Sunday, July 22, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Three Remarks It’s Too Soon to Make in Good Taste
Not that good taste would ever stop me...
1. As if we needed another reason to watch pirated movies at home rather than pay to see them in a theater.
2. What kind of parent brings their 6-month-old to a midnight showing of a movie like “The Dark Knight Rises?”
3. One of the actors may have died from making “The Dark Knight,” but a dozen people died just to see “The Dark Knight Rises.”
1. As if we needed another reason to watch pirated movies at home rather than pay to see them in a theater.
2. What kind of parent brings their 6-month-old to a midnight showing of a movie like “The Dark Knight Rises?”
3. One of the actors may have died from making “The Dark Knight,” but a dozen people died just to see “The Dark Knight Rises.”
The Batman Slayings: First Impressions
What do we know? A man went to a midnight showing of the “The Dark Knight Rises,” left through the front emergency exit door once in the theater, left the door propped open, armed himself with an assault rifle, shotgun, two handguns, and tear gas, and donned a bullet proof vest, gas mask, and riot helmet.
He re-entered, gassed the room, and he shot 12 people dead and wounded many others. Accounts I see say “59 injured,” but there is no indication yet if some of these are only for gas inhalation or other injuries (like trampling). Many are noted to be in critical condition. He also rigged his apartment with what appear to be explosives.
What we know about the man (who I have chosen not to name) is that he was a Ph.D student who had recently dropped out, apparently as a pre-emptive move from being kicked out of the program. We also know his mother didn’t seem too surprised for some reason. Then there’s the typical, “He was an odd guy,” comments from neighbors.
This isn’t really a good time for me to comment. There’s no way of knowing some things yet, and even as I write this, I am Googling and re-Googling the story looking for updates. I tend to write on matters of politics and religion, and I don’t think this attack had much of anything to do with politics or religion (at least, there’s nothing to indicate that yet). However, there’s still speculation, which I’ll address.
Already you have ABC finding a possible link with the shooter to the Denver Tea Party (but emphasis should be put on the fact that this is not confirmed), which was followed by a highly dubious claim at a conservative blog (which I also won’t name… for similar reasons that I won’t name the shooter) claiming that the shooter was a “registered Democrat.” Never mind that Republicans are always asking their people to register as Democrat to mess with primary races, because there’s already emerging evidence showing the shooter was not registered to vote at all (but again, this could change).
The real issue in these crimes is almost always the same: gun control. But don’t even expect a discussion on gun control, since Americans have been bombarded with decades of misinformation regarding guns. Most Americans can’t even avoid having a knee-jerk emotional response to the words “gun control.”
From how they react, you’d think I was recommending universal castration. “Gun control” is immediately interpreted as “banning all guns,” and I would like nothing more than to stab the next person who makes me sit through some bullshit, unoriginal, uninspired lecture about how the second-amendment protects me from the government… you know, the government which is armed with stealth bombers, pilotless killer drones, and nuclear weapons.
So now, we wait. We wait as we learn more about what happened (though this will largely be to satisfy our sick curiosity than to actually “learn” from it). We also wait as our politicians tip-toe around the real issue here, afraid to upset America’s gun fanatics and powerful firearms lobby during an election year. We wait, and more people die, not only in movie theaters, but also in homes, in streets and alleys, behind store counters… we wait, as over 12,000 people per year are gunned down, many of the victims being gun owners themselves who found out owning a gun doesn’t make you a hero.
He re-entered, gassed the room, and he shot 12 people dead and wounded many others. Accounts I see say “59 injured,” but there is no indication yet if some of these are only for gas inhalation or other injuries (like trampling). Many are noted to be in critical condition. He also rigged his apartment with what appear to be explosives.
What we know about the man (who I have chosen not to name) is that he was a Ph.D student who had recently dropped out, apparently as a pre-emptive move from being kicked out of the program. We also know his mother didn’t seem too surprised for some reason. Then there’s the typical, “He was an odd guy,” comments from neighbors.
This isn’t really a good time for me to comment. There’s no way of knowing some things yet, and even as I write this, I am Googling and re-Googling the story looking for updates. I tend to write on matters of politics and religion, and I don’t think this attack had much of anything to do with politics or religion (at least, there’s nothing to indicate that yet). However, there’s still speculation, which I’ll address.
Already you have ABC finding a possible link with the shooter to the Denver Tea Party (but emphasis should be put on the fact that this is not confirmed), which was followed by a highly dubious claim at a conservative blog (which I also won’t name… for similar reasons that I won’t name the shooter) claiming that the shooter was a “registered Democrat.” Never mind that Republicans are always asking their people to register as Democrat to mess with primary races, because there’s already emerging evidence showing the shooter was not registered to vote at all (but again, this could change).
The real issue in these crimes is almost always the same: gun control. But don’t even expect a discussion on gun control, since Americans have been bombarded with decades of misinformation regarding guns. Most Americans can’t even avoid having a knee-jerk emotional response to the words “gun control.”
