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, anyway, so I had a great Idea. Every state should be its own state.”
“The country is way ahead of ya.”
“No, I mean state in the nation sense. The entire country should divide into 50 separate countries. Each could collect its own taxes and make its own legislative decisions.”
“But they already can.”
“No, not at all, states aren’t allowed to do a whole mess of things that the federal government can. Like make treaties with other countries. Like California. They couldn’t sign the Kyoto treaty, though they governor really wanted. It was a news thing awhile ago. I think around the same time the governator’s presidential aspirations were crushed based on his Austrian heritage.”
“You know, Hitler was an Austrian.”
“And a vegetarian, but how is that in any way relevant to my fantastic Idea?”
“Absurd idea, you mean.”
“And how so, mister big shot?”
“Well, for one, having states that size would never work. It would lead to disparities in less populous states, like Montana. Or New Mexico.”
“But that already exists!”
“Not to the extent it would, the government helps make up for lack of income and support.Beyond that, there’s the problem of defense. How would a collection of tiny nations defend itself?”
“The same way the colonies did. Through a collective army.”
“But it would be a nightmare to co-ordinate. And speak nothing of potential conflicts between states. What if Texas decided it didn’t feel like supporting Florida in the defense of the gulf? We would have a disaster.”
“What kind of line of thought is that? When was the last time a foreign nation attacked mainland U.S. unprovoked? Hawaii doesn’t count, as it wasn’t even a state during Pearl Harbor.”
“We have to think towards the potential future. What if there was another Cuban missile crisis? What would the collective nations of America do then?”
“Beyond the ridiculousness of that idea, the opposing power wouldn’t necessarily be at war with all of America. Remember, we’d have the nations of Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee and so forth. I doubt that the entirety of the continent would ever be at war with anyone else.”
“Now that’s just crazy talk. You know, after World War One, people said that would be no more war ever again. It was to be the ‘war to end all wars.’ It didn’t last long, now did it?”
“But nearly every conflict since world war one have been American provoked. Even the entry into both of those wars was somewhat contentious.”
“Bah, conspiracy nonsense”
“Even discounting the two world wars, we still have the Korean war, Vietnam, the gulf war—“
“Which was initiated by Iraq”
“When a figurehead we installed to ensure constant supplies of oil got somewhat uppity. It was still none of our business, and clearly an attempt to justify flexing our military muscle just after the cold war. Anyway, the current Iraq conflict, where we basically solidified our position of declaring that it’s perfectly okay for a bunch of crazy Zionist Jews to have nukes, but god forbid any Muslims even cough the word ‘nuclear.’”
“Now you’re just getting silly. Iraq was a potential threat. As is any nation with nukes. They all make me uncomfortable. I hear France has nukes. It keeps me awake at night to think that those cheese eating surrender monkeys have their finger on the button.”
“Ridiculous. No one has the guts to use a nuke in this day and age. The global sanctions and political climate would decimate whatever part of the nation left after the retaliatory strikes. Quit interrupting me, though. Before the world wars, we had the Indian “wars” where we slaughtered a continent of people for having an incompatible way of life. After that we have a number of smaller wars, mostly with Spain over various countries that the Monroe doctrine and Roosevelt corollary insisted that we should control. Really, the vast majority of military conflicts in this country are for fairly petty reasons. The reason we focus so much as a society on both world war two and the holocaust is because frankly, that was the only really justifiable war we’ve been in in the history of our nation. Even that we didn’t enter until millions had already died. And yet, for showing up late and letting things go as far as we did, we still earned the admiration and respect of the world, which we proceeded to ruin with a pithy war with Russia over a different political system. Honestly, Americans are some of the worst people in the world. We’ve been holding it hostage and propping up our economy against that of others for years. You know we use a quarter of the world’s resources, while having some five percent the world’s population? It’s a ridiculous empire we’ve set up here.”
