Perversion and Inexcusable Inanity - Normal and Recurring

The final six days of any current year and the first day of the next one are stultifying, frustrating, annoying, and filled with angst. In other words, every year ends and begins with 168 hours that suck so consistently and strongly they could clear every sidewalk, yard and alley in America of every iota of dog doo in ten seconds or less.

It is a perverse, ugly and anticlimactic week, sitting between a holiday loaded with unrealistic expectations and a celebratory event marking an end and a beginning of who knows what that far too many people greet with bloodshot eyes, queasy stomachs and unrealistic plans and expectations. It is also a week dominated by the inexcusable inanity of lists. There's a list for everything - probably even a list of all the lists.

There is a list of things that went right which is short, and there is a list of things that went wrong. There is a list of items thought to become historic at some point in the future. There is a list of the most prominent people of the past year. There is a list of the sexiest men, usually made into a calendar, and a list of the sexiest women who are put into a calendar, too. There is a list of calendars. The entertainment industry puts out a list of the highest grossing movies of the past year and another list of the 'best' television shows. The publishing industry produces a list of the years best fiction and non-fiction. There is another list for the major news stories of the year which always contains some inane frivolity that caught the public's attention. Ironically, the frivolities list is generally longer that the public's memory which is smaller in size that a mosquito's butt.

The major list, of course, is a list of New Year's Resolutions created by those who are too young or too inexperienced to realize they are wasting their time deciding which irrational personal goals to start aiming for on the first day but which they will quietly jettison or conveniently forget by the end of the first full week.

For most of us older if not wiser gluttons for punishment, there is horror attached to this sucky week, as well. It is the realization that another 365 days of our lives have not only passed too quickly, but have passed without our accomplishing those things we viewed as important. It hardly matters what those things are - stop smoking, learn another language, read Ovid in the original Latin and Homer in the original Greek, train the dog to fetch, find a substitute for chocolate, run for Congress - there will always be at least one thing remaining undone; one thing we believe might define us or make us better if only we could concentrate our efforts on it. This sucky week exposes our self-delusions, our disappointments, our blind groping for meaning.

This week with all its constant lists and commentary on lists ends up proving only that humans are basically perverse, shallow, inanely frivolous and undisciplined. It also proves that they age rapidly, and that is the most perverse, horrifying and painful revelation of all...one that has no resolution other than eventual loss of self and death. Yet, we toast each other and our condition, calling out happy new year with unrelenting optimism and good cheer.

We are perverse - obstinate and contrary. It is our greatest flaw and our most endearing and fortunate blessing.

'Tis the Season of Natural Mystery...A Season for Reverence

No matter what label you choose to paste on this time of year - Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Christmas, Saturnalia, or even Festivus - there is one thing about it all that never changes. It is a wondrously mysterious season.

More than any other, this season should remind us to have reverence for natural mysteries, that it is more important to ask the questions than it is to have definitive answers. More phenomena, more unexplained happenings, more mystery in our lives might encourage us to think, to be curious, to marvel, to hold our breath in wonder and appreciate the different and the unique while giving no attention to all the bombastic, egotistical and boring cookie-cutter people who are determined to convince us and themselves that they're the only ones who have all the correct answers.

Wasn't it the natural curiosity of our species which tried to find explanations, no matter how foolish or unrealistic, to explain what was fearful or beyond comprehension? Isn't it obvious that all the various humans everywhere were asking the same questions about the same troubling things? Why do the seasons change? Why are the days of winter so filled with darkness? Why do some trees always wear green while others wear nothing at all?

During those times when the days were short, the nights were long, and the world was even more inhospitable with howling wind, blinding snow and treacherous ice, observant and brave naturalists of every age offered suggestions and opinions. Ancient storytellers gathered groups around warming fires in the dark of night and told tales to ease superstition, to turn frightening things into myth about supernatural beings, talking animals, and the cycle of life. Certain elements appeared in every story throughout the winter world: light to ease the darkness, whether from burning animal fat or tallow, bonfires at the entrance or centers of caves, the glow of stars overhead; feasts to increase and sate bodies and also create warmth, contentment, and sociability; gifts to bring a smile or occupy a child or create an obligation or appease a hurt or fear.