From how they react, you’d think I was recommending universal castration. “Gun control” is immediately interpreted as “banning all guns,” and I would like nothing more than to stab the next person who makes me sit through some bullshit, unoriginal, uninspired lecture about how the second-amendment protects me from the government… you know, the government which is armed with stealth bombers, pilotless killer drones, and nuclear weapons.
So now, we wait. We wait as we learn more about what happened (though this will largely be to satisfy our sick curiosity than to actually “learn” from it). We also wait as our politicians tip-toe around the real issue here, afraid to upset America’s gun fanatics and powerful firearms lobby during an election year. We wait, and more people die, not only in movie theaters, but also in homes, in streets and alleys, behind store counters… we wait, as over 12,000 people per year are gunned down, many of the victims being gun owners themselves who found out owning a gun doesn’t make you a hero.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The Several Adventures of Hugh, Part 9
[Continued from the eight parts still posted at Anything But Theist.]
Walker walked out onto the balcony before a cheering crowd. A magistrate in flowing purple robes stood holding a large metal rod.
As the crowd noise died down, Hugh struggled to understand everything that was said through the haze of last night’s festivities. He only heard bits and pieces, as the magistrate seemed to mumble through the ceremony.
“With this… for all… you swear to…”
Walker put his hand on the rod, and looked out over the crowd, shouting clearly, “On this scepter, I swear to uphold the law of the city, to defend her from all dangers, both within and without, and to be ever mindful of the city’s wellbeing in all of my decisions.”
The magistrate let go of the rod, and proclaimed in a loud voice, “I present to you: Chancellor Edward.”
The crowd roared, and Hugh winced. He looked over at the twins. The giant was cheering loudly. The dwarf was holding his stomach with one hand, breathing laboriously. Hugh turned to him and put his hand on his shoulder. The dwarf looked up for the briefest moment, then vomited on the feet of all three of them.
Hugh just kept patting the dwarf on the back as the giant looked down in disgust.
Walker set down the scepter and approached the railing. He leaned forward on it with one hand and waved his other. After his gaze had panned across the crowd a few times, he motioned to the crowd with his palms downward. Everyone quieted.
“Only in Polity,” said Walker. A huge roar rose in the audience. Walker smiled and turned to someone behind him to say something. He faced the crowd again, smiling and laughing. “Only in Polity could a humble farmer ever hope to one day rise to the highest position in the city he has lived in and loved his whole life.”
The crowd cheered again. Walker drank it all in for awhile.
“I’m not one for long speeches. I’m like you: simple. So, I will give you simply the greatest spectacle you have ever seen.” More cheers. “I am pronouncing a celebration, complete with free public access to the arenas, race tracks, and theaters, which will be entertaining you from dusk ’til dawn for three days straight.”
As the crowd cheered, women carrying baskets circulated through the crowd, handing out small cakes wrapped in rice paper, tied shut at the top with a little red ribbon bow.
Hugh was handed one. He opened it and popped the moist, white cake into his mouth whole. It was softer than anything he had ever eaten, like how he imagined a cloud would feel in his mouth. There was a hint of citrus over the savory-sweetness. It was enough to make him forget about his head pounding rhythmically amid the din of the ceremony.
A little girl walked up to Hugh and pointed to the ribbon in his hand. He gave it to her and she smiled before running off. Hugh noticed many of the girls in the crowd were tying the ribbons into their hair.
The giant looked to Hugh with her eyes wide open as she took a bite of her cake. She smiled while chewing.
“I’ll save mine for later,” the dwarf said, blinking erratically and wiping bile from his beard.
Walker outlined some things he planned to do, and before long he was leaving the balcony to deafening fanfare.
As the crowd began to disperse, the three of them looked at each other.
“Now what?” the dwarf finally asked.
“We need to plan a burial,” said Hugh.
“Okay… and how do we do that exactly?” asked the dwarf.
“Walker promised us he would help us if he won,” said the giant.
“Right,” said the dwarf. “So… I guess we just go ask him?”
“I suppose so,” said Hugh.
They looked at the balcony where Walker had been standing. They walked up to the building and around it to the front. Outside two large double doors were two guards.
“Hello,” said Hugh. The guards stood silently. “We need to talk to Walker for a moment, it won’t take long.”
One of the guards snickered, then he said, “No one sees Chancellor Edward without an appointment.”
“Here’s the thing,” said the giant. “We’re guests in his house. He has the dead body of our friend in his basement. I was wondering when we could expect him to get a sea burial.”
The guard who spoke before looked at the other, who doesn’t move, before saying, “The Chancellor is not to be disturbed. He is still finalizing the plans for his victory celebration, he has council positions to appoint, and… he’s more than a little hung over. We were instructed to let no one enter the Chancellery.”
“You talk too much,” said the other guard without turning to look at him.
