At this point in our history, an honest politician with legitimate ideas is a national treasure. Mostly because there is only one such person. Sadly, we have reached a point where voting for Ron National Treasure Paul may not be the best idea.
Because a national treasure, by its very nature, is something to preserve. And if by some miracle he gets elected, he will be dead in less than a year.
Not because he is old, or because he couldn't handle the stress of the job. He wouldn't die of natural causes (though, come to think of it, there might be an attempt to make it appear so), and he wouldn't die in an accident (despite how it might certainly look to the public). No, because he brooks no compromise, and holds fast to certain core principles, he would die at the hands of an assassin, and it wouldn't be Jodi Foster putting out the hit.
Think about it.
Based on the bizarre idea that our constitution does not designate us as the world's policeman (and based on the expense to a nation deep, DEEP in the throes of debt), Mr. Paul would immediately withdraw all troops from all foreign shores. Do you really think that extant powers within the military industrial complex would allow that? And might not the ensuing chaos in the policed nations allow the fomenting of some kind of retaliation? We're just getting started.
Based on the extreme idea that a nation deep, DEEP in the throws of debt cannot in good conscience throw money it doesn't have into swirling toilet bowls around the world, Mr. Paul would immediately phase out nearly all foreign aid. Based on the violent reaction of dependent parties in Greece and England (who went from being shiftless to riotous in seconds when their freebies were threatened), do you really think that the multitude of nations who sit with their hands out for billions in US funds would really stand up and say, "That's alright, we understand you're deep, DEEP in the throes of debt. We'll take it from here" ?
Based on the absurd idea (or the facts of the case, for those of you who are picky about these things) that the war on drugs has been a gigantic waste of federal dollars, Mr. Paul would put an end to federal drug enforcement. Should this empower the drug cartels that run Mexico with easier distribution to an expanded idiot client base, there's nothing to worry about. But if this leads to locally produced products available cheaply to a static idiot client base, thereby taking billions out of the pockets of the cartels that run Mexico, how long do you think these entities, already well versed in the art of mass and individual murder of high level officials, would leave an uncompromising president alive?
Based on the insane notion that the bailout sent billions of dollars through the anus of the FED into a mysterious corporate black hole, Mr. Paul will audit the FED, attempting to account for past expenditures, and ensure that future funds were handled in a responsible, transparent way. Do you really think that the multi-billionaires who so obviously and regularly benefit from the currently shady practices and policies would allow their golden goose to be cooked?
He would also push to make abortion a States issue, effectively removing it from the purview of the federal government. This, in the eyes of some, would be interpreted as the legalization of abortion, making President Paul a baby murderer to some very stridently active people. Do you really think that someone willing to blow up a single abortion doctor or clinic wouldn't also feel justified in forcibly removing the man who made it all legal? (on the other hand, many states would quickly make it illegal, causing a very similar problem. . .)
We're just scratching the surface here. If Ron Paul were to make good on his principles and promises, it would jeopardize the position of some very powerful, very shady individuals and entities. He would be a further threat to entities who have long been dependent on the government, from shifty corporations to shiftless individuals, all of whom would be introduced to the absurd idea that Human beings are created equal, and have equally infinite potential, and have a right to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness under our limited government and everything else they are capable of (and responsible for) handling for themselves. Who's to say what might happen in the ensuing unrest? He might actually limit the expansion of government and balance the budget! Can you imagine the displeasure of the really powerful people who benefit financially from the interest on our debt, and politically from the blatant purchasing of votes with promises made with the money of others? You don't want to think about it. You don't want to believe that the flagstones of your leftist or rightist ideology are capable of evil. Or maybe you want to believe that the nation and the world would be brought to see the justice and efficiency in the principles of President Paul. The first group is in denial and the second is just plain Utopian (which is to say, stupidly believing in a world that has never and can never exist). Neither belief system will save his life.
Or perhaps we can take comfort in the fact that a principled person with actual ideas could never get elected in this country, or in the fact that a president, once in power, is beholden to so many shadowy forces that he or she is effectively hog-tied (and therefore bound, for instance to keep Gitmo open and send 30,000 extra troops into a doomed foreign war despite promising the exact opposite.) But I say that in this case we must err on the side of caution. We cannot in good conscience sign the death warrant of a national treasure, though it leaves us in political limbo.