Throughout the ages of man, in the lengthening dark of cold night, questions were posed that had no real answers then and even today have no answers. What happens when humans die? Where do we go? Where do our memories go? Is there a soul? Do animals have souls? Why does water run fast or freeze? Where does water come from? When a star falls, what does it mean? Why can't we capture the moon? What is hunger? Why does the belly clench when we're afraid and hurt when we're sick? Are there Gods? Do they hear our pleas? Will summer come again? Are there people beyond the sun? Is there a wheel of life? Do we return to life again as someone else? Is there a plan? Is everything random? Are ghosts and spirits real? Is there a devil? Where does Satan live? Is there such a thing as evil? Or, is evil the opposite of good or the absence of good? Is evil suspected only by mankind?

Each age found its own set of answers to the most demanding questions, yet many of the same incomplete answer to the mysteries persisted from age to age. Even today, people call on the unseen that they choose to label God. They believe in the power of prayer not knowing if it is the words of their plea or the energy generated by their effort that has a positive effect. Storytellers still weave their fictions with the occasional moments of hope or truth interspersed, and people still seek answers or adopt beliefs to fend off the cold and the unknown.

Differing people in differening locations continue to ask the same questions even when their answers vary depending upon the geography of their landscapes, their natural dangers, their mythology of heroic warriors and wise, all-knowing sages and guides. Their ultimate beliefs might differ from those of neighbors both near and far, but there is always some similarity, if only in a hope or a dream.

People still have wonder and curiosity, although now it is called science. But not even science has all the answers because first the correct questions must be asked, and only when step follows step to an unknown destination can we know if the original question asked was the right one. That has always been the plight of man - to seek, to quest, to wonder - and it is a glorious undertaking. What would happen if mankind had the capacity to use more and more of that mechanism he labels 'brain?'

Despite the attempts of some frightened people to remake their known world into an image only they can see where all people think the same, act the same, talk the same, look the same and are satisfied with the same limited horizons, a few more intrepid souls cringe at the thought. They don't want a world devoid of differences to explore. They don't want to look over a lengthening line of people and see exactly the same expression or hollow look in every face. They do not want a homogeneous world any more than they want each day to follow the one before in exact duplication and empty sameness. They do not want to face a time when questions are no longer asked or when curiosity is appeased by indifference. The wise do NOT want to live in a world where everything has an acceptable answer determined by someone else.

May there always be questions and may there always be curious people to ask them. Perhaps that is mankind's true purpose in being - to ask again and again the universal questions that, if we are fortunate, will never be answered. Should all answers to every question be found, what remains for us? What would we strive for? Would we then have no purpose at all? Would we be able to feel sadness and grief, happiness and joy? Would we still value and celebrate light in the darkness of night?

The tyranny of 'yes' and the freedom of 'no'

The English language contains a wealth of tiny words, some of three letters and some of only two. Only two of those words are emphatically declarative, however - the word 'yes' and the word 'no.'

'Yes' is such an easy little word. It needn't even be uttered aloud to be heard in a facial expression, or a thumbs up sign, or an infinitesimal inclination of the head. 'Yes' is often heard in social, economic and political settings when silence and inattention allow expediency, tradition or authority to do whatever it wants with impunity.

Usually meaning ready agreement or acceptance, 'yes' has an aura of happiness about it that can, when the results of its reality are known, be highly deceptive at best and the total reverse at worst. There's the gleeful and loving 'yes' to a marriage proposal that ultimately ends in divorce. There's the pleased agreement to do something at a future date that turns into self hate as the date nears. There's the 'yes' of a spur of the moment purchase that becomes abject horror on seeing that fashion statement reflected in your bedroom mirror. There's the doting 'yes' to a sleep over for four thirteen year old friends of your daughter that becomes a raging migraine at their squealing antics by midnight. There's the continuous 'yes' in some cultures that means 'not in this lifetime but I won't hurt your feelings by saying what I really think.'

All evidence to the contrary, we continue to think of 'yes' as a positive word. 'Yes' implies one is 'for' something, yet those three little letters get us in the kind of trouble we'd avoid at all costs if we stopped to think about it. The size of our trouble depends only on the magnitude of the consequences of that 'yes'...the 'yes' that supports a lie or a cover up that when known destroys all credibility and trust...the 'yes' that pilfers just a bit of cash from the till that turns into charges of embezzlement...the 'yes' that falsifies your credentials and ultimately costs you a lucrative job when said credentials are checked...the 'yes' to trying cocaine or crack that leaves you with a habit you can't break...the 'yes' that puts you into a community, gang or cult where the only means of exit is a glass of fancy Kool-aid.