The chatty guard turns to the other. “Come on, don’t you recognize them? Do you think it’s some other cyclops with two huge companions?”
“You’re over-thinking the job,” said the other guard. “Just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told. Don’t look for exceptions, just obey.”
“You’ve been doing this too long,” said the first.
“And you, not long enough,” said the other.
The first guard hangs his head and sighs. “Look, guys. I suggest you go catch a play or gladiator match. Just have a good time. It’ll be a while before the Chancellor will be able to attend to you. Your best bet is to wait for him as his home tonight. He has not yet made arrangements to sleep here, so I know you can catch them this evening.”
“You see, right there,” said the other guard, “If they were trying to kill the Chancellor, you just gave them a roadmap.”
“Oh shut it,” said the first guard. “I know for a fact the Chancellor wants to talk to them. They’re part of the entertainment.”
“What?” asked the giant.
“Rumor has it you’re going to be the first woman to fight a man in the arena.”
“She will be,” shouted a distant voice from high above them. Walker leaned out a window a few stories up. “Though not today. Today, I will need to employ your services as hunters. It seems we’re a liger short for the grand finale on the third day. I already sent a courier to Hank, so head back to my house and tell them you’ll be leading the expedition. I’d hurry if I were you.”
The three of them ran to Walker’s estate. They found Henry sitting in the garden writing.
“Walker wants us to get the liger,” said the dwarf.
Henry looked up. “Very well.” He immediately looked back down and crossed a few things out.
“What about the body?” asked Hugh.
“He is currently in the mausoleum covered in fire-dried sand. It will preserve his body from rot and decay for weeks.”
“Weeks?” asked Hugh.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make arrangements for longer storage soon,” Henry said, still looking down and writing. “Hopefully it won’t take longer than a few months.”
“Well, I would hate for our liger hunt to take a few months,” said the giant.
Henry smiled, wrote for a few more seconds, looked up, and said, “My dear, you will do well here. But I assure you, the Chancellor is very busy at this point. The burial of your friend is low on his list of priorities.”
“It’s such a small request,” said Hugh.
“Is it?” asked Henry. “Sea burials can only occur on the day before a new moon, so there can only be one per month. The next one is in eleven days, and it has been reserved by that person for twenty-six years. He was a member of the High Council, and he died three months ago. Is that a small request?”
“But here’s the thing,” said the dwarf. “It could be on the night of a full moon for all I care, I just want him buried at sea.”
Henry squinted at him. “Is this a joke?”
All three said no.
“You don’t care what day he’s buried at sea, or what time?”
Again, all three said no.
Henry stared at them, mouth slightly ajar.
“Is this insulting?” asked Hugh.
“Not to me,” said Henry, “It’s insulting to your friend.”
“How so?” asked the giant.
“If you’re buried during a full moon, there’s basically no chance you will ever become a star.”
“What?” asked the giant.
“Do you have any idea what a sea burial is?” asked Henry.
The three of them looked at each other.
“We thought it would make it easier for him to get to his mansion under the sea,” said Hugh.
Henry blinked a few times, then laughed, and he laughed in that awkward, uncontrolled way that people who don’t often laugh in public tend to do. It was kind of embarrassing, really.
“It’s the desire of everyone to be given a sea burial, because you are put onto a ship that is set out to sea, then lit aflame, and it will sail you into the heavens to become a star, but you must avoid the Moon, for she is jealous and will swallow up those who try to get too close, thereby drawing attention away from her.”
“But wait,” said Hugh, “If you set a ship in the water on fire, it will sink to the bottom of the sea.”
“I suppose, yes,” said Henry, “That is what happens. But you should see it. It looks like the ship is sailing over the horizon and into the sky itself.”
“Since I don’t think he’s aiming for the stars, I don’t think he has to look out for the moon,” said the giant.
“Well, if you just want his body to be at the bottom, why don’t we just have a boat take you out, and you can dump him over?” asked Henry.
“I want to see the boat thing,” said the dwarf.
“It will save you the cost of a boat,” Henry said.
“How about this,” said the giant, “We’ll dump the old man’s body at sea so he can get to his mansion. Then, we’ll stick around for the sea burial that we don’t have to pay for.”
“Works for me,” said the dwarf.
Hugh nodded.
“Alright,” Henry said, “This will be much easier than I thought.” Henry got up and motioned for them to follow him. He moved into the house and handed his writing tablet to a man just inside the door, who took it and ran off. Henry turned to the three of them. “Let’s get you on some so you can set out to meet the hunting party.”
“They’re already out there?” asked the giant.
“If all is going as planned, they’ve already located an assembly of ligers.”
“An assembly?” the dwarf asked.
“That’s what a group of ligers is called,” said Henry. “There are semi-permanent hunting camps on the outskirts of the savannah, which is a full day’s ride from here. We’re going to have to get you mounted up and on the road with a guide to direct you, and you should arrive early tonight. The next morning you’ll rendezvous with the group that is tracking the nearest assembly.”
“