There is absolutely NO ONE else to vote for. But don't vote for Ron Paul. Like Hope itself, it may have been the will of the Gods that he remain locked in Pandora's Box.
vendredi, septembre 09, 2011
dimanche, mai 15, 2011
Right Bad, Left Good
The current President acted without Pakistan's permission, but maybe the term "cowboy diplomacy" is outdated. Pakistan is angry. They say we violated their sovereignty. Do we accept it because of WHY we crossed their border? Has the time for people to criticize the President for acting "unilaterally" passed? Or maybe . . .
The President ordered an unarmed man to be shot in the face in front of his wives and children. Do we accept it because of who we shot, or because we spent our venom on the "enhanced interrogations" that put us on the dead man's trail? Or perhaps . . .
The President has friends high up in the business world who have gained privileges and profit from his policies. Have we embraced cronyism? Perhaps our opinion of oligarchy changes according to the chief oligarch. Or, um . . .
I remember people defacing their bumpers with stickers decrying the fact that the price of gas had gone up under the last president. They were, apparently, very angry. The price of gas has now gone up even more; but I haven't seen any updates. Did we as a people finally wise up and calm down? Have we given up the idiotic practice of synopsizing our venomous personality on a bumper sticker? Or maybe, just maybe . . .
One President had virulent protesters everywhere condemning his war. The next President continued these war policies, increased the death toll, added 30 thousand or so troops to the effort, and doubled the amount of drone attacks. One of these men was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Did the world embrace the war on terror? Are we just suckers for changes in terminology? Or is it possible that . . .
. . . we are a nation of knee jerk hypocrites, beholden to myopic political philosophies defined by hoodwinking, morally defunct political parties consisting of extremes designed to enforce each other for profit?
The President ordered an unarmed man to be shot in the face in front of his wives and children. Do we accept it because of who we shot, or because we spent our venom on the "enhanced interrogations" that put us on the dead man's trail? Or perhaps . . .
The President has friends high up in the business world who have gained privileges and profit from his policies. Have we embraced cronyism? Perhaps our opinion of oligarchy changes according to the chief oligarch. Or, um . . .
I remember people defacing their bumpers with stickers decrying the fact that the price of gas had gone up under the last president. They were, apparently, very angry. The price of gas has now gone up even more; but I haven't seen any updates. Did we as a people finally wise up and calm down? Have we given up the idiotic practice of synopsizing our venomous personality on a bumper sticker? Or maybe, just maybe . . .
One President had virulent protesters everywhere condemning his war. The next President continued these war policies, increased the death toll, added 30 thousand or so troops to the effort, and doubled the amount of drone attacks. One of these men was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Did the world embrace the war on terror? Are we just suckers for changes in terminology? Or is it possible that . . .
. . . we are a nation of knee jerk hypocrites, beholden to myopic political philosophies defined by hoodwinking, morally defunct political parties consisting of extremes designed to enforce each other for profit?
vendredi, février 04, 2011
The Keith Lowell Jensen Comedy Prosperity Joke Redistribution Plan
No one on either side of the political spectrum would disagree with the notion that, in these tough economic times, a nation has to pull together. To what extent, and whether that solidarity should foment publicly, or privately, is of course a matter of contention.
Keep in mind that homeowners and union labor aren't the only ones hit hard by the recent downturn. In fact, according to a preponderance of experts, the comedy bubble burst even before the housing and .com markets crumbled. In the wake of the crash, comedians bonded together, joining arms and standing tall for each other.
Which all added up to very little.
This is due, say a growing number of activists, to the fact that no amount of solidarity can come to any sort of fruition without a framework of policy set up by a proactive government.
With new legislation recently passed by congress and signed by the president, comedians and citizens everywhere can look forward to a new dawn of egalitarian prosperity.
The historic Keith Lowell Jensen Prosperity Joke Redistribution Plan (KeLJePJoRP) revamps the comedy industry and levels a playing field that has marginalized countless millions of unfunny individuals.
Named in honor of journeyman stand-up impresario Keith Lowell Jensen, a very funny man who generously shared his solidly hilarious laugh lines with those in need (even when it mean cutting his own set short), KeLJePJoRP sanctions the newly created Bureau of Comedic Affairs, authorizing them to confiscate jokes from prolific and funny comedians, and redistribute them to those with inferior comedic talents. The bracketed system allows the most successful comedians to keep 60% of their jokes. Above average comics will have the privilege of involuntarily sharing 20% of their humor. Marginally talented and less prolific comics will only have to give up 10%. The appropriated jokes will subsidize the careers and (more likely) the social interactions of people who dream of comedy, but who lack the insight or timing to be truly funny. It further extends a hand to those who may well be very funny, but who are unable to put in the hard work required to create solid material.
