… Secret Santa
As expected, today’s Secret Santa went off pretty much as expected though I will admit that I’m disappointed at the depths to which some of my team has sunk this year. As I described yesterday, they wanted to make sure this didn’t happen next year so they bought intentionally uninspiring gifts. Buying a female co-worker deodorant, a stain stick and a container of Vaseline, while amusing in the company of one’s male co-workers, is asking to be poked with a very sharp stick in my book. Nonetheless, they ploughed forth unconcerned with the consequences. What is amusing to me though is the dichotomy of the participants. While half of them intentionally did nothing, the other half have really done their utmost to try to not only stay within the defined bounds of the rules but also try to be thoughtful. It’s very touching to see a male co-worker actually make an effort on behalf of someone else in the office despite the fact that they’ve been strong-armed into participating in something they really couldn’t possibly have less interest in. The real test will come at the end of the week, however, when those who didn’t try realize that by their non-participation, they’ve cheated the others. This is where we separate the truly nice people from the mere pretenders.
… Pleading the 5th.
The news reports that our White House ‘party crashers’ are taking the 5th and refusing to testify in their own case. Am I the only one who takes this as an out and out admission of guilt? I understand that the judicial process has its rules but if a defendant is in such an indefensible position that their own testimony will add more culpability to their case then it will remove, then doesn’t that lead one naturally to surmise their guilt? I sincerely wonder how many people are exonerated after refusing to testify in their own defense. If they are, then it must surely only be because they’ve eliminated the witness with the most intimate knowledge of their guilt by refusing to testify.
… Lennon, John
To paraphrase… John is dead, miss him, miss him.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Monday, December 07, 2009
Random Thoughts on… [for 12/7/2009]
… Gather
For the past several years I’ve hung my virtual hat on Blogger and Facebook and have come to notice that while there’s a lot of inane chatter, there’s very little of actual consequence there. If I want to know about someone’s choice of toenail polish for the day (don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of toenail polish) or what they’re having for dinner or what they happen to be watching on television, then I go to Facebook, but don’t try to hold an actual conversation there or expect whomever you happen to be speaking with to be able to spell whatever they may try to articulate. After years on Facebook, Gather has been a total surprise to me. I’ve received more reaction to my work from total strangers on Gather than I received in years from people on Facebook that I look at in person every single day. More than that though, the feedback has been intelligent, polite and helpful. This community seems to be what the internet has been missing for so many years.
That said, there’s also a dark side that’s creeping in here. Clearly, some people are just here for the points and while the point system is useful for getting things started, I believe that this mercenary attitude could well be the death of this place. Try to find a conversation on other older sites like Yahoo and you’ll find a graveyard of spambots all ceaselessly chattering at each other about the latest in male enhancement. This is the future I fear for Gather. I already see groups dedicated to spamming the system and vacuous comments from groups like the “Helping Hand” that I surmise are designed just to get points in exchange for doing nothing but leaving an inane message. I hope we choose to keep this place about “us” and not about the points.
… Secret Santas
This year our office is doing a ‘secret santa’ and since my department is 100% male, I’ve listened all week to moaning and groaning from the guys about having to get gifts for the women in our partner department that is 100% female. There’s even talk of getting the women incredibly inappropriate gifts in order to assure that this never happens again. Personally, I can’t say that I understand the objection. Sure, it can be a bit of a pain but if you don’t have a terrible attitude about it, it can be amusing enough. It's just a shame that we can't at least TRY to have a good attitude about it.
… John Barleycorn
Over a year ago I started reading this not-so-well-known Jack London novel but never quite finished due to some untimely personal drama. Yesterday I picked it up again and after having digested a small part of it, I’m just realizing again why this novel was so easy for me to relate to. Firstly, this novel is London’s bald-faced exposition of his own personal problems. He goes into excruciating and personal detail about his alcoholism and while I don’t share that issue myself, I appreciate the complete candor with which he approaches the topic. It’s unconstructive to try to hide from such things, least of all from yourself. On a more literal level, London describes in detail the process of actually becoming an alcoholic. It’s counter-intuitive to go from visceral dislike of something (alcohol is, above all else, an unpleasant beverage at its core) to NEEDING it every single day just to survive but London describes the process brilliantly and accurately. I’m in a unique position to judge this having taken my first drink at the age of 35. I remember very distinctly and adultly thinking, “How can anyone keep this down?” followed slowly over months by, “Hey, I really like this.” It is an acquired taste to be certain and London does the process great literary justice.
Message ends.