The two letter word 'no' is not so easy. Uttering 'no' has an aura of finality, or negativism, of disappointment and denial. Using the 'no' word generally requires thought and commitment, the possibility of giving offense or causing anger. When it comes to the end results, the word 'no' is usually a positive response for the grief it avoids, for the strife it circumvents, for the harm it will not consciously inflict.

'No' is the most important and powerful word in any language, and the rhetoric of 'no' defines a rainbow of possibilities. There is the sensitivity of the polite 'no' with reasons explained. There is the laughing 'no' of absurdity or foolishness forgiven. There is the emphatic 'no' of complete refusal. There is the apologetic 'no' for confusion avoided. There is the protesting 'no' that marches to its own drum, there is the petitioning 'no' that advances the art of disagreement to a literary achievement, there is the blasphemous 'no' that refuses to accept on faith alone, there is the tolerant 'no' that disdains bigotry, hatred, and ignorance, and there is the peaceful 'no' that will not adopt militancy or militarism or might at the point of a gun.

Individually and as a nation of people who believe in choice and the conscience of choice, it would behoove us to practice saying the word 'no' in all it colorful forms, especially the 'no' that will not allow others to speak or think for us when we are capable of speaking and thinking for ourselves.

Dangling From a Petard of Betrayal

Like most things instigated by careless humans, a first failure of trust is a rather small, silent thing, perhaps a slip of the tongue, ignoring a greeting, a sly wink at a rumor, the inspiration that going back on a promise will be for the person's own good. Such a tiny note, that first one, from which a minor diminished seventh chord eventually builds to a howling crescendo.

Repudiation of all that's held close and dear is betrayal, and even a 'small' betrayal, a tiny breach of trust, is a mean and hurtful thing. When that betrayal is for monetary gain, it is especially repugnant, but we've seen betrayal for nothing more momentous that a nod of confidence or a quirk of opinion.

The American people have been betrayed - and not just the beleaguered poor or the vanishing middle class. All of the people have been betrayed and in that accomplishment, America herself - the idea of America, the reputation of America, all her past, her present and her future - have been destroyed. So, too, have we, the American people, betrayed our birthright, our responsibilities of citizenship, our nation, our hard won and long held belief in our own goodness, but most of all, we have betrayed ourselves, our children, and our children's future. The conscience of our nation has been pummeled, tortured and ultimately suffocated to death a thousand times over by benign neglect, blatant denial, and overweaning greed. We've turned betrayal into a commonplace commodity, an advertising gimmick, and a form of mass entertainment as meaningless and foolish as sitcoms and reality shows on evening TV.

It is difficult to point to the original moment when the first of that deadly line of dominos was flipped over. The clatter of falling tiles has been purposely muted although the occasional jarring sound left most of us with an uncomfortable feeling, a suspicion that something, somewhere was very wrong. No longer is it merely suspicion, however, for those with the courage to look and the will to see, the most recent betrayals - building upon those of the past - are loud and obvious. We long prided ourselves in having a moral compass, of being a decent and warm hearted people with shared and recognized values. That morality- that intrinsic knowledge of right and wrong - was the first victim.

Men and women of good conscience don't look upon expediency as a factor of time but as a weapon in the toolbox of the unscrupulous. People of good conscience don't look upon the pain of humans in poverty as an indicator of economic theory. People of good conscience don't look upon hungry or dying children in a wealthy nation as a form of natural selection. People of good conscience don't look upon older people struggling to retain their dignity as an entry into a marketing bonanza for geriatric merchandise. People of good conscience don't look at denial of quality education to all as a means of limiting advancement for minority groups or of assuring the advancement of only the inbred of a certain class. People of good conscience don't look upon the birth of a child as potential cannon fodder eighteen years in the future. People of good conscience don't look upon dwindling resources as an opportunity to dominate other cultures.

Ours was supposed to be an open society. Democracy in this Republic of ours was supposed to be transparent to all. We've been taught that our way of life was a beacon to the rest of the known world, a way of life worthy of emulation. We've always believed that everyone was born with certain inalienable rights - not just a select few, but everyone - that opportunity and working toward one's dreams were there for all of us. As had been our tradition for centuries, our shores and our national doors were open to all who longed to be free. We prided ourselves on being a melting pot, this nation of immigrants, of accepting the best of everyone in this best of all worlds. There was good reason for the pride we felt in ourselves. Unfortunately, we are learning each day that there is good reason for the embarrassment and shame many of us have begun to feel about what we have all become under the waving but dirty and tattered banner of 'foreign policy.'