"This is great," says an early beneficiary of the program, "I was ready to throw in the towel. Writing jokes is so hard, and since my cannabis prescription ran out I've had trouble focusing. When I got the first batch of jokes, and people laughed at them, I thought, 'thank God people care enough to vote for people who will create an agency to give me someone elses jokes!' No matter how unfunny I am, I have hope for the future now." The above mentioned unfunny person (who requested anonymity) is currently doing 1 to 2 shows a week, and getting good laughs, almost completely with material from other comics. "I put in one of my own into my set the other day, and it didn't get much of a laugh. I think I'll stick with stuff from the program for the time being. I'm flat out killing. Being funny is awesome."
Some comedians have referred to recipients of the program as "welfare comics," a turn of phrase that participant Jake Rubenstein calls "hurtful, and dismissive." He explains further, "Most of those so-called 'funny' people inherited their sense of humor anyway. It's not like they earned it. Just because you have funny parents doesn't mean you are better than me, or anyone else." He mostly uses the laugh lines he receives to "break the ice" with women. "Before I was funny, I used to bomb with the ladies. Since I got in the program, and with the extra delivery coaching from the comedy counseling unit, I'm scoring twice the chicks."
Opponents of the program maintain that the Constitution makes no provision for the confiscation of intellectual property (i.e. jokes). But they have also pointed out that it contains no language authorizing the confiscation of income at gunpoint--a practice that has been carried out at the federal level since Lincoln. They attempt to bolster their point claiming that large amounts of really great comedy are eaten up in bureaucratic waste. Phillip Smooot, founder of government watch dog group Citizens for Responsible Administrative Policy, recently stated (on NPR's Fresh Air) that "for every 20 jokes sent to Washington, only 5 reach the intended recipients. The rest are petered away in the endlessly churning bureaucratic Rube Goldberg machine that is the Federal Government. These are the same people who are currently feeding soldiers into a sausage grinder in the Middle East. Do you really want them in charge of our nation's comedic reserves?" Other opponents wonder if a country with trillions of dollars of crippling debt has the means to maintain yet another expensive agency.
"Absolutely," responds Amy Douglas, spokesperson for the Keith Lowell Jensen Foundation (the advocacy group that lobbied for the legislation). "Reaching out to the comically challenged is the responsibility of everyone blessed with a sense of humor. It breaks my heart to think of people telling bad jokes, and passing them on for generations. We can break that chain. Everyone should have a chance to be humorous. Telling funny jokes is a right. We cannot deny it to people and still call ourselves a compassionate society." Other advocates maintain the position (as did a recent blogger on the Huffington Post) that comedy is a precious national resource that "merits management." If for no other reason than to prevent downturns in comedic institutions like Saturday Night Live. "When that show hits a bad stretch," said the blogger, "it takes the whole country to a very dark place." They point out that if we can get a greater percentage of the populace to be funny, we will no longer need to import such large quantities of humor from countries where socialized comedy has been prospering for years.
Most polls indicate that the American people in general, eager for a laugh, have adopted a "wait and see" approach. The next few years will set a critical precedent, and we may see an already polarized electorate take sides in disturbing numbers. Or perhaps, as some predict, expanded possibilities for laughter will bring people together. This much is clear: With the law set to expire halfway into the next president's term, the debate is far from over. Insert punchline here. I couldn't think of one, and I didn't qualify for the program.
vendredi, novembre 19, 2010
The Only Thing We Have to Fear, is . . .
When I was a lad, we worried. Not about stupid stuff, like terrorism, or a collapsing economy. We had real concerns angsting our daily bread.
We worried about clothes. We were poor, in a poor neighborhood; and no one is more status obsessed than the lower middle class. NO ONE. You had to wear the right thing. To do otherwise was to subject yourself to all manner of verbal cruelty. With us, it was worse than name calling (though there was plenty of that). It was petty, catty gossip, designed to be delivered anonymously and leave you unable to respond. Silent bullets in the back of your off brand shirt. It seems to me kids today are less brand obsessed, more laid back. Thrift store shopping was something to hide. Now it's all the rage. Absent this division, kids are left to bully each other into suicide on facebook. Sad, yes, but hardly Marxist. It was amazing how relative poverty united us against each other. It was civil class warfare, and believe me, it was stressful.