For the past several years I’ve hung my virtual hat on Blogger and Facebook and have come to notice that while there’s a lot of inane chatter, there’s very little of actual consequence there. If I want to know about someone’s choice of toenail polish for the day (don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of toenail polish) or what they’re having for dinner or what they happen to be watching on television, then I go to Facebook, but don’t try to hold an actual conversation there or expect whomever you happen to be speaking with to be able to spell whatever they may try to articulate. After years on Facebook, Gather has been a total surprise to me. I’ve received more reaction to my work from total strangers on Gather than I received in years from people on Facebook that I look at in person every single day. More than that though, the feedback has been intelligent, polite and helpful. This community seems to be what the internet has been missing for so many years.
That said, there’s also a dark side that’s creeping in here. Clearly, some people are just here for the points and while the point system is useful for getting things started, I believe that this mercenary attitude could well be the death of this place. Try to find a conversation on other older sites like Yahoo and you’ll find a graveyard of spambots all ceaselessly chattering at each other about the latest in male enhancement. This is the future I fear for Gather. I already see groups dedicated to spamming the system and vacuous comments from groups like the “Helping Hand” that I surmise are designed just to get points in exchange for doing nothing but leaving an inane message. I hope we choose to keep this place about “us” and not about the points.
… Secret Santas
This year our office is doing a ‘secret santa’ and since my department is 100% male, I’ve listened all week to moaning and groaning from the guys about having to get gifts for the women in our partner department that is 100% female. There’s even talk of getting the women incredibly inappropriate gifts in order to assure that this never happens again. Personally, I can’t say that I understand the objection. Sure, it can be a bit of a pain but if you don’t have a terrible attitude about it, it can be amusing enough. It's just a shame that we can't at least TRY to have a good attitude about it.
… John Barleycorn
Over a year ago I started reading this not-so-well-known Jack London novel but never quite finished due to some untimely personal drama. Yesterday I picked it up again and after having digested a small part of it, I’m just realizing again why this novel was so easy for me to relate to. Firstly, this novel is London’s bald-faced exposition of his own personal problems. He goes into excruciating and personal detail about his alcoholism and while I don’t share that issue myself, I appreciate the complete candor with which he approaches the topic. It’s unconstructive to try to hide from such things, least of all from yourself. On a more literal level, London describes in detail the process of actually becoming an alcoholic. It’s counter-intuitive to go from visceral dislike of something (alcohol is, above all else, an unpleasant beverage at its core) to NEEDING it every single day just to survive but London describes the process brilliantly and accurately. I’m in a unique position to judge this having taken my first drink at the age of 35. I remember very distinctly and adultly thinking, “How can anyone keep this down?” followed slowly over months by, “Hey, I really like this.” It is an acquired taste to be certain and London does the process great literary justice.
Message ends.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
God Who?
Not long ago a co-worker asked me, point blank and in that tone that indicates careful incredulity: “How can you not believe in God?” The question spawned this answer which I thought it might be amusing to put down in print.
Throughout history mankind has had a need for some form of higher authority to bring reason to the mysteries of life. Why does the sun come up every day? Why does thunder make such a loud noise? The ancients assigned such phenomenon to a wildly varied list of dramatis personae but today, in this enlightened day and age, we don’t need to resort to such a panoply of gods. We just need the one (or three depending on how you look at it) and he takes care of only the most inscrutable of life’s questions: Why are we here? What happens to us after we’re not? Where do babies come from?
To Christians, God is the motive force behind existence. God rules all and knows all. God knows what choices we will make and what we will do because, after all, he is God. Anything less would be un-godlike. Not only does he know what we will do but he cares deeply about us and only wants the best for us. Well, ok, let me amend that. Depending on your particular belief system, God may be a spiteful God but his son, Jesus, is the redeemer. For some God and Jesus seem to be somewhat at odds. God is the ancient tyrant, ranting against man’s sins while Jesus gave himself to wash away those sins. For the sake of simplicity of argument though, let’s just say for the moment that God is ultimately on humanity’s side. Now, let us not confuse that concept with the idea that he will act in the best interest of every individual in his creation. It’s very possible and in fact more the rule than the exception that God often acts AGAINST the apparent benefit of certain individuals. Some people, as pointed out in a previous post, will be mysteriously stricken with fatal diseases at an early age. Some will be struck down by bolts of lightning. Terrible things will happen for no reason which is apparent to us but it’s OK because it’s God’s will and it’ll all work out for the best.
