Nick Fuentes
Jared Taylor
Lizzies Answers
Bishop Robert Barron
Saturday, December 7, 2019
Friday, October 25, 2019
Impeachment Joke
It is not remarkable that Donald Trump has the same patriotism in 2019 that he had in 1980. Only the names of the countries that were 'ripping off our nation" have changed. In 1980 he mentions Japan and Saudi Arabia. In 2019 it is Iran and China. The message is the same.
As I'm watching various YouTube recommended interviews with Donald Trump from the 80s, 90s and 2000s, I'm becoming more and more appalled with these bullshit Impeachment hearings.
Trump's speeches and interviews through the years leading to his run and election is proof upon proof upon proof that he has always loved his country, and wanted for her a strong leader.
There wasn't. So he ran. And won.
The Democrats don't want him to succeed because it makes their policies look bad. Instead they are wasting his time on political nonsense and forcing him to be distracted. They are failing to distract and obstruct him, and they are failing their constituents that don't vote based simply on irrational hatred of our president.
Of course I don't feel sorry for Donald Trump; quite the opposite. He enjoys this. He doesn't shy away from calling out these annoying attempts by Democrats to smear him before the election, and he is probably somewhat satisfied knowing that it is their Hail Mary attempt. Trump knows that the Democrats know they can't beat him fairly in an election, and they are choosing to destroy the country's integrity to try to cling to power instead.
The Democrats are doing exactly what they warned us Donald Trump would do.
Donald Trump is doing the job he was always meant to do.
Now it is time for him to do the work; he has trade deals to make.
As I'm watching various YouTube recommended interviews with Donald Trump from the 80s, 90s and 2000s, I'm becoming more and more appalled with these bullshit Impeachment hearings.
Trump's speeches and interviews through the years leading to his run and election is proof upon proof upon proof that he has always loved his country, and wanted for her a strong leader.
There wasn't. So he ran. And won.
The Democrats don't want him to succeed because it makes their policies look bad. Instead they are wasting his time on political nonsense and forcing him to be distracted. They are failing to distract and obstruct him, and they are failing their constituents that don't vote based simply on irrational hatred of our president.
Of course I don't feel sorry for Donald Trump; quite the opposite. He enjoys this. He doesn't shy away from calling out these annoying attempts by Democrats to smear him before the election, and he is probably somewhat satisfied knowing that it is their Hail Mary attempt. Trump knows that the Democrats know they can't beat him fairly in an election, and they are choosing to destroy the country's integrity to try to cling to power instead.
The Democrats are doing exactly what they warned us Donald Trump would do.
Donald Trump is doing the job he was always meant to do.
Now it is time for him to do the work; he has trade deals to make.
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Been Noveling
Ok, ok, ok
I’ve unfortunately neglected this blog, and taken a real good big stab at The Novel instead.
It was never supposed to be ‘instead.’ This blog was supposed to be an ‘also,’ but my brain still isn’t big enough, and my time not managed enough, for both. There’s that little big distraction called YouTube that keeps me from focusing for long periods of time. Or any amount of time.
And then next month is National Novel Writing Month. Another excuse to stab The Novel to death….to bring it to life? The metaphor is now completely nonsensical.
This is my 10th attempt, my 10th year. Yikes. (This doesn’t help me not worry about my mortality. Or how I don’t use it.)
I’ll use that challenge to push me to finish The Novel’s draft. Then comes the new year with all the editing, and….maybe I’ll switch over to medium.com….blogspot is so 2005, and that was officially a long time ago, though the music is timeless.
Apologies for the placeholder apology post, better than nothing. (I also blocked twitter to keep myself focused; ironically no one will see this apology post.)
I’ve unfortunately neglected this blog, and taken a real good big stab at The Novel instead.
It was never supposed to be ‘instead.’ This blog was supposed to be an ‘also,’ but my brain still isn’t big enough, and my time not managed enough, for both. There’s that little big distraction called YouTube that keeps me from focusing for long periods of time. Or any amount of time.
And then next month is National Novel Writing Month. Another excuse to stab The Novel to death….to bring it to life? The metaphor is now completely nonsensical.
This is my 10th attempt, my 10th year. Yikes. (This doesn’t help me not worry about my mortality. Or how I don’t use it.)
I’ll use that challenge to push me to finish The Novel’s draft. Then comes the new year with all the editing, and….maybe I’ll switch over to medium.com….blogspot is so 2005, and that was officially a long time ago, though the music is timeless.
Apologies for the placeholder apology post, better than nothing. (I also blocked twitter to keep myself focused; ironically no one will see this apology post.)
Monday, October 7, 2019
Paper Boy Prince Album Release Party Review
Paper Boy Prince of the Suburbs blasts his speakers in front of the Popeye's that is directly below the subway station at Myrtle Broadway, nationally known as K2 corner. He performs on roller blades for hours, defying exhaustion and defining endurance, his shows free for the passersby. His get up is a glittering cloak and tentacled red and yellow du rag, and his songs are about Math and Spaghetti.
Friday was his Andrew Yang for President themed album release party at a bar/coffee shop/venue near K2 corner called ‘Jones Beach.’ The website mentioned a $10 cover, but when I arrived it was ‘by donation,’ so I gave them all the money in my wallet: $8. (I really like to support Paper Boy Prince of the Suburbs and am indifferent to Andrew Yang. I was already registered to vote.)
I squished myself into the corner of the bar to people watch because I was alone. I eavesdropped on a dork in shorts with the same name as yours truly as he introduced himself to Paper Boy (I wanted to do that!) to talk about why Andrew Yang is so great. Paper Boy’s hair was short, and the top was bleached blond with ‘$1,000’ written in white, representing Andrew Yang’s silly, but cute promise to give each American $1,000/month.
A man talking to my namesake after Paper Boy left screamed without warning, "I don't have a girlfriend!" I knew how he felt but wanted him to shut the fuck up. He was embarrassing himself. And me.
Another guy with slicked back hair and handsome, bulging eyes bought his entire crew a drink as his two friends had an inane, drunken conversation about how they don't have conversations that they shouldn't have. I did not understand this, but I liked trying.
Jones Beach is a hallway with a bar in it, which leads to a smaller hallway with a bathroom closet and an actual closet at the end of that hallway, where shows are hosted. The room was empty before Paper Boy was ready to perform, and a band that wasn't about to perform unnecessarily filled the room with their amps and a drum kit. Known to many as the rapper from in front of the Popeye's on K2 corner, Paper Boy is otherwise very good, and draws crowds accordingly. The place was a fire hazard for everyone--including an unfit old couple in the audience--and an honor to Paper Boy.
Paper Boy was starting, and I was in the corner, comfortably nestled uncomfortably beside a new couple that was unnecessarily making out, while Paper Boy let some no-name losers from the crowd freestyle. He is a very generous person to give up his valuable time to the talent less, rhythmically speaking incomprehensible phrases over a bad mic. The crowd still managed to laugh and ooh and aah at lyrics that I doubt were legitimately funny. It all sounded garbled to me.
The couple left after the freestyles and before Paper By performed. They never came back and stayed for the worst part so they probably went to have sex.
Paper Boy knows that listeners today want simple, catchy hooks about spaghetti and math. Money and misogyny are so 2000s, and the fashionable lyrical topic of depression is overplayed. Paper Boy is not depressed, nor does he fake it for clout, so he doesn’t need a face tattoo and relies on creativity alone.
When Paper Boy finally performed his hit song ‘Math’ he was in the midst of the crowd and only had a tiny circle of space around him. He really knew how to work the crowd. The man without the girlfriend thrashed around excitedly in Paper Boy’s small circle, “celebrating” selfishly and blocking my only good angle to record 'Math' for my math teacher roommate. By choice Paper Boy took to standing on the band’s amp so people in the back could see him, opting to move a little less. He was very generous.
After his 15 minute set Paper Boy took a break and a girl dressed as a penis took his spot on the amp.
“I love dick!!” She screamed, and the crowd screamed with her. “I love dick pics!!!” The crowd roared. “Dressing up like this, I know what it is like to have unjustified privilege!” I rolled my fucking eyes. It used to be that a girl could just dress up like a penis and sing songs about dicks. Now, everything has to be socio-sexual-political.
She had more than one song about the topic of dicks, and dick pics. It was lowbrow, and worse, it was unfunny. I took the opportunity to finally talk to Paper Boy, now shirtless.
“Hey, what’s that song about spaghetti?” I asked him. “I love that song.”
“That is a song called Spaghetti. There is also one called Spaghetti Dessert.”
“Can you perform those songs?”
“It has not been requested yet. That is one of my lesser known songs. Now that it has been requested I will perform it next.”
“Thank you,” I said. Then Paper Boy was accosted by another ravenous fan and I went to the bar to close my tab with a shot of tequila and to escape the wretched songs of the girl in the penis costume. A large group of people gathered outside Jones Beach, and loitered there. They were not coming inside. They must not have known who Paper Boy was.
I wandered the neighborhood, reminded of the years that I wasted on these streets, then ran back inside thinking that I might miss Paper Boy perform ‘Spaghetti.’ Instead, a different artist was performing: Lexa Terrestrial. She was admittedly very tiny, and her parents were in the audience.
“I want to thank my parents for coming tonight!” She yelled and the crowd roared.
If the penis girl had any decency/decent parents, she would never perform in front of them. Therefore I took Lexa Terrestrial more seriously than the penis girl, and liked her outfit more: she wore a mini-skirt and what looked like a metallic top that was strapped with stuffed animals. I liked her, but I wanted more Paper...yeah!
She finished and it was ok. Then some kid in a boring hoodie (no costume) and a tattoo on his cheekbone came up to perform. What was this? A talent show?
“I need everyone to turn the fuck up!!” he demanded.
Friday was his Andrew Yang for President themed album release party at a bar/coffee shop/venue near K2 corner called ‘Jones Beach.’ The website mentioned a $10 cover, but when I arrived it was ‘by donation,’ so I gave them all the money in my wallet: $8. (I really like to support Paper Boy Prince of the Suburbs and am indifferent to Andrew Yang. I was already registered to vote.)
I squished myself into the corner of the bar to people watch because I was alone. I eavesdropped on a dork in shorts with the same name as yours truly as he introduced himself to Paper Boy (I wanted to do that!) to talk about why Andrew Yang is so great. Paper Boy’s hair was short, and the top was bleached blond with ‘$1,000’ written in white, representing Andrew Yang’s silly, but cute promise to give each American $1,000/month.
A man talking to my namesake after Paper Boy left screamed without warning, "I don't have a girlfriend!" I knew how he felt but wanted him to shut the fuck up. He was embarrassing himself. And me.
Another guy with slicked back hair and handsome, bulging eyes bought his entire crew a drink as his two friends had an inane, drunken conversation about how they don't have conversations that they shouldn't have. I did not understand this, but I liked trying.
Jones Beach is a hallway with a bar in it, which leads to a smaller hallway with a bathroom closet and an actual closet at the end of that hallway, where shows are hosted. The room was empty before Paper Boy was ready to perform, and a band that wasn't about to perform unnecessarily filled the room with their amps and a drum kit. Known to many as the rapper from in front of the Popeye's on K2 corner, Paper Boy is otherwise very good, and draws crowds accordingly. The place was a fire hazard for everyone--including an unfit old couple in the audience--and an honor to Paper Boy.
Paper Boy was starting, and I was in the corner, comfortably nestled uncomfortably beside a new couple that was unnecessarily making out, while Paper Boy let some no-name losers from the crowd freestyle. He is a very generous person to give up his valuable time to the talent less, rhythmically speaking incomprehensible phrases over a bad mic. The crowd still managed to laugh and ooh and aah at lyrics that I doubt were legitimately funny. It all sounded garbled to me.
The couple left after the freestyles and before Paper By performed. They never came back and stayed for the worst part so they probably went to have sex.
Paper Boy knows that listeners today want simple, catchy hooks about spaghetti and math. Money and misogyny are so 2000s, and the fashionable lyrical topic of depression is overplayed. Paper Boy is not depressed, nor does he fake it for clout, so he doesn’t need a face tattoo and relies on creativity alone.
When Paper Boy finally performed his hit song ‘Math’ he was in the midst of the crowd and only had a tiny circle of space around him. He really knew how to work the crowd. The man without the girlfriend thrashed around excitedly in Paper Boy’s small circle, “celebrating” selfishly and blocking my only good angle to record 'Math' for my math teacher roommate. By choice Paper Boy took to standing on the band’s amp so people in the back could see him, opting to move a little less. He was very generous.
After his 15 minute set Paper Boy took a break and a girl dressed as a penis took his spot on the amp.
“I love dick!!” She screamed, and the crowd screamed with her. “I love dick pics!!!” The crowd roared. “Dressing up like this, I know what it is like to have unjustified privilege!” I rolled my fucking eyes. It used to be that a girl could just dress up like a penis and sing songs about dicks. Now, everything has to be socio-sexual-political.
She had more than one song about the topic of dicks, and dick pics. It was lowbrow, and worse, it was unfunny. I took the opportunity to finally talk to Paper Boy, now shirtless.
“Hey, what’s that song about spaghetti?” I asked him. “I love that song.”
“That is a song called Spaghetti. There is also one called Spaghetti Dessert.”
“Can you perform those songs?”
“It has not been requested yet. That is one of my lesser known songs. Now that it has been requested I will perform it next.”
“Thank you,” I said. Then Paper Boy was accosted by another ravenous fan and I went to the bar to close my tab with a shot of tequila and to escape the wretched songs of the girl in the penis costume. A large group of people gathered outside Jones Beach, and loitered there. They were not coming inside. They must not have known who Paper Boy was.
I wandered the neighborhood, reminded of the years that I wasted on these streets, then ran back inside thinking that I might miss Paper Boy perform ‘Spaghetti.’ Instead, a different artist was performing: Lexa Terrestrial. She was admittedly very tiny, and her parents were in the audience.
“I want to thank my parents for coming tonight!” She yelled and the crowd roared.
If the penis girl had any decency/decent parents, she would never perform in front of them. Therefore I took Lexa Terrestrial more seriously than the penis girl, and liked her outfit more: she wore a mini-skirt and what looked like a metallic top that was strapped with stuffed animals. I liked her, but I wanted more Paper...yeah!
She finished and it was ok. Then some kid in a boring hoodie (no costume) and a tattoo on his cheekbone came up to perform. What was this? A talent show?
“I need everyone to turn the fuck up!!” he demanded.
‘You can’t demand that your audience be turned up before you start performing! You need to turn us up!’ I thought. What a wasted face….I didn’t care to remember his name, and left before Paper Boy could perform spaghetti. It was late. I was tired.
On my way out I noticed a faded sign in the window of Jones Beach listing all of the ‘types’ of people that were not welcome: racists, transphobes, bigots, homophobes etc.
‘Don't be cowards. Just say ‘No Trump supporters.’ That’s what you really mean,’ I thought.
Art is so needlessly political nowadays. Even the lovely Paper Boy, with his 'Andrew Yang for President’ album release party is guilty of politicizing his art.
However, Andrew Yang is the only acceptable candidate for Paper Boy's support because Paper Boy is as unique on the surface as Andrew Yang: an Asian, Democrat and businessman. They both defy categorization, have agreeable personality types, and aren't obsessed with sex-politics.
Subscribe to Paper Boy Prince
On my way out I noticed a faded sign in the window of Jones Beach listing all of the ‘types’ of people that were not welcome: racists, transphobes, bigots, homophobes etc.
‘Don't be cowards. Just say ‘No Trump supporters.’ That’s what you really mean,’ I thought.
Art is so needlessly political nowadays. Even the lovely Paper Boy, with his 'Andrew Yang for President’ album release party is guilty of politicizing his art.
However, Andrew Yang is the only acceptable candidate for Paper Boy's support because Paper Boy is as unique on the surface as Andrew Yang: an Asian, Democrat and businessman. They both defy categorization, have agreeable personality types, and aren't obsessed with sex-politics.
Subscribe to Paper Boy Prince
Saturday, October 5, 2019
Xenophobe
I’m “xenophobic.”
When I see foreigners I think “go the fuck back to your own country, you fucking asshole.You don’t belong here.”
That is my gut reaction to all foreigners. No matter their accent, their skin color, their religion, their ethnicity etc etc. This is especially true for Western Europeans or Austrailians.
However:
I have a soft spot for foreigners that learned to speak English before arriving and making themselves useful to this country by marrying an American, having American children, and renouncing the citizenship of their previous nation. (Having a job in STEM also very helpful for my approval, but not mandatory.)
And I have a soft spot for foreigners that seek asylum and are granted asylum and learn to speak English before arrival or shortly after arrival. Hopefully, their children will be American, and their children’s children.
On a purely moral level I have a soft spot for actual migrants escaping cartel violence. Seeking economic reprieve is less noble morally, unless a family must be supported, and I have a moral soft spot for these people too, though it is still politically illegal. Politically, their own nation is failing them, and politically it is not America’s responsibility to take care of them. It is not America’s responsibility to take care of its own citizens either (though they are first in line if they do need assistance), but rather to protect and defend their God given rights.