“Wow. You really are insane. Weren’t the other day you complaining about the ‘hippie group think’ that I was espousing? And now you’re spouting a long line of vitriol against your home country. Don’t you appreciate it living here? Most anywhere else you’d be condemned for saying that.”
“In this country I’m condemned for saying it. Just because it’s a social condemnation as opposed to a legal one makes little difference to me. GOD! Why is this country so fucked up?”
“In the vein of JFK, why are you so fucked up?”
“A man, living in adverse conditions can do little to stop himself from becoming adverse.”
“Where’s that from?”
“Dunno, just made it up.”
“Ah, it must be bullshit then.”
“Oh, absolutely. Because only people who are dead and buried or famous can say profound things.”
“Now you’re catching on!”
“Obscure quotes and snappy comebacks are the realm of comedy writers, and the only thing funny about you is your face. Good day, sir.”
“Doth mine ears deceive me? Hath the great Halliwell J, esquire, made a comeback? This is rarer than the rose picked at midnight!”
“That’s not a real quote.”
“See, I can do it too.”
“Kevin’s still not here, what happened?”
“Why do you assume I know? I never work wherever it is he lives. I only see him here and not that often, at that. Why do you care, anyhow? He’s just some weirdo who sits by us for some reason. “
“You know, it’s nice to care about other people. It helps win you friends. Perhaps if you had some, you wouldn’t be so negative about this country. Sure, things aren’t as good as they were in Roosevelt’s time, but they certainly aren’t as bad as you go on about. Think of all the great social programs and freedoms that the people enjoy!”
“Un example, por favor.”
“Americorps! Bill Clinton’s legacy of a volunteer program that helps people and communities nationwide.”
“Temporarily. No lasting impact. Some future administration will write it off, citing budget inefficiency or some such.”
“I doubt even a republican would commit political suicide by refusing to help people.”
“You’re talking about a party that recently railed against a “stimulus” package because it included a portion supporting birth control. Earmarks and condoms, they said. They should have said apportions and abortions. It would have rhymed better.”
“I’m perfectly aware of the general heinousness of the republican party. Back to my point, Social security has saved hundreds of thousands of retirees from complete poverty or death.”
“With whatever money they have left after all the borrowing against it the government does. The recent crisis has nothing to do with baby boomers. It has to do with a bunch of ill advised reallocations of funds from the social security pool to cover the ridiculously massive budget we’ve been wrestling with since the Reagan administration.”
“Can anything break through your bitter shell of cynicism?”
“Puppies, kittens, warm woolen mittens. That’s about it.”
“What of the education system? Millions of kids are educated for free, every year.”
“Go on.”
“I was waiting for another biting response. “
“I’m interested in what you have to say about yet another corrupt aging institution in society.”
“Oh, there it is. In other countries, kids aren’t educated nearly as much as ours. In most countries, people have to pay to get their kids educated past primary school. Here in America we teach every kid, regardless of income or race or any other consideration, all the way up to college preparation level. No other nation before us has instituted such a widespread effort to disseminate knowledge.”
“That’s a very positive view of it.”
“Well, let’s hear your contradiction. By all means, let your ridiculous American antipathy free.”
“I’d rather not. I’m not a show dog, to be herded about and mocked. ‘Oooh, look at the adorable unpatriotic sentiment.’ I’ll have none of that, mind you. I’ll not be used to engage in others self reflection for them.”
“Self reflection? Is that what you call it? I think you’re simply trying to eke out an edgy space for yourself by fostering a pointless stance of purest cynicism. It’s more like ‘Oooh, I’m so impressed, he doesn’t follow social norms!’ It’s okay! You can let down your guard with me! You can be sentimental without trading in your balls! Manhood’s definition is no longer measured by the level of apathy you can display!”
“You presume to understand me? You, who hardly knows me? What about your silly crusades? You want people to support you in a grand unification of the human spirit, and join together in harmony and peace and understanding. Don’t you get it, Mike? That’s not what people are! People are many things, but kind and amiable aren’t on that list! There will always be hatred, always be segregation!”