Almost as stressful as puberty. As there's nothing new under the sun, I'm sure kids today stress endlessly about the bizarre biological arms race. Like us back then, modern adolescents pull their hair out hoping for emergent body hair. A late bloomer, I crumbled under the pressure and used to force my voice to crack, because of the badge of honor you could wear when your voice started to change. I also went for eyeliner on the upper lip. And prayed hourly for a five o'clock shadow. (One of the great ironies, really: we seek a boon, and only when it is granted do we realize we were praying for a scourge.) The whole process tore me in two. When an older brother said: "Dude, you stink!" I was naturally horrified, but my pubescent heart secretly rejoiced, and with affected nonchalance seasoned with glee I reported the body odor to my friends. Sick, sick sick.
But all this has been true for every generation since the beginning. The horror for us, which I don't believe modern youth have to suffer, was showering after gym. Pale, skinny, largely hairless 7th graders herded into showers. Once, coach Yingling, (yes, that was his real name) heard we were disgracing his showers by holding our towels on and simply wetting our hair. He actually came into the showers and used a couple of us as examples of how to hang up your towel on the rail and cross the denuded gauntlet of death to the showering area. He added torture to the horror by having his eighth grade teacher's assistants monitor us in his absence. You just had to go numb and stumble through it. I don't' think your average junior high even HAS showers nowadays. Nothing surpassed that stress.
Except Global Thermal Nuclear War.
Sure, the current generation had 9/11. And for a while afterwards, we all pretended to be worried about a recurrence. But our laughable faux terror malaise, and even the horrors of the TSA are nothing compared to the tangible fear that brooded over the world during the cold war and reached it's apex under president Cosby. Those of us who hit our formative years in the late 70's/early 80's will never forget the daily possibility that almost all life on earth could be wiped out in a matter of minutes. Forget about the politicians--our movies, our TV, our own parents, drove the imminent nuclear holocaust deep into our collective psyche. Sting even charted a hit on the subject. And we were so caught up in fear and expectation that we couldn't see how pretentious and melodramatic the song was. And whereas we had Red Dawn to say: "Oh, by the way, we don't even need nuclear weapons to drive you young people into the high country," this generation already has comedies--comedies!--about jihadist terror. Proof that ours were headier times. Time spent musing about the end of the world as we know it changes you. Even if, at the end of it all, you feel fine. There is no equivalent for the current crop. What will become of them?
So nothing ever changes. And the more it changes, the more it stays the same. Fine. The kids of today are just like we were: they're just undeniably fatter, softer, ruder, cruder, hypersexualized versions of ourselves. But they are happy-go-luckier, than we ever were or could be.
And why not? They have relatively nothing to fear.
We worried about clothes. We were poor, in a poor neighborhood; and no one is more status obsessed than the lower middle class. NO ONE. You had to wear the right thing. To do otherwise was to subject yourself to all manner of verbal cruelty. With us, it was worse than name calling (though there was plenty of that). It was petty, catty gossip, designed to be delivered anonymously and leave you unable to respond. Silent bullets in the back of your off brand shirt. It seems to me kids today are less brand obsessed, more laid back. Thrift store shopping was something to hide. Now it's all the rage. Absent this division, kids are left to bully each other into suicide on facebook. Sad, yes, but hardly Marxist. It was amazing how relative poverty united us against each other. It was civil class warfare, and believe me, it was stressful.
Almost as stressful as puberty. As there's nothing new under the sun, I'm sure kids today stress endlessly about the bizarre biological arms race. Like us back then, modern adolescents pull their hair out hoping for emergent body hair. A late bloomer, I crumbled under the pressure and used to force my voice to crack, because of the badge of honor you could wear when your voice started to change. I also went for eyeliner on the upper lip. And prayed hourly for a five o'clock shadow. (One of the great ironies, really: we seek a boon, and only when it is granted do we realize we were praying for a scourge.) The whole process tore me in two. When an older brother said: "Dude, you stink!" I was naturally horrified, but my pubescent heart secretly rejoiced, and with affected nonchalance seasoned with glee I reported the body odor to my friends. Sick, sick sick.
But all this has been true for every generation since the beginning. The horror for us, which I don't believe modern youth have to suffer, was showering after gym. Pale, skinny, largely hairless 7th graders herded into showers. Once, coach Yingling, (yes, that was his real name) heard we were disgracing his showers by holding our towels on and simply wetting our hair. He actually came into the showers and used a couple of us as examples of how to hang up your towel on the rail and cross the denuded gauntlet of death to the showering area. He added torture to the horror by having his eighth grade teacher's assistants monitor us in his absence. You just had to go numb and stumble through it. I don't' think your average junior high even HAS showers nowadays. Nothing surpassed that stress.