American citizens are very lucky to be born in America because America was founded with these principles in mind, and traditionally upheld them. (This is why Americans are so generous. Prosperity helps.) The countries from which these migrants are escaping DO NOT protect their citizen’s natural rights. Generous Americans want to help them, but there is no feasible way to do so without causing harm to fellow Americans either by rising crime, rising taxes, etc.
The disintegration of a nation is very slow, and takes generations. For me, it doesn’t matter how useful a person can be, unless they are willing to sacrifice their citizenship, they shouldn’t be given citizenship. It’s all or nothing. That is how a country is preserved for future generations.
Until recently, most European nations enforced their borders and their culture. Then they took it too far, blew themselves up, and then they took it too far in the other direction.
That's no longer an excuse, and I have no sympathy for Europeans that come to America from nations with longstanding traditions of economic stability, ie since the end of the second world war, 70 years ago.
Stay in your own country! Make your own country great! Keep your culture and your problems to your own border! Don’t come to our country and make the competition more difficult for Americans, who already have to compete with one another for jobs!
America is not heaven. Competition for jobs still exists between average people. You fucking assholes.
I'm talking about Australians, Irish, English, Canadians especially. The ones I know that are single, young, come here on a Visa, stay for three years, then go back to Australia. It is nothing but a prolonged vacation. Why bother? They are just stealing a job that an American can otherwise work, and more so deserves to work because they were born in this country!
I’m not a ‘phobe, ok? I’m not afraid of foreigners. They are already here, in NY, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to live my life in fear, that's stupid.
Another question that I will not answer here is: why are there so many foreigners--people with accents from foreign places--working for the city in public unions? I have seen nationalities from Russians, Jamaicans, Bengali working as meter maids. Just asking...seems suspicious….
And:
Am I a hypocrite because my ancestors immigrated from Italy? No, and not just because I'd still be considered 'xenophobic' had I lived as an American at the time of their arrival.
They did it legally, and with the intention of becoming American by staying in America and starting a life in America for their future generations to continue to prosper and contribute to America so that their future generations could prosper and contribute etc.
And they did that. And thus I am a proud American that is threatened by new foreigners.
Threatened. Not afraid. Fear is weakness, and "phobias" are meant to make people with legitimate concern for their jobs--and nation--sound insane and unreasonable.
It’s not a phobia. It's contempt, ok? Contempt is a sin and I’m working on that. You happy now?
When I see foreigners I think “go the fuck back to your own country, you fucking asshole.You don’t belong here.”
That is my gut reaction to all foreigners. No matter their accent, their skin color, their religion, their ethnicity etc etc. This is especially true for Western Europeans or Austrailians.
However:
I have a soft spot for foreigners that learned to speak English before arriving and making themselves useful to this country by marrying an American, having American children, and renouncing the citizenship of their previous nation. (Having a job in STEM also very helpful for my approval, but not mandatory.)
And I have a soft spot for foreigners that seek asylum and are granted asylum and learn to speak English before arrival or shortly after arrival. Hopefully, their children will be American, and their children’s children.
On a purely moral level I have a soft spot for actual migrants escaping cartel violence. Seeking economic reprieve is less noble morally, unless a family must be supported, and I have a moral soft spot for these people too, though it is still politically illegal. Politically, their own nation is failing them, and politically it is not America’s responsibility to take care of them. It is not America’s responsibility to take care of its own citizens either (though they are first in line if they do need assistance), but rather to protect and defend their God given rights.
American citizens are very lucky to be born in America because America was founded with these principles in mind, and traditionally upheld them. (This is why Americans are so generous. Prosperity helps.) The countries from which these migrants are escaping DO NOT protect their citizen’s natural rights. Generous Americans want to help them, but there is no feasible way to do so without causing harm to fellow Americans either by rising crime, rising taxes, etc.
The disintegration of a nation is very slow, and takes generations. For me, it doesn’t matter how useful a person can be, unless they are willing to sacrifice their citizenship, they shouldn’t be given citizenship. It’s all or nothing. That is how a country is preserved for future generations.
Until recently, most European nations enforced their borders and their culture. Then they took it too far, blew themselves up, and then they took it too far in the other direction.
That's no longer an excuse, and I have no sympathy for Europeans that come to America from nations with longstanding traditions of economic stability, ie since the end of the second world war, 70 years ago.
Stay in your own country! Make your own country great! Keep your culture and your problems to your own border! Don’t come to our country and make the competition more difficult for Americans, who already have to compete with one another for jobs!
America is not heaven. Competition for jobs still exists between average people. You fucking assholes.
I'm talking about Australians, Irish, English, Canadians especially. The ones I know that are single, young, come here on a Visa, stay for three years, then go back to Australia. It is nothing but a prolonged vacation. Why bother? They are just stealing a job that an American can otherwise work, and more so deserves to work because they were born in this country!
I’m not a ‘phobe, ok? I’m not afraid of foreigners. They are already here, in NY, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to live my life in fear, that's stupid.
Another question that I will not answer here is: why are there so many foreigners--people with accents from foreign places--working for the city in public unions? I have seen nationalities from Russians, Jamaicans, Bengali working as meter maids. Just asking...seems suspicious….
And:
Am I a hypocrite because my ancestors immigrated from Italy? No, and not just because I'd still be considered 'xenophobic' had I lived as an American at the time of their arrival.
They did it legally, and with the intention of becoming American by staying in America and starting a life in America for their future generations to continue to prosper and contribute to America so that their future generations could prosper and contribute etc.
And they did that. And thus I am a proud American that is threatened by new foreigners.
Threatened. Not afraid. Fear is weakness, and "phobias" are meant to make people with legitimate concern for their jobs--and nation--sound insane and unreasonable.
It’s not a phobia. It's contempt, ok? Contempt is a sin and I’m working on that. You happy now?
Sunday, September 29, 2019
“Everyone’s Everything” Trailer Review
The trailer for the Terrence Malick directed documentary about Lil’ Peep’s life, meaninglessly titled “Everybody’s Everything,” came out a few hours ago.
Despite this blog’s title, I really don’t like being merciless. Sure, I’m a critic with opinions, but I hide behind a blog and a nom de plume because being merciless makes me very uncomfortable, especially when it comes to the dead.
That being said, it’s not like the following opinion would have ever reached Lil’ Peep, and if it did, he never would have listened, or heeded its warning. He would have listened to the clout-feeding idiots that he surrounded himself with.
I have some very strong feelings about the subject of Lil’ Peep for three reasons:
1) He died of an overdose
2) I was a fan of his music when he died
3) He reminds me of myself when I was younger
Basically...
Lil’ Peep convinced himself of his “depression” to sell his image and appeal to naive fans. He did not suffer from depression, but rather, pride. “Depression” was used as a shield to hide self-destructive and hedonistic tendencies from otherwise concerned figures in his life (his mother). The claim of “depression” gave him a “reason” to abuse drugs. The actual reason: he was addicted to pleasure and fame. He was possessed by demons.
Certain types of young people suffer from the contradiction of self-conscious pride—a big reason why this music scene is popular with introspective reject types. Fans were the fuel for this self destructive fire of his SnapChat life, where his unfortunate death was viewed publicly.
Lil’ Peep made catchy music with meaningless lyrics about sadness, living to drug and alcohol induced excess like the rock star he was becoming. The trailer shows Lil’ Peep, behind the scenes, in his own words: “I’m not a trained musician, I’m just good at speaking into a microphone.”
Agreed. He had a “good” voice, but no musical talent.
His career—unlike his face tattoos—were temporary, regardless of how successful he was in the moment.
“These songs are his true feelings,” says his manager. (Idiotic and contradictory lyrics written by a stoned 19 year old.)
It all makes sense to me now that it is way, way, way too late. Being a Lil’ Peep fan was like watching pornography: receiving enjoyment from a damaged person’s self destruction. This new documentary will show the real Lil’ Peep: some stupid kid with an untrained voice and face tattoos.
My fear is that this documentary will exalt Lil’ Peep as a tortured hero, like Kurt Cobain. He is not. His story is tragic for many different reasons, and it should be told as a warning against excessive drug use, fame and pride.
I hope, for Lil’ Peep’s soul, that God is merciful because Lil’ Peep lived and died like a jackass. His “depression” is not a good excuse in my merciless opinion. He really could have benefitted from having a father, just sayin’
If I see the doc, I’ll write a review.
Despite this blog’s title, I really don’t like being merciless. Sure, I’m a critic with opinions, but I hide behind a blog and a nom de plume because being merciless makes me very uncomfortable, especially when it comes to the dead.
That being said, it’s not like the following opinion would have ever reached Lil’ Peep, and if it did, he never would have listened, or heeded its warning. He would have listened to the clout-feeding idiots that he surrounded himself with.
I have some very strong feelings about the subject of Lil’ Peep for three reasons:
1) He died of an overdose
2) I was a fan of his music when he died
3) He reminds me of myself when I was younger
Basically...
Lil’ Peep convinced himself of his “depression” to sell his image and appeal to naive fans. He did not suffer from depression, but rather, pride. “Depression” was used as a shield to hide self-destructive and hedonistic tendencies from otherwise concerned figures in his life (his mother). The claim of “depression” gave him a “reason” to abuse drugs. The actual reason: he was addicted to pleasure and fame. He was possessed by demons.
Certain types of young people suffer from the contradiction of self-conscious pride—a big reason why this music scene is popular with introspective reject types. Fans were the fuel for this self destructive fire of his SnapChat life, where his unfortunate death was viewed publicly.
Lil’ Peep made catchy music with meaningless lyrics about sadness, living to drug and alcohol induced excess like the rock star he was becoming. The trailer shows Lil’ Peep, behind the scenes, in his own words: “I’m not a trained musician, I’m just good at speaking into a microphone.”
Agreed. He had a “good” voice, but no musical talent.
His career—unlike his face tattoos—were temporary, regardless of how successful he was in the moment.
“These songs are his true feelings,” says his manager. (Idiotic and contradictory lyrics written by a stoned 19 year old.)
It all makes sense to me now that it is way, way, way too late. Being a Lil’ Peep fan was like watching pornography: receiving enjoyment from a damaged person’s self destruction. This new documentary will show the real Lil’ Peep: some stupid kid with an untrained voice and face tattoos.
My fear is that this documentary will exalt Lil’ Peep as a tortured hero, like Kurt Cobain. He is not. His story is tragic for many different reasons, and it should be told as a warning against excessive drug use, fame and pride.
I hope, for Lil’ Peep’s soul, that God is merciful because Lil’ Peep lived and died like a jackass. His “depression” is not a good excuse in my merciless opinion. He really could have benefitted from having a father, just sayin’
If I see the doc, I’ll write a review.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Addiction-Possession Thoughts
An addict is possessed, and God can only save them through the will that he gave to them, once upon a time. The same will that the addict has slowly abandoned to his addiction.
Our physical bodies and our God given nature drives us in the direction of temptation. Our lives are a test that addicts are failing.
Our physical bodies and our God given nature drives us in the direction of temptation. Our lives are a test that addicts are failing.
Let me explain:
God created Adam and Eve. By giving them a will, God gave them the choice to sin, or not to sin. Adam and Eve disappointed God by sinning, disobeying him by eating the apple from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. This was called the fall.
After the fall, man lived naturally, as a sinner. God created us, and loves us in spite our sins. He wants us to do what is good for us, but he cannot do it for us. He gave us a will to do it ourselves.
Then, a woman named Mary lived perfectly. God chose her to carry his son, Christ Jesus. Christ was born, lived innocently and perfectly, taught God’s word, and was crucified for it. He suffered and died for the sins of man. (This basically means that man murdered the son of God because man is a sinner; man cannot be perfectly forgiving like God. Man sins. God does not. That is what separates us from God.)
We can embrace God and live like Mary and in Christ Jesus (Adam and Eve Version 2.0) and all the saints, or we can live in sin. God knows us and knows how difficult it is for us not to sin, but he is merciful. He doesn’t want us to sin, but he forgives us when we do (as long as we ask for it).
Because we are sinners by our nature, our physical bodies and physical minds are susceptible to the temptation of sin and pleasure. This earthly temptation is not without some deserved enjoyment, however. God knows that life is tough, especially after the fall. Earthly temptation is God’s test for our nature, just like it was for Adam and Eve, except that now, we have Christ Jesus to follow.
Like with Adam and Eve, temptation has a voice.
It can sound like our voice in our heads, but this is a demonic voice.
As children, we are innocent. Innocent souls are easier for demonic voices to prey upon, and our parents protect us if they are not preyed on—or fooled—by demonic voices themselves. Innocent souls do not yet suffer the consequences of frequent use of temptation. Their young bodies only know the pleasure of enjoyment.
Pleasure and enjoyment are not inherently sinful. For example, sex is an act of love and procreation, and extremely pleasurable. However, God has laws for sex's sacredness and our will and thirst for pleasure exclusively can help us to violate and ignore these laws. Though sex is beautiful, wonderful and meaningful, it can still be done in sin. It can be corrupted.
Temptation can corrupt anything. Thus is life before, and after, the fall.
This demonic voice begins covertly, as a subtle suggestion. One more drink couldn’t hurt, it says. One more really can’t hurt, the budding addict agrees, thinking he is agreeing with himself. He is pushing the limits his body has set for himself, and giving in to the temptation. More temporary pleasure.
The next time, the addict’s body has a higher tolerance. The demon suggests more alcohol, to feel the same pleasure they felt the first time.
The demon is a reverse salesman. He wants the addict to seek him his soul. The more an addict drinks, the more their body craves, the more of their soul they sell to the demon.
Necessities of life (sex and food) can be pleasurable, and demons latch onto thee necessities and invade the minds of men—naturally susceptible to sin—and tempt them into indulgence.
Selling a soul isn’t like selling a car. It takes 'demonyears' to successfully “buy” a soul from an unsuspecting addict. In the meantime, the addict is giving the demon years of their temporary life on Earth to feed the addiction that the demon has tempted him with.
When an addict tries to stop their addiction, they malfunction. They are trapped by the demonic voices in their head. The voices that incessantly suggest partaking in the temptation. That is the only way to quell the voices. The body doesn’t help either; the body knows the pleasure of the temptation, and influences the mind. A demon trained addict will resort to the temptation of substance abuse during any times of weakness. Their soul has been sold for the temporary pleasure of the substance.
An addict becomes fully possessed when think they cannot live without their addiction. Their mind—when it is not afflicted with the temptation—becomes a swirl of voices incessantly suggesting pain relief by substance consumption. They become a slave to the substance in their temporary life on Earth. The demons have made another sale to the devil in the afterlife.
Man can seek forgiveness from God, and remember to use his will to avoid temptation, even in moments of weakness. He can take inspiration from the saints and live virtuously. The addiction has sapped the strength of his will, but his will has the potential to be as strong as God’s if he accepts it...
Demons exist everywhere, but God is inherent in our conscience. Our conscience is our first tool for resisting demonic possession.
God created Adam and Eve. By giving them a will, God gave them the choice to sin, or not to sin. Adam and Eve disappointed God by sinning, disobeying him by eating the apple from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. This was called the fall.
After the fall, man lived naturally, as a sinner. God created us, and loves us in spite our sins. He wants us to do what is good for us, but he cannot do it for us. He gave us a will to do it ourselves.
Then, a woman named Mary lived perfectly. God chose her to carry his son, Christ Jesus. Christ was born, lived innocently and perfectly, taught God’s word, and was crucified for it. He suffered and died for the sins of man. (This basically means that man murdered the son of God because man is a sinner; man cannot be perfectly forgiving like God. Man sins. God does not. That is what separates us from God.)
We can embrace God and live like Mary and in Christ Jesus (Adam and Eve Version 2.0) and all the saints, or we can live in sin. God knows us and knows how difficult it is for us not to sin, but he is merciful. He doesn’t want us to sin, but he forgives us when we do (as long as we ask for it).
Because we are sinners by our nature, our physical bodies and physical minds are susceptible to the temptation of sin and pleasure. This earthly temptation is not without some deserved enjoyment, however. God knows that life is tough, especially after the fall. Earthly temptation is God’s test for our nature, just like it was for Adam and Eve, except that now, we have Christ Jesus to follow.
Like with Adam and Eve, temptation has a voice.
It can sound like our voice in our heads, but this is a demonic voice.
As children, we are innocent. Innocent souls are easier for demonic voices to prey upon, and our parents protect us if they are not preyed on—or fooled—by demonic voices themselves. Innocent souls do not yet suffer the consequences of frequent use of temptation. Their young bodies only know the pleasure of enjoyment.
Pleasure and enjoyment are not inherently sinful. For example, sex is an act of love and procreation, and extremely pleasurable. However, God has laws for sex's sacredness and our will and thirst for pleasure exclusively can help us to violate and ignore these laws. Though sex is beautiful, wonderful and meaningful, it can still be done in sin. It can be corrupted.