“It’s you who doesn’t get it! These things are part of our base natures, sure, but with a conscious effort, we can overcome our brutal animalistic desires to surpass ourselves! Sure, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in my lifetime, but it’s a process! People can overcome! Can’t you see our progress? Can’t you see how far we’ve come! We have a black president! No more than fifty years ago the very Idea was unmentionable! The people in this country have achieved so much, and you would dash it all to the floor by simply saying ‘it’s not enough.’ When will it be enough, Hal, when?”
“Why do you persist in such unrealistic dreams? You’re just creating illusions for yourself to stem the acknowledgement of reality. Life isn’t sunshine and roses. All of these things you mention are just examples of the popular climate moving away from legal enforcement of social rules. Blacks are still treated like ghetto trash because they literally are ghetto trash. They’re being confined to the ghettos by social stratification. The real estate companies, god bless their souls, are simply supporting the views of the public. The only reason a black man became president is through a bunch of political maneuvering by the democrats. They needed an ace in the hole to guarantee their win, so they put forth both a woman and a black to see which the public would bite. They picked a black guy, and all of a sudden, racism is gone. That line of thinking is just so shallow, I can’t even begin to describe… When people begin to believe the rhetoric they hear, nothing good ever comes of it. Look at the McCarthy period! Look at the Comstockian laws! You really want people to think the problem is solved just by putting a band-aid over it! Schools are no better! Institutions of western propaganda! Even what is taught in schools ends up under controversy! And why shouldn’t it? Schools were designed to instill good catholic morals in the children of the working class years ago! Rather than encouraging free thought, it simply emphasizes a certain way of thinking! Why do you think colleges spend so much time deconstructing assumptions in freshmen? Because the public school system spent so much time building up a set of prejudices! Why are you so blind to this?”
“Blind? Blind? I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Why can’t you take any joy in life? Why are you so obsessed with motivations and judgments? Can’t you relax? Are the means really that bad? With the ridiculously high standard of living in this country, why does it matter so much how we got here or what we’re doing to support it? People are people, no matter where you go, sure they’re fallible, but there are wonderful things about them! Not everything in life is bad! Every day, people make miracles happen for other people! Huge amounts of money are donated to charity each year! Bill Gates, one of the richest men in America Has donated massive portions of his wealth, and plans to donate almost all of it to helping kids everywhere! Never before in history has the whole of humanity cared so much about each other! We make and buy free trade coffees to help the poor of other nations lift themselves out of poverty, we have massive organizations that move food and supplies to the needy all around the world! Millions of people volunteer around the world, using their time to help those less fortunate! There are so many good things in the world, and you only want to see the bad! With this horrible view of the world, why haven’t you killed yourself yet? If things are so bad and never going to get better, why are you still bothering to be alive?”