Except Global Thermal Nuclear War.
Sure, the current generation had 9/11. And for a while afterwards, we all pretended to be worried about a recurrence. But our laughable faux terror malaise, and even the horrors of the TSA are nothing compared to the tangible fear that brooded over the world during the cold war and reached it's apex under president Cosby. Those of us who hit our formative years in the late 70's/early 80's will never forget the daily possibility that almost all life on earth could be wiped out in a matter of minutes. Forget about the politicians--our movies, our TV, our own parents, drove the imminent nuclear holocaust deep into our collective psyche. Sting even charted a hit on the subject. And we were so caught up in fear and expectation that we couldn't see how pretentious and melodramatic the song was. And whereas we had Red Dawn to say: "Oh, by the way, we don't even need nuclear weapons to drive you young people into the high country," this generation already has comedies--comedies!--about jihadist terror. Proof that ours were headier times. Time spent musing about the end of the world as we know it changes you. Even if, at the end of it all, you feel fine. There is no equivalent for the current crop. What will become of them?
So nothing ever changes. And the more it changes, the more it stays the same. Fine. The kids of today are just like we were: they're just undeniably fatter, softer, ruder, cruder, hypersexualized versions of ourselves. But they are happy-go-luckier, than we ever were or could be.
And why not? They have relatively nothing to fear.
jeudi, octobre 21, 2010
Big Mouth Strikes Again
A friend was about to tell me to keep something secret. This friend seemed to be under the impression that I tell people things.
At first, I was offended. Because people have entrusted me with hundreds of secrets that I have never revealed. Never even THOUGHT of revealing. People have confided in me. They really have. On top of that, I have secrets of my own, which, despite occasional ribbons of revelation, I am quite content to keep to myself. I'm quite sure the world is a better place with most of its information classified.
So I tried to go back through time and find the reasons why someone might have this low opinion. The occasions were found.
INCIDENT THE FIRST: During some bizarre sleep over in some cabin, or condo, or something, in Tahoe, apparently a bunch of people crashed together on a sofa bed. The next morning, I reportedly "sold out" an engaged friend to his fiance. Given that there was no alcohol involved, (don't drink; never have) my complete inability to remember any part of the entire affair was a little odd. I had to meditate extensively to recall even vague impressions. But the salient details and concrete facts are simple to recall: 1)The friend in question had nothing to hide or be ashamed of, as nothing happened on the aforementioned sofa bed; 2) I was, at the time, completely unaware of any history between said friend and any other participant in the innocent sleep that occurred; 3) I considered the relationship between the friend and his fiance to be more solid than any I had observed; and 4) A joke about the proceedings under the circumstances must have seemed, I can only suppose (as I don't remember) completely harmless. If I made a mistake, it was being wrong about the solid footing of the relationship, or mistaken in my perception of the "innocence" of the proceedings. In which case, sue me. But clearly there was nothing in the occasion to merit a reputation of being a blabbermouth. There didn't seem to be any secret to keep. I seem to have spent the subsequent years in a constant state of apology for leaking non confidential information about how nobody did anything.
INCIDENT THE SECOND: During the "State Fair" era, wherein we all worked summers building exhibits at the fair, we had the pleasure of working with a skilled carpenter we dubbed "Safety Dave." We liked the guy; and I, for one, admired his dedicated use of eye and ear protection. At some point during one of many commutes, or lunch breaks, I made a reference to Safety Dave. My "friends" literally used the following words: "We're calling him 'Sweaty Dave' now." There was no further explanation. Later that day, I politely called him Sweaty Dave. He was slightly confused and offended. My bungled apology must have included something stupid like: "I thought that's what we were calling you now." It was a faux pas on my part to underestimate the insulting nature of the nickname and misjudge the situation. It was worse to implicate anyone but myself in the fiasco. But it was certainly no breech of confidence. At no point did anyone say: "We're calling him Sweaty Dave, but that's top secret, so only say it behind his back." I seem to have spent the subsequent years fighting the constant accusation that, based on this incident, I cannot be trusted with information.
If anyone can think of anything else, then I'll eat these words. But it seems to me that based on this meager evidence, the reputation is unfounded, and I do have a right to take my place in the human race. People around me will probably find at least one slip for every secret kept. Which is an embarrassing possibility I'm willing to entertain.