Temptation can corrupt anything. Thus is life before, and after, the fall.
This demonic voice begins covertly, as a subtle suggestion. One more drink couldn’t hurt, it says. One more really can’t hurt, the budding addict agrees, thinking he is agreeing with himself. He is pushing the limits his body has set for himself, and giving in to the temptation. More temporary pleasure.
The next time, the addict’s body has a higher tolerance. The demon suggests more alcohol, to feel the same pleasure they felt the first time.
The demon is a reverse salesman. He wants the addict to seek him his soul. The more an addict drinks, the more their body craves, the more of their soul they sell to the demon.
Necessities of life (sex and food) can be pleasurable, and demons latch onto thee necessities and invade the minds of men—naturally susceptible to sin—and tempt them into indulgence.
Selling a soul isn’t like selling a car. It takes 'demonyears' to successfully “buy” a soul from an unsuspecting addict. In the meantime, the addict is giving the demon years of their temporary life on Earth to feed the addiction that the demon has tempted him with.
When an addict tries to stop their addiction, they malfunction. They are trapped by the demonic voices in their head. The voices that incessantly suggest partaking in the temptation. That is the only way to quell the voices. The body doesn’t help either; the body knows the pleasure of the temptation, and influences the mind. A demon trained addict will resort to the temptation of substance abuse during any times of weakness. Their soul has been sold for the temporary pleasure of the substance.
An addict becomes fully possessed when think they cannot live without their addiction. Their mind—when it is not afflicted with the temptation—becomes a swirl of voices incessantly suggesting pain relief by substance consumption. They become a slave to the substance in their temporary life on Earth. The demons have made another sale to the devil in the afterlife.
Man can seek forgiveness from God, and remember to use his will to avoid temptation, even in moments of weakness. He can take inspiration from the saints and live virtuously. The addiction has sapped the strength of his will, but his will has the potential to be as strong as God’s if he accepts it...
Demons exist everywhere, but God is inherent in our conscience. Our conscience is our first tool for resisting demonic possession.
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Rooftop Reading Review
Bud tweeted the address and start time of the reading. I happened to see it and decided to attend because it was a 20 minute walk from my apartment.
I knew from the previous reading I attended on this rooftop—16 months prior—to arrive an hour late. When I arrived, the rooftop resembled a party without any music or dancing: clustered groups were presumably talking about mutual people they each knew.
Within 10 minutes of staring off the roof down at the neighborhood where I made my life’s biggest mistakes the reading began. Bud introduced himself and thanked everyone for coming. One by one people started to sit on the rooftop. When I was the last one standing in the back, I also decided to sit.
There would be six readers tonight, each an alumni of the 6 week writing workshop Bud ran in his Jersey City apartment. I had no expectations because I didn’t recognize any of the readers. The last time I attended this Rooftop Reading it was with the intention of meeting Sam Pink, and buying his new book.
Since then, Bud Smith has risen to de facto boss of this new lit genre, taking the reigns of significance from the published sell-out and originator of defunct “Alt Lit,” Tao Lin.
Bud Smith is self taught, and worked (works?) heavy construction, so he isn’t some soft, introspective liberal arts educated patsy. (Maybe his writing is.) He has a respectable ratio of followers on twitter and writes a long weekly essay (about his life) for Hobart Pulp, a website I don’t read. I liked his “novel” Work. I would consider reading it again, its short enough.
He is older than this new crowd of Tao Lin and Megan Boyle wannabes, and is like a supportive father figure of whatever is left of this “movement." He knows he has clout, and says nice, vague and necessary things about all of the readers, like “She is honestly one of my favorite writers. She hosts one of the best reading groups, definitely check it out.” (I will, if they ever respond to my email.) Meaningless, but well meaning. I can't blame him, what else is there to say?
The first reader read stories about food and what she thinks about it. It was funny-ish, and I chuckled a little, but it was nothing I hadn’t heard from other writers, or myself.
I knew from the previous reading I attended on this rooftop—16 months prior—to arrive an hour late. When I arrived, the rooftop resembled a party without any music or dancing: clustered groups were presumably talking about mutual people they each knew.
Within 10 minutes of staring off the roof down at the neighborhood where I made my life’s biggest mistakes the reading began. Bud introduced himself and thanked everyone for coming. One by one people started to sit on the rooftop. When I was the last one standing in the back, I also decided to sit.
There would be six readers tonight, each an alumni of the 6 week writing workshop Bud ran in his Jersey City apartment. I had no expectations because I didn’t recognize any of the readers. The last time I attended this Rooftop Reading it was with the intention of meeting Sam Pink, and buying his new book.
Since then, Bud Smith has risen to de facto boss of this new lit genre, taking the reigns of significance from the published sell-out and originator of defunct “Alt Lit,” Tao Lin.
Bud Smith is self taught, and worked (works?) heavy construction, so he isn’t some soft, introspective liberal arts educated patsy. (Maybe his writing is.) He has a respectable ratio of followers on twitter and writes a long weekly essay (about his life) for Hobart Pulp, a website I don’t read. I liked his “novel” Work. I would consider reading it again, its short enough.
He is older than this new crowd of Tao Lin and Megan Boyle wannabes, and is like a supportive father figure of whatever is left of this “movement." He knows he has clout, and says nice, vague and necessary things about all of the readers, like “She is honestly one of my favorite writers. She hosts one of the best reading groups, definitely check it out.” (I will, if they ever respond to my email.) Meaningless, but well meaning. I can't blame him, what else is there to say?
The first reader read stories about food and what she thinks about it. It was funny-ish, and I chuckled a little, but it was nothing I hadn’t heard from other writers, or myself.
The second reader, Shy Watson, a poet, wasn’t accustomed to reading longer fiction. Her piece was “20 pages, double spaced.” She self-consciously asked the audience to tell her if they wanted her to stop before the story ended.
“No, it’s good!” Someone shouted.
“Keep reading!” Shouted someone else.
“It’s awesome, I love it!” Said Bud.
Her story was about going to visit her ex-boyfriend in Philadelphia over the summer while he was working the Liberty Bell and in a band. It was cute in a forgettable way. It reminded me of the things I used to do and think way back when I also thought they were cool.
She stopped reading abruptly, shortly after she took us out of her self conscious story with her live self consciousness. Everyone clapped, and Bud thanked her for reading.
Some guy read next, and there were some planes going overhead so I couldn’t hear all of the story, but I also didn’t feel like I was missing anything. He went on vacation somewhere with his girlfriend maybe, and there was a boat called Petty Cash. It was also cute, in a quirky hipster way.
They decided to take a break, and I decided to leave. Nothing personal. I got what I wanted: my competitive spirit back.
My problem with the reading was not just that all of the stories sounded the same. They were the same. If I choose to read a memoir, it is to learn life lessons from someone who very different from anyone I know, and has accomplished much more. For example, disagree with the politics of George H.W. Bush, but that man lived an amazing life of accomplishment and his memoirs would be worth reading.
I am no longer interested in hearing the word ‘semester’ in fiction. I am no longer interested in hearing people talk about parties, or shows. I am no longer interested in cute quirk from cute quirks.
I looked at my stories (not my diary) from the fresh perspective of time, and decided to seek an audience. My stories were not a rehash of my dull lived experiences, made quirky and cute for a quirky and cute audience of hipsters. I don’t know what my stories were, but I proudly admitted that they weren’t about me. (Though they were for me.)
There was a rollerblading rapper on the sidewalk in front of the Popeyes. I’d seen him on my way to the reading, and ignored him. On my way back he got my attention with a hook about spaghetti. He hadn’t stopped rapping in the hour I was at the reading. Talk about endurance.
@paperboytheprince elicited legitimate laughter, so I tipped him $5 because he was worth it.
She stopped reading abruptly, shortly after she took us out of her self conscious story with her live self consciousness. Everyone clapped, and Bud thanked her for reading.
Some guy read next, and there were some planes going overhead so I couldn’t hear all of the story, but I also didn’t feel like I was missing anything. He went on vacation somewhere with his girlfriend maybe, and there was a boat called Petty Cash. It was also cute, in a quirky hipster way.
They decided to take a break, and I decided to leave. Nothing personal. I got what I wanted: my competitive spirit back.
My problem with the reading was not just that all of the stories sounded the same. They were the same. If I choose to read a memoir, it is to learn life lessons from someone who very different from anyone I know, and has accomplished much more. For example, disagree with the politics of George H.W. Bush, but that man lived an amazing life of accomplishment and his memoirs would be worth reading.
I am no longer interested in hearing the word ‘semester’ in fiction. I am no longer interested in hearing people talk about parties, or shows. I am no longer interested in cute quirk from cute quirks.
I looked at my stories (not my diary) from the fresh perspective of time, and decided to seek an audience. My stories were not a rehash of my dull lived experiences, made quirky and cute for a quirky and cute audience of hipsters. I don’t know what my stories were, but I proudly admitted that they weren’t about me. (Though they were for me.)
There was a rollerblading rapper on the sidewalk in front of the Popeyes. I’d seen him on my way to the reading, and ignored him. On my way back he got my attention with a hook about spaghetti. He hadn’t stopped rapping in the hour I was at the reading. Talk about endurance.
@paperboytheprince elicited legitimate laughter, so I tipped him $5 because he was worth it.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
The Utopia Question
Sometimes, when talking about politics, a novice will ask me what laws I would enact to create my Utopia.
This is a novice's question because the premise begins as an impossibility; it is a bludgeon for pinpointing disagreement, and anyone seriously considering the topic of Utopia after living in nature for five minutes should understand it's pointlessness.
A human cannot 'design' a Utopia because a human is flawed and can never create a 'perfect society.' To create a utopia a designer must be perfect and intelligent: God. (Utopia already exists by the way, and it is called Heaven. Because of nature, it can never exist in this reality.)
Truthfully, my answer is a cop out:
In my perfect world the law wouldn't matter because people would behave in respect to the Natural Law; thus, man made laws would be unnecessary to create or enforce.
Ok, let's say that people are going to behave like regular people in this Utopia. Sometimes they will break the law. What laws would you enact to create this Utopia?
1.This is not Utopia
2.Natural Law
It wasn't my law, and will never be a law of my creation because I didn't design creation. It is God's law. I can't ever create laws that are more perfect than God's, who designed our very bodies to follow His law.
By nature man violates God's Natural Law with sin, and therefore, man can never create a utopia. Asking the utopia question is a flaw in itself.
Any law I would create under the inspiration of Natural Law would be tyrannical to somebody's free will somewhere, and therefore my Utopia would become tyrannical--and not utopia--because it wouldn't be "perfect" for everybody. Utopia is supposed to be perfect for everyone. It cannot exist so long as sin exists. It isn't worth talking about politically because politics is about governing what does exist in reality.
We couldn't learn to love each other's differences in a Utopia anyway. That is the exact purpose for the type of non-utopian existence God gave us.
This is a novice's question because the premise begins as an impossibility; it is a bludgeon for pinpointing disagreement, and anyone seriously considering the topic of Utopia after living in nature for five minutes should understand it's pointlessness.
A human cannot 'design' a Utopia because a human is flawed and can never create a 'perfect society.' To create a utopia a designer must be perfect and intelligent: God. (Utopia already exists by the way, and it is called Heaven. Because of nature, it can never exist in this reality.)
Truthfully, my answer is a cop out:
In my perfect world the law wouldn't matter because people would behave in respect to the Natural Law; thus, man made laws would be unnecessary to create or enforce.
Ok, let's say that people are going to behave like regular people in this Utopia. Sometimes they will break the law. What laws would you enact to create this Utopia?
1.This is not Utopia
2.Natural Law
It wasn't my law, and will never be a law of my creation because I didn't design creation. It is God's law. I can't ever create laws that are more perfect than God's, who designed our very bodies to follow His law.
By nature man violates God's Natural Law with sin, and therefore, man can never create a utopia. Asking the utopia question is a flaw in itself.
Any law I would create under the inspiration of Natural Law would be tyrannical to somebody's free will somewhere, and therefore my Utopia would become tyrannical--and not utopia--because it wouldn't be "perfect" for everybody. Utopia is supposed to be perfect for everyone. It cannot exist so long as sin exists. It isn't worth talking about politically because politics is about governing what does exist in reality.
We couldn't learn to love each other's differences in a Utopia anyway. That is the exact purpose for the type of non-utopian existence God gave us.
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
some thoughts on Personality, Behavior, Emotions
Psychology is not a discipline that necessarily needs to be studied in the classroom; it can be understood given enough retrospective interaction with many different kinds of people. Without getting too personal, what follows is my attempt at understanding the impact of emotions on personality types.
Only behavior changes, not personality. An introverted child that is very shy can learn to overcome their shyness by adulthood, and introduce themselves to strangers. Though it still might make them uncomfortable, this is natural maturation: practicing good social behavior, despite lingering feelings of slight unease.
A combination of time, experience and effective parenting can change behavior, even if the personality trait (shyness) remains the same.
Habitual behavior is a little harder to change, and requires the ability of the individual to first acknowledge their bad habit, and then train themselves out of it. Other people can help, but the onus is on the person with the bad habit.
With work, patience and time, a bad habit can change, but a personality will always remain the same. The same temptations will always trigger that personality. With habitual training each unique personality has individual tools to resist those bad habits.
Emotionally inspired actions are controllable, even when we feel like they control us. Emotional distress fades as emotions fade and fluctuate—-with time. Negative emotions eventually fade allowing people to stabilize their moods and function again.
Only behavior changes, not personality. An introverted child that is very shy can learn to overcome their shyness by adulthood, and introduce themselves to strangers. Though it still might make them uncomfortable, this is natural maturation: practicing good social behavior, despite lingering feelings of slight unease.
A combination of time, experience and effective parenting can change behavior, even if the personality trait (shyness) remains the same.
Habitual behavior is a little harder to change, and requires the ability of the individual to first acknowledge their bad habit, and then train themselves out of it. Other people can help, but the onus is on the person with the bad habit.
With work, patience and time, a bad habit can change, but a personality will always remain the same. The same temptations will always trigger that personality. With habitual training each unique personality has individual tools to resist those bad habits.
Emotionally inspired actions are controllable, even when we feel like they control us. Emotional distress fades as emotions fade and fluctuate—-with time. Negative emotions eventually fade allowing people to stabilize their moods and function again.
A person can still be reminded of emotional distress, and that can cause emotions to rise unpredictably. How and what causes these emotions to rise within us is due to personality.
People with personality disorders might need the help of prescriptions that can help to emotionally stabilize them. Medication mutes the voices of paranoia, suicide, depression...thoughts that average people might only ever experience emotionally, ie not seriously ie in passing due to extremely emotional events, not everyday experiences.
Otherwise sane people can become overwhelmed by their emotions and commit rash, illogical, sometimes violent acts called 'Crimes of Passion.’
Example:
I normally wouldn't murder another man unless I was physically attacked or defending someone I love. But—if I discovered my girlfriend cheating on me, I could understand the wellspring of emotions that could cause me to murder the man she cheated on me with, in addition to breaking up with her. My emotions would have clouded my better judgement, and I would have committed a horrific crime that would destroy families and lives. I would know that I was committing a horrific crime while I was doing it, but I could not ‘control’ my passion. Thankfully, I do not suffer from personality disorder; I suffer from heartbreak and betrayal. In the moment, heartbreak and betrayal can inspire overwhelming emotions, influencing behavior that an average person understands to be hurtful and wrong. Yet even they feel powerless to stop it in moments of emotional crisis.
Example:
I normally wouldn't murder another man unless I was physically attacked or defending someone I love. But—if I discovered my girlfriend cheating on me, I could understand the wellspring of emotions that could cause me to murder the man she cheated on me with, in addition to breaking up with her. My emotions would have clouded my better judgement, and I would have committed a horrific crime that would destroy families and lives. I would know that I was committing a horrific crime while I was doing it, but I could not ‘control’ my passion. Thankfully, I do not suffer from personality disorder; I suffer from heartbreak and betrayal. In the moment, heartbreak and betrayal can inspire overwhelming emotions, influencing behavior that an average person understands to be hurtful and wrong. Yet even they feel powerless to stop it in moments of emotional crisis.
Only time can differentiate between disturbed personality behavior and disturbed emotional behavior. One is incessant, the other is temporary, even if it lasts for weeks.
Psychiatrists step in to diagnose (and medicate) those people with personality disorders who suffer from more than temporary emotional distress. It is only not bullshit when psychiatrists are helping people to better understand and cope with the symptoms of their disorder.
However! This doesn't give mentally unstable people an excuse to behave like an asshole and hide behind their pathology...Unless they have low functioning autism and don’t recognize social norms.
A personality disorder is pathological, and it might change with work over time, and medication, though there is always the chance that a person’s “demons” will resurface as what triggers their negative emotions are what makes them unstable. But behavior can change. A person might see how their behavior disturbs others, and make the effort to change for themselves and their loved ones in spite of their triggers. This takes time and patience on behalf of the person and their loved ones, and is a lifelong effort, like dealing with addiction.