To the atheist or agnostic, there is also a motive force behind existence. It rules all but does not, necessarily, know all. Depending on your particular scientific belief system, the universe may or may not be deterministic. The cosmos may be a huge, incredibly complicated clockwork that functions based on certain immutable laws or it may be a seething mass of randomness even down to the level of quantum noise in which particles are spontaneously created and annihilated in a huge and furious froth that happens all around us every second. For the atheist there is order to the universe and a law but ultimately, that order is utterly and brutally impartial. The law will bend for no man and ultimately we exist merely to the extent that we can learn to adapt to the circumstances dictated to us by those physical laws. Terrible things will happen for no reason which is apparent to us but it’s OK because that’s how chance works and it’ll all work out for the best.
At their hearts, these two sets of beliefs aren’t really ALL that different. They both feature a ruling force that binds the universe together. They both describe, but don’t bother to explain, the random terrible things that happen to people every single day. The only real core difference is whether we believe that the universe gives a crap about us. To Christians, the answer is a warm and happy: Yes, Jesus Loves Me (the Bible tells him so). To the Atheist, the answer is a resigned: No, and if I’m not careful I’d better watch my step lest I fall into an open manhole or be mauled by a bear. Personally, the latter concept makes much more sense to me. As comforting as it would be to think that creation centers around me and my progeny and that God’s looking out for me, I just don’t see it.
There is also a logical perspective on this that I simply can’t ignore. The question is: Does the Christian God exist? The answer, obviously is either yes, or no. If the answer is no, then all of this is moot anyway and therefore irrelevant. If the answer is yes, then it follows that I am a created being and that I was created by God in my current form with my current faculties of observation and reasoning. Even if you dismiss this partly to say that my current properties are not a direct creation of God but instead a function of my upbringing and environment, then it should be noted the environment too is of God’s creation by definition. So if we presume that God exists, then he’s responsible for what I am and what I am is a person who disbelieves in his existence.
So, I, as a presumed creation of God am left with two choices. Either I can continue to disbelieve in him or I can throw away the evidence of my senses and my reason and choose to believe anyway. (I will throw away the wildly popular option of pretending to believe as this is merely a form of disbelief.) To me, the latter seems a monumentally greater sin than the former. If I refuse what my reason tells me, then I am throwing away God’s greatest gift. Man is, above all, a thinking, rational, reasoning creature. If God exists, then he built this reasoning behavior into us from the very beginning or else we developed it as a consequence of living in what he created for us. God, if he exists, WANTS us to be rational and think about the universe we live in. He doesn’t want sheep that mindlessly bleat at his command. He WANTS us to ask these questions and to ponder and to come up with different answers and argue and use the faculties that he gave us. Logically, I am forced to disbelieve in God. If he doesn’t exist, I’m right. If he does exist, then he made us to think and reason for ourselves on purpose and I cannot betray that gift.
As a bit of an aside, the idea that God, if he existed, would want us to be reasoning creatures is pretty strong. If the world was created in seven days, then why all the fossils betraying what appears to be billions of years of evolution? Why create other galaxies and star systems trillions upon trillions of miles away that we can only see with hundreds of years of research and effort? Why create atoms that are so outrageously complicated that even now we can’t fully understand their inner workings? Everywhere we look, both outward and inward, the complexity of creation is astounding. If God wanted us to merely accept what we’re told why tantalize us with such intricacy of detail? Why distract us with such things if our purpose is merely to serve him? If God wanted us to be mindless sheep then atoms would be solid spheres and all the practical questions of existence would be readily and easily apparent so that we could get on with the real business of worshipping him.
Finally, a few things should be noted here before I close. Firstly, I’m not trying to talk anyone out of their religion but merely stating my own viewpoint. If you have a certain set of beliefs then by all means stick to them. Above all my respect for anyone is based on their level of self-consistency with their own beliefs. Secondly, I should state for the record that I realize that I’m vastly oversimplifying the Christian worldview. Not for the least reasons is that Christians themselves don’t seem to agree on much in the first place. Whether your God is forgiving or spiteful, I think the same logic applies unless you reason that the complexity of the cosmos is really put here just to trick us and distract us so we can all go to hell. Regardless, go with God (or not).
Throughout history mankind has had a need for some form of higher authority to bring reason to the mysteries of life. Why does the sun come up every day? Why does thunder make such a loud noise? The ancients assigned such phenomenon to a wildly varied list of dramatis personae but today, in this enlightened day and age, we don’t need to resort to such a panoply of gods. We just need the one (or three depending on how you look at it) and he takes care of only the most inscrutable of life’s questions: Why are we here? What happens to us after we’re not? Where do babies come from?