“Ah, Hi, I’ll just get a cup of ice water, please. “ Keith retrieved his liquid luxury and returned to the small table where he and his two friends – no, acquaintances—sat. “So, I was thinking, the stars must not really exist. Sure, we can see them, but we can also see hallucinations. Those don’t exist either. I mean, has anyone ever actually been to a star? Not a one. They say the nearest one is four light years away. The fastest stuff on earth takes years to get there. It must not be real. Nothing real could be that far away.” “Hal, you’re just spouting that bullshit again. People far smarter than you or I know stars exist.” “Certainly, my dear Mikhail, and yet, people far smarter than you or I believe in god too. Intelligence only goes so far.” Keith piped up: “I don’t think money really exists. Nobody ever sees it going anywhere. These days we hardly even see cash. All we do is slide our cards and sign our names, invoking some semblance of responsibility and security over a payment and thus are you guaranteed not to be chased out the door when you leave. Nobody even looks at those signatures. I went for years doodling a smiley face instead of signing and no one accosted me.” “That’s nice, but we were discussing the ethereal nature of stars” “You mean their supposed nonexistence.” “Yes, that.” “Ah, well, that’s clearly bullshit,” said Keith. “You know, you people just don’t understand my genius. I’m surrounded by charlatans.” “And, yet, day after day, here you are.” “Humph, I was on my way out.” “What in the world d’you have to do besides this?” “Very important things. Very. Important.” That night, Keith stood outside for a short time and contemplated the stars. “Just a cup of water, if you don’t mind” Aqueous amenity acquired, Keith absconded to his seat, where Halliwell was detailing his plan to provide unlimited cheap energy through liposuction. “See here, there’s almost a billion fat people—“ “Overweight, you mean. Slightly chubby, even.” “And each one is a walking gold mine in energy. The fat from the state of Texas alone could provide enough energy for the entire country for weeks! It could be government subsidized! It would come as a part of Medicare packages! The poor are naturally fatter than the rich, so providing free liposuction would be a win-win situation!” “You are quite insane, you know that” Keith chimed in, “you know, after liposuction, you lose those fat cells forever. The fat cells you have left just get larger as a response. Unless you change your diet, it doesn’t matter how much fat you suck out.” “Yeah, exactly. He’s got it. What will you do when no one has any fat cells left?” “Nonsense, then they will be permanently skinny. The body has amazing adaptive faculties, don’t you know. People make up for deficiencies all the time. Not a word of protest comes out of them. Like vegetarians. They miss out on an entire food group, and you don’t hear them whining about their ‘condition,’ now do you?” “Vegetarianism is a choice isn’t it?” “Not always! It might be a fatal stomach accident that prevents the consumption of meat! Perhaps it’s conformist attitudes of peer pressure being born into some crazy hippy commune, perhaps they have no meat where they come from. Like Somalia. I hear there’s no meat in Somalia.” “I’ll bet that’s the only thing you’ve heard about Somalia” “So? What more do I need to know about a tiny country half the world away filled with people of inferior intelligence? “What do you need to know about this country, which is also filled with people humbled by your intellect?” “Nothing, except that I live in it, and thus I need to know about it.” “Why?” “Well, does a man live in a house without exploring it’s every cranny?” “Yes, quite often, actually” “Ah, um, does a man live in a city without exploring its every district?” “Without a doubt” “Well… Then I don’t know” “Lords above be praised for this boon you have granted me. The great and magnanimous Halliwell Percival Jones is stymied at last.” “Well, you don’t need to be snippy about it.” Keith momentarily removed his lips from his straw to speak “Well, that’s what’s nice about you. You care.” “Hardly. I have no concern for this nation of fools and morons. From New York to L.A, nary an intelligent soul in sight.” “Nonsense, you just haven’t looked. “ “I’ve looked, and I’ve recoiled at the sight.” “You mean you saw your mother.” “I’ve had enough of your childish banter, Mikhail. I’m leaving before your lack of maturity drives me to commit actions I’ll regret.” “You’d regret them, alright. Regret them all the way to your hospital bed.” “Harrumph!” That afternoon, Keith watched a group of kids playing outside. He counted three fat ones and nine reasonably fit ones. “Can I just get some ice water, please?” Dihydrogen Monoxide drink divested, Keith returned to his throne. “The solution to the economic crisis is clear: cancel all loans. Just absolve everyone completely of debt. No one would be able to default if there were no loans to default on.” “But you can’t do that! Then the banks would run out of money! They’d collapse and everyone would be broke!” “Bullshit! All that money went somewhere! It must still be wherever it went. I imagine all the real estate companies have it.” “Nope, they spent it all on new construction and wages.” “Well, then construction companies must have it.” “Nope, union dues and materials. And wages.” “Well, the unions must have it.” “Nope, they spent it all on healthcare companies” “Them?” “Nope, the sent it to the pharmaceuticals. And on wages, and the like. The pharmaceuticals spent it all on cancer research and advertising. The researchers squandered it on coffee, note pads, and bags of pens, the advertisers on sponsorships. “ “Well, where the hell is it?” Keith sparked up, “it doesn’t exist.” “It’s in the hands of a couple of rich people.” “What? Where? We should go take it back!” “You can’t. Rich people have all sorts of protections.” “Like what?” “Well, the government, for starters.” “But I am the government!” “Nope, the people with money are the government.” “What can we do?” “Nothing, really. Until the people realize what I’ve just told you and revolt en masse, it will continue.” “Oh, I see what this now. Some sort of crazed hippie thing. Well, count me out.” Keith interjected, “It doesn’t matter, since money doesn’t exist anyway. It’s just a social stratification tool.” “It’s not about crazed hippies, It’s about using the power each of us has to make a change for good!’ “I’m not staying here to listen to crazy new age crap. Next you’ll tell me crystals can cure this scar on my face.” “You just don’t get it, do you? You’re too blinded by yourself to see past you!” “Good day, sir.” Before he could leave, an employee stopped Keith. “Hey, you come here every morning, but the only thing you ever get is a cup of ice water. I was wondering why.” Keith replied, “I never buy anything here because I hate it as a corporation. I’m hoping by not purchasing anything, I’m slowly becoming a liability in the cost of straws and cups.” “That’s not very good of you to take advantage of a free service like that.” “Well, will you deny me the service?” “I… guess not, have a nice day, you weirdo.” “You too, reprobate” That evening Keith stood outside. He thought for a bit and screamed at the top of his lungs, “WHY DOES IT MATTER?” Some itinerant contrarian responded with “WHY DOESN’T IT MATTER?”
I could just be overreacting, or just being somewhat onerous (lord knows I never do that), but it seems to me that there is a fair amount of misinformation used in rather a lot of public health campaigns.
Take this new "Syke" campaign against teen smoking. On their front page, as an example of the ways that the vile, odious cigarette companies attempt to manipulate pure, innocent children, there is an old ad spot from the Flintstones in the sixties for Winston brand cigarettes. I'm going to go out on a limb here and reckon that the people running this campaign weren't actually alive when the Flintstones originally aired, else they'd have known that the cartoon was played during "prime time" and intended for an older audience. They appear to be working off of the long-standing but fallacious assumption that cartoons and comics are, were, and always will be for children and no others.
This societal specification of cartoons as a source of entertainment limited to children has helped mark what is socially assumed to be the maturation of children into adults for decades. When children stopped watching cartoons and started watching whatever insipid teen oriented programs that existed, they were thought to be "growing up." Among other things it created a boundary for the play and entertainment of children and adults, further enforcing a social divide between the age groups necessary in order to maintain the "inherent" dominance of adults and inferiority of children. When children were willing to forgo their "traditional" forms of entertainment, then they were allowed the privileges (and responsibilities, in most cases) of adults.
Anyway, it does destroy a tiny bit of credibility for the campaign to make such an erroneous assumption, regardless of its ubiquity.
(If this post were pretentious, I would have said "irregardless" instead)
My internet has been down for about a week now, which leads to a flurry of unabated productivity (there's a message in this somewhere) and contemplative thoughts.
I was wondering about the relative ease in which people get riled up over stereotypes and their application. It occurred to me that this must be a fairly new phenomenon, given the fact that fifty years ago, it was still reasonably acceptable to call an Italian a "wop." What changed? A systematic indoctrination of the consequences of calling someone a "wop" into American society (also, the word fell out of fashion, but that's neither here nor there). Yes, at some point in our recent past, a morality shift was made towards emphasizing empathy as an emotion to consider in social exchanges. Before, sympathy was enough. Being aware of someone's plight and sympathizing with them was enough to make you seem a limp-wristed asparagus-eating pantywaist.
Where did this pogrom of politeness purvey its pantheon? Why, in our schools, of course. At the risk of sounding like a dead-eyed Freud fanatic, everything important in our self definition happens in our childhood. The way people learn to interact, what makes them laugh, what perceptions they have of the world around them are all formed in the first twenty or so years of their lives. School, occupying at least twelve of those twenty, is a major impact on people's lives. If there's anywhere you'd want to go to ingrain a new social order, school would be it.
School is also the first place in which kids end up meeting a vast amount of other kids and interacting with them on a day to day basis. It's where you learn how to (or not to) deal with people and their multitudinous quirks and strange habits, how to leverage your personality on them to gain social standing and so forth. Emphasizing the idealistic vision of "perfect equality" wherein all are treated equal regardless of age, gender, nationality, or sexual orientation in schools is like adding an unwritten set of rules to the already pre-established social order of children, complete with the punishment of guilt or public humiliation for breaking these rules.
So thus people grow up with an efficient set of morals (incidentally, the reason why public schools were founded in America in the first place) that guide them to the path of least offense, and therefore least guilt. Empathy is closest to adding an extra little voice in your head to go next to your conscience. Instead of telling you when something is just plain wrong to do, it tells you what you imagine other people to be feeling in reaction to your actions and adds in a guilt response if those imagined feelings are less than happy. Something that would logically run something like:
Check: action
If public response Happy
Then Cancel: action
Feel: guilt = Happy-1
in the crazy undefined programming language in my head. I digress. My point is: it's a behavioral modification imposed by society. Not inherently a bad thing, as pretty much everything we do outside of sleeping, eating, pooping and mating is controlled or derived from society. Even the four I mentioned, perhaps especially so, are regulated by the people around you and the endless lists of unwritten rules that are insubstantially floating about for you to bonk your head upon, while you remain completely unaware of your transgressions. You may have just completely jumbled the list of rules concerning the level of awkwardness and discomfort of having a member of a party of three tell you to tell the other member all about the wonderful story you had just iterated to the first but hadn't really intended to share with the third in the first place ranked in order by relation of the first to the second, the second to the third, the first to the third and all three taken as a whole. It may take years of hemming and hawing to rearrange such a list. Jobs will be lost, families ruined. I digress.
There is a problem. This guilt feeling (remember, guilt is another word for feeling ashamed) is bad. Doubly so because it is internally generated, and thus seems natural or inherent. Guilt response was evolutionarily created to help create societies and provide feedback for people to modify their behavior to fit that of those around them. However, stereotypes were also created evolutionarily; to provide an instant set of behaviors with which to interact with a person or situation you did not know personally. When guilt is being applied to something that is naturally formed, complications arise. I'd provide examples but I've already expended my allotted quota of digressions here. Two of the reactions to this turmoil are damaging extremes. One extreme is to shut down entirely, going to great, vast lengths to avoid offending others; the other would be to become what some call the P.C. Police, whereupon you travel far and wide searching for transgressions of others to condemn and ridicule. Neither of these attitudes are in any way natural. Both are worrying. One wonders, why can these people not learn to simply relax and go with the proverbial flow?
The darkest side of empathy is the most human. Naturally while there are those who are empathetic, and thus normal or good, there must be those who are not empathetic, who are deviously deviant deviations from the norm. And such begins the intolerance of the intolerant, a vicious cycle of witch huntery and tearful accusations. If you hadn't already heard it a few hundred times from the morality plays they project on to excessively large screens in quiet dark rooms with sticky floors and rude attendants, I'd write something here about the non existence of any real "evil" or "good," only perspectives on the world. But such is life, as all search for purpose or meaning, some may find it in enforcing a relatively recent society shift towards non-offensive practices, while other may see it as their job to uphold these practices to the fullest, becoming a paragon of pleasantry
But I digress.
What is my point that I am so circuitously making? People should love one another without condition. Wielding intolerance as a weapon against the intolerant does not stop intolerance, only foments it.
Just relax, brah. Racist or Anti-Semite, it's all good. We're all still people, despite our failings.
Is it unethical to quote yourself? Based on the Essay titled “On Recent Politics,” By Jacob Germain, Tuesday, July 29, 2008. accessible at: http://www.thejakeman.com/2008/07/on-recent-politics_29.html
Clearly, modern youth has a destructive and reactionary stance towards modern politics. Take Jacob Germain, a suburban middle class youth who recently graduated from high school. This past election was his first major political event. Based on the things he said, I’m sure you’ll agree that such divergent political beliefs should be suppressed. “Personally, I'm for radical change, be it liberal or republican. As an election, I would have preferred something like Ron Paul vs. Dennis Kucinich,” he says, mentioning two of the worst political candidates in recent memory. As you can see, he wants an election between a crazed right wing man who would decimate the economy through his insane libertarian ideals and an equally crazed left wing reactionary who would spend this country dry and keep coming back for more. This kid practically wishes for this country’s destruction! The sheer insanity of it nearly shocks me speechless! Again, Ron Paul is a crackpot with bizarre ideas about the way the world works, and Kucinich is a midget who seems to think that we can solve any problem by throwing money at it! Clearly this kid is deranged, and as a representative of his entire generation, this country is going to the dogs.
I'm Kinda miffed about this particular style of uploading, since it will cause spoilers for anyone reading it in reverse, but I can't upload it all at once because it's an ongoing narrative. Perhaps I'll consolidate these into a single post when I finish. Also, as a disclaimer, because I realize that some may perceive this to be so, this story has no relation to anyone in real life. any similarities are purely coincidental. It's a fictional story, and not a particularly good one, designed to entertain, not to detail my plans for the destruction of a small town and it's political infrastructure. I tend to assume these things go without saying until it's too late and someone get's angry at me.
This crow was by all accounts a normal crow, excepting it’s relatively regal bearing, and a single blue feather on its left side. The crow had remained all morning, having settled some time during the night. It hopped around and did crow-like things, though it never wandered more than the nearest tree. The stranger walked through suburbia. Being a weekday at midday, most folks were out and about, oblivious to the events of the previous day. Few people noticed the stranger, much less his odd habit of approaching houses and making strange gestures on the doors. A few people later noticed by the glint of their porch lights that a shimmering trail like that of a slug marking out the letter C on the doors. It was anyone’s guess as to what it meant, and those who noticed it simply dismissed it. The stranger did only one more thing before leaving town. Like hundreds of past visitors, he visited a local market and purchased some fresh produce. Arugula, it was, at 8.99 a pound. He left otherwise unnoticed. One Jack Barrowton Swore to his wife that a guy at the market had been making a pass at him. He Stayed up all night that evening, worrying about his sexual orientation. A few days passed, and after a tense town hall meeting with record attendance, the general consensus was to remove the body of farmer Joe for a proper Christian burial and not to speak of this occurrence to anyone outside of town. The blue crow had moved the previous night under inconspicuous circumstances. Volunteers were drafted for the job, and three local “good old boys” were chosen to perform the removal. As they approached the lifeless body, a single caw was heard from an unseen crow. When they placed hands on the bloody mass, a second caw was heard. Like a gunshot, A third and final caw was heard as they placed the remains of the mayor into the tarp lined bed of a pickup truck. The mortician’s autopsy was inconclusive. “He’s just dead,” Said the mortician’s assistant in an interview for the McClintock Christian Weekly, “It’s not like he had a family history of exploding.” The funeral service was quiet and poorly attended, only immediate family members were present, along with a smattering of offerings from local supporters (who cited myriad reasons for their nonattendance). A few days later, the first citizen fell ill.
Only one page this time. Transcribing is a pain. By the by, these are notebook pages, not word pages.
When the first rib finally thrust itself out into the world, nearly every audience member of this grisly display shouted in fear. This only encouraged the remaining ribs, enticing them to burst forth as their brethren had. What they revealed, their foul secret, was a throbbing, gigantic mass of bloody tissue, slowly inflating like a macabre water balloon filled with blood. The mass, approaching three feet in diameter, was expanding in size with every throb. Joe’s legs finally gave out under him, stopping and then buckling beneath the gruesome mass. For a time, Joe lay still, the mass ever expanding. Some of the more unfortunate onlookers had just opened their doors, eager to help this respected and admired member of the community. The mass suddenly swelled, reaching double it’s size in mere seconds, immediately before exploding, spattering everything within half a mile with gallons of blood. The day following Joe’s horrific death, a stranger came into town. McClintock was a popular tourist destination, so locals thought little of it, even during the aftermath of Joe’s gory demise. The stranger was nondescript, wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt appropriate to his appearance as a young, slim man, presumably in his early twenties. Joe’s body remained in it’s final resting place. The storeowners and customers had exited through their back doors that day, avoiding the grim reality outside their front stoops. Most of the blood had seeped away, either into the drains or into the parched soil in the planters of the small decorative trees that lined that ill-fated road. A few crows had wandered near the body, but most flew away before taking a sample. Except for one.
I wrote this because I was bored. I've filled maybe 8 or so pages, but only transcribed two before I got bored. So, you'll see more of this when I feel up to copying it down. I realize it's a terrible story. That's pretty much intentional, yep. I was REALLY bored. J
Fantastical revue, deathly ends
The town of McClintock was unusually quiet today. The town was a shining example of modern Midwestern design (despite it's south eastern location): a central downtown followed by a layer of faux suburbia followed by extensive farmland. The weekly farmers market was the town's pride and joy, as well as its sole source of income. As is the current style, young urban professionals would drive in from nearby Atlanta to purchase fresh produce, which they promptly forgot and discarded upon discovery of their hasty rot.
Still, the money, unlike the fruit, stayed fresh and even in a time of decline for small town life, McClintock flourished. Except today. Where normally the streets would be abuzz with excitement and chatter, today being a Market Day, there was only a cold pallor, enhanced by the darkly overcast sky. Occasionally a car or two would speed down the street, the occupants clearly anxious to meet their destination. A dove cooed, adding a haunting melody to the cacophony of despair that serenaded the town.
The sickly shroud had lasted for almost two months now, seemingly in suspended motion. No one was really quite clear on what kept it alive, what fed it, but one thing was certain: it had started with the mayor's sudden and shocking death. The mayor of McClintock, Joseph Brackdon, was an energetic, jovial man who had lived his entire life in the fields surrounding McClintock. Indeed, his entire election campaign revolved around labeling himself as "Farmer Joe," a man of the people, in direct contrast to Jeffery Frankson who supported the progressive modernization of McClintock. Naturally, Jeffery lost in a landslide.
Farmer Joe's last morning was spent on his usual daily round of visits to the downtown store owners. He had finished his last stop at a local boot repair and gun shop (the owner and Joe had been schoolboy chums and never grew out of their friendship. Joe purposely made it his last stop so he could spend the most time shooting the shit with him.) when he began feeling a violent pain in his chest.
Panic –stricken, Joe desperately attempted to open the door of his '76 Chevy to reach the aspirin in his glove compartment; his hands had other plans. As the pain worsened, Joe felt his legs moving of their own volition, urging him back towards main street. Joe soon found himself running flat out, the pain ever greater. As a blurry red began to cloud Joe's vision, a sickening creak could be heard from within his chest. His shirt grew tighter, pulling apart at the seams. The creaking gave way to a loud cracking, audible even within the closed doors of the nearby shops. Joe fainted. Despite his lack of consciousness, Joe continued to run, run as quickly as he could. Faces were lining up at the storefront windows and passersby ceased their vagaries in response to the increasingly loud snapping emanating from Joe's chest.