Even balanced people are susceptible to the push and pull of emotions. Emotions can make them feel weak, and in their weakness they can resort to substance abuse to quickly ease the pain and fill the void. Likewise, people with personality disorders can also turn to substance abuse to silence the voices in their heads.
People with disordered personalities don’t have to have disordered behavior, and people with ordered, yet still flawed, personalities don’t have to have ordered behavior. In any case, it is vastly important to love and appreciate the people that are there to support you through emotionally trying times.
Monday, September 9, 2019
Old Blog Thoughts
I once had a blog that I started for the same reasons as this one: to help me better remember the key points of topics I had a casual interest in, and to express my opinions of those topics.
That initial purpose faded as the drama of my life became a more interesting topic. As much as I tried, I could not be as interested by news about people I didn't know in places I never went than by what affected me personally. Personal disturbances linger and demand reflection. News stories inspire flashes of outrage. I believe that the more news a person consumes the more outrage metastasizes in a combination of activism, or hatred.
But I digress. Girlfriends and jobs can cause stress. I needed a place to process that stress, and my old blog became a diary that was updated frequently with these processes.
The old blog was public until it was only diary and had to be hidden to protect myself and the people I wrote about. The posts were too personal for 'public' consumption.
I aired out my deepest, most personal thoughts on that blog during periods of emotional upheaval, then slowly stopped updating it a few months ago to give myself space from the thoughts of my life. I tried silent reflection.
Having had some time away from my past to focus on the present has made my old blog useful in deciphering my thoughts of the events of my immediate past. At first I was reluctant to be blunt. It was not supposed to be a diary. The bluntness was useful. I can now see some wrongness in those posts that I couldn't see while I was writing them because: Time + Honesty = Clarity
Using recent insights, I noticed some negative thought patterns in the old entries. To begin writing an entry I needed to be dissatisfied with myself for not writing first. Almost every entry would start with self dissatisfaction and self disappointment. Then I would use that new motivation to write about the topic that I liked/disliked, usually further developing an argument following a contentious disagreement with someone. (Sound familiar?) I would end by making empty promises to change my habits, not make the desired changes, and start the next entry with the same narcissistic disappointment.
I complained about myself and was disappointed in myself in some new way in every entry because I wanted to improve myself. Hahahaha! By those same standards I would be SO disappointed in my present day-to-day! I have less possessions today than I did last year! And waste my time 10x more!! Even after everything, I didn't know how to appreciate what I did have. I needed to be humbled more.
Reading through these old memories reminded me of my forgotten thought processes and forgotten obsessions. You know, the ones that are so frequent for a short period of time that they run in the background. These processes change little by little until they are gone, replaced by new thought patterns that seem innate. Time, honest documentation and reading theology helped give me the resources to read between the lines of my diaries.
Asking myself the right questions was one of the answers:
Have I stopped caring about myself or have I stopped nitpicking myself? Why did God allow me to suffer? I will always have problems, how does my thinking help me solve these problems?
Obviously I can't read my future diary...only living in the present having learned from the past can give me the clues to the future, as only good actions in the present can create my future.
Therefore, I have to focus and work on the things that make my life instead of destroying what I built and starting over. Patience is a virtue and pride is a creep.
Deciphering my life's history from my present point of view inflicts good pain, thoughtful pain, hopeful pain. That's a good reason to write a diary, and a good reason to take a break.
That initial purpose faded as the drama of my life became a more interesting topic. As much as I tried, I could not be as interested by news about people I didn't know in places I never went than by what affected me personally. Personal disturbances linger and demand reflection. News stories inspire flashes of outrage. I believe that the more news a person consumes the more outrage metastasizes in a combination of activism, or hatred.
But I digress. Girlfriends and jobs can cause stress. I needed a place to process that stress, and my old blog became a diary that was updated frequently with these processes.
The old blog was public until it was only diary and had to be hidden to protect myself and the people I wrote about. The posts were too personal for 'public' consumption.
I aired out my deepest, most personal thoughts on that blog during periods of emotional upheaval, then slowly stopped updating it a few months ago to give myself space from the thoughts of my life. I tried silent reflection.
Having had some time away from my past to focus on the present has made my old blog useful in deciphering my thoughts of the events of my immediate past. At first I was reluctant to be blunt. It was not supposed to be a diary. The bluntness was useful. I can now see some wrongness in those posts that I couldn't see while I was writing them because: Time + Honesty = Clarity
Using recent insights, I noticed some negative thought patterns in the old entries. To begin writing an entry I needed to be dissatisfied with myself for not writing first. Almost every entry would start with self dissatisfaction and self disappointment. Then I would use that new motivation to write about the topic that I liked/disliked, usually further developing an argument following a contentious disagreement with someone. (Sound familiar?) I would end by making empty promises to change my habits, not make the desired changes, and start the next entry with the same narcissistic disappointment.
I complained about myself and was disappointed in myself in some new way in every entry because I wanted to improve myself. Hahahaha! By those same standards I would be SO disappointed in my present day-to-day! I have less possessions today than I did last year! And waste my time 10x more!! Even after everything, I didn't know how to appreciate what I did have. I needed to be humbled more.
Reading through these old memories reminded me of my forgotten thought processes and forgotten obsessions. You know, the ones that are so frequent for a short period of time that they run in the background. These processes change little by little until they are gone, replaced by new thought patterns that seem innate. Time, honest documentation and reading theology helped give me the resources to read between the lines of my diaries.
Asking myself the right questions was one of the answers:
Have I stopped caring about myself or have I stopped nitpicking myself? Why did God allow me to suffer? I will always have problems, how does my thinking help me solve these problems?
Obviously I can't read my future diary...only living in the present having learned from the past can give me the clues to the future, as only good actions in the present can create my future.
Therefore, I have to focus and work on the things that make my life instead of destroying what I built and starting over. Patience is a virtue and pride is a creep.
Deciphering my life's history from my present point of view inflicts good pain, thoughtful pain, hopeful pain. That's a good reason to write a diary, and a good reason to take a break.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
Unsolicited Advice: Should I give an ultimatum?
DEAR AMY,
I have been seeing my boyfriend for nine months. We are middle-aged, and are talking about building a life together.
When we met, he told me that he has remained good friends with all of his ex-girlfriends.
He dated his most recent ex for a year (they broke up a year before we met), but they were close friends for a decade before that.
She is probably his closest friend. The problem is that she refuses to meet me, or to include me in any social activities they engage in. She has since admitted to my boyfriend that she wants him back. He has made it clear to her that that wouldn’t happen, but he doesn’t want to lose her friendship.
He keeps asking me to be patient with the situation, and that it will hopefully resolve itself, but from my perspective, the resentment (definitely on my side, and probably on hers, too) is just growing by the day.
He has been open and honest with me about everything regarding her, and I trust him, but the situation feels unbearable to me at this stage. He refuses to let the friendship go. Is it time for me to make an ultimatum, or am I overreacting?
Frustrated Current GF
He doesn’t want to “lose her friendship” because he likes the attention. He likes feeling desired by multiple women. There is no other reason to stay friends with an ex-girlfriend that still loves you while denying her that love in return. He does it for his ego.
She shouldn’t be his closest friend because you are his closest friend. She is jealous of your relationship with him because she wants a relationship with him. He knows he cannot have two relationships simultaneously, but he can have one-and-a-half.
You feel resentment because this ex-girlfriend is threatening your relationship. If he really cares for you and loves you, there is nothing more important than you. Certainly not extraneous friendships with ex-girlfriends. He is doing her no favors by remaining friends with her either. She will never move on.
You are not overreacting. It feels unbearable to you for a good reason. Tell him how this unnecessary friendship is making you feel. He might be empathetic and mature, and won’t need an ultimatum.
DEAR AMY:
Six weeks ago we invited our adult married son and his wife to a special ticketed event. I asked my son three different times before I made the purchase: “Are you sure you can and will go?” He and his wife both said, “Yes, we will go. We said we would go, and we will go.”
So I bought the expensive tickets (great seats) four nonrefundable tickets in all for $340.
Then I get a phone call from my son, who told me that they were not going. He told me it’s “not their thing” and that the event interfered with their three-day weekend (we had also discussed that before we purchased the tickets).
He told us to invite someone else.My son said he would be mailing the tickets back to us.
I told them it was not my job to try to resell these tickets or invite another couple. I told him I expected them to pay us $160.
I mailed their two tickets to them and sent them a bill for $160.
Why should we get stiffed?
I said, “OK, we can’t make you do the right thing.”
Were we out of line?Upset Parent
No. Your son is a flaky asshole. It doesn’t matter if in retrospect it is “not their thing.” (How petty!) They said they would attend. Then you bought tickets for them. Reselling the tickets they bought with your money is their responsibility.
You can’t make him do the right thing, but it’s a shame that he doesn’t know what the right thing is.
Friday, September 6, 2019
Chicken Conspiracy
A friend asked me if I’d heard about ‘The Sandwich’ yet.
How ominous! How portentous! How intriguing! Was ‘The Sandwich’ an end times prophecy? Or the source of Bio Terror? Or both?!
“What sandwich?” I asked, incredulous.
“The chicken sandwich!” She was trolling me now.
“What chicken sandwich?”
“The Popeyes chicken sandwich!! Have you really not heard anything about it?!”
No. I hadn’t heard a thing about it, other than it’s apparent existence by some popular YouTube food reviewers, whose suggested videos I ignored. ‘The Sandwich’ was just a sandwich to me—certainly not newsworthy. As a devoted Popeyes fanatic, it was certainly not worthy of the press release I received in my email.
Chicken sandwiches will never be the fun project that is eating chicken off the bone. They are delicious, project free food, and therefore not interesting. I prefer to fight for my morsels, and bones put up the best fight. Then you can dominate the bines by eating them.
That aside, my friend does not care about Popeyes the way she thinks that I care about it—I would never visit Popeyes for ‘The Sandwich’; I visit Popeyes for the value. (And The Chicken. With The Bones.) She cares for drama more than she cares for Popeyes. And oh was there drama: ‘The Sandwich’ was sold out everywhere.
As a lover of food gimmicks, hype alone should not be enough of a reason for any sandwich to become memetic. Take Starbuck’s Unicorn Frappuccino. It too was sold out everywhere, for a very good reason: it was awful. People (like me) wanted to experience why, before it was permanently discontinued, earning itself legendary status.
There was no gimmick associated with The Sandwich, and therefore no good reason for it to be sold out everywhere. In my expert opinion there can be no gimmick for a mere chicken sandwich; the few items that make it uniquely delicious (jalapeños, bacon, mayo etc) are canon. An attempt must be made to make it disgusting. Like a cinnamon sugar flavored filet.
As a fan, I never had a desire for a Popeyes sandwich, and therefore never noticed one missing from the Popeyes menu. Was The Sandwich a precedent for Popeyes, an establishment respected for its bone chicken? Was that the real reason for all the non-fan hype? It was too far a stretch. I eyed it suspiciously.
Chicken sandwiches, even from Popeyes, are not special. They can be found anywhere. Though a maker of great chicken, Popeyes does not have the same reputation that Chick-fil-A enjoys. Despite a portion of the public disagreeing with their religious viewpoint of homosexuality, the same public cannot resist purchasing their chicken sandwich. Chick-fil-A’s reputation for Chicken Sandwiches is almost as immaculate as Mary.
Mary is not hype, like the Chick-fil-A Chicken Sandwich (or all chicken sandwiches). She is real.
How ominous! How portentous! How intriguing! Was ‘The Sandwich’ an end times prophecy? Or the source of Bio Terror? Or both?!
“What sandwich?” I asked, incredulous.
“The chicken sandwich!” She was trolling me now.
“What chicken sandwich?”
“The Popeyes chicken sandwich!! Have you really not heard anything about it?!”
No. I hadn’t heard a thing about it, other than it’s apparent existence by some popular YouTube food reviewers, whose suggested videos I ignored. ‘The Sandwich’ was just a sandwich to me—certainly not newsworthy. As a devoted Popeyes fanatic, it was certainly not worthy of the press release I received in my email.
Chicken sandwiches will never be the fun project that is eating chicken off the bone. They are delicious, project free food, and therefore not interesting. I prefer to fight for my morsels, and bones put up the best fight. Then you can dominate the bines by eating them.
That aside, my friend does not care about Popeyes the way she thinks that I care about it—I would never visit Popeyes for ‘The Sandwich’; I visit Popeyes for the value. (And The Chicken. With The Bones.) She cares for drama more than she cares for Popeyes. And oh was there drama: ‘The Sandwich’ was sold out everywhere.
As a lover of food gimmicks, hype alone should not be enough of a reason for any sandwich to become memetic. Take Starbuck’s Unicorn Frappuccino. It too was sold out everywhere, for a very good reason: it was awful. People (like me) wanted to experience why, before it was permanently discontinued, earning itself legendary status.
There was no gimmick associated with The Sandwich, and therefore no good reason for it to be sold out everywhere. In my expert opinion there can be no gimmick for a mere chicken sandwich; the few items that make it uniquely delicious (jalapeños, bacon, mayo etc) are canon. An attempt must be made to make it disgusting. Like a cinnamon sugar flavored filet.
As a fan, I never had a desire for a Popeyes sandwich, and therefore never noticed one missing from the Popeyes menu. Was The Sandwich a precedent for Popeyes, an establishment respected for its bone chicken? Was that the real reason for all the non-fan hype? It was too far a stretch. I eyed it suspiciously.
Chicken sandwiches, even from Popeyes, are not special. They can be found anywhere. Though a maker of great chicken, Popeyes does not have the same reputation that Chick-fil-A enjoys. Despite a portion of the public disagreeing with their religious viewpoint of homosexuality, the same public cannot resist purchasing their chicken sandwich. Chick-fil-A’s reputation for Chicken Sandwiches is almost as immaculate as Mary.
Mary is not hype, like the Chick-fil-A Chicken Sandwich (or all chicken sandwiches). She is real.
On my evening run I passed a Popeyes with a very long line. In the window was a clever ad featuring an empty Popeyes basket with breadcrumbs with the clever quip (Be Right Back!) clearly paying homage to the faux popularity of The Sandwich. I love Popeyes but this ad was too smarmy for me.
The missing sandwich was no longer a controversy, but a conspiracy: There never was a Popeyes Chicken Sandwich.
Without a helpful controversy to spark similar Chick-fil-A sandwich profits, Popeyes could not reasonably compete for a slice of the Chicken Sandwich market. Instead they expertly manufactured a conspiracy.
Bone-in chicken is a fan favorite, not an everyone favorite. Popeyes made its version of an everyone favorite—The Sandwich—with a marketing twist. How do you make everyone crave something? Make it unavailable. As such, the Popeyes chicken sandwich became internet newsworthy for being “sold out” everywhere.
The Sandwich that never existed was created and sent to social media trendsetters to stir the hype pot. They all lied about how they “went to the store to buy the sandwich.” Popeyes probably sold a few sandwiches to a few normal customers for show, but they did not “sell out.”
The problem was never that they sold out of the sandwich. That was the Popeyes solution to the age old sales question: how do we appeal to the normal person enough to get them in the door? Once they are in the door ready to purchase normal sandwich food Popeyes conveniently doesn’t have any more of the product the new customer wants, forcing them to order from the classic menu. Only hardcore customers will leave empty handed.
The new marketing game is trying to entice casual customers to try a “new” (old) product. Toppings are no longer creative, they are meaningless.
There never was a chicken sandwich. There will be now. In the minds and hearts of the people who never got to try one, it has become a temporary legend...a memetic legend...only in the age of the Internet such legends not only exist, sadly, they are common...
The missing sandwich was no longer a controversy, but a conspiracy: There never was a Popeyes Chicken Sandwich.
Without a helpful controversy to spark similar Chick-fil-A sandwich profits, Popeyes could not reasonably compete for a slice of the Chicken Sandwich market. Instead they expertly manufactured a conspiracy.
Bone-in chicken is a fan favorite, not an everyone favorite. Popeyes made its version of an everyone favorite—The Sandwich—with a marketing twist. How do you make everyone crave something? Make it unavailable. As such, the Popeyes chicken sandwich became internet newsworthy for being “sold out” everywhere.
The Sandwich that never existed was created and sent to social media trendsetters to stir the hype pot. They all lied about how they “went to the store to buy the sandwich.” Popeyes probably sold a few sandwiches to a few normal customers for show, but they did not “sell out.”
The problem was never that they sold out of the sandwich. That was the Popeyes solution to the age old sales question: how do we appeal to the normal person enough to get them in the door? Once they are in the door ready to purchase normal sandwich food Popeyes conveniently doesn’t have any more of the product the new customer wants, forcing them to order from the classic menu. Only hardcore customers will leave empty handed.
The new marketing game is trying to entice casual customers to try a “new” (old) product. Toppings are no longer creative, they are meaningless.
There never was a chicken sandwich. There will be now. In the minds and hearts of the people who never got to try one, it has become a temporary legend...a memetic legend...only in the age of the Internet such legends not only exist, sadly, they are common...