To Christians, God is the motive force behind existence. God rules all and knows all. God knows what choices we will make and what we will do because, after all, he is God. Anything less would be un-godlike. Not only does he know what we will do but he cares deeply about us and only wants the best for us. Well, ok, let me amend that. Depending on your particular belief system, God may be a spiteful God but his son, Jesus, is the redeemer. For some God and Jesus seem to be somewhat at odds. God is the ancient tyrant, ranting against man’s sins while Jesus gave himself to wash away those sins. For the sake of simplicity of argument though, let’s just say for the moment that God is ultimately on humanity’s side. Now, let us not confuse that concept with the idea that he will act in the best interest of every individual in his creation. It’s very possible and in fact more the rule than the exception that God often acts AGAINST the apparent benefit of certain individuals. Some people, as pointed out in a previous post, will be mysteriously stricken with fatal diseases at an early age. Some will be struck down by bolts of lightning. Terrible things will happen for no reason which is apparent to us but it’s OK because it’s God’s will and it’ll all work out for the best.
To the atheist or agnostic, there is also a motive force behind existence. It rules all but does not, necessarily, know all. Depending on your particular scientific belief system, the universe may or may not be deterministic. The cosmos may be a huge, incredibly complicated clockwork that functions based on certain immutable laws or it may be a seething mass of randomness even down to the level of quantum noise in which particles are spontaneously created and annihilated in a huge and furious froth that happens all around us every second. For the atheist there is order to the universe and a law but ultimately, that order is utterly and brutally impartial. The law will bend for no man and ultimately we exist merely to the extent that we can learn to adapt to the circumstances dictated to us by those physical laws. Terrible things will happen for no reason which is apparent to us but it’s OK because that’s how chance works and it’ll all work out for the best.
At their hearts, these two sets of beliefs aren’t really ALL that different. They both feature a ruling force that binds the universe together. They both describe, but don’t bother to explain, the random terrible things that happen to people every single day. The only real core difference is whether we believe that the universe gives a crap about us. To Christians, the answer is a warm and happy: Yes, Jesus Loves Me (the Bible tells him so). To the Atheist, the answer is a resigned: No, and if I’m not careful I’d better watch my step lest I fall into an open manhole or be mauled by a bear. Personally, the latter concept makes much more sense to me. As comforting as it would be to think that creation centers around me and my progeny and that God’s looking out for me, I just don’t see it.
There is also a logical perspective on this that I simply can’t ignore. The question is: Does the Christian God exist? The answer, obviously is either yes, or no. If the answer is no, then all of this is moot anyway and therefore irrelevant. If the answer is yes, then it follows that I am a created being and that I was created by God in my current form with my current faculties of observation and reasoning. Even if you dismiss this partly to say that my current properties are not a direct creation of God but instead a function of my upbringing and environment, then it should be noted the environment too is of God’s creation by definition. So if we presume that God exists, then he’s responsible for what I am and what I am is a person who disbelieves in his existence.
So, I, as a presumed creation of God am left with two choices. Either I can continue to disbelieve in him or I can throw away the evidence of my senses and my reason and choose to believe anyway. (I will throw away the wildly popular option of pretending to believe as this is merely a form of disbelief.) To me, the latter seems a monumentally greater sin than the former. If I refuse what my reason tells me, then I am throwing away God’s greatest gift. Man is, above all, a thinking, rational, reasoning creature. If God exists, then he built this reasoning behavior into us from the very beginning or else we developed it as a consequence of living in what he created for us. God, if he exists, WANTS us to be rational and think about the universe we live in. He doesn’t want sheep that mindlessly bleat at his command. He WANTS us to ask these questions and to ponder and to come up with different answers and argue and use the faculties that he gave us. Logically, I am forced to disbelieve in God. If he doesn’t exist, I’m right. If he does exist, then he made us to think and reason for ourselves on purpose and I cannot betray that gift.
As a bit of an aside, the idea that God, if he existed, would want us to be reasoning creatures is pretty strong. If the world was created in seven days, then why all the fossils betraying what appears to be billions of years of evolution? Why create other galaxies and star systems trillions upon trillions of miles away that we can only see with hundreds of years of research and effort? Why create atoms that are so outrageously complicated that even now we can’t fully understand their inner workings? Everywhere we look, both outward and inward, the complexity of creation is astounding. If God wanted us to merely accept what we’re told why tantalize us with such intricacy of detail? Why distract us with such things if our purpose is merely to serve him? If God wanted us to be mindless sheep then atoms would be solid spheres and all the practical questions of existence would be readily and easily apparent so that we could get on with the real business of worshipping him.
Finally, a few things should be noted here before I close. Firstly, I’m not trying to talk anyone out of their religion but merely stating my own viewpoint. If you have a certain set of beliefs then by all means stick to them. Above all my respect for anyone is based on their level of self-consistency with their own beliefs. Secondly, I should state for the record that I realize that I’m vastly oversimplifying the Christian worldview. Not for the least reasons is that Christians themselves don’t seem to agree on much in the first place. Whether your God is forgiving or spiteful, I think the same logic applies unless you reason that the complexity of the cosmos is really put here just to trick us and distract us so we can all go to hell. Regardless, go with God (or not).
