That's the ultimate question to every conflict, isn't it? What do we do? Who do we throw into the burning pit of culpability? There are some cases where the answer is quite simple. Who is responsible for...say...the Holocaust? It was Hitler and his cronies. Right? Well, wrong. I mean, right, but also wrong. Take a look at the only blog post that doesn't have an English title. I forgot how to say it and am not feeling motivated enough to find out. Anyway, let's go on to another more complicated, more abstract topic: bigotry. So, most of us reading this are not (or at least we'd like to think we're not) bigots. We don't care about the color of someone's skin or their gender or their sexual orientation or their religion. No, we judge them by the content of their character. Or at least, let's pretend that that's the case. I know that many people don't behave this way. For those of you who do not feel that you belong in these groups, I understand, but let's pretend for argument's sake that this is morally right. We need some sort of starting point.
So here we are, absolutely disgusted by people who are bigoted. Oh? You don't like gay people? Fuck yourself! You're a terrible human being! Right? Well, let's step back for a moment. Where does the culpability really lie? En masse, the majority of the people who get so offended are people who reside in fairly liberal-minded places like New York, Seattle, and San Francisco. They live in theses ivory towers of acceptance and tolerance. I mean, I live in Los Angeles, CA. I understand this. I used to be this way, but then I started to thinking. There's a whole world out there beyond our city, and not everyone has the same ideas as us. Not everyone thinks the same way as us. Still, we're used to our Los Angeles-confined world. When we hear someone say something insensitive, we think "Oh god, what a backwards prick! Doesn't he know?" Well, no. It doesn't even have to be on such a big scale. Even within our families! If we live in different families, it's difficult to forget that different people do different things in different ways.
So, on both levels, both macro and micro, we have this world set up. The point I'm trying to take a long time to get to is simple. If a person is taught something their entire life, both by their family and by their surroundings, can they really be held culpable for thinking what they think? I mean, you were taught tolerance. Trust me, I really don't think that if you were taught things a different way by your family and surroundings, you'd be different. Ideas need to be spread around and shared.
So, say we accept that this person is not culpable for thinking something (note, I said thinking, not doing) by virtue of the fact that they were taught it their whole lives and it was beaten into their brains. So, who do we blame? The parents? It was probably the same with them. The media? Well, it is made by people who were taught to think these things. Mind you, hate is a very learned thing. So, I guess we go way back to the time when the first person introduced (successfully) their ideas into social doctrine. I mean, can we even judge that person? They were responding to a vastly different time. Things were very different for everyone in every way. Even if it ended badly, it was well intentioned. So who do we blame?
Uh...how about no one? How about we start practicing what we preach about tolerance? You cannot be considered tolerant if you summarily denounce everyone who has a different opinion than you, simply because your opinions are considered to be progressive. I think we should stop fighting and just accept that people do not agree with us? How about we just get along because you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Monday, December 23, 2013
Something to get you into the Christmas mood, courtesy of Tom Waits
Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis
Charlie, I'm pregnant and living on 9th St. above a dirty bookstore off Euclid Ave. I stopped taking dope. I quit drinking whiskey and my old man plays the trombone and works out at the tracks. He says that he loves me and though it's not his baby, he says that he'll raise him up like he would his own son.
He gave me a ring that was worn by his mother. He takes me out dancing every Saturday night. Hey, Charlie, I think about you every time I pass the filling station on account of all the grease you used to wear in your hair. I still have that record, Little Anthony and the Imperials, but someone stole my record player. Now, how'd you like that? Charlie, I almost went crazy after Mario got busted.
I went back to Omaha to live with my folks. Everyone I used to know was either dead or in prison, so I came back to Minneapolis. This time I think I'm gonna stay. Charlie, I think I'm happy for the first time since my accident. I wish I had all that money we used to spend on dope. I'd buy me a used car lot and I wouldn't sell any of 'em. I'd just drive me a different car every day depending on how I feel. Hey, Charlie, for Christ's sake, if you want to know the truth of it. I don't have a husband. He don't play the trombone. I need to borrow money to pay this lawyer. Charlie, hey! I'll be eligible for parole come Valentine's Day.
Charlie, I'm pregnant and living on 9th St. above a dirty bookstore off Euclid Ave. I stopped taking dope. I quit drinking whiskey and my old man plays the trombone and works out at the tracks. He says that he loves me and though it's not his baby, he says that he'll raise him up like he would his own son.
He gave me a ring that was worn by his mother. He takes me out dancing every Saturday night. Hey, Charlie, I think about you every time I pass the filling station on account of all the grease you used to wear in your hair. I still have that record, Little Anthony and the Imperials, but someone stole my record player. Now, how'd you like that? Charlie, I almost went crazy after Mario got busted.
I went back to Omaha to live with my folks. Everyone I used to know was either dead or in prison, so I came back to Minneapolis. This time I think I'm gonna stay. Charlie, I think I'm happy for the first time since my accident. I wish I had all that money we used to spend on dope. I'd buy me a used car lot and I wouldn't sell any of 'em. I'd just drive me a different car every day depending on how I feel. Hey, Charlie, for Christ's sake, if you want to know the truth of it. I don't have a husband. He don't play the trombone. I need to borrow money to pay this lawyer. Charlie, hey! I'll be eligible for parole come Valentine's Day.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Too Much Love Will Kill You.
Freddie Mercury and Luciano Pavarotti sang those words and I was never really able to understand what those words meant until recently. "How does this even work," I would ask myself. Love is wonderful. It's a wonderful feeling to know that people love you and want to be with you. It's so great when people take an interest in your wellbeing and do all they can to make you feel better...to a point. I recently came to discover that sometimes, being smothered in someone's love can lead you to your wit's end.
Imagine sitting in a car with an overbearing Jewish grandmother for about an hour, listening to her calling you baby names and asking questions to keep you engaged while your mouth is wired shut. My entire existence hinges on being able to make a witty comeback or say something smart to disarm the situation. Whenever my grandmother used to start doing that, I'd simply say something or answer or just say that I really have to go do something or think about something. I mean, don't get me wrong. I love my grandmother and I know she loves me. I understand that she means well and is only trying to help, but it's not. It's doing the opposite. My main defense mechanism has been taken away from me.