Monday, September 2, 2019
living the dream
I asked a colleague one Monday morning how she was doing.
“Living the dream,” she replied sarcastically.
I stared at her, flabbergasted, the epiphany dawning in my head as the sun rose on the horizon: I too was “living the dream.” I looked around the set, appalled at the misery of the entire crew “living the dream.”
Those of us fortunate enough to “live the dream” learn that it is mundane life.
Precious, mundane life.
As individuals we choose how we wish to live. Sometimes we make good choices, sometimes we make bad choices. Good choices are purposeful. Bad choices are purely pleasurable.
When accumulated over time the good choices lead us towards a goal. When the goal is reached and the achievement finally unlocked, there is a short period of celebrating the achievement before mandatory living of the achievement.
Doctors, soldiers, scientists, presidents—and to a lesser extent, lawyers—must endure the pain of hardship before the fruits of their hardships can be reaped for the new pain. Success is pain. Living is pain.
Satisfaction is attained once the resulting goal has been obtained, but this satisfaction is not unending pleasure. (You need to make bad choices over and over for 'corporeal unending pleasure.’) That was never the purpose of achievement. (What was the purpose? Desire? Slight interest? Whimsy?) In reality, the dream comes with more responsibility, new hardships, more stress. The immediate ‘pleasure’ of achievement is looking back fondly on the hardships, and looking forward to possible new achievements with everything learned from those hardships. Thus is life.
Before we all have to die, we all have to live.
Sadly, even retirement—life after the dream is over—isn’t unending pleasure. It is a time for boredom and relaxation and some trepidation in the face of the mystery of death. Even living the truth of "the dream" has its perks. It is not death.
Heaven is for death. And relaxation. Yet we can be afraid of the mystery of its unknown.
“Living the dream,” she replied sarcastically.
I stared at her, flabbergasted, the epiphany dawning in my head as the sun rose on the horizon: I too was “living the dream.” I looked around the set, appalled at the misery of the entire crew “living the dream.”
Those of us fortunate enough to “live the dream” learn that it is mundane life.
Precious, mundane life.
As individuals we choose how we wish to live. Sometimes we make good choices, sometimes we make bad choices. Good choices are purposeful. Bad choices are purely pleasurable.
When accumulated over time the good choices lead us towards a goal. When the goal is reached and the achievement finally unlocked, there is a short period of celebrating the achievement before mandatory living of the achievement.
Doctors, soldiers, scientists, presidents—and to a lesser extent, lawyers—must endure the pain of hardship before the fruits of their hardships can be reaped for the new pain. Success is pain. Living is pain.
Satisfaction is attained once the resulting goal has been obtained, but this satisfaction is not unending pleasure. (You need to make bad choices over and over for 'corporeal unending pleasure.’) That was never the purpose of achievement. (What was the purpose? Desire? Slight interest? Whimsy?) In reality, the dream comes with more responsibility, new hardships, more stress. The immediate ‘pleasure’ of achievement is looking back fondly on the hardships, and looking forward to possible new achievements with everything learned from those hardships. Thus is life.
Before we all have to die, we all have to live.
Sadly, even retirement—life after the dream is over—isn’t unending pleasure. It is a time for boredom and relaxation and some trepidation in the face of the mystery of death. Even living the truth of "the dream" has its perks. It is not death.
Heaven is for death. And relaxation. Yet we can be afraid of the mystery of its unknown.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
"I don't care"
Saying ‘I don’t care’ is the biggest insult. Even bigger than calling someone a moron, which is very hurtful.
First of all, you’d never call an actual imbecile an imbecile. Imbeciles already know that they are imbeciles. Reminding them of the circumstances of their birth makes you an imbecile. (And an asshole.) The purpose of calling someone who isn’t an imbecile an imbecile is to humiliate them to the point where they reconsider their actions that you considered imbecilic. It is a terrible way to motivate someone, though it works in some circumstances.
But saying ‘I don’t care’ to someone is far worse.
It means three things:
Many, many times in our life do we have conversations with people about topics we don’t understand, and as the conversation continues, we realize we cannot understand. Not far from this boundary do we find ourselves flirting with the new understanding that we ’don’t care.’
This is how I feel when I speak with my Ph.D candidate brother about the work he does in his lab.
I listen, and I try to follow along, but I am not equipped with facts or interest to do so for very long. I care about him, but I do not care about the subject matter. Therefore, if I uttered the selfish phrase ‘I don’t care’ it would be like saying ‘I don’t care about you.’
That would be more rude than calling him dumb. Other lab mates might be smarter than him, which might make him self-conscious, but that doesn’t make him dumb.
He engages with me about topics he doesn’t know or care about, and because he is very smart, he usually knows a little something about it. (Usually more. His brain is a sponge. Mine is a bucket with a hole in it.)
Intelligence is no reason to be tactless: he would never say ‘I don’t care’ because he is not a rude asshole. With lesser intelligence and equal tact he might admit that he just doesn’t know. An acceptable, polite alternative.
A friend of mine has been saying ‘I don’t care’ as an unfunny joke for years. Muttering this demonic incantation, even in jest, he has produced a staid life of nihilism. Out of shape, filthy, lonely, and having committed to not caring about anything but himself, he is also unattractive.
Saying ‘I don’t care’ is unattractive because being rude is unattractive. We don’t have to care about everything, but we also don’t have to say it.
First of all, you’d never call an actual imbecile an imbecile. Imbeciles already know that they are imbeciles. Reminding them of the circumstances of their birth makes you an imbecile. (And an asshole.) The purpose of calling someone who isn’t an imbecile an imbecile is to humiliate them to the point where they reconsider their actions that you considered imbecilic. It is a terrible way to motivate someone, though it works in some circumstances.
But saying ‘I don’t care’ to someone is far worse.
It means three things:
- I don’t understand
- I don’t want to understand
- You don’t matter to me
Many, many times in our life do we have conversations with people about topics we don’t understand, and as the conversation continues, we realize we cannot understand. Not far from this boundary do we find ourselves flirting with the new understanding that we ’don’t care.’
This is how I feel when I speak with my Ph.D candidate brother about the work he does in his lab.
I listen, and I try to follow along, but I am not equipped with facts or interest to do so for very long. I care about him, but I do not care about the subject matter. Therefore, if I uttered the selfish phrase ‘I don’t care’ it would be like saying ‘I don’t care about you.’
That would be more rude than calling him dumb. Other lab mates might be smarter than him, which might make him self-conscious, but that doesn’t make him dumb.
He engages with me about topics he doesn’t know or care about, and because he is very smart, he usually knows a little something about it. (Usually more. His brain is a sponge. Mine is a bucket with a hole in it.)
Intelligence is no reason to be tactless: he would never say ‘I don’t care’ because he is not a rude asshole. With lesser intelligence and equal tact he might admit that he just doesn’t know. An acceptable, polite alternative.
A friend of mine has been saying ‘I don’t care’ as an unfunny joke for years. Muttering this demonic incantation, even in jest, he has produced a staid life of nihilism. Out of shape, filthy, lonely, and having committed to not caring about anything but himself, he is also unattractive.
Saying ‘I don’t care’ is unattractive because being rude is unattractive. We don’t have to care about everything, but we also don’t have to say it.
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Mafia Nation
Three things make a nation: a border, a common ancestry, and a common culture, helpfully based in religion.
The thirteen original colonies that would one day make up the empire of the United States were once mini-nations. Each had a border, a common ancestry (English Anglo Saxons) and a common religion (a different sect of Protestantism). Their cultures differed predominantly from their religious differences.
Each colony had a mutual political interest in separating from England. They wanted to safeguard their political sovereignty (border, culture, language) and hold onto the spoils of their economic prosperity.
The amalgamation of the nations into a larger State, while maintaining their own sovereignty, was not without setbacks. The Articles of Confederation needed to be scrapped in favor of a stronger Constitution, and eighty years late, there would still be regional economic and political culture clashes resulting in a Civil War between North and South.
The states, and the union, were preserved following the outcome of the war. Slavery, the economic lynch pin of the south, was also abolished.
The United States was officially a nation with two types of citizens: ancestors of Protestant Anglo Saxon settlers and former slaves of African descent. So long as the borders were respected, the religious cultures similar, and the language consistent, the nation could grow and thrive.
'Manifest Destiny' and the Industrial Revolution were factors influencing what was essentially 'unAmerican' immigration policy.
Mass legal and illegal immigration complicated ancestry and culture within the border of the United States. Though it brought ready, willing and able labor, it diluted the nation's demographics, inviting a new people, and their culture of crime.
Nations that open their borders to people of other cultures will suffer from ensuing invasion; it is as human as Apple Pie is American.
The U.S at the turn of the century allowed waves of Sicilian, Irish and Italian immigrants to enter the country. Though the majority of them were honest and hard-working, there were many with criminal backgrounds. Sicily was a criminal state. Constantly conquered by invading armies of various empires, Sicilian culture was untrustworthy of government, which changed too frequently for it to be reliable. Criminals in Sicily were forced to create their own infrastructure to defend themselves from government enslavement and corruption.
In New York City, the Catholic Irish and Catholic Sicilians formed nations by staking out entire neighborhoods. In a new, foreign country, it was natural for them to stay close to their familiar countrymen. They could speak their own language and practice customs from the cultures of their homelands.
Within these enclaves criminals were able to organize themselves and exploit the wealth and prosperity of New York. Bonding over shared heritage, they created a secret, criminal society. The Sicilians, using a code of honor and silence called omerta, were so successful in their schemes that it took close to three decades for the federal government to even admit that there might be a clandestine criminal enterprise operating as an invisible layer of government.
The authorities never dreamed that organized criminals could last for generations and wreak so much havoc on so many innocent, well behaved tax payers. They had little understanding of what it would take to destroy this infestation, as a result the mob would thrive for decades.
Admitting this problem didn't make it any easier for the government to prosecute these criminals. They were so organized, and so secretive, that the government needed to write new--but constitutional--laws to catch them. The best method for catching the leaders of these criminal organizations were wiretaps. Previously illegal, wiretaps needed to be made legal for special uses investigating criminal enterprises.
Even with these new laws for the new citizens, it took years and years for the top bosses of these crime "families" to be jailed, so entrenched were the organized crime families in the infrastructure of government.
At their most powerful the mafia controlled courts, unions, casinos, phony shell companies. Siphoned gas taxes, engaged in narcotics trafficking, loan sharking, hijacking etc. And it was all a direct result of immigration.
The United States, in allowing the entry of innocent, hardworking people from corrupt countries, consequently allowed the entry of violent criminals into the country.
This is how nations are conquered. From within.
Mob recruiters, wanting to keep it's ranks pure, kept non Italians from being 'made' members, alienating otherwise good soldiers of mixed blood. American blood. They were forced to relent when certain bosses changed the rules for their sons. Sicilian ancestry no longer mattered in America.
Ironically, the more American the mob became, the weaker it became. Generations of could be mobsters became the new American middle class. Italian and Sicilian youth, once interested in the flashy, dangerous lifestyle of the mafia, were ethnically removed from it; they were suburban Americans now.
This quest for unattainable purity, combined with the government's quest for destruction meant the end of the mafia, itself a mini nation of criminals lurking between the layers of money and power.
A border is a nation's first line of defense. When those borders are breached illegally or legally by dissimilar cultures, it is an invasion. In the case of the mafia, the US government legalized this invasion, and suffered the consequences of crime for generations.
With invasion, a new demographic "invades" the nation and changes the current demographic: ancestry, language, culture. They bring the culture of their old country, and cling to it's customs for generations. Customs take generations to stick, and generations to dissipate.
As it transitioned to empire, the American nation risked collapse by importing the labor of dissimilar ethnicities. The penchant of the United States for maintaining law and order kept it from being completely corrupted. But not every nation or empire has the resources to defeat migration. Just ask the Romans, the Palestinians, or the Native Americans what happens to nations after mass migration.
The thirteen original colonies that would one day make up the empire of the United States were once mini-nations. Each had a border, a common ancestry (English Anglo Saxons) and a common religion (a different sect of Protestantism). Their cultures differed predominantly from their religious differences.
Each colony had a mutual political interest in separating from England. They wanted to safeguard their political sovereignty (border, culture, language) and hold onto the spoils of their economic prosperity.
The amalgamation of the nations into a larger State, while maintaining their own sovereignty, was not without setbacks. The Articles of Confederation needed to be scrapped in favor of a stronger Constitution, and eighty years late, there would still be regional economic and political culture clashes resulting in a Civil War between North and South.
The states, and the union, were preserved following the outcome of the war. Slavery, the economic lynch pin of the south, was also abolished.
The United States was officially a nation with two types of citizens: ancestors of Protestant Anglo Saxon settlers and former slaves of African descent. So long as the borders were respected, the religious cultures similar, and the language consistent, the nation could grow and thrive.
'Manifest Destiny' and the Industrial Revolution were factors influencing what was essentially 'unAmerican' immigration policy.
Mass legal and illegal immigration complicated ancestry and culture within the border of the United States. Though it brought ready, willing and able labor, it diluted the nation's demographics, inviting a new people, and their culture of crime.
Nations that open their borders to people of other cultures will suffer from ensuing invasion; it is as human as Apple Pie is American.
The U.S at the turn of the century allowed waves of Sicilian, Irish and Italian immigrants to enter the country. Though the majority of them were honest and hard-working, there were many with criminal backgrounds. Sicily was a criminal state. Constantly conquered by invading armies of various empires, Sicilian culture was untrustworthy of government, which changed too frequently for it to be reliable. Criminals in Sicily were forced to create their own infrastructure to defend themselves from government enslavement and corruption.
In New York City, the Catholic Irish and Catholic Sicilians formed nations by staking out entire neighborhoods. In a new, foreign country, it was natural for them to stay close to their familiar countrymen. They could speak their own language and practice customs from the cultures of their homelands.
Within these enclaves criminals were able to organize themselves and exploit the wealth and prosperity of New York. Bonding over shared heritage, they created a secret, criminal society. The Sicilians, using a code of honor and silence called omerta, were so successful in their schemes that it took close to three decades for the federal government to even admit that there might be a clandestine criminal enterprise operating as an invisible layer of government.
The authorities never dreamed that organized criminals could last for generations and wreak so much havoc on so many innocent, well behaved tax payers. They had little understanding of what it would take to destroy this infestation, as a result the mob would thrive for decades.
Admitting this problem didn't make it any easier for the government to prosecute these criminals. They were so organized, and so secretive, that the government needed to write new--but constitutional--laws to catch them. The best method for catching the leaders of these criminal organizations were wiretaps. Previously illegal, wiretaps needed to be made legal for special uses investigating criminal enterprises.
Even with these new laws for the new citizens, it took years and years for the top bosses of these crime "families" to be jailed, so entrenched were the organized crime families in the infrastructure of government.
At their most powerful the mafia controlled courts, unions, casinos, phony shell companies. Siphoned gas taxes, engaged in narcotics trafficking, loan sharking, hijacking etc. And it was all a direct result of immigration.
The United States, in allowing the entry of innocent, hardworking people from corrupt countries, consequently allowed the entry of violent criminals into the country.
This is how nations are conquered. From within.
Mob recruiters, wanting to keep it's ranks pure, kept non Italians from being 'made' members, alienating otherwise good soldiers of mixed blood. American blood. They were forced to relent when certain bosses changed the rules for their sons. Sicilian ancestry no longer mattered in America.
Ironically, the more American the mob became, the weaker it became. Generations of could be mobsters became the new American middle class. Italian and Sicilian youth, once interested in the flashy, dangerous lifestyle of the mafia, were ethnically removed from it; they were suburban Americans now.
This quest for unattainable purity, combined with the government's quest for destruction meant the end of the mafia, itself a mini nation of criminals lurking between the layers of money and power.
A border is a nation's first line of defense. When those borders are breached illegally or legally by dissimilar cultures, it is an invasion. In the case of the mafia, the US government legalized this invasion, and suffered the consequences of crime for generations.
With invasion, a new demographic "invades" the nation and changes the current demographic: ancestry, language, culture. They bring the culture of their old country, and cling to it's customs for generations. Customs take generations to stick, and generations to dissipate.
As it transitioned to empire, the American nation risked collapse by importing the labor of dissimilar ethnicities. The penchant of the United States for maintaining law and order kept it from being completely corrupted. But not every nation or empire has the resources to defeat migration. Just ask the Romans, the Palestinians, or the Native Americans what happens to nations after mass migration.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
Addiction Thoughts 1
Thinking about the psychology of my addictions is a new-ish hobby of mine. Honing in on the micro thought process in the moment of substance subjugation has been a very recent observable phenomenon. In other words, consuming past the normal limit of sugar with a new voice in my head--a conscience?--advising against it.
Massive over-consumption is unreasonable and results in immediate pain, and eventual shame. The conscience is reasonable, but reason is not as persuasive as pleasure. So another new voice must be cultivated within the moment of temptation: the voice of reasonable temperance. This voice is strengthened by the will, and the will is supported by God. True addicts need to channel a higher power to win the war against temptation.