Because, come to think of it, that's not my point.
Initially, I wanted to defend whatever illusion of Honor I might have amongst the people who seem to delight in calling me unworthy of trust. But even as I constructed the defense, I came to realized the HUGE advantage of the reputation, (however egregious.) The fact is, when people think you're going blab it all over, they tend keep the sordid, awkward, potentially draining, crap details of their lives to themselves. And when they're keeping such to themselves, they can't possibly expect you to entrust them with anything potentially embarrassing. While it is important for me that people consider me worthy of trust, it is equally important to me that they save the gossip for people who give a crap.
To be clear:
1) If you tell me to keep it a secret, I will. (But be clear about it, as I am often aloof enough to miss the point when you're blabbing to me and you want the blabbing train to stop there.)
2) If you have developed the habit of keeping so-called "secret" information away from me, I'm fine with that. I don't live in a world where a friendship is based on how much you can't talk about. Keep it to yourself. It honestly improves my quality of life when I can go on thinking everyone is open and honest and realizes the value of George Bernard Shaw's axiom . . .
"The only real secrets are the secrets that keep themselves."
At first, I was offended. Because people have entrusted me with hundreds of secrets that I have never revealed. Never even THOUGHT of revealing. People have confided in me. They really have. On top of that, I have secrets of my own, which, despite occasional ribbons of revelation, I am quite content to keep to myself. I'm quite sure the world is a better place with most of its information classified.
So I tried to go back through time and find the reasons why someone might have this low opinion. The occasions were found.
INCIDENT THE FIRST: During some bizarre sleep over in some cabin, or condo, or something, in Tahoe, apparently a bunch of people crashed together on a sofa bed. The next morning, I reportedly "sold out" an engaged friend to his fiance. Given that there was no alcohol involved, (don't drink; never have) my complete inability to remember any part of the entire affair was a little odd. I had to meditate extensively to recall even vague impressions. But the salient details and concrete facts are simple to recall: 1)The friend in question had nothing to hide or be ashamed of, as nothing happened on the aforementioned sofa bed; 2) I was, at the time, completely unaware of any history between said friend and any other participant in the innocent sleep that occurred; 3) I considered the relationship between the friend and his fiance to be more solid than any I had observed; and 4) A joke about the proceedings under the circumstances must have seemed, I can only suppose (as I don't remember) completely harmless. If I made a mistake, it was being wrong about the solid footing of the relationship, or mistaken in my perception of the "innocence" of the proceedings. In which case, sue me. But clearly there was nothing in the occasion to merit a reputation of being a blabbermouth. There didn't seem to be any secret to keep. I seem to have spent the subsequent years in a constant state of apology for leaking non confidential information about how nobody did anything.
INCIDENT THE SECOND: During the "State Fair" era, wherein we all worked summers building exhibits at the fair, we had the pleasure of working with a skilled carpenter we dubbed "Safety Dave." We liked the guy; and I, for one, admired his dedicated use of eye and ear protection. At some point during one of many commutes, or lunch breaks, I made a reference to Safety Dave. My "friends" literally used the following words: "We're calling him 'Sweaty Dave' now." There was no further explanation. Later that day, I politely called him Sweaty Dave. He was slightly confused and offended. My bungled apology must have included something stupid like: "I thought that's what we were calling you now." It was a faux pas on my part to underestimate the insulting nature of the nickname and misjudge the situation. It was worse to implicate anyone but myself in the fiasco. But it was certainly no breech of confidence. At no point did anyone say: "We're calling him Sweaty Dave, but that's top secret, so only say it behind his back." I seem to have spent the subsequent years fighting the constant accusation that, based on this incident, I cannot be trusted with information.
If anyone can think of anything else, then I'll eat these words. But it seems to me that based on this meager evidence, the reputation is unfounded, and I do have a right to take my place in the human race. People around me will probably find at least one slip for every secret kept. Which is an embarrassing possibility I'm willing to entertain.
Because, come to think of it, that's not my point.
Initially, I wanted to defend whatever illusion of Honor I might have amongst the people who seem to delight in calling me unworthy of trust. But even as I constructed the defense, I came to realized the HUGE advantage of the reputation, (however egregious.) The fact is, when people think you're going blab it all over, they tend keep the sordid, awkward, potentially draining, crap details of their lives to themselves. And when they're keeping such to themselves, they can't possibly expect you to entrust them with anything potentially embarrassing. While it is important for me that people consider me worthy of trust, it is equally important to me that they save the gossip for people who give a crap.