Most certainly, people of good conscience do not look at the criminality of unnecessary war as a subtle means of enlarging bank accounts or as an efficient means of advancing a secret agenda or as an acceptable means of expanding authority and control over peoples or nations. Those people of conscience do not try to hide the reality, the number, the names or the return of their dead to those who love them, whose lives become less, whose hearts are broken and whose souls wander endlessly in search of a reasonable answer for the simple question: Why?

When a husband or wife betrays their vows of fidelity to a spouse, it is called adultery. When a religious person betrays his God, it is called blasphemy. When a soldier disobeys unconscionable orders, it's called insubordination. When anyone betrays their own nation, it is called treason. When the leadership of a nation betrays the people of that nation, is it sufficient to merely call it incompetence? Or expediency? When the people of that nation betray their own legacy of decency and themselves, is there a strong enough epithet for them? Or are they only the ultimate in the annals of the betrayed and the Betrayers, hoist upon their own petard of gullibility, ignorance and indifference?

Let us all put away childish things

"When I was a child, I spake as a child.
I understood as a child. I thought as a child.
But when I became a man, I put away childish things."

This verse, supposedly contained in a letter from Paul to the school at Corinth, is not talking about the toys and dolls of childhood, but is referring to the world of childish emotions - of taunts, threats, belligerence and revenge, of spite, malice and jealousy, the world of destruction, cruelty and knee jerk reaction, the world of gossip, little white lies, fibs, and whoppers that children think will make then seem smart or strong, brave or untouchable. These emotions are the toys of the vindictive, the insecure, the smug, and the thoughtless. They are also the toys of those who are adult in chronological years, but who, in reality, are only overgrown, over indulged brats incapable of introspection and thought; adults who have chosen not to grow up and thus, will never be wise.

There is also an old adage that says that the only difference between men and boys is the cost of their toys. The spit ball or sling shot morphs into a flamer thrower or rocket launcher. The Tonka truck becomes a HumVee, with or without armor. The folded paper airplane, the kite soaring in spring wind, the hand made model bi-plane of the childish adult turns into the unmanned drone, the heavily armed F-17, the aviation fuel filled airliner, the bunker buster bomb, the dream of satellite controlled nuclear arsenals that could intimidate or utterly disintegrate the world on a child's whim, because what's the sense of having the power without the gloating bully's willingness to use it without regard to the results.

There are also the games children play to prove their physical and mental prowess, to compete boldly, to be victorious, to win at all costs without an iota of perception about what winning means or responsibilities it holds. Childish minds are unable to see a winning score as only numbers when their dreams and fantasies tell them it is so much more - a visible stamp of superiority, an elation for momentarily being the 'best,' a vindication for any past failures, real or not, a loud, braying chortle to have lauded '"it" over a person or group who has now been proven weaker, less talented, unimportant, undeserving of recognition. Victory, winning, might, superiority - buzzwords for emotional stagnation and basic human fear.

How did humanity manage to slither out of the primordial ooze, stand upright and walk forward to recognize the blossoming tree of life only to warp its branches into a malformed parody of itself, it's buds and flowers mocking us with the faces of those we have mercilessly maimed and killed in an unfettered child's game of Blindman's Bluff? With childish eyes, we survey our domain, seeing only the multitude of others who are different in some meaningless way, who are darker or lighter, who speak with a lisp or in a different rhythm, who walk with a limp or who can't walk at all, who are too tall or too short or too fat or too lean, who don't play our favorite games or who don't believe our braggadocio, who don't have our toys, or who ignore us, or don't worship our God or any god at all. And we fear them. We get angry. We try to force them to do what we want. We boss them around. We tell them our daddy is mightier than theirs. Our mother is prettier than theirs. We're smarter than they are...and stronger...and meaner...and more than willing to prove it with a no-holds barred fight.

We are enamored of our childish ways. We're selfish and don't want to change, we don't want to share, don't want to think we might be wrong, don't want to find new ways of doing things or different ways of thinking.