The voice of temptation passes in a flash. Only when it is allowed to linger does it become stronger, and start to burn in the addict's mind. The burning is painful, and a weak willed addict will extinguish it by indulging in the temptation. Extinguishing the fires of temptation for immediate pain relief gives in to the satisfying pleasure of the temptation. It is counter intuitive to let oneself burn, allowing addictions to develop slowly, invisibly...
But this 'burning' is imaginary. A strong will of the conscience can withstand this burning of temptation. And yet, the withstanding of the burning itself does not result in an equally immediate (fleeting) pleasure. A prolonged journey of freedom from addiction is the reward. Well spent time, the most valuable and limited resource, is the reward.
Having suffered through numerous types of addictions, I can assert that every addiction is different for every person. It becomes a matter of taste. For instance, any drug that is not a socially consumed liquid, but a smoke-able purple crystal, or an inject-able beige powder is considered icky and dangerous by normal folks.
Living in a society of abundance enables addiction, because that same society furtively encourages it: Netflix, fast food, cigarettes, pornography, legalized weed, bars, MMOs, casinos....there is no shortage of possible addictions available while living in "freedom."
The temperance movement erroneously sought to cure individuals of addiction to alcohol, and succeeded with a 13 year ban, but policy itself also cannot cure individuals of addiction. Only individuals can cure themselves of addiction.
Heroin, crack and meth are not sold over the counter like alcohol. An addict will always be tempted by the reminder of the good stuff every time they enter a gas station, or pass a bar, or watch TV. Alcohol’s cultural acceptance makes its subsequent addiction detection rather difficult. “He’s not an alcoholic, he just likes to party!” is a common excuse for binge drinking among the immortal youth. This makes alcohol the most difficult substance for addicts to quit because it is readily accessible everywhere. (And its withdrawal is lethal.)
Becoming drunk on alcohol is like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Time ceases to exist. There is no fire, just a warm blanket. The fire begins to burn after the blanket fades away, and a desire for the safety of the warm blanket returns. There are many ways that this desire can come from within oneself, and externally from society.
Alcohol is inherently repulsive, but when the taste has been acquired it becomes pleasurable. At its worst it causes the common folk to act repulsive at times: sloppily pissing on the side of a building, humiliating themselves by passing out on the sidewalk, or inappropriately touching strangers. These are signs to normal folk that consuming alcohol irresponsibly could lead abusers to misbehave uncontrollably. The majority of users are not abusers, and stop themselves before abuse is taken too far. Thus alcohol is prohibited at work celebrations in exchange for sugar, the other socially acceptable addiction. Sugar cannot be avoided. It is in the air we breathe.
Whereas alcohol has an acquired taste, sugar and salt are immediately pleasurable. Children don't need to be taught to like it, and it serves as a useful reward for good behavior. Because of its social acceptability, these sugary snacks can be purchased everywhere, and are often provided in offices for midday dopamine. Like the warm blanket of alcohol or heroin, the snack can pretend to control a person's mind through the nerve endings in their mouth. Halting mid-snack causes immediate discomfort. Rarely does a conscience stop an individual from snacking until they have had too much snack, and risk spoiling their appetite, or having a stomach ache.
Sugar does not have the same safeguards that accompany safe alcohol consumption. Though less dangerous inherently, sugar is an extremely addictive substance in part because it is socially accepted.
(Masturbation is not a socially acceptable addiction.)
Massive over-consumption is unreasonable and results in immediate pain, and eventual shame. The conscience is reasonable, but reason is not as persuasive as pleasure. So another new voice must be cultivated within the moment of temptation: the voice of reasonable temperance. This voice is strengthened by the will, and the will is supported by God. True addicts need to channel a higher power to win the war against temptation.
The voice of temptation passes in a flash. Only when it is allowed to linger does it become stronger, and start to burn in the addict's mind. The burning is painful, and a weak willed addict will extinguish it by indulging in the temptation. Extinguishing the fires of temptation for immediate pain relief gives in to the satisfying pleasure of the temptation. It is counter intuitive to let oneself burn, allowing addictions to develop slowly, invisibly...
But this 'burning' is imaginary. A strong will of the conscience can withstand this burning of temptation. And yet, the withstanding of the burning itself does not result in an equally immediate (fleeting) pleasure. A prolonged journey of freedom from addiction is the reward. Well spent time, the most valuable and limited resource, is the reward.
Having suffered through numerous types of addictions, I can assert that every addiction is different for every person. It becomes a matter of taste. For instance, any drug that is not a socially consumed liquid, but a smoke-able purple crystal, or an inject-able beige powder is considered icky and dangerous by normal folks.
Living in a society of abundance enables addiction, because that same society furtively encourages it: Netflix, fast food, cigarettes, pornography, legalized weed, bars, MMOs, casinos....there is no shortage of possible addictions available while living in "freedom."
The temperance movement erroneously sought to cure individuals of addiction to alcohol, and succeeded with a 13 year ban, but policy itself also cannot cure individuals of addiction. Only individuals can cure themselves of addiction.
Heroin, crack and meth are not sold over the counter like alcohol. An addict will always be tempted by the reminder of the good stuff every time they enter a gas station, or pass a bar, or watch TV. Alcohol’s cultural acceptance makes its subsequent addiction detection rather difficult. “He’s not an alcoholic, he just likes to party!” is a common excuse for binge drinking among the immortal youth. This makes alcohol the most difficult substance for addicts to quit because it is readily accessible everywhere. (And its withdrawal is lethal.)
Becoming drunk on alcohol is like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Time ceases to exist. There is no fire, just a warm blanket. The fire begins to burn after the blanket fades away, and a desire for the safety of the warm blanket returns. There are many ways that this desire can come from within oneself, and externally from society.
Alcohol is inherently repulsive, but when the taste has been acquired it becomes pleasurable. At its worst it causes the common folk to act repulsive at times: sloppily pissing on the side of a building, humiliating themselves by passing out on the sidewalk, or inappropriately touching strangers. These are signs to normal folk that consuming alcohol irresponsibly could lead abusers to misbehave uncontrollably. The majority of users are not abusers, and stop themselves before abuse is taken too far. Thus alcohol is prohibited at work celebrations in exchange for sugar, the other socially acceptable addiction. Sugar cannot be avoided. It is in the air we breathe.
Whereas alcohol has an acquired taste, sugar and salt are immediately pleasurable. Children don't need to be taught to like it, and it serves as a useful reward for good behavior. Because of its social acceptability, these sugary snacks can be purchased everywhere, and are often provided in offices for midday dopamine. Like the warm blanket of alcohol or heroin, the snack can pretend to control a person's mind through the nerve endings in their mouth. Halting mid-snack causes immediate discomfort. Rarely does a conscience stop an individual from snacking until they have had too much snack, and risk spoiling their appetite, or having a stomach ache.
Sugar does not have the same safeguards that accompany safe alcohol consumption. Though less dangerous inherently, sugar is an extremely addictive substance in part because it is socially accepted.
(Masturbation is not a socially acceptable addiction.)
Monday, August 19, 2019
Dropped the ball
A close friend of mine moved to South Korea three years ago for a “real job” in “finance.” He returned last week to the United States for a month long visit.
He is opinionated, eloquent, and knowledgeable, has an active imagination and great taste in toilet humor. He is very handsy with his friends, and flirtatiously trolls strangers. When he does this in my presence, I turn my face to the floor to hide my bashfulness. I can’t buy a coffee with the guy without engaging in some kind of forced small talk with a cashier I usually treat like a robot.
We argue philosophically about the existence of God because he is an atheist. However, he is probably a 3.1 out of 7 on the Dawkins scale of non-belief. At this moment he will only admit to “believing in one God” with the threat of imminent death. It would be miraculous for him to be persuaded to believe in "the father, the almighty, maker of heaven and Earth, of all things visible and invisible.”
I rank him low on the atheist scale because he won’t say that “nothing created everything,” like insane Stephen Hawking, who strikes me as a 7. Instead he will say that “a cause--beyond the realm of understanding--did something." He won’t concede philosophically that this is the concept of God, and prefers to use the comfort term 'cause.' For him, the word 'God' comes with too much historical baggage. He can almost "agree" with me on the concept, but lacks the conviction to say it the word.
"Why?" I asked him, as a friend, hypothesizing that there is a personal reason. “You’re almost there. What is stopping you from admitting it?” Though unintended, he took it as an ad hominem, and by my own standards I lost the debate. But by asking that question, the debate between friends became a conversation between friends. As such, I was suddenly playing therapist, and he did not oblige. It would have done some him some good to be confronted with these criticisms. There is a reason I think deeply and prayerfully about the people I care about: they can’t see themselves suffer.
As flirtatious as he is, he can also catch me off guard as caustic. Our philosophical differences seem to lurk at the corner of every conversation, waiting to pounce like a predator. I cannot remember the context for which I informed him that the word Gospel means ‘Good News’, but he responded by saying that I believe something with absolutely no evidence to back it up.
I informed him that that is not faith, but superstition. He then asked me what the difference is.....and I froze up. I thought about how smart Bishop Robert Barron is for using big words like intrafaith and extrafaith and confused myself. This could have been a slam dunk, a touch down, a goal...but I choked and dropped the ball instead.
It's not like I could have convinced him if I'd answered his question; convincing someone this stubborn takes time. (Though he is nearly there!) In the very least I could have answered the question, and wouldn't have felt stupid for answering it the way I did: "I can show you a video of someone who explains it better than me..." Yuck. So much regret in that answer.
Here is how I should have answered:
Faith is the bridge between philosophy and theology. God's existence cannot be proven epistemologically, but ontologically. We can't see God or hear God, but we can reason God's existence with other evidence...like the existence of everything, and the fact of reality that something doesn't come from nothing.
Philosophically, we can arrive at the bridge of faith, where we understand and agree with the logic for God's existence. Once we arrive at the bridge, we can decide whether or not to cross it, and which bridge to cross, though there is only one correct answer.
My friend knows there is a bridge, but doesn’t believe that there is another side. He recognizes its existence, but turns his back on it. He prefers to stay on this side, where it is safer. Where he can use his senses to experience what is real and what is not. He knows what he can see, and what he has seen has not convinced him that there is any value in crossing to the other side. To him, there might not even be another side.
Philosophy can only take us to God. It is faith in the evidence of the Good News that guides us over the bridge to meet him in person.
He is opinionated, eloquent, and knowledgeable, has an active imagination and great taste in toilet humor. He is very handsy with his friends, and flirtatiously trolls strangers. When he does this in my presence, I turn my face to the floor to hide my bashfulness. I can’t buy a coffee with the guy without engaging in some kind of forced small talk with a cashier I usually treat like a robot.
We argue philosophically about the existence of God because he is an atheist. However, he is probably a 3.1 out of 7 on the Dawkins scale of non-belief. At this moment he will only admit to “believing in one God” with the threat of imminent death. It would be miraculous for him to be persuaded to believe in "the father, the almighty, maker of heaven and Earth, of all things visible and invisible.”
I rank him low on the atheist scale because he won’t say that “nothing created everything,” like insane Stephen Hawking, who strikes me as a 7. Instead he will say that “a cause--beyond the realm of understanding--did something." He won’t concede philosophically that this is the concept of God, and prefers to use the comfort term 'cause.' For him, the word 'God' comes with too much historical baggage. He can almost "agree" with me on the concept, but lacks the conviction to say it the word.
"Why?" I asked him, as a friend, hypothesizing that there is a personal reason. “You’re almost there. What is stopping you from admitting it?” Though unintended, he took it as an ad hominem, and by my own standards I lost the debate. But by asking that question, the debate between friends became a conversation between friends. As such, I was suddenly playing therapist, and he did not oblige. It would have done some him some good to be confronted with these criticisms. There is a reason I think deeply and prayerfully about the people I care about: they can’t see themselves suffer.
As flirtatious as he is, he can also catch me off guard as caustic. Our philosophical differences seem to lurk at the corner of every conversation, waiting to pounce like a predator. I cannot remember the context for which I informed him that the word Gospel means ‘Good News’, but he responded by saying that I believe something with absolutely no evidence to back it up.
I informed him that that is not faith, but superstition. He then asked me what the difference is.....and I froze up. I thought about how smart Bishop Robert Barron is for using big words like intrafaith and extrafaith and confused myself. This could have been a slam dunk, a touch down, a goal...but I choked and dropped the ball instead.
It's not like I could have convinced him if I'd answered his question; convincing someone this stubborn takes time. (Though he is nearly there!) In the very least I could have answered the question, and wouldn't have felt stupid for answering it the way I did: "I can show you a video of someone who explains it better than me..." Yuck. So much regret in that answer.
Here is how I should have answered:
Faith is the bridge between philosophy and theology. God's existence cannot be proven epistemologically, but ontologically. We can't see God or hear God, but we can reason God's existence with other evidence...like the existence of everything, and the fact of reality that something doesn't come from nothing.
Philosophically, we can arrive at the bridge of faith, where we understand and agree with the logic for God's existence. Once we arrive at the bridge, we can decide whether or not to cross it, and which bridge to cross, though there is only one correct answer.
My friend knows there is a bridge, but doesn’t believe that there is another side. He recognizes its existence, but turns his back on it. He prefers to stay on this side, where it is safer. Where he can use his senses to experience what is real and what is not. He knows what he can see, and what he has seen has not convinced him that there is any value in crossing to the other side. To him, there might not even be another side.
Philosophy can only take us to God. It is faith in the evidence of the Good News that guides us over the bridge to meet him in person.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Reacting to Bernie Sanders
Readers of this blog will correctly assume that I support the President and find him very entertaining. The same readers of this blog can also correctly assume that I neither agree with Bernie Sanders, support Bernie Sanders, or find him entertaining.
Therefore, I explained to a friend of mine, I would not listen to Bernie Sanders on the Joe Rogan podcast. (I don’t particularly care for haggard Joe Rogan either.) When I tried to reason why, I caught myself sounding similar to a deranged Trump hater. So opposed was I to a man’s personality and policy theories that I didn’t want to hear his voice speak to an agreeable know-nothing for over an hour. But this is a bad reason to avoid the opposition’s unedited viewpoint. If I am going to legitimately oppose—or begrudgingly find common ground—I need to hear more than Bernie Sander’s stump speech.
(Yes, I know that I am trying to play a moderate that doesn’t read the news, but it is difficult to ignore when the news is engaging me everywhere.)
So, in the spirit of Bill de Blasio appearing on Sean Hannity’s show, I decided to listen to OG Bill de Blasio in a much more accommodating setting.
Firstly, I agree with Bernie about the Democratic debates on CNN. They were fun to watch as a type of political reality TV, but they were more about personality than politics, and not boring enough. As soon as the debates started to resemble C-SPAN (answers lasting more than 11 seconds), CNN--sensing my drowsiness before I did--cut answers to 10 seconds to satisfy my attention span. In other words, CNN succeeded in making them entertaining, not informative.
So, the Joe Rogan interview gave Bernie a platform to spew his rhetoric without Democratic or Republican opposition. He could finally be informative, not entertaining.
He is neither.
Joe Rogan is no Sean Hannity; he doesn’t have any real interest or knowledge of politics. His only true interests are similar to those of his 18 year-old viewers: weed and fights. Bernie Sanders is perfect for his know-nothing, hyper passionate male audience.
Though Joe Rogan has money to lose if Bernie’s policies ever pass, he isn’t motivated to oppose him. He is motivated by views and likes on his podcast. He is motivated by the show in the present, not disastrous policies of the could-be future. He is rich after all; no matter what happens, he will be fine. (So long as he doesn’t become a billionaire.)
Meanwhile, Bernie fans only make minimum wage, so they want $15/hour for minimum wage. They can’t afford healthcare, so they want it for “free.” They are in debt, and want someone to take them out of it. Life was hard, and not fair, and they want to be given a break. Bernie promises to give them that break by promising to restore their “right” to healthcare (a genius phrasing I might add). They could go to the doctor more often. (The healthy youth only need the doctor in an emergency.) The cost of this mediocre benefit to the young and healthy would devastate the middle class that these young people will eventually become.
Bernie isn’t honest with them about this fact either. He purposely excludes the only methodology for providing this “right”: raising taxes, followed by an eventual government takeover. Even Joe Rogan listeners, without making much money yet, would notice a lighter paycheck to receive the “right” of universal healthcare.
For his ideas to seem feasible he has to scapegoat corporations as “evil” and “greedy.” Those words are also used to justify government takeover of an entire industry. (Socialism also comes to mind.)
It is not well meaning to “break up Big Pharma” as antidote to grant the “right”of universal healthcare. Such action will displace people of jobs, cause millions to go without healthcare and disrupt the economy. No moderate Democrat would ever vote for it.