To be clear:
1) If you tell me to keep it a secret, I will. (But be clear about it, as I am often aloof enough to miss the point when you're blabbing to me and you want the blabbing train to stop there.)
2) If you have developed the habit of keeping so-called "secret" information away from me, I'm fine with that. I don't live in a world where a friendship is based on how much you can't talk about. Keep it to yourself. It honestly improves my quality of life when I can go on thinking everyone is open and honest and realizes the value of George Bernard Shaw's axiom . . .
"The only real secrets are the secrets that keep themselves."
vendredi, octobre 08, 2010
No-Man's Land
I'm a man without a country, so to speak. But it didn't start politically. As always, my social/emotional/physical/political state has philosophical roots. Let us re-trace our steps.
By the end of the teenage years, most people have a pretty clear idea of whether they are a "morning person" or a "night owl." It usually has something to do with how late they like to stay up, relative to how early they are comfortable getting up. Most people have a pretty clear preference. Both lifestyles have their advantages. Early risers get to live out Franklin's "early to bed, early to rise" axiom. They get to enjoy the glory of the morning, the clear stillness and palpable hope inherent in the dawn. Early morning mountain bike rides are cool even in the summer, and you have the trail all to yourself. The morning is serenity.
Night birds, on the other hand, get to wrap themselves in the mystery of the night. To revel in the misty truths that are seen unseen. A kiss while the world sleeps has twice the passion. They also get to share precious moments with comedians, who, for some reason are not allowed to make people laugh while the sun shines. (I speak of Craig Ferguson, and, recently, SNL, and hopefully, Conan). I know how rare it is that anything truly good, or noble, happens after sunset, but even Mozart, who owned the sun, wrote a Little Nacht Musik.
Clear advantages on every side--the problem being that they are mutually exclusive. It simply isn't practicable to indulge in both as a matter of course. Yet here I am, a nocturnal morning person. I love (even need) them both, and cannot choose. So I'm doomed. Their combined magic most often adds up to misery.
Then there's shaving. I have no desire to be lumped with the modern scruffy slacker aesthetic. But that's what happens. It doesn't matter how often I want to say to myself: I'm not trying to look like EVERY Hollywood actor or magazine model, from Jack on Lost to whoever appears on the cover of Esquire. I like a smooth face. Yet I also hate shaving. So I play a game of cat and mouse with my whiskers and always end up on the losing side. Shaven/unshaven and liking/hating it.
Likewise with vegetarianism. I've never minded being the top of the food chain. I think meat tastes good and when produced on a small scale it's not immoral to eat other living things morally and sparingly. And yet, after watching and reading some accounts of how meat is produced, I decided that eating it was not a moral option--indeed, that you cannot be christian, or karmically positive, or enlightened, (insert whatever you believe), and also be part of the meat industry in any way. But I don't want to be one of those vegetarians, the judgemental, evangelical, activist vegetarians who think that a religious person should keep their damn mouth shut but a vegetarian should tell the world how to live. I don't really want to discuss it. But time and again, it comes up. People see you not eating it and have to know. And the next thing you know you're telling them about the toxic pools that kill people and poison the water table as fixtures at mass production pig farms all over the country. I guess if you wait for someone to ask, you're not technically trolling for converts. But let's face it, no one--NOT ONE PERSON--has EVER stopped eating meat because a vegetarian told them where their bacon came from. Even so, my approach leaves me unsatisfied. A vegetarian who likes meat, who cannot and must discuss it with people who ask, but don't really want to know.
I could go on, but why? The philosophical underpinnings are obvious at this point. The reader cannot help but perceive why I am trapped in political limbo. As it is with the night and the day, so it is with my position on the political spectrum. No party represents me. And while I hate dipsheists who display posters of the president with a hitler mustache, I also hate the smug ignoramuses who dismiss people who advocate responsible, limited government as "tea baggers." I know for a fact that people who watch Keith Olberman are precisely as mentally impaired as those who can stand the sound of Sean Hannity's voice for long periods. I understand your need to affiliate with a movement or party, but think you're a complete idiot for thinking the democrats or republicans represent anything but fascism and party-line intellectual cop-outs. I can see how you might think FOX news has a bias; I think you must have fecal matter for brains if you think that the other news networks even approach journalistic neutrality. I admire your clarity and dedication; I despise your feckless, loud-mouthed activism. I applaud your skewering of the power structure when Bush was in office; I mock and deride your blind allegiance to the blundering, power hungry, image obsessed Obama regime. I honestly don't give a tinker's damn about the president's race--on the other hand I think it's really cool that we are half a step closer to having a leader who resembles the chief executive in "The Fifth Element" and various other Hollywood classics.