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Fishbowl
His senses are deluged by a million inputs. Ninty-three million miles away, the sun blasts away at him with a fury unimaginable. Ninty-three feet away a woman in a T-shirt with an illegible logo walks a dog roughly the same color as that sun. A mile away a throng of parents cheer their children on a baseball field. No doubt someone is rounding third and will find themselves the hero of the game. A few hundred feet away scores upon scores of birds chirp away, driven by their own libidos, seeking partners, claiming territory, fending off invaders in a raucous calliope of twittering. A biker arrives from a ride, legs strong and sinewy. He dismounts and knocks confidently on his lover’s door. She smiles and they embrace. He confidently strolls inside. Another man walks a pair of dogs. Was a single animal not companion enough or did he inherit the pet of his new-found mate? A woman arrives home from work, struggling to carry in her groceries. It’s a pity she has no one to help her. The dusky evening is caressed by human chatter. Somewhere, people are talking. Suddenly a couple appears, walking hand in hand. They make their way through the twittering birds, the waning sunshine, oblivious to everything but the other’s hand in their own. The clouds glide along unconcerned. The trees to the west claw at the last remnants of the sunset.
The birds, the people, they all might as well be as far away as the sunset. Ninty-three million miles away or a few feet, it makes no difference. His heart swells with love, yearning to break free and embrace all of mankind. He longs to have someone to care for and share his world with. He looks out on the world and wonders why he has earned such a spot. Why the rest of humanity is cut off from him by an invisible wall. Why no matter which way he turns his nose bumps into an invisible barrier not of his making and beyond his understanding. Why is someone who is so capable of love and caring so incapable of being loved or cared about? The clouds drift by without compassion. The couple returns from their walk to taunt him with their closeness. Neighbors return home, exchanging the pleasantries of friendship, “yeah, right, dickweed!”, “you can suck it!”
He is amazed at how these phrases can denote friendship. They are not his way. He must always be polite, respectful. Perhaps this is the wall that separates him from them. If not this, then perhaps he merely thinks too deeply. Instead of gazing skyward at the million, winking stars that slide in and out from behind the remnants of the dusk’s clouds he needs to focus on the earth between his feet and remain firmly grounded there. No, no, perhaps he is too focused on the earth between his feet and needs to look out and about more. Show more interest in those around him, push himself gently into their lives, contribute to their happiness in some way. But no, that is too aggressive; he must wait quietly for fate to work its magic. He must not push lest people think him desperate.
Indeed, the simplest truth may be simply that some things are meant to be and some things are not. Some fish are meant to swim in the midst of huge and varied schools while some are meant to live remote and solitary lives. If they’re lucky, they find at least one other to share their lives before they leave this world. The true measure of a man has little to do with the company he keeps. Often it is those who have no one to love who are the most capable of loving. It is the fish in the solitary bowl who most needs a companion.
The birds, the people, they all might as well be as far away as the sunset. Ninty-three million miles away or a few feet, it makes no difference. His heart swells with love, yearning to break free and embrace all of mankind. He longs to have someone to care for and share his world with. He looks out on the world and wonders why he has earned such a spot. Why the rest of humanity is cut off from him by an invisible wall. Why no matter which way he turns his nose bumps into an invisible barrier not of his making and beyond his understanding. Why is someone who is so capable of love and caring so incapable of being loved or cared about? The clouds drift by without compassion. The couple returns from their walk to taunt him with their closeness. Neighbors return home, exchanging the pleasantries of friendship, “yeah, right, dickweed!”, “you can suck it!”
He is amazed at how these phrases can denote friendship. They are not his way. He must always be polite, respectful. Perhaps this is the wall that separates him from them. If not this, then perhaps he merely thinks too deeply. Instead of gazing skyward at the million, winking stars that slide in and out from behind the remnants of the dusk’s clouds he needs to focus on the earth between his feet and remain firmly grounded there. No, no, perhaps he is too focused on the earth between his feet and needs to look out and about more. Show more interest in those around him, push himself gently into their lives, contribute to their happiness in some way. But no, that is too aggressive; he must wait quietly for fate to work its magic. He must not push lest people think him desperate.
Indeed, the simplest truth may be simply that some things are meant to be and some things are not. Some fish are meant to swim in the midst of huge and varied schools while some are meant to live remote and solitary lives. If they’re lucky, they find at least one other to share their lives before they leave this world. The true measure of a man has little to do with the company he keeps. Often it is those who have no one to love who are the most capable of loving. It is the fish in the solitary bowl who most needs a companion.