I do agree with him that kids are overmedicated, and go to expensive, private colleges that they don’t need; but it is a stretch for me to imagine that breaking up an entire industry for the government to control comes from a well meaning place. Even regulations, which I oppose on principle, make doctors responsible, and is a more appropriate Congressional response. We can make changes while keeping the country stable.
Joe Rogan then switches gears and asks an extremely stupid and loaded question: “How are we going to protect kids if we keep drugs illegal?”
Joe Rogan always tries to bring the conversation back to weed. First of all, he doesn’t need drugs to be legal: he is a rich celebrity who can afford to obtain illegal drugs safely. It is the working poor that spend their precious money on useless drugs and risk unjust prison sentences if they are caught selling drugs. Joe Rogan is a dangerously influential advocate for marijuana, and his bias affects the choices of his naive viewers.
(Good guy Bernie doesn’t bite. He has grandkids. He doesn’t want them smoking weed.)
This interview is a fun, but pointless exercise. The questions are too massive for a single brain to come up with a reasonable solution, and Sanders offers opinion based on ideology, not fact. (Joe Rogan's audience doesn't need a be difficureasonable solution either.)
“How do you solve the opioid crisis?” Rogan stupidly asks at one point. (This issue, like the issue of the city of Baltimore, would have been ignored had it not been for Trump's exposure.)
“Why do people turn to drugs and alcohol?” Bernie responds. “These are diseases of despair. Nothing to look forward to when your job is in China. Why is this happening? How do we restore hope and optimism?”
With a welfare state! Healthcare! Jobs! Education! Free stuff that makes people more enslaved to the government by taking more of their hard earned money away to pay for it at inflated prices. This is Bernie’s response. They are more empty promises to get votes he needs to get into power.
The solutions to these problems are not a politician’s responsibility, and it is precisely Bernie’s ideology that influences people to make these terrible life decisions in the first place. The welfare state that Bernie promises cannot protect people after they have made bad decisions. Only faith in God can prevent people from making bad decisions.
To wrap up I’m going to respond to selected soundbites:
“We are not great when we have people in poverty, when people cannot go to a doctor.”
Jesus knew even he couldn’t prevent poverty, and government provided healthcare should be a State issue only.
“We will build affordable housing!”
This is just more government overreach.We don’t need to pay for a federal NYCHA. It was hard enough to build a wall to protect the border, and a wall does one thing, keeps people out. Now we have to meet the needs of the people with actual housing? Where will we get the money if we are paying for their health insurance too? Never heard this one before, maybe he just threw it in to cover all his bases, since Joe Rogan has a huge audience.
Fear mongering: “We have 12 years to transform our energy industry, or there will be irreparable damage. You cannot continue to produce a product that is destroying the world.”
Bernie talks about fossil fuels like they are cigarettes. Fossil fuels are useful, and there is no scientific agreement that they are finite or our use of them is irreparably destroying the environment. So again, he wants to eliminate an entire useful industry without offering an alternative, just to “save the environment.” He is appealing to the conscience of people by asking for their vote to help him save the indefensible environment from "greedy" corporations.
Bernie wants to be in power, and he wants their vote to put him in power, so he makes radical promises to receive that vote. Every politician needs to do this, which means that they must be held accountable by unsatisfied constituents when they are in office. Building a wall is much more possible than “breaking up Big Pharma.” Just sayin.’
It goes without saying that both Bernie and Joe Rogan with both profit from this interview. Their supporters will continue to live their squalid lives, begging for welfare. Sadly unAmerican. Not a chance he gets the nomination and runs against Trump. Young people eventually grow up to become Trump supporters.
I’ll give Bernie the benefit of the doubt by concluding that he is actually well meaning, though very misguided, as history has proven his radical ideas are bad for humanity.
Therefore, I explained to a friend of mine, I would not listen to Bernie Sanders on the Joe Rogan podcast. (I don’t particularly care for haggard Joe Rogan either.) When I tried to reason why, I caught myself sounding similar to a deranged Trump hater. So opposed was I to a man’s personality and policy theories that I didn’t want to hear his voice speak to an agreeable know-nothing for over an hour. But this is a bad reason to avoid the opposition’s unedited viewpoint. If I am going to legitimately oppose—or begrudgingly find common ground—I need to hear more than Bernie Sander’s stump speech.
(Yes, I know that I am trying to play a moderate that doesn’t read the news, but it is difficult to ignore when the news is engaging me everywhere.)
So, in the spirit of Bill de Blasio appearing on Sean Hannity’s show, I decided to listen to OG Bill de Blasio in a much more accommodating setting.
Firstly, I agree with Bernie about the Democratic debates on CNN. They were fun to watch as a type of political reality TV, but they were more about personality than politics, and not boring enough. As soon as the debates started to resemble C-SPAN (answers lasting more than 11 seconds), CNN--sensing my drowsiness before I did--cut answers to 10 seconds to satisfy my attention span. In other words, CNN succeeded in making them entertaining, not informative.
So, the Joe Rogan interview gave Bernie a platform to spew his rhetoric without Democratic or Republican opposition. He could finally be informative, not entertaining.
He is neither.
Joe Rogan is no Sean Hannity; he doesn’t have any real interest or knowledge of politics. His only true interests are similar to those of his 18 year-old viewers: weed and fights. Bernie Sanders is perfect for his know-nothing, hyper passionate male audience.
Though Joe Rogan has money to lose if Bernie’s policies ever pass, he isn’t motivated to oppose him. He is motivated by views and likes on his podcast. He is motivated by the show in the present, not disastrous policies of the could-be future. He is rich after all; no matter what happens, he will be fine. (So long as he doesn’t become a billionaire.)
Meanwhile, Bernie fans only make minimum wage, so they want $15/hour for minimum wage. They can’t afford healthcare, so they want it for “free.” They are in debt, and want someone to take them out of it. Life was hard, and not fair, and they want to be given a break. Bernie promises to give them that break by promising to restore their “right” to healthcare (a genius phrasing I might add). They could go to the doctor more often. (The healthy youth only need the doctor in an emergency.) The cost of this mediocre benefit to the young and healthy would devastate the middle class that these young people will eventually become.
Bernie isn’t honest with them about this fact either. He purposely excludes the only methodology for providing this “right”: raising taxes, followed by an eventual government takeover. Even Joe Rogan listeners, without making much money yet, would notice a lighter paycheck to receive the “right” of universal healthcare.
For his ideas to seem feasible he has to scapegoat corporations as “evil” and “greedy.” Those words are also used to justify government takeover of an entire industry. (Socialism also comes to mind.)
It is not well meaning to “break up Big Pharma” as antidote to grant the “right”of universal healthcare. Such action will displace people of jobs, cause millions to go without healthcare and disrupt the economy. No moderate Democrat would ever vote for it.
I do agree with him that kids are overmedicated, and go to expensive, private colleges that they don’t need; but it is a stretch for me to imagine that breaking up an entire industry for the government to control comes from a well meaning place. Even regulations, which I oppose on principle, make doctors responsible, and is a more appropriate Congressional response. We can make changes while keeping the country stable.
Joe Rogan then switches gears and asks an extremely stupid and loaded question: “How are we going to protect kids if we keep drugs illegal?”
Joe Rogan always tries to bring the conversation back to weed. First of all, he doesn’t need drugs to be legal: he is a rich celebrity who can afford to obtain illegal drugs safely. It is the working poor that spend their precious money on useless drugs and risk unjust prison sentences if they are caught selling drugs. Joe Rogan is a dangerously influential advocate for marijuana, and his bias affects the choices of his naive viewers.
(Good guy Bernie doesn’t bite. He has grandkids. He doesn’t want them smoking weed.)
This interview is a fun, but pointless exercise. The questions are too massive for a single brain to come up with a reasonable solution, and Sanders offers opinion based on ideology, not fact. (Joe Rogan's audience doesn't need a be difficureasonable solution either.)
“How do you solve the opioid crisis?” Rogan stupidly asks at one point. (This issue, like the issue of the city of Baltimore, would have been ignored had it not been for Trump's exposure.)
“Why do people turn to drugs and alcohol?” Bernie responds. “These are diseases of despair. Nothing to look forward to when your job is in China. Why is this happening? How do we restore hope and optimism?”
With a welfare state! Healthcare! Jobs! Education! Free stuff that makes people more enslaved to the government by taking more of their hard earned money away to pay for it at inflated prices. This is Bernie’s response. They are more empty promises to get votes he needs to get into power.
The solutions to these problems are not a politician’s responsibility, and it is precisely Bernie’s ideology that influences people to make these terrible life decisions in the first place. The welfare state that Bernie promises cannot protect people after they have made bad decisions. Only faith in God can prevent people from making bad decisions.
To wrap up I’m going to respond to selected soundbites:
“We are not great when we have people in poverty, when people cannot go to a doctor.”
Jesus knew even he couldn’t prevent poverty, and government provided healthcare should be a State issue only.
“We will build affordable housing!”
This is just more government overreach.We don’t need to pay for a federal NYCHA. It was hard enough to build a wall to protect the border, and a wall does one thing, keeps people out. Now we have to meet the needs of the people with actual housing? Where will we get the money if we are paying for their health insurance too? Never heard this one before, maybe he just threw it in to cover all his bases, since Joe Rogan has a huge audience.
Fear mongering: “We have 12 years to transform our energy industry, or there will be irreparable damage. You cannot continue to produce a product that is destroying the world.”
Bernie talks about fossil fuels like they are cigarettes. Fossil fuels are useful, and there is no scientific agreement that they are finite or our use of them is irreparably destroying the environment. So again, he wants to eliminate an entire useful industry without offering an alternative, just to “save the environment.” He is appealing to the conscience of people by asking for their vote to help him save the indefensible environment from "greedy" corporations.
Bernie wants to be in power, and he wants their vote to put him in power, so he makes radical promises to receive that vote. Every politician needs to do this, which means that they must be held accountable by unsatisfied constituents when they are in office. Building a wall is much more possible than “breaking up Big Pharma.” Just sayin.’
It goes without saying that both Bernie and Joe Rogan with both profit from this interview. Their supporters will continue to live their squalid lives, begging for welfare. Sadly unAmerican. Not a chance he gets the nomination and runs against Trump. Young people eventually grow up to become Trump supporters.
I’ll give Bernie the benefit of the doubt by concluding that he is actually well meaning, though very misguided, as history has proven his radical ideas are bad for humanity.
Monday, August 12, 2019
Unsolicited Advice 11
In keeping with recent trends of racism...
For the sake of argument, let us suppose that white supremecists are a threat to this nation’s black population. You are concerned that innocent blacks are going to be the subject of violence by racist terror groups. They are planning terrorist attacks on housing projects, night clubs, black owned businesses in black owned neighborhoods. What could this historical information possibly provide them from a standpoint of the logistics of a terror attack?
If that is what you are truly worried about then give the books to the FBI, or the local police so they can laugh at you/donate/burn the books.
If all you care about is people being reinforced in their racist ideologies you’ve done enough harm by teaching history for 30+ years. People will cherry pick what they want from history, and burning your books will not undo that facet of the human condition. People will always think what they want.
DEAR AMY: I am a retired college professor who did years of research about American slavery and slaveholders.
I own a set of very racist 19th-century books that were part of my research.
It is now time for me to reduce the size of my library, but I am afraid to sell these books because, given the mood in our country today and the rise of white supremacy, I’m afraid these books will be bought by people who will be reinforced in their racist ideologies.
I know they can get the books in other ways (if they knew about them), and I don’t believe in burning books. I have offered them to several libraries but to no avail. I am very worried about what to do.
Concerned Ph.D.
Wow...if this is what worries you, you are watching too much CNN.
You have a good heart, but a gay heart. What do you really expect these white supremecists to do with this material? Masturbate?
It is as illogical to believe that white supremacists would find this type of material arousing as it is that they would find it useful.
You have a good heart, but a gay heart. What do you really expect these white supremecists to do with this material? Masturbate?
It is as illogical to believe that white supremacists would find this type of material arousing as it is that they would find it useful.
For the sake of argument, let us suppose that white supremecists are a threat to this nation’s black population. You are concerned that innocent blacks are going to be the subject of violence by racist terror groups. They are planning terrorist attacks on housing projects, night clubs, black owned businesses in black owned neighborhoods. What could this historical information possibly provide them from a standpoint of the logistics of a terror attack?
If that is what you are truly worried about then give the books to the FBI, or the local police so they can laugh at you/donate/burn the books.
If all you care about is people being reinforced in their racist ideologies you’ve done enough harm by teaching history for 30+ years. People will cherry pick what they want from history, and burning your books will not undo that facet of the human condition. People will always think what they want.
Friday, August 9, 2019
Racist Classism
This thought just came to mind: there is no such thing as racism anymore, just classism.
‘Racist’ is a smear that has been repeatedly spewed for political malice. For many outside of California and New York, the accuracy of the term has expired because everything is racist. The new term, ‘White Supremacist’ has become the political label for hatred, which, we all agree, cannot be tolerated.
Regardless of how much money or power someone has, functioning eyes will observe physical differences. When there are no other qualities left to compare, racial differences can be compared, and racist thoughts can occur. They are harmless. The vast majority of violent crimes are not race motivated. The fact is that everyone is racist, but not everyone is a racist.
Because everyone has racist thoughts at some point, in some capacity, the term shouldn’t be used anymore. A more accurate term for discrimination is classism.
If I’m in the hood in the inner city at night, a place I don’t normally frequent, I am a target for robbery. The thieves responsible for robbing me are most likely black, but much more likely, poor. They will be robbing me not because they are black, but because they are poor. (And criminals.)
Likewise, (and so I am not labelled a racist lol) if I am walking in a trailer park at night, a place I don’t normally frequent, I am also a target for robbery. The thieves responsible for robbing me are most likely white, but much more likely, poor. Again they will be robbing me not because they are white, but because they are poor. (And criminals)
I think I had a racist thought today while driving to work, which I suppose, makes me a racist. A black man, who was dressed like he lived in the projects, pulled into the intersection while his light was still red as I made a left turn while my light was still green. It was very early in the morning, and he probably didn’t think that traffic lights mattered that early. His inconsiderate driving spooked me, and I looked askance at him and thought, “He probably stole that car.”
Was I being racist? Or was I being classist? It will be a question that even I cannot answer, but those indoctrinated by the media will answer for me: racist.
Suggesting classist actually makes me less racist, while suggesting racist makes one more racist. In their case, color is linked with class. In my case, class stands alone. Poor people steal cars. Criminals steal cars. Thieves steal cars. Race has nothing to do with it.
I am assuming by his dress and the color of his skin that he was from the projects, and that the car was stolen. Not all black people live in the projects or dress like they live in the projects. Where I live they do, for reasons that will take too long to explain. The point is I made a snap judgement based on a variety of factors, race being the least important one; his reckless driving being the most important.
‘Racist’ is a smear that has been repeatedly spewed for political malice. For many outside of California and New York, the accuracy of the term has expired because everything is racist. The new term, ‘White Supremacist’ has become the political label for hatred, which, we all agree, cannot be tolerated.
Regardless of how much money or power someone has, functioning eyes will observe physical differences. When there are no other qualities left to compare, racial differences can be compared, and racist thoughts can occur. They are harmless. The vast majority of violent crimes are not race motivated. The fact is that everyone is racist, but not everyone is a racist.
Because everyone has racist thoughts at some point, in some capacity, the term shouldn’t be used anymore. A more accurate term for discrimination is classism.
If I’m in the hood in the inner city at night, a place I don’t normally frequent, I am a target for robbery. The thieves responsible for robbing me are most likely black, but much more likely, poor. They will be robbing me not because they are black, but because they are poor. (And criminals.)
Likewise, (and so I am not labelled a racist lol) if I am walking in a trailer park at night, a place I don’t normally frequent, I am also a target for robbery. The thieves responsible for robbing me are most likely white, but much more likely, poor. Again they will be robbing me not because they are white, but because they are poor. (And criminals)
I think I had a racist thought today while driving to work, which I suppose, makes me a racist. A black man, who was dressed like he lived in the projects, pulled into the intersection while his light was still red as I made a left turn while my light was still green. It was very early in the morning, and he probably didn’t think that traffic lights mattered that early. His inconsiderate driving spooked me, and I looked askance at him and thought, “He probably stole that car.”
Was I being racist? Or was I being classist? It will be a question that even I cannot answer, but those indoctrinated by the media will answer for me: racist.
Suggesting classist actually makes me less racist, while suggesting racist makes one more racist. In their case, color is linked with class. In my case, class stands alone. Poor people steal cars. Criminals steal cars. Thieves steal cars. Race has nothing to do with it.
I am assuming by his dress and the color of his skin that he was from the projects, and that the car was stolen. Not all black people live in the projects or dress like they live in the projects. Where I live they do, for reasons that will take too long to explain. The point is I made a snap judgement based on a variety of factors, race being the least important one; his reckless driving being the most important.
If I’d just looked at that man and thought, “He must have stolen that car,” then I would have been equal parts harmless and racist.