We will be perpetual children until we confront our childish ways. We will be our own worst enemy and our own victims until we grow up and look within ourselves, our society, our judgments, our habits. Choices are free but they do not guarantee freedom anymore than steroid enhanced muscles guarantees a long, strong life.

Was it as good for you as it was for me???


It was neither a whim nor a rapid decision for me to enter the Blog Zone. While not truly an obsessive personality, certain things can become addictive - like chocolate, prowling the net, a favorite ratty yet snuggly bathrobe, sushi, and forming opinions - so the suspicion of addiction to blogging was real, as was the firm knowledge that time to blog would be a major problem. Ergo, it's a conflicted activity.

There are times when facing a blank blog 'page' prior to making the first 'pen' stroke that I curse my decision to sally forth. I search the alley ways of my brain and the crevices of my sensibilities for suitable topics to release into the blue nowhere of cyberspace, never knowing who will see my written thoughts, read them, digest them, or react to them...if anyone does.

So far, I have found no satisfactory answer to my question of why I blog and few appropriate metaphoric inspirations. The closest I've come is to admit that this frenzy of spewing words is a form of mental masturbation. Unfortunately, rather than causing my creative juices to flow, it makes me long for the figurative post coital (or post cyber) cigarette while reflecting on a sweat drenched dream lover that I would demand lay on the wet spot.

The blog world is a microcosm of reality, the variety and quality of blogs well matched to the variety and quality of a world of humanity. Strangely, I cannot equate blogging with keeping a diary or journal. Anything that intimate dictates good paper and real ink, particularly for those future times nostalgia demands one revisit such entries, yet others don't seem at all bothered by my standard in this regard. There are diaries, journals, scrapbooks, and photo albums in blog world. Perhaps it is enough that some internal or even external need is being met for these folks.

There are also the blogs from professional critics and journalists, from aspiring writers and real writers and published writers. There are blogs from wanna be comics and comedians, from essayists, from poets, from truly introspective observers and commentators. There are also the ranters and ravers, the people with a 'bone to pick' but no dog to throw it to, the dissatisfied and disaffected, the young people who are too busy musing and complaining about the state of their psyches to actively seek quality in their lives. Political blogs are legion, as are those designed specifically to titillate and shock, or advertise and market. There are blogs meant to offer support and counsel, to assure those with similar afflictions or limitations that they are not alone nor without resources at their disposal. And there are the blogs that cannot be categorized, which is perhaps where my own offerings fit.

It is impossible to ferret out the motivation others bring to their efforts at blogging. It is almost as difficult to discern my own reasons, particularly when the presence of an audience or 'reader over my shoulder' is questionable. Yet, if I had to provide a reason it would be that I'd like anyone who reads my cyber scribbles to think about what was said; to think about it objectively, critically, and from a different point of view. It is not my intent to make anyone else see the world as I do or adhere to or agree with my opinions. It is enough if they simply see the world through a new prism, take what are only suggestions or benchmarks along the road to reason and form opinions and ways of thinking that are unique to themselves.

Thinking sufficiently, broadly, introspectively, creatively is not an easy endeavor. Perceptions are too often things others have forced on us when we were too young, naive, or uninformed to perceive alone. The idea of cognitive thinking or lateral thinking or decision tree thinking is not an inborn ability. It must be learned and it must be practiced. It cannot be learned when all that is ingested is commercial pap or traditional acceptance or limited subjects or what mommy and daddy believed or what talk radio blares over the airways.

It is unfortunate that the word 'discrimination' has been so firmly entrenched in our jargonistic lives as being tied to the bigotry of racism, because when thinking, it is discrimination that is required to sort through all the information and misinformation floating around us. One must develop the ability to discriminate between truth and falsehood, between good taste and ostentation or bawdiness, between ideas that are basic and valuable to our culture and our future and ideas that are empty, prejudiced, wrong or simply stupid. And thinking must be put into context. It is not sufficient to think only 'in the moment.' It is essential to look into history, whether of a week ago or centuries ago, to see the context of that time - the society, the politics, the economic environment, the players and the goals - and see the results as compared to the same elements and projected results of now.

As the old adage goes, a wise man (or woman) does not make the same mistake today as was made yesterday. Thinking forces you to walk attentively over new terrain with an eye ahead and another behind. Walking only in circles with downcast eyes simply creates a very deep rut, and while you may find pebbles or pennies on the ground, you'll never see the birds that sing, the sun that shines, or the rainbow after a storm.