Tabula Rasa
Is there any more intimidating entity in the entire cosmos than a blank sheet of paper? That big, white expanse is laying there staring up at you with all its potential just oozing off at the corners. What appears on that paper next relies entirely on your skill as a poet, an author, a commentator, an artist. Properly addressed, that paper could become the greatest work of literature that the human race has ever seen. It could, at your hand, become the most delightful work of art yet known to mankind. The very problems of humanity could melt away in rapturous applause and universal adulation if only you could find the RIGHT thing to put on that FUCKING PIECE OF BLANK PAPER!
But of course you don’t. You prattle on endlessly about lost loves or loves most fervently hoped for or the bit of undercooked sausage that you had for dinner that might later turn into a tapeworm. You’ll scribble indolently for a few moments, realize that the proportions of the head and the torso just aren’t QUITE right and then resign yourself to imperfection and toss your work into the trash. What was such potential mere minutes ago is now nothing more than an angular heap of folds of paper. If you’re extremely lucky, perhaps the parabola which your work traces between your hand and the trash can will be deemed elegant by the gods of aesthetics. But even if that is so it doesn’t really matter.
It’s not the gods who are really important. Those Olympian icons of heavenly perfection are irrelevant. No, what’s really important, what really drives us to spill the results of our imperfect, randomly-firing synapses onto that piece of paper, to spoil all that potential is, in fact, the thoughts of a million other imperfect, randomly-firing synapses. All art, all acts of creation are fundamentally acts of narcissism. We spill out our words and our pictures not to please the gods, not to achieve perfection, not to solve the world’s problems but to bring ourselves into the worlds of more people. Whether we write, or draw, or sing, we do it so that we don’t feel quite so tiny, so small, so insignificant. Every person who knows we exist makes us just the tiniest bit bigger.
So in a way, each work of mankind is about success; and each work of mankind is about failure. We succeed in that we expand our worlds just ever so slightly by each life that we touch. We fail in that what we create, what we call into existence at our bidding is so much less than the potential of what we started out with. Though one may write a million words on a million pages, though one may surpass Shakespeare and Dickens and Tolstoy if one works at it long enough and hard enough, whatever one writes will pale in comparison to the potential of what could have been, what might have been on that blank sheet of paper.
But of course you don’t. You prattle on endlessly about lost loves or loves most fervently hoped for or the bit of undercooked sausage that you had for dinner that might later turn into a tapeworm. You’ll scribble indolently for a few moments, realize that the proportions of the head and the torso just aren’t QUITE right and then resign yourself to imperfection and toss your work into the trash. What was such potential mere minutes ago is now nothing more than an angular heap of folds of paper. If you’re extremely lucky, perhaps the parabola which your work traces between your hand and the trash can will be deemed elegant by the gods of aesthetics. But even if that is so it doesn’t really matter.
It’s not the gods who are really important. Those Olympian icons of heavenly perfection are irrelevant. No, what’s really important, what really drives us to spill the results of our imperfect, randomly-firing synapses onto that piece of paper, to spoil all that potential is, in fact, the thoughts of a million other imperfect, randomly-firing synapses. All art, all acts of creation are fundamentally acts of narcissism. We spill out our words and our pictures not to please the gods, not to achieve perfection, not to solve the world’s problems but to bring ourselves into the worlds of more people. Whether we write, or draw, or sing, we do it so that we don’t feel quite so tiny, so small, so insignificant. Every person who knows we exist makes us just the tiniest bit bigger.
So in a way, each work of mankind is about success; and each work of mankind is about failure. We succeed in that we expand our worlds just ever so slightly by each life that we touch. We fail in that what we create, what we call into existence at our bidding is so much less than the potential of what we started out with. Though one may write a million words on a million pages, though one may surpass Shakespeare and Dickens and Tolstoy if one works at it long enough and hard enough, whatever one writes will pale in comparison to the potential of what could have been, what might have been on that blank sheet of paper.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
God: Still a Jerk After 6,000 Years
In Genesis chapter 22, God commands Abraham, who had no small difficulty having a child at all, to take his son Isaac to the top of a mountain and slit his throat. Abraham doesn’t ask why and no doubt it wouldn’t have done him any good to have asked anyway. God always has his –reasons-. Luckily for Isaac, God sent an angel at the last minute to stop the sacrifice but it still begs the question of WHY you would put someone through such an ordeal. Especially someone who has been as faithful as Abraham.