Classism cuts deeper. A person’s class can change, unlike their race. It reflects the poverty of their resourcefulness if they are content to accept their impoverished circumstances. It makes them useless and lazy, and not by racial association, which is racist. That individual looks useless and lazy. I think it is more offensive to insult an individual’s class than their race by association.
The circumstances that can affect how a person can improve their class, and their life, is usually controlled by an elected official calling their political opposition ‘racist.’ I wonder why....
Classism cuts deeper. A person’s class can change, unlike their race. It reflects the poverty of their resourcefulness if they are content to accept their impoverished circumstances. It makes them useless and lazy, and not by racial association, which is racist. That individual looks useless and lazy. I think it is more offensive to insult an individual’s class than their race by association.
The circumstances that can affect how a person can improve their class, and their life, is usually controlled by an elected official calling their political opposition ‘racist.’ I wonder why....
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
Don’t. Play. Games.
Fun is the reason why all games are bad for you, and there isn’t a game invented that is not supposed to be fun.
Every game, every time.
Fun is the same reason why birth control is bad. It makes sense. You can trust me, but I’d rather tell you in this short digression:
All of our parts have functions. The purpose of our sexual function is procreation. The purpose of the butthole is for poop to come out. The purpose of the toes is balance, probably. The purpose of the appendix is....we are still trying to figure it out. Why do men have nipples? I don’t remember, but someone found a function—or a reason—-for every part of our bodies, even if it is just cosmetic.
Fun is the same reason why birth control is bad. It makes sense. You can trust me, but I’d rather tell you in this short digression:
All of our parts have functions. The purpose of our sexual function is procreation. The purpose of the butthole is for poop to come out. The purpose of the toes is balance, probably. The purpose of the appendix is....we are still trying to figure it out. Why do men have nipples? I don’t remember, but someone found a function—or a reason—-for every part of our bodies, even if it is just cosmetic.
Preferences are not the same as functions. Yes, we can throw up from our mouths if we are nauseous, but our fingers were not created to go into our mouths to force ourselves to throw up if we want to lose weight. Ok.
Sex is the greatest sensation in the universe. But! Such an immense and satisfying sensation cannot come for free. In a world that is not fallen sex also spiritually links two people, and procreation is the result of this spiritual and physical connection. Love is born of this connection, and love nurtures this new life. It is not always easy to love, and it is not always fun to love. Life was never supposed to be purely easy or fun.
(Games make life easy and fun.)
But allow me to finish my digression: birth control removes the procreation aspect of sex. Lovemaking becomes fucking. Babies are conceived by accident, without love, and aborted. Sex needs its function or it risks losing meaning, making humans soulless robots. Sex becomes emotionally rote and spiritually meaningless when it is only done for pleasure. For a man it becomes about conquest. It becomes a game.
Sex is the greatest sensation in the universe. But! Such an immense and satisfying sensation cannot come for free. In a world that is not fallen sex also spiritually links two people, and procreation is the result of this spiritual and physical connection. Love is born of this connection, and love nurtures this new life. It is not always easy to love, and it is not always fun to love. Life was never supposed to be purely easy or fun.
(Games make life easy and fun.)
But allow me to finish my digression: birth control removes the procreation aspect of sex. Lovemaking becomes fucking. Babies are conceived by accident, without love, and aborted. Sex needs its function or it risks losing meaning, making humans soulless robots. Sex becomes emotionally rote and spiritually meaningless when it is only done for pleasure. For a man it becomes about conquest. It becomes a game.
Remember, games are only designed to be fun. They are not without challenge, and sometimes they become tedious, or frustrating. But even when they are boring, they are still ‘fun’.
Robert Iler famously played AJ Soprano on The Sopranos. He has barely acted since.
Why?
Maybe he played the role of a lifetime, and producers never hired him because they knew he couldn’t match it. Maybe he lost interest in acting, and could only play the spoiled teenage son of a mafia boss.
Or maybe, he made enough money from acting that he could afford to sit around all day and gamble. Maybe he decided that if he had the choice, he would rather sit around all day, playing poker, than doing anything else.
Why?
Games are competitive and winning feels good because humans are naturally competitive creatures. There doesn’t even need to be money involved. Winning at anything strokes the ego. Winning at a job could take years, and there is stress involved all the way to the top, and beyond.
But a game is straightforward. It ends, and there is a winner, and a loser. And if you lose, you can always play again. And you can always possibly win. You never know...until you play.
Gaming has no purpose, other than entertainment and pleasure. Humans are thinking creatures; games are challenging and require thought. This challenge makes games fun to play. Fun can be addictive. When money becomes involved in fun, it becomes financially sustainable, which turns the pleasure of occasional gaming (and fun) into a life of obsessive leisure.
Pleasure is fine in small doses, but it is also addictive in small doses. Minutes can turn to hours playing games...chasing that win, that thrill, that feeling….
Games are a quick fix of pleasure from a stressful life, and that is not necessarily bad in itself. It is when all other good is neglected to chase that fun of winning. This makes it bad. Like birth control, this is what games were designed for: fun.
It is sad but common for games to replace sex. And it is also sad when sex becomes a game. That is a topic for another post.
Robert Iler famously played AJ Soprano on The Sopranos. He has barely acted since.
Why?
Maybe he played the role of a lifetime, and producers never hired him because they knew he couldn’t match it. Maybe he lost interest in acting, and could only play the spoiled teenage son of a mafia boss.
Or maybe, he made enough money from acting that he could afford to sit around all day and gamble. Maybe he decided that if he had the choice, he would rather sit around all day, playing poker, than doing anything else.
Why?
Games are competitive and winning feels good because humans are naturally competitive creatures. There doesn’t even need to be money involved. Winning at anything strokes the ego. Winning at a job could take years, and there is stress involved all the way to the top, and beyond.
But a game is straightforward. It ends, and there is a winner, and a loser. And if you lose, you can always play again. And you can always possibly win. You never know...until you play.
Gaming has no purpose, other than entertainment and pleasure. Humans are thinking creatures; games are challenging and require thought. This challenge makes games fun to play. Fun can be addictive. When money becomes involved in fun, it becomes financially sustainable, which turns the pleasure of occasional gaming (and fun) into a life of obsessive leisure.
Pleasure is fine in small doses, but it is also addictive in small doses. Minutes can turn to hours playing games...chasing that win, that thrill, that feeling….
Games are a quick fix of pleasure from a stressful life, and that is not necessarily bad in itself. It is when all other good is neglected to chase that fun of winning. This makes it bad. Like birth control, this is what games were designed for: fun.
It is sad but common for games to replace sex. And it is also sad when sex becomes a game. That is a topic for another post.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
Insults and Social Media
I saw it last week, so I thought he said it last week, but in June Pope Francis
Political debate is the reason for the insults. Our culture of insults is linked to an economy of insults. People with massive social media followings are expected to creatively insult their political adversaries for their audience’s entertainment. They get money, likes and views, and this contributes to their egomania. It inspires other to take up “the cause” in their own way: starting their own YouTube channels, or making scathing comments on Facebook.
That is the reason I will never permanently rid myself of Facebook: there is an unmatched thrill in debating with tangible people I once knew, as myself. On Twitter I can get involved with divisive conversation with strangers, as a stranger; I can be completely insulting and acerbic in my response because we are nothing but a picture on a screen to each other. On Facebook my inclination is to be disagreeable, but kinder, to the people I once knew, though still asserting the political point of view I am debating. Facebook is much more personal because I once knew these people, and once cared what they thought of me. Now that we are memories to one another, I need to let them know how my opinions have changed, and to a larger extent, how I have changed. This is ego. If we still mattered to each other, we would still be in each other’s day-to-day life. Or at least be in touch in a more personal way. We can go our separate ways without being unemotionally in touch with those we pretend to care about. But I digress.
It is my natural inclination as a hypocrite to both agree with The Pope and defend my own actions.
This blog isn’t really social media because nobody comments on it. And I don’t try to insult people for its own sake here. (Though that could be another form of mental exercise.) People are offended very easily now; even when comments made are not personal, people take them that way. I am not insulting on social media, but I never contribute goodness. I think goodness can only be lived, but I’ll get back to that in another post probably.
Debate is a form of sport, and any insult during a debate is an automatic loss. But people do it anyway, and lose the real value of debate: to be civilized and avoid violence. Then insults themselves become the sport; being vicious has always been entertaining. That was part of the purpose of the Roman Coliseum.
Only in Christ are we moving towards greater civility and love for one another, though there is still a very long way to go.
lamented the “culture of insults” enabled by social media. “Lack of harmony has lead to stark divisions,” he said. We tend to cling to “our little group, to the things and people we like...Nowadays it is fashionable to hurl adjectives and, sadly, even insults.” He recommended responding “to malice with goodness, to shouting with silence, to gossip with prayer, to defeatism with encouragement.”This doesn’t just go for social media, but all relationships, all the time. Social media gets the attention because it allows people to be the worst version of themselves, and due to anonymity, suffer no consequences. Like a vehicle it can be both a useful tool, or a weapon. It is only “deadly” in the hostile and hateful ideas it can spread.
Political debate is the reason for the insults. Our culture of insults is linked to an economy of insults. People with massive social media followings are expected to creatively insult their political adversaries for their audience’s entertainment. They get money, likes and views, and this contributes to their egomania. It inspires other to take up “the cause” in their own way: starting their own YouTube channels, or making scathing comments on Facebook.
That is the reason I will never permanently rid myself of Facebook: there is an unmatched thrill in debating with tangible people I once knew, as myself. On Twitter I can get involved with divisive conversation with strangers, as a stranger; I can be completely insulting and acerbic in my response because we are nothing but a picture on a screen to each other. On Facebook my inclination is to be disagreeable, but kinder, to the people I once knew, though still asserting the political point of view I am debating. Facebook is much more personal because I once knew these people, and once cared what they thought of me. Now that we are memories to one another, I need to let them know how my opinions have changed, and to a larger extent, how I have changed. This is ego. If we still mattered to each other, we would still be in each other’s day-to-day life. Or at least be in touch in a more personal way. We can go our separate ways without being unemotionally in touch with those we pretend to care about. But I digress.
It is my natural inclination as a hypocrite to both agree with The Pope and defend my own actions.
This blog isn’t really social media because nobody comments on it. And I don’t try to insult people for its own sake here. (Though that could be another form of mental exercise.) People are offended very easily now; even when comments made are not personal, people take them that way. I am not insulting on social media, but I never contribute goodness. I think goodness can only be lived, but I’ll get back to that in another post probably.
Debate is a form of sport, and any insult during a debate is an automatic loss. But people do it anyway, and lose the real value of debate: to be civilized and avoid violence. Then insults themselves become the sport; being vicious has always been entertaining. That was part of the purpose of the Roman Coliseum.
Only in Christ are we moving towards greater civility and love for one another, though there is still a very long way to go.
Ultimately, The Pope is being a good father. He is reminding us not to judge one another, and instead to be forgiving and kind.
Monday, July 29, 2019
Friday, July 26, 2019
Not Doing Anything
I sat shotgun in the Sprinter van and looked out the window at all the cars, and the sad people in them. I looked out the windshield at the snake of cars ahead of us. They weren’t moving. They hadn’t moved in minutes. Up till now we had crept up in the traffic, inching our way slowly to the mouth of the tunnel, but now we were stuck.
I wasn’t doing anything but dying of boredom. I could only sit there, and wait for the boredom to pass. In Manhattan there would be traffic, but there would also be people to watch. As much as it might be pleasing in the moment to hit those people, they would supply my eyes with some entertainment outside of the obnoxious voices of the radio.
Bodies and minds always hit a breaking point during this ordeal, and motivation is extinguished upon arrival home. The mind and body demand relaxation from the spirit torture of traffic exhaustion.
Listening to music, reading a book, watching a video, all social media.....it is all an entertaining distraction from the hellish commute. This commute is one reason that living in the city (and its surrounding sprawl) erodes patience, motivation and intellect.
I had to get home and do something with my brain and my body. First I spoke to my roommate, who was in the same place on the couch when I left in the morning. She was bored enough from a similar type of endless, relaxing media consumption to want to talk to me about my day. It was a miracle.
Conversation is the first step to thinking. Doing is the second step, and for me, writing counts as doing. But doing is work. (Writing is work.) After a commute, working seems like more....work. Sometimes we need reminding that relaxation isn’t earned simply because we reached home. We can relax for a moment, but too much relaxing too soon leads to less motivation and less doing. It leads to more mindless media consumption. A second wind is always needed when the spirit is depleted, and it has to be equal parts motivating and relaxing. It has to use the brain and the body. In this case the body is the mouth.
Using my mouth lead me to work out my body. I exhausted my body. That was good. Though my mind was engaged, it was never exhausted. I focused too much on my body’s exhaustion as an excuse not to exhaust my mind. Exhaustion is temporary. Our body can withstand remarkable exhaustion if we treat it right. It is all mentality.
Temperance is a virtue that traffic exhaustion tries to murder. Don’t ever let tunnel traffic deplete the spirit.
I wasn’t doing anything but dying of boredom. I could only sit there, and wait for the boredom to pass. In Manhattan there would be traffic, but there would also be people to watch. As much as it might be pleasing in the moment to hit those people, they would supply my eyes with some entertainment outside of the obnoxious voices of the radio.
Bodies and minds always hit a breaking point during this ordeal, and motivation is extinguished upon arrival home. The mind and body demand relaxation from the spirit torture of traffic exhaustion.
Listening to music, reading a book, watching a video, all social media.....it is all an entertaining distraction from the hellish commute. This commute is one reason that living in the city (and its surrounding sprawl) erodes patience, motivation and intellect.
I had to get home and do something with my brain and my body. First I spoke to my roommate, who was in the same place on the couch when I left in the morning. She was bored enough from a similar type of endless, relaxing media consumption to want to talk to me about my day. It was a miracle.
Conversation is the first step to thinking. Doing is the second step, and for me, writing counts as doing. But doing is work. (Writing is work.) After a commute, working seems like more....work. Sometimes we need reminding that relaxation isn’t earned simply because we reached home. We can relax for a moment, but too much relaxing too soon leads to less motivation and less doing. It leads to more mindless media consumption. A second wind is always needed when the spirit is depleted, and it has to be equal parts motivating and relaxing. It has to use the brain and the body. In this case the body is the mouth.
Using my mouth lead me to work out my body. I exhausted my body. That was good. Though my mind was engaged, it was never exhausted. I focused too much on my body’s exhaustion as an excuse not to exhaust my mind. Exhaustion is temporary. Our body can withstand remarkable exhaustion if we treat it right. It is all mentality.
Temperance is a virtue that traffic exhaustion tries to murder. Don’t ever let tunnel traffic deplete the spirit.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Unsolicited Advice 10
Dear Abby,
My boyfriend and I have been dating for nearly two years. He would literally do anything for me. He’s incredibly affectionate and supportive, and a lot of women would love to have someone like him.
My problem is we see the world through completely different eyes. I'm an artist. I want to go out and explore the world and do crazy things. He's more comfortable at home with video games and he's not comfortable mingling with crowds. He can be overprotective sometimes, and when I bring up my concerns about possibly breaking up, he doesn't take me seriously and says, "You do this every time you're upset."
We live together and are dependent both financially and emotionally. Honestly, I would like to stay with him, but I'm torn about what to do. Should I leave someone I should be grateful for in order to chase selfish dreams? Or should I stay and encourage him to change? -- CHASING MY DREAMS
Dear Chasing Your Dreams,
Your boyfriend isn’t going to change. If you can’t accept him the way he is, then it would be better for both of you to separate.
Normally I don't look at Abby/Amy/Carolyn's response until after I write and publish my own response. It keeps my answer pure. It keeps my answer....plermptian
The question might be a conventional one, but Abby's advice is the worst I've ever read. She doesn't address the issue at all. She is unfit to carry her mother's name with her lazy two sentences.
Dear Chasing Your Dreams,
People do change.
What you have yet to realize is that you are the one that is going to do the changing. You will lose interest in 'doing crazy things.' You will catch up to your boyfriend, and when you do, you won't want to regret leaving him for something silly and fleeting like 'artistic dreams.'
An art career is bullshit anyway. It will not support you. You can bartend/waitress alone while you attempt to 'make it', or you can have a stable boyfriend with a stable job to keep you afloat so you can network.
Stability is more rewarding and fulfilling than 'crazy things' because 'crazy things' is a phase that passes relatively quickly. People that commit to doing 'crazy things' usually die young and poor.
Unless your boyfriend is abusive/cheat/flake you should follow your dreams with him; he can support you emotionally and financially.
However, if you really think that you are better off following your dreams alone, then STOP BRINGING UP CONCERNS ABOUT BREAKING UP! Just do it. Break up. Stop pussyfooting around it.
It is undeserved rudeness to an otherwise innocent, good person. Talk to him about following your dreams responsibly, and see what he can offer you in support.
You are young, probably attractive girl, so it will be easier for you to find someone more compatible if you get involved in those art scenes. But expect disappointment in your art dreams. And don't sleep around.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)