See? I'm a man without a country, looking around for a third America I can call my own. A man, floundering between extremes, hoping a house divided unto itself can somehow stand.
By the end of the teenage years, most people have a pretty clear idea of whether they are a "morning person" or a "night owl." It usually has something to do with how late they like to stay up, relative to how early they are comfortable getting up. Most people have a pretty clear preference. Both lifestyles have their advantages. Early risers get to live out Franklin's "early to bed, early to rise" axiom. They get to enjoy the glory of the morning, the clear stillness and palpable hope inherent in the dawn. Early morning mountain bike rides are cool even in the summer, and you have the trail all to yourself. The morning is serenity.
Night birds, on the other hand, get to wrap themselves in the mystery of the night. To revel in the misty truths that are seen unseen. A kiss while the world sleeps has twice the passion. They also get to share precious moments with comedians, who, for some reason are not allowed to make people laugh while the sun shines. (I speak of Craig Ferguson, and, recently, SNL, and hopefully, Conan). I know how rare it is that anything truly good, or noble, happens after sunset, but even Mozart, who owned the sun, wrote a Little Nacht Musik.
Clear advantages on every side--the problem being that they are mutually exclusive. It simply isn't practicable to indulge in both as a matter of course. Yet here I am, a nocturnal morning person. I love (even need) them both, and cannot choose. So I'm doomed. Their combined magic most often adds up to misery.
Then there's shaving. I have no desire to be lumped with the modern scruffy slacker aesthetic. But that's what happens. It doesn't matter how often I want to say to myself: I'm not trying to look like EVERY Hollywood actor or magazine model, from Jack on Lost to whoever appears on the cover of Esquire. I like a smooth face. Yet I also hate shaving. So I play a game of cat and mouse with my whiskers and always end up on the losing side. Shaven/unshaven and liking/hating it.
Likewise with vegetarianism. I've never minded being the top of the food chain. I think meat tastes good and when produced on a small scale it's not immoral to eat other living things morally and sparingly. And yet, after watching and reading some accounts of how meat is produced, I decided that eating it was not a moral option--indeed, that you cannot be christian, or karmically positive, or enlightened, (insert whatever you believe), and also be part of the meat industry in any way. But I don't want to be one of those vegetarians, the judgemental, evangelical, activist vegetarians who think that a religious person should keep their damn mouth shut but a vegetarian should tell the world how to live. I don't really want to discuss it. But time and again, it comes up. People see you not eating it and have to know. And the next thing you know you're telling them about the toxic pools that kill people and poison the water table as fixtures at mass production pig farms all over the country. I guess if you wait for someone to ask, you're not technically trolling for converts. But let's face it, no one--NOT ONE PERSON--has EVER stopped eating meat because a vegetarian told them where their bacon came from. Even so, my approach leaves me unsatisfied. A vegetarian who likes meat, who cannot and must discuss it with people who ask, but don't really want to know.
I could go on, but why? The philosophical underpinnings are obvious at this point. The reader cannot help but perceive why I am trapped in political limbo. As it is with the night and the day, so it is with my position on the political spectrum. No party represents me. And while I hate dipsheists who display posters of the president with a hitler mustache, I also hate the smug ignoramuses who dismiss people who advocate responsible, limited government as "tea baggers." I know for a fact that people who watch Keith Olberman are precisely as mentally impaired as those who can stand the sound of Sean Hannity's voice for long periods. I understand your need to affiliate with a movement or party, but think you're a complete idiot for thinking the democrats or republicans represent anything but fascism and party-line intellectual cop-outs. I can see how you might think FOX news has a bias; I think you must have fecal matter for brains if you think that the other news networks even approach journalistic neutrality. I admire your clarity and dedication; I despise your feckless, loud-mouthed activism. I applaud your skewering of the power structure when Bush was in office; I mock and deride your blind allegiance to the blundering, power hungry, image obsessed Obama regime. I honestly don't give a tinker's damn about the president's race--on the other hand I think it's really cool that we are half a step closer to having a leader who resembles the chief executive in "The Fifth Element" and various other Hollywood classics.
See? I'm a man without a country, looking around for a third America I can call my own. A man, floundering between extremes, hoping a house divided unto itself can somehow stand.
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