Our world is built around communication. If we cannot satisfactorily answer a question or if we feel that we did not get the point across well enough (unless that's the point), we feel this urge to explain it better. We need to be understood. Everyone wants to be understood. Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood...or something like that. Anyway, it's uncivil, to say the least, when someone starts asking questions that require actual responses. Who? What? When? Where? How? Why? How can such a question be answered with a mouth wired shut. So, being civil, I start to try to explain with my inaudible moans (that's my best mode of communication) and when I cannot get the point across, she simply says "Don't worry about it. Just don't get nervous" and continues on to the next question which will inevitably rustle my Jimmies.
Then there is my sister who is like that child who wants to be with you out of love, but when you don't want her there...when you want to be alone, she takes it personally and storms out crying. She's like a deity. It's far too much to handle.
Sing it, Luciano!
Imagine sitting in a car with an overbearing Jewish grandmother for about an hour, listening to her calling you baby names and asking questions to keep you engaged while your mouth is wired shut. My entire existence hinges on being able to make a witty comeback or say something smart to disarm the situation. Whenever my grandmother used to start doing that, I'd simply say something or answer or just say that I really have to go do something or think about something. I mean, don't get me wrong. I love my grandmother and I know she loves me. I understand that she means well and is only trying to help, but it's not. It's doing the opposite. My main defense mechanism has been taken away from me.
Our world is built around communication. If we cannot satisfactorily answer a question or if we feel that we did not get the point across well enough (unless that's the point), we feel this urge to explain it better. We need to be understood. Everyone wants to be understood. Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood...or something like that. Anyway, it's uncivil, to say the least, when someone starts asking questions that require actual responses. Who? What? When? Where? How? Why? How can such a question be answered with a mouth wired shut. So, being civil, I start to try to explain with my inaudible moans (that's my best mode of communication) and when I cannot get the point across, she simply says "Don't worry about it. Just don't get nervous" and continues on to the next question which will inevitably rustle my Jimmies.
Then there is my sister who is like that child who wants to be with you out of love, but when you don't want her there...when you want to be alone, she takes it personally and storms out crying. She's like a deity. It's far too much to handle.
Sing it, Luciano!
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Wisdom to live by
In the not-so-distant past (about a few months ago), I would spend my Friday evenings with my friend, watching and analyzing the ever loving shit out of Monty Python films. They made lots of great points on camera. I don't even know where to start. Their show did not offer too much insight on life, politics, religion, love and whatever else, but I always felt that if I need some cultural insight, I would go to Python. Their humor was so democratic, appealing to everyone. From lowest, most wretched fools of cockney society, to the most educated and cultured of Britons, to the relatively intelligent American teenagers, Monty Python has been able to stimulate...well...something with those darling little skits that we watch on our television, computer, cellphone and tablet screens.
Even still, with their genius on stage, the most powerful point that they ever made was done during an interview. Graham Chapman, bless his soul, as many of you probably already know, was gay. When word got out, some people were upset. During the interview, one of the people in the audience members (it was one of those interviews) said that she knew that one of the members of Python was gay, and it upset her because the bible says that it's wrong. Eric, in his infinite wisdom, then proceeded to saying very well be one of the most important things anyone has ever said...or at least one of the most important things I have ever heard anyone say.
He said, "We've found out who it was and we've taken him out and had him killed." That probably shut her up.
Think about that for a moment. That's pretty fucking good. What does it mean? It means that he used comedy for its most powerful purpose. He did not yell at her. He did not say something boring. He did not insult her back and he most certainly did not physically attack her.
No, he told a joke. He told a powerful joke. He told a joke that disarmed the situation. He told a joke that demonstrated how to deal with bigotry. He showed the world how to look at hate and win. The only other joke I can think of that is as powerful is the one Bill Hicks told about how he offended some rednecks. They said "We're Christians," to which he replied, "Then forgive me." He got mercilessly beat up after that...or so the joke goes, but that was still an incredibly powerful joke with more in those three little words than I have the energy to even start discussing. I'm sure there are other powerful jokes like that, but that's the only one I can think of on the fly like that.
Graham, rest in peace. Eric, no. Right no. John, I guess...uh...you're really tall. Michael, you'd make a great lumberjack. Terry, great cartoons, bro. Other Terry...yeah, you were there. Good on you.
And on a completely unrelated note, the 5 living Pythons will have a show at the O2 arena in London on July 1st, 2014. So see it and tell me how it goes.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
See no bullshit, hear no bullshit.
So, world. I know I have been away for a while. I know, I know...you miss me so much. Well, I miss you, too! But I have been absolutely incapacitated for the past while and I'm a bit more free right now, so I decided to regale you all with a short story that happened to me.
I was at college, my mouth wired shut with wires snaking about my teeth that make it impossible to open my mouth (I mean, literally). Anyway, as you can imagine, talking to me would be a challenge; especially for someone who could not see. So anyway, I was walking to my class and was stopped by a blind man giving some sort of survey. He bumped into me with his seeing cane (I am not quite sure if that is the proper way to call it) and he started to ask me questions about how I feel about everything. He did not even ask me if he I would allow him. He simply started asking his memorized list of questions while holding on to my shoulder. I was in a hurry. I had to go to class. I could not be bothered with this. With my mouth wired shut, I started moving my hands around and trying to gently nudge him away from me, but he was not responding. I said "MMMM! MMMMMMMM! MMMMMMMMMMM!" But that was not working, as you can imagine. So eventually, someone came up to him and said "His mouth is wired shut, what are you? Blind?"
Feeling embarrassed, he simply said "Oh, my. I'm sorry about that." And he walked away. I came up to the other man who informed him of my impediment and showed him a piece of paper that read "He really was blind. He had a seeing cane."
He looked at me, just as embarrassed as the blind gentleman must have felt, and just walked away. See no bullshit, hear no bullshit."
I was at college, my mouth wired shut with wires snaking about my teeth that make it impossible to open my mouth (I mean, literally). Anyway, as you can imagine, talking to me would be a challenge; especially for someone who could not see. So anyway, I was walking to my class and was stopped by a blind man giving some sort of survey. He bumped into me with his seeing cane (I am not quite sure if that is the proper way to call it) and he started to ask me questions about how I feel about everything. He did not even ask me if he I would allow him. He simply started asking his memorized list of questions while holding on to my shoulder. I was in a hurry. I had to go to class. I could not be bothered with this. With my mouth wired shut, I started moving my hands around and trying to gently nudge him away from me, but he was not responding. I said "MMMM! MMMMMMMM! MMMMMMMMMMM!" But that was not working, as you can imagine. So eventually, someone came up to him and said "His mouth is wired shut, what are you? Blind?"
Feeling embarrassed, he simply said "Oh, my. I'm sorry about that." And he walked away. I came up to the other man who informed him of my impediment and showed him a piece of paper that read "He really was blind. He had a seeing cane."
He looked at me, just as embarrassed as the blind gentleman must have felt, and just walked away. See no bullshit, hear no bullshit."
Friday, November 22, 2013
We all need that certain someone....
We all need that certain someone in our lives. Someone nice and funny and intelligent...well I've been fortunate enough to meet this person and establish a correspondence with her. Lucky for you all, she has a blog. Let her regale you words of wisdom, love, compassion, and humor.
We, the King, hereby decree that thewildadventuresofdiathedragon.blogspot.com is an incredible blog and you should go and read this blog like right now seriously right now I am so excited I threw English convention out the window and started writing a run-on sentence seriously go check it outttttttttttttttttt!
We, the King, hereby decree that thewildadventuresofdiathedragon.blogspot.com is an incredible blog and you should go and read this blog like right now seriously right now I am so excited I threw English convention out the window and started writing a run-on sentence seriously go check it outttttttttttttttttt!
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
We're not gonna take it.
We love to protest, don't we? Protest the evil! And the good! And the in between. Protest the men and the women and the children and the sick and the healthy and the dogs and the cats and the rats and the bats and the theists and the atheists and the gays and the straights and the rich and the poor and everyone else! Oh look! Something I find distasteful! Let's talk a bunch of shit about it and then post a picture about it on Facebook. Oh look! I got a like on my status about how much it totally sucks that some people can't get water! I totally did a lot. Oh, I'm so good at photoshop. I will photoshop devil horns on some guy I don't like. That'll show him! That guy, you know him! Yeah, that guy from that one group that has different thoughts than I do. That group...you know that group? That group I feel has no right to exist on the basis of them not agreeing with everything I say. Oh? That man is is not tolerant of other people or their opinions? FUCK THAT GUY! What's fun to protest? The corporations! Yeah they're so evil and rich! What is a corporation, anyway? Doesn't matter, it's an evil sounding word! It reminds me of boring old men in suits I wouldn't look good in! Let's all go to a park and not really do anything and be very unclear about what we want. Let's ruin a park. Let's sing songs and hold hands until the evil corporations stop being evil and corporationy. Let's make some clever signs and scream into a megaphone. Let's not shower and make people. What will we call our movement? Occupy! There you go! And fuck the church as well! What will be our symbol? A Guy Fawkes mask...That'll work. What was Guy Fawkes famous for again? Whatever. We're young and edgy and we want to be mad at something. But wait...I'm tired. I want to take a shower. I don't want to do this anymore. Where is all the change that was supposed to come from us playing guitar and holding hands and holding up peace signs and middle fingers simultaneously? Ugh, this is so frustrating! What's the bandwagon these days? Russia? Oh goody gumdrops, I have tons of funny designs I can make on photoshop! This will be much easier! I can protest Russia. The country...not the people, because let's be honest, I don't know jack shit about them or their country. Then again I did watch some James Bond films...Okay, I can incorporate that into my photoshop designs...no, not incorporate. That sounds like corporation! Nope, I will protest the whole nation and talk shit about it and all its citizens and make a bunch of points about how I, along with my country, am better than Russia and Russians. What can I do? Write Putin a letter? Damn, I don't know Russian or German (he speaks both fluently). Oh wait, it's a sovereign nation and they do not answer to me. What am I protesting again? Doesn't matter, it's Russia! Fuck them in general and boycott them! Let's not buy any of their stuff like...uh...what do we buy from them? Uh...fuck it. Boycott the country in general! Boycott snow and cold weather! Boycott the letter "R." Should I go to Washington and protest in front of their embassy so that the Russian government can not care about what I think in close proximity to their building? No, I don't feel like it. Should I go to San Francisco and protest in front of their consulate so that they can not care about what I think in close proximity to me in nicer weather? Nah. Oh wait! I can always post some semi-witty post on my tumblr! CAT! DRINKING VODKA! RUSSIAN VODKA DRINKING A CAT! SOVIET RUSSIA JOKES WITH A SOCIO-POLITICAL SLANT REGARDING BIGOTRY AND FREEDOM OF SPEECH! CAN I HAZ FREEDOM? MORE CATS! MORE VODKA! MORE PHOTOSHOP! MORE RUSSIAN! LET'S TAKE DOWN THE THING THAT I DON'T UNDERSTAND! Damn, I am not satisfied yet! LET'S THROW A PROTEST WITH GIMICS LIKE PAINTING OUR FACES AND INCORPORATE...er...I mean...use...yeah use...THE HAMMER AND CICLE IN SOME WAY, EVEN THOUGH THERE IS NO MORE SOVIET UNION, NOR HAS THERE BEEN SINCE 1991! LET'S HOLD IT AT A LOCAL COLLEGE CAMPUS AND DISTURB A BUNCH OF PEOPLE INSTEAD OF DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! Oh gosh, my ego is getting a really good stroking. Let's bitch and moan about something we cannot possibly hope to change so that we wouldn't really have to do anything. Let's distract ourselves from doing something that may actually help someone, somewhere. Because I am an artist and volunteering at a nursing home or a soup kitchen is beneath me. *Exhale*
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Russia's rising Libertarian party
In the midst of the unorganized chaos of Russian politics, there seems to be some sort of hope creeping over the horizon. Russia is facing the possibility of a Libertarian party entering Duma. It has been enjoying a steady growth and has reached the mandated quota to officially become a recognized political party. Finally, a voice of reason piercing through the befuddlement! Right? Well, not exactly.
First of all, it’s going to be an up-hill battle getting the paperwork done. Things will have to be done; things a libertarian would not be proud of like bribing government officials. That’s just how the game works. They have to pay off the right people, and make sure those people move things along, for Duma is more of a night club that charges admission than a political entity. To infiltrate and destroy the beast, the hopefully soon-to-be party will have to play by the very rules it aims to eliminate. I gather that they would not be particularly proud, but they would have to do what needs to be done.
So let’s say that they would get past the first hurtle. Let’s say that they would be a recognized party in Duma. Let’s even take the leap of faith and imagine that they manage to win over the support of a public that only knows and wants authoritarians to be their mommies and daddies. Winning public approval will be a struggle. The party will have to grow considerable to make any big, long lasting splash. The movement they have now will have to stand the test of time, which will be difficult.
But let’s say that they make it into Duma and grow their supporter base. Let’s say that they pass that hurtle. They will have to face their most daunting challenge. That would be to stay legitimate in Duma.
We think that our congress is corrupt. With crony capitalism running amuck, it is easy to forget that in other countries, corruption is even more rampant. It is easy to forget that not all the other countries are like Singapore. Russian corruption would be impressive, had it not been so destructive. It has turned the country into a commodity; a money making business. To be part of Duma is to be a member of its share holders. The citizens are the assets.
As you can imagine, this does not fit well with a libertarian view, and it is difficult to argue that our heroes are going in with the purest and most noble of intentions, but the danger of corruption is very real. Power corrupts and that is exactly why we have Libertarians. It must be very scary going into government as a person who believes in limited government and knows the corrupting influences of such an institution.
Do not get me wrong, I have a profound respect for Vera Kichanova and the rest of the hopefully-soon-to-be party, but they have never experienced real power, and their true test is still at hand.
This is, of course, not to say that there is no hope for Russia. I believe in them. After all, it is impressive for them to even gain the recognition they have thus-far. I have high hopes for them. I think we all do. We want to see them succeed, but the odds are not looking good. Then again, maybe it really is time for Russia to have a proper revolution. Maybe Russia really is starting to figure out what freedom is. Maybe they are right about to come to the logical conclusion of their more than one-thousand year journey, starting with asking Rurik to rule over them and ending in empowerment. This is, of course, a possibility. Or they will crash and burn and be remembered as a noteworthy, yet untimely attempt at bringing freedom to a place which was not ready for it.
No one can really know what will happen, but I think that it is fair to say that it will not happen very quietly. Putin will probably--no, definitely try to stop them. The other parties will as well. The Russian media will blow up a storm. Then, the world media will catch wind of this and spread the word. People from all corners, near and far, will start to have opinions, both informed and otherwise. Everyone loves a good controversy.
Anyway, after some time, the world will probably find something else to be excited about and things in Russia will continue to happen. Marx may not have had the best approach to economics, but he did get one thing right: if a people are oppressed for long enough, then they will revolt. So if the “revolution” will not happen this time around, after the party climbs out of the rubble of its own failed attempts, it will regroup and try again at a more opportune time. I suppose the trick is to not be buried in too much rubble. They have to be very careful not to turn into the very beast they vow to slay. It would be a real shame.
Schuld Spiel
So yeah, I haven't been her in a while. Sorry about that. Anyway, I was doing some thinking and you know, I really feel sorry for Germany.
I know the nation itself has a suspect past, but think about it from the point of view of the Germans. They have to live with guilt. If they stop feeling guilty, the guilt is beaten back into them. They feel guilt on a very personal level for something they did not personally do. They are not Hans and Fritz and Johann. No, they are other people's past.
The bigger issue is that they won't be able to keep peaceful for long. After being so repressed and told not to be happy and proud for so long...after only ever being able to be ashamed for something they didn't do for generations...after being so angry at themselves for so long, they will one day revert to antisemitism. Some day in the future, they will be very angry at the Jews and the rest of the world. "Why do we have to be made to feel guilty for something we didn't do?" Well, that's a very good question. Why? Why do they have to be held accountable for something they did not do?
I'll tell you why. It's because we cannot get it through our thick skulls that Germany does not exist. It's an idea that spans from Mitterwald to Flensburg and from Saarbrücken to Görlitz. It's something people have just agreed upon. It's not like countries are naturally occurring phenomenons. No. It's not like there are herds of schools of Japan fish swimming about next to the massive Chinas that roam the planes of Asia.
No, people kind of got together roughly around the time of Emperor Otto I. There is no physical thing. Just people, and at best, land, infrastructure and ink marks on some papers; but the main issue is that that is what a country really is. It's ink marks on a paper.
At the same time, we feel the need to label an entire nation of people responsible for the decisions of very few people.
The really fucked up thing is that we usually ascribe this to the nation as a whole. Not even the citizens that were simply there by an accident of their own birth and actually suffer are free from the guilt.
So let's go further back. Back to 1918. The world went into an armistice and Germany was asked most decidedly to pay reparations. But here's the problem. Germany doesn't have money because it doesn't exist. Germans, however, do exist. Germans with whatever money they have...Germans who did not want the war...Germans who did nothing but be born.
But no, they were punished into poverty. They printed out Deutschmarks like there was no tomorrow. Their economy was tanked and a certain someone with a toothbrush mustache came along and took advantage of that. And we all know how that ended.
So now, they can't hang their own flag proudly just because we're too busy chasing shadows.
I know the nation itself has a suspect past, but think about it from the point of view of the Germans. They have to live with guilt. If they stop feeling guilty, the guilt is beaten back into them. They feel guilt on a very personal level for something they did not personally do. They are not Hans and Fritz and Johann. No, they are other people's past.
The bigger issue is that they won't be able to keep peaceful for long. After being so repressed and told not to be happy and proud for so long...after only ever being able to be ashamed for something they didn't do for generations...after being so angry at themselves for so long, they will one day revert to antisemitism. Some day in the future, they will be very angry at the Jews and the rest of the world. "Why do we have to be made to feel guilty for something we didn't do?" Well, that's a very good question. Why? Why do they have to be held accountable for something they did not do?
I'll tell you why. It's because we cannot get it through our thick skulls that Germany does not exist. It's an idea that spans from Mitterwald to Flensburg and from Saarbrücken to Görlitz. It's something people have just agreed upon. It's not like countries are naturally occurring phenomenons. No. It's not like there are herds of schools of Japan fish swimming about next to the massive Chinas that roam the planes of Asia.
No, people kind of got together roughly around the time of Emperor Otto I. There is no physical thing. Just people, and at best, land, infrastructure and ink marks on some papers; but the main issue is that that is what a country really is. It's ink marks on a paper.
At the same time, we feel the need to label an entire nation of people responsible for the decisions of very few people.
The really fucked up thing is that we usually ascribe this to the nation as a whole. Not even the citizens that were simply there by an accident of their own birth and actually suffer are free from the guilt.
So let's go further back. Back to 1918. The world went into an armistice and Germany was asked most decidedly to pay reparations. But here's the problem. Germany doesn't have money because it doesn't exist. Germans, however, do exist. Germans with whatever money they have...Germans who did not want the war...Germans who did nothing but be born.
But no, they were punished into poverty. They printed out Deutschmarks like there was no tomorrow. Their economy was tanked and a certain someone with a toothbrush mustache came along and took advantage of that. And we all know how that ended.
So now, they can't hang their own flag proudly just because we're too busy chasing shadows.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Peace and love, but not necessarily
Peace and love are great. There's no greater joy than to be with the people you love dearly, just having a peaceful evening by a fire, by a lake, or anywhere, really. As you sit together, the thought of turmoil doesn't even enter any of your minds.There is no reason for it. Love is, in fact, a very powerful thing that everyone responds to. As the phrase from a Russian song goes, "It may not be them, for I do not know them by their faces, but when I tell them 'Salaam,' they turn around and give me a nod of acknowledgment." It's a very lovely peace held together by the bonds of love and friendship, and as silly as it may sound, this relationship can bring societies out of the rubble of their notorious past and rebuild nations.
So it's great when people are at peace because they're friends. It's so satisfying. But wait. There's more to it. What happens when that friendship goes sour? I think we all have seen how bitter it gets when two long-time friends have a falling out. Usually it's not a very graceful fall.
Can you imagine the absolute shitstorm that would ensure? That is the sort of violence and conflict that reduces societies to rubble.
So there's that. But what other kind of peace can we depend on? We live in a world where lots of people hate other people. Are we all screwed? Nope. Just look around. I remember staying with my aunt in Boston one week and every morning, like clockwork, these two decrepit bastards would come out onto their respective lawns and engage in the most intense staring contest you'd ever see. I asked what the problem was between them, and my aunt told me that the reason for their face-numbing scowls was that one of them is a Jewish democrat (So basically just a Jew) and the other is a Mormon republican (So basically just a republican.) They absolutely hated each other on principle.
After a bit, I began to realize that this wasn't such a bad thing. Sure, it's very self destructive, but when it comes to everyone else, we're all fine. Property value wouldn't suffer. The neighbors wouldn't be woken by the loud sound of sirens from ambulances and police cars. There is, by most definitions of the word, peace, as it exists between two people's noses; not their hearts.
The really funny things was that they actually felt like they were in the midst of an epic battle.
Even still, they quietly sit there, each man on their own side of their own fence. They're having a mini cold war. And there's nothing wrong with Cold Wars. They're cold. Not hot. A cold war is comparable to two women who wore the same dress to a cocktail party. They'd be mad and they may snicker at each other, but it usually won't go past that.
When it really comes down to it, the most sustainable peace is when you hate someone but are too invested in your own wellbeing to fight. It's when you say "Gosh, I'd kill you but I don't want to ruin my shirt."
So it's great when people are at peace because they're friends. It's so satisfying. But wait. There's more to it. What happens when that friendship goes sour? I think we all have seen how bitter it gets when two long-time friends have a falling out. Usually it's not a very graceful fall.
Can you imagine the absolute shitstorm that would ensure? That is the sort of violence and conflict that reduces societies to rubble.
So there's that. But what other kind of peace can we depend on? We live in a world where lots of people hate other people. Are we all screwed? Nope. Just look around. I remember staying with my aunt in Boston one week and every morning, like clockwork, these two decrepit bastards would come out onto their respective lawns and engage in the most intense staring contest you'd ever see. I asked what the problem was between them, and my aunt told me that the reason for their face-numbing scowls was that one of them is a Jewish democrat (So basically just a Jew) and the other is a Mormon republican (So basically just a republican.) They absolutely hated each other on principle.
After a bit, I began to realize that this wasn't such a bad thing. Sure, it's very self destructive, but when it comes to everyone else, we're all fine. Property value wouldn't suffer. The neighbors wouldn't be woken by the loud sound of sirens from ambulances and police cars. There is, by most definitions of the word, peace, as it exists between two people's noses; not their hearts.
The really funny things was that they actually felt like they were in the midst of an epic battle.
Even still, they quietly sit there, each man on their own side of their own fence. They're having a mini cold war. And there's nothing wrong with Cold Wars. They're cold. Not hot. A cold war is comparable to two women who wore the same dress to a cocktail party. They'd be mad and they may snicker at each other, but it usually won't go past that.
When it really comes down to it, the most sustainable peace is when you hate someone but are too invested in your own wellbeing to fight. It's when you say "Gosh, I'd kill you but I don't want to ruin my shirt."
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
What's left of our rights (Hehe see what I did there?)
We love rights. I love rights. Rights are wonderful. They let me do the stuff I like to do, like say what I want, look how I want, love who I want, and be who I want to be. They're pretty great. I mean, really. They are. Aren't they? Do you know what the best thing about them is? It's that no one can infringe on your rights with impunity. Pretty cool, yeah?
Yeah, I thought so. But what are rights? People misuse the word quite a bit. It has turned into a word that doesn't mean anything, but still carries the weight of something that does. We packed this word to the brim so full of bullshit that we think that it still has substance the way we use it.
Nowadays, whenever we seem to want something we don't have, we automatically shout "I HAVE THE RIGHT TO --" No. No, you don't have the right to that.
Let's look at a few.
"I have the right to be treated with respect."
Oh? Do you? Well, uh...let's take a gander at the handy-dandy Constitution (That is assuming that you live in the United States). Hmmm...perfect union...tranquility...voting...nope. Can't find right. I guess the publishers just didn't think that it'd be as interesting of a read with it in there. Or it's because you actually don't have the right to that, and were never meant to have that right. Why? Because the constitution does grant people the right to free speech, and that includes calling you a whole gang of disrespectful things. I'll fill you in on a tiny secret. Other people's rights are more important than your feelings, you prick.
"I have the --" No you don't. I'll just stop you right there because you don't. Otherwise you wouldn't be shouting it out loud.
Then there's rights you don't have that you probably should. The right to decide what you do to your own body? Yeah, sounds good to me. But no. Not everyone has this right. Still, though. People shout at the top of their lungs that we "have the right" to do these things. Well, you don't and that's exactly the sort of thinking that will get you nowhere.
This sort of phrasing makes the argument sound completely different.
It all begins with understanding where your rights really do come from. Where is that? do they come out your ass (cheap shot, I know)? No. Do you get them from Santa? Do you find rights on the shelves at the fine retailers near you? No, you don't. You know this perfectly well, that's why you protest your government for your rights. But when it comes down to it, it's important to know your place as a citizen.
Let's say there's a raven, and it sees that Edgar Allen Poe is eating a really tasty bowl of bread crumbs.
Let's see how this would turn out.
Once upon a midnight dreary,
as I sit there weak and weary
eating a bowl of these bitchin' bread crumbs,
suddenly there came a tapping
as of someone gently rapping.
Rapping at my chamber door.
Tis the wind and nothing more.
Then the tapping got louder and the raven knocked on the door with his beak because Edgar was too lazy and moody to notice the first time.
Quoth the raven, "Give me your bread crumbs."
Quoth Edgar "No, they are not your breadcrumbs."
Quoth the raven, "I have a right to eat these breadcrumbs."
Quoth Edgar, "Uh, no. You don't."
Quoth the raven, "Look, it's a human/bird right!"
Quoth Edgar, "Oh? Really?"
Quoth the raven, "Yeah. Really."
Quoth Edgar, "Well, where does it say that you have the right to eat my breadcrumbs?"
Quoth the raven, "Look, it doesn't say it anywhere, but it's just common sense."
Now, I'm going to stop there out of curtesy to you. But the point remains that no matter how you feel about the raven getting some breadcrumbs, it still doesn't have the right, because without a government you do not have rights. That's actually one of the few things a government is theoretically good for. Without laws, there are no rights, because that's what rights are. They are laws that state that do not only state that you have the right to do something, or not to do something if you do not want to, for that matter, but also that no one has the right to deny you of that right, as it is fundamental to your dignity as a human being and an individual.
It becomes this ugly battle when you insult the hand that feeds you, which is not something you want to ever do. Remember, just because you want rights, it doesn't necessarily mean that you have them. Keep that in mind. Live by that. Know what you have and know what you don't. That's the right way.
Yeah, I thought so. But what are rights? People misuse the word quite a bit. It has turned into a word that doesn't mean anything, but still carries the weight of something that does. We packed this word to the brim so full of bullshit that we think that it still has substance the way we use it.
Nowadays, whenever we seem to want something we don't have, we automatically shout "I HAVE THE RIGHT TO --" No. No, you don't have the right to that.
Let's look at a few.
"I have the right to be treated with respect."
Oh? Do you? Well, uh...let's take a gander at the handy-dandy Constitution (That is assuming that you live in the United States). Hmmm...perfect union...tranquility...voting...nope. Can't find right. I guess the publishers just didn't think that it'd be as interesting of a read with it in there. Or it's because you actually don't have the right to that, and were never meant to have that right. Why? Because the constitution does grant people the right to free speech, and that includes calling you a whole gang of disrespectful things. I'll fill you in on a tiny secret. Other people's rights are more important than your feelings, you prick.
"I have the --" No you don't. I'll just stop you right there because you don't. Otherwise you wouldn't be shouting it out loud.
Then there's rights you don't have that you probably should. The right to decide what you do to your own body? Yeah, sounds good to me. But no. Not everyone has this right. Still, though. People shout at the top of their lungs that we "have the right" to do these things. Well, you don't and that's exactly the sort of thinking that will get you nowhere.
This sort of phrasing makes the argument sound completely different.
It all begins with understanding where your rights really do come from. Where is that? do they come out your ass (cheap shot, I know)? No. Do you get them from Santa? Do you find rights on the shelves at the fine retailers near you? No, you don't. You know this perfectly well, that's why you protest your government for your rights. But when it comes down to it, it's important to know your place as a citizen.
Let's say there's a raven, and it sees that Edgar Allen Poe is eating a really tasty bowl of bread crumbs.
Let's see how this would turn out.
Once upon a midnight dreary,
as I sit there weak and weary
eating a bowl of these bitchin' bread crumbs,
suddenly there came a tapping
as of someone gently rapping.
Rapping at my chamber door.
Tis the wind and nothing more.
Then the tapping got louder and the raven knocked on the door with his beak because Edgar was too lazy and moody to notice the first time.
Quoth the raven, "Give me your bread crumbs."
Quoth Edgar "No, they are not your breadcrumbs."
Quoth the raven, "I have a right to eat these breadcrumbs."
Quoth Edgar, "Uh, no. You don't."
Quoth the raven, "Look, it's a human/bird right!"
Quoth Edgar, "Oh? Really?"
Quoth the raven, "Yeah. Really."
Quoth Edgar, "Well, where does it say that you have the right to eat my breadcrumbs?"
Quoth the raven, "Look, it doesn't say it anywhere, but it's just common sense."
Now, I'm going to stop there out of curtesy to you. But the point remains that no matter how you feel about the raven getting some breadcrumbs, it still doesn't have the right, because without a government you do not have rights. That's actually one of the few things a government is theoretically good for. Without laws, there are no rights, because that's what rights are. They are laws that state that do not only state that you have the right to do something, or not to do something if you do not want to, for that matter, but also that no one has the right to deny you of that right, as it is fundamental to your dignity as a human being and an individual.
It becomes this ugly battle when you insult the hand that feeds you, which is not something you want to ever do. Remember, just because you want rights, it doesn't necessarily mean that you have them. Keep that in mind. Live by that. Know what you have and know what you don't. That's the right way.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Laughing your way to the top
I'll fill you in on a little secret. You can never win a fight by fighting back. You can only hope to win by dancing. Say it's the bottom of the ninth, the quarterback, Enrique Iglesias throws the puck down the table and he's about to score the winning basket of insults. What can you do? Can you mount a successful counterassault? Can you fire at him with your best insults? Can you find words so strong that he will crumble at the very sound of those words? Probably not. And if you are the type of person who would let this tomfoolery go on for more than the first exchange, you will probably crumble underneath the weight of your offender's assaults. So you can't outflank him. You can't out-offend him. So what can you do? You can outwit the guy.
Play the game. You can't win if you don't play. And honestly, half the game is knowing that it's a game. The rest will come naturally. Let me give you a shining example.
To set the scene, a young Jewish lad is on a bus from New York to Washington, D.C. passing through New Jersey. The bus stops in the middle of the Garden State at an obligatory gas station to let the patrons use the bathroom or buy some snacks.
So the young man approaches the counter with a bottle of water and a smile, knowing that he is about to replenish his body with the elixir of life. As he puts the soon-to-be-his bottle on the counter to begin the transaction, the proprietor gives him a smug look and says, "Don't Jew me out on those last few cents, ya kike!"
PAUSE AND REFLECT
What are this boy's options. Let's lay them out:
A. Be upset and cry
B. Be upset but hold in his emotions
C. Respond with wit and maintain composure.
For shits and giggles, let's try and play out each scenario.
SCENARIO A:
The young man gets offended and shows the shopkeep that he has won. He has subsequently lost the respect of all the people around him (He probably would care if he got so upset) and then the business owner would feel free to do so to other people.
SCENARIO B:
The young man would just smile, pay for his merchandise and walk away to the bus, only to have it torture him for the rest of the day. The shopkeep gains no satisfaction, but neither does the young man.
SCENARIO C:
The young man registers the insult and quickly replies with "I't all there. You can count it if you'd like, or do you need a calculator?" At this point, for a brief moment, time would simply pause for the not-so-gentlemanly gentleman behind the counter. He would need to regroup, as his assault was not equipped for retaliation. It's like the Winter War when the Russians invaded Finland. They didn't know what hit them. They did not anticipate the White Death's envolvement and that is why they lost. So our young hero retaliates with a real Simo Häyhä (Consult Wikipedia) of a comeback.
I think that it is fair to say that option C is the best one. Why?
Confusion on the part of the store owner [√]
Satisfaction [√]
Greater self confidence [√]
A totally bitchin' story to tell your buddies [√]
FINAL ANALYSIS:
Our young hero played the game, and beat the game by turning the tables. That's all you have to do. You don't fight fire with fire. You fight fire with water. That probably sounded much more insightful in my head than it does on here.
Play the game. You can't win if you don't play. And honestly, half the game is knowing that it's a game. The rest will come naturally. Let me give you a shining example.
To set the scene, a young Jewish lad is on a bus from New York to Washington, D.C. passing through New Jersey. The bus stops in the middle of the Garden State at an obligatory gas station to let the patrons use the bathroom or buy some snacks.
So the young man approaches the counter with a bottle of water and a smile, knowing that he is about to replenish his body with the elixir of life. As he puts the soon-to-be-his bottle on the counter to begin the transaction, the proprietor gives him a smug look and says, "Don't Jew me out on those last few cents, ya kike!"
PAUSE AND REFLECT
What are this boy's options. Let's lay them out:
A. Be upset and cry
B. Be upset but hold in his emotions
C. Respond with wit and maintain composure.
For shits and giggles, let's try and play out each scenario.
SCENARIO A:
The young man gets offended and shows the shopkeep that he has won. He has subsequently lost the respect of all the people around him (He probably would care if he got so upset) and then the business owner would feel free to do so to other people.
SCENARIO B:
The young man would just smile, pay for his merchandise and walk away to the bus, only to have it torture him for the rest of the day. The shopkeep gains no satisfaction, but neither does the young man.
SCENARIO C:
The young man registers the insult and quickly replies with "I't all there. You can count it if you'd like, or do you need a calculator?" At this point, for a brief moment, time would simply pause for the not-so-gentlemanly gentleman behind the counter. He would need to regroup, as his assault was not equipped for retaliation. It's like the Winter War when the Russians invaded Finland. They didn't know what hit them. They did not anticipate the White Death's envolvement and that is why they lost. So our young hero retaliates with a real Simo Häyhä (Consult Wikipedia) of a comeback.
I think that it is fair to say that option C is the best one. Why?
Confusion on the part of the store owner [√]
Satisfaction [√]
Greater self confidence [√]
A totally bitchin' story to tell your buddies [√]
FINAL ANALYSIS:
Our young hero played the game, and beat the game by turning the tables. That's all you have to do. You don't fight fire with fire. You fight fire with water. That probably sounded much more insightful in my head than it does on here.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Karl Pilkington is a child in a good way.
If you know who he is, then this blog post is for you. If you don't, then you may want to consider not reading this, as you may be more than a trifle confused.
So, he's a moron. Right? I mean, a complete dimwit. He's got nothing in that orange-shaped head of his except sufficient neurons to make him steal valuable air. Right? He's...well, you get the picture. Uh...no. Wrong.
He's...okay. He's not intelligent, but he is wise in a childish way. Before I go on, though, I'd like to point out that there is nothing wrong with being wise in a childish way. It's a very pragmatic school of thought. We listen to him talk and he isn't the brightest bulb but he understands how things work. He understands the framework of our world and society and he understands how things would work and he understands how things interact. He just doesn't know what things are in play.
I spoke to a child. She asked me why seat belts are the law. She's seven, mind you. Anyway, she asked me why seat belts are the law, and I told her that it's because the government wants people to be safe. "Okay, but...uh...I mean, why can't a person make a choice for themselves? I thought laws are to make it so that you're not allowed to do things to other people. Isn't that what laws are for? Why make laws that make you not allowed to do stuff that doesn't hurt anyone else?" Again I say, seven years old. That really struck me. She's seven years old and has that sort of insight. It's a brilliant thing. Really, it is. It's just as good of an idea, but she is naive about laws being made that have the soul purpose of making the state money, designed to make it look like it's to protect the people. But I don't really think that's a fair thing to expect a seven year old to know, as wise as she may be.
It's the same thing with Karl. He is a child. He retained all of the pragmatism that is usually made obsolete by learning how things actually are. That's not to say that it's bad to learn how things really are. It's just that we really need to rethink what laws and traditions we keep around just because they have always been there.
Also, it's important to remember that he's got an image to maintain. Look at Paris Hilton. She's brilliant. She gets into trouble, yeah, and she plays the part of the "dumb blond" very well. But think about all the money she's getting from it. Even Charlie Sheen was able to make money off of his House Arrest sentence. He's not as dumb as Ricky and Steve make him out to be. In short, to think that Karl is really as dim as he is made out to be is to think that reality shows are not scripted. But you know, he can't be bothered.
So, he's a moron. Right? I mean, a complete dimwit. He's got nothing in that orange-shaped head of his except sufficient neurons to make him steal valuable air. Right? He's...well, you get the picture. Uh...no. Wrong.
He's...okay. He's not intelligent, but he is wise in a childish way. Before I go on, though, I'd like to point out that there is nothing wrong with being wise in a childish way. It's a very pragmatic school of thought. We listen to him talk and he isn't the brightest bulb but he understands how things work. He understands the framework of our world and society and he understands how things would work and he understands how things interact. He just doesn't know what things are in play.
I spoke to a child. She asked me why seat belts are the law. She's seven, mind you. Anyway, she asked me why seat belts are the law, and I told her that it's because the government wants people to be safe. "Okay, but...uh...I mean, why can't a person make a choice for themselves? I thought laws are to make it so that you're not allowed to do things to other people. Isn't that what laws are for? Why make laws that make you not allowed to do stuff that doesn't hurt anyone else?" Again I say, seven years old. That really struck me. She's seven years old and has that sort of insight. It's a brilliant thing. Really, it is. It's just as good of an idea, but she is naive about laws being made that have the soul purpose of making the state money, designed to make it look like it's to protect the people. But I don't really think that's a fair thing to expect a seven year old to know, as wise as she may be.
It's the same thing with Karl. He is a child. He retained all of the pragmatism that is usually made obsolete by learning how things actually are. That's not to say that it's bad to learn how things really are. It's just that we really need to rethink what laws and traditions we keep around just because they have always been there.
Also, it's important to remember that he's got an image to maintain. Look at Paris Hilton. She's brilliant. She gets into trouble, yeah, and she plays the part of the "dumb blond" very well. But think about all the money she's getting from it. Even Charlie Sheen was able to make money off of his House Arrest sentence. He's not as dumb as Ricky and Steve make him out to be. In short, to think that Karl is really as dim as he is made out to be is to think that reality shows are not scripted. But you know, he can't be bothered.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
This is just weird, man
So yeah, it's taken me a while to make a proper "first" post. I tried several times to post this, but it has all gone to bust. So here is my fourth attempt. Let's hope it works.
This is not to say that I have just recently come to terms with being strange. This is to say that in a relativistic sense, I am not strange at all.
Granted, my life is strange, and yeah, my experiences molded me into the person that I am today. That's no secret. But all in all, I'm no stranger than anyone else, really. Everyone's a freak in their own right, and that's not such a bad thing. But I am not here to talk about what people should think about the freakery of their fellow freaks. I just want to let everyone know that there are freaks among you and you are in no way alone. Even that prick who lives two doors down and only ever talks about stock market trends and his worry that the invisible hand may some day fail (which could, in truth, be considered strange in certain circles) is a closeted freak. Rest assured that the old lady who (to your knowledge) does nothing but sit at home and knit has a past that could be comparable, if not to Mic Jagger's, then to your present.
I tell my friends stories about my other friends. I regale them with tales of my libertarian pagan pansexual polyamorous panromantic vegan friend whose mother hails from Africa but is as white as Andy Warhol. I tell my friends the stories of my buddy who volunteered at an orphanage and had the children perform "It's a Hard Knock Life" for the person in charge. I entertain companions with accounts of my friend who rides elephants for a hobby "because fuck you, that's why."
All of them say "Wow, your friends are really strange." They always did, and up until recently I answered "Yes, aren't they great?" Now, that's not exactly a bad or disrespectful answer, but it wasn't entirely accurate.
Recently, I started answering "No, they're just honest." I guess that's why I love them so much. I keep a pretty eclectic group of friends. From the European violin player to the Dutch Countess to the American everything else, they fill my life with joy and the confidence to be who I am today...or something mushy like that.
This is not to say that I have just recently come to terms with being strange. This is to say that in a relativistic sense, I am not strange at all.
Granted, my life is strange, and yeah, my experiences molded me into the person that I am today. That's no secret. But all in all, I'm no stranger than anyone else, really. Everyone's a freak in their own right, and that's not such a bad thing. But I am not here to talk about what people should think about the freakery of their fellow freaks. I just want to let everyone know that there are freaks among you and you are in no way alone. Even that prick who lives two doors down and only ever talks about stock market trends and his worry that the invisible hand may some day fail (which could, in truth, be considered strange in certain circles) is a closeted freak. Rest assured that the old lady who (to your knowledge) does nothing but sit at home and knit has a past that could be comparable, if not to Mic Jagger's, then to your present.
I tell my friends stories about my other friends. I regale them with tales of my libertarian pagan pansexual polyamorous panromantic vegan friend whose mother hails from Africa but is as white as Andy Warhol. I tell my friends the stories of my buddy who volunteered at an orphanage and had the children perform "It's a Hard Knock Life" for the person in charge. I entertain companions with accounts of my friend who rides elephants for a hobby "because fuck you, that's why."
All of them say "Wow, your friends are really strange." They always did, and up until recently I answered "Yes, aren't they great?" Now, that's not exactly a bad or disrespectful answer, but it wasn't entirely accurate.
Recently, I started answering "No, they're just honest." I guess that's why I love them so much. I keep a pretty eclectic group of friends. From the European violin player to the Dutch Countess to the American everything else, they fill my life with joy and the confidence to be who I am today...or something mushy like that.
Friday, October 25, 2013
This is my first entry. It is the best entry. Oh and Diana. Hello.
Hi guys. I just wanted to let you all know that I am starting a blög. What is the difference between a blog and a blög, you may ask? Well, a blög is much better. This will be a blög about all the things that I love and hold dear and think are interesting and think are funny and run-on sentences (obviously.) Just wanted to let you know that. Anyway. Have a good day...or a bad day, depending on what you deserve.
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