A few short millennia later I’m watching the morning news and who should grace my vision but a poor child in a wheelchair. She’s the victim of a debilitating condition that will probably take her life before she reaches adulthood. As the reporter is talking to her she pipes up that she’s not sad that she’s this way. God made her this way –for a reason-. Again, here’s the Christian God with his undisclosed –reasons-. What POSSSIBLE justification could there be for purposefully allowing a child to suffer in this way? What chain of causal events could be so beneficial to the world that it would justify a human soul trapped for an entire lifetime in a fragile and decaying body this way? I’m sure that God has his –reasons-.
It endlessly amazes me that we hold the character of God up to such different standards than we apply to ourselves. If a mad scientist came to us and said that he could improve the world in some unspecified way if he were just allowed to inject 10 children with drugs that would cripple them for life, would we let him? Perhaps we would if those were children from some other country since we seem to put a much lower value on those but 10 random American children? Would we? Of course we wouldn’t. There would be rioting in the streets. Would there be any reason that could be given? Would we cripple 10 children to save 100? To save 1000? To feed every starving person in Africa? To educate every ignorant yokel in Appalachia to the point that they could actually spell Appalachia? I doubt it. There is no reason, no objective, that would be good enough to satisfy our combined moral outrage. Yet when God, in his –infinite- wisdom, strikes down a child for no discernable reason we all just nod and say, -he has his reasons-.
No, what it really boils down to is that we don’t understand it and, like every other facet of religion, we rely on the perceived –wisdom- of God as a comfort for our outrage. Truth is, there’s no excuse for it. If God really pulls this shit for some reason then he’s a jerk. Plain and simple. It’s much easier for us to simply shrug it off and say that we can’t –possibly- understand God ‘cuz we’re just too frickin’ stoopid but that if we did then we’d all nod and make the same sad decision ourselves.
Is the alternative hypothesis to this really so horrible? Say for a moment that God exists but that he doesn’t bother himself with every meaningless triviality in the cosmos. Sure, he’s helping NFL receivers catch touchdown passes but he’s not intimately involved in the exact reproductive configuration of every pair of Kentucky cousins who choose to settle down and bring up some yungins. As a consequence, mistakes happen. Chromosomes get lost or shuffled around and defects in the system crop up from time to time but on the whole the human species manages to procreate just fine. Under this system God is not a jerk so much as he is merely careless. Perhaps he just hadn’t yet had his morning coffee. I don’t know about you but I’d much prefer to live with someone who’s a bit of a grump and a smidge careless before he (or she) has had their morning coffee than with someone who clearly has it out for me and has omnipotence to back it up.
A few short millennia later I’m watching the morning news and who should grace my vision but a poor child in a wheelchair. She’s the victim of a debilitating condition that will probably take her life before she reaches adulthood. As the reporter is talking to her she pipes up that she’s not sad that she’s this way. God made her this way –for a reason-. Again, here’s the Christian God with his undisclosed –reasons-. What POSSSIBLE justification could there be for purposefully allowing a child to suffer in this way? What chain of causal events could be so beneficial to the world that it would justify a human soul trapped for an entire lifetime in a fragile and decaying body this way? I’m sure that God has his –reasons-.
It endlessly amazes me that we hold the character of God up to such different standards than we apply to ourselves. If a mad scientist came to us and said that he could improve the world in some unspecified way if he were just allowed to inject 10 children with drugs that would cripple them for life, would we let him? Perhaps we would if those were children from some other country since we seem to put a much lower value on those but 10 random American children? Would we? Of course we wouldn’t. There would be rioting in the streets. Would there be any reason that could be given? Would we cripple 10 children to save 100? To save 1000? To feed every starving person in Africa? To educate every ignorant yokel in Appalachia to the point that they could actually spell Appalachia? I doubt it. There is no reason, no objective, that would be good enough to satisfy our combined moral outrage. Yet when God, in his –infinite- wisdom, strikes down a child for no discernable reason we all just nod and say, -he has his reasons-.
No, what it really boils down to is that we don’t understand it and, like every other facet of religion, we rely on the perceived –wisdom- of God as a comfort for our outrage. Truth is, there’s no excuse for it. If God really pulls this shit for some reason then he’s a jerk. Plain and simple. It’s much easier for us to simply shrug it off and say that we can’t –possibly- understand God ‘cuz we’re just too frickin’ stoopid but that if we did then we’d all nod and make the same sad decision ourselves.
Is the alternative hypothesis to this really so horrible? Say for a moment that God exists but that he doesn’t bother himself with every meaningless triviality in the cosmos. Sure, he’s helping NFL receivers catch touchdown passes but he’s not intimately involved in the exact reproductive configuration of every pair of Kentucky cousins who choose to settle down and bring up some yungins. As a consequence, mistakes happen. Chromosomes get lost or shuffled around and defects in the system crop up from time to time but on the whole the human species manages to procreate just fine. Under this system God is not a jerk so much as he is merely careless. Perhaps he just hadn’t yet had his morning coffee. I don’t know about you but I’d much prefer to live with someone who’s a bit of a grump and a smidge careless before he (or she) has had their morning coffee than with someone who clearly has it out for me and has omnipotence to back it up.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Old, Old News: November 25, 1911
In pouring over The Literary Digest over the past few months, one of the things that strikes me is just how little and yet how much things change over the years. Take, for example, this political cartoon from the November 1911 edition:
In it, we see President Taft depicted as a fat, round ball being rolled about in a maze. Most certainly he was our heftiest President but did he deserve this kind of abuse? It's one thing to make fun of Bush because he can't pronounce simple words but if we had a fat president today or one with any sort of impairment at all would we be so gratuitous about it? More to the point perhaps, would such a man even stand a chance in our more connected age? Remember, this was in a time before television and radio.
It's also amusing to note just how far women have come in the past 100 years. This is the time of the suffragette, remember and such comments as "twelve women cannot be counted upon to agree about anything" are rife in the press. Any paper today making this claim would find itself the object of more than a bit of negative press. Even more amusing is the topics about which the press seems to concern itself. Note at the bottom of the first column in the page referred to above that there's "cause for alarm" because the women on the jury were allowed to keep their hats on. The continuation of the complaint indicating that a man on such a mixed jury of would be "lucky to retain his scalp" because of all the hatpins in use in the jury box. Ladies, you have come a long way since 1911.
By far the best part of these old publications is the "Science and Invention" section. I'm relatively certain that the "open-air" telescope idea never quite made it off the ground. The article on railway sanitation is an eye-opening one. We tend to forget, I think, in our concern over greenhouse gases just how dirty a prospect traveling was a mere 100 years ago. The article following that one must make any modern photographer smile. This was a day even before film when photographs were taken on photographic plates with the standard size being 4 inches by 5. The section goes on to talk about the reclassification of spiders, advances in farming and a few other random topics.
One of the most amusing aspects of the Digest is it's advertising. Since its primary audience was the exceptionally rich most of its ads are thus appropriately targeted. Your grandparents probably recalled the ubiquitous Victrola:
But you'd probably have to go back to your great-grandparents to find anyone who ever drove a Haynes (built in Kokomo, Indiana):
But many of these products are still around more or less in their original form...
But you wouldn't see some of these on the back of Better Homes and Gardens, that's for sure...
Those interested can read the entire issue of the magazine in digital format on my Picassa page.
In it, we see President Taft depicted as a fat, round ball being rolled about in a maze. Most certainly he was our heftiest President but did he deserve this kind of abuse? It's one thing to make fun of Bush because he can't pronounce simple words but if we had a fat president today or one with any sort of impairment at all would we be so gratuitous about it? More to the point perhaps, would such a man even stand a chance in our more connected age? Remember, this was in a time before television and radio.
It's also amusing to note just how far women have come in the past 100 years. This is the time of the suffragette, remember and such comments as "twelve women cannot be counted upon to agree about anything" are rife in the press. Any paper today making this claim would find itself the object of more than a bit of negative press. Even more amusing is the topics about which the press seems to concern itself. Note at the bottom of the first column in the page referred to above that there's "cause for alarm" because the women on the jury were allowed to keep their hats on. The continuation of the complaint indicating that a man on such a mixed jury of would be "lucky to retain his scalp" because of all the hatpins in use in the jury box. Ladies, you have come a long way since 1911.
By far the best part of these old publications is the "Science and Invention" section. I'm relatively certain that the "open-air" telescope idea never quite made it off the ground. The article on railway sanitation is an eye-opening one. We tend to forget, I think, in our concern over greenhouse gases just how dirty a prospect traveling was a mere 100 years ago. The article following that one must make any modern photographer smile. This was a day even before film when photographs were taken on photographic plates with the standard size being 4 inches by 5. The section goes on to talk about the reclassification of spiders, advances in farming and a few other random topics.
One of the most amusing aspects of the Digest is it's advertising. Since its primary audience was the exceptionally rich most of its ads are thus appropriately targeted. Your grandparents probably recalled the ubiquitous Victrola:
But you'd probably have to go back to your great-grandparents to find anyone who ever drove a Haynes (built in Kokomo, Indiana):
But many of these products are still around more or less in their original form...
But you wouldn't see some of these on the back of Better Homes and Gardens, that's for sure...
Those interested can read the entire issue of the magazine in digital format on my Picassa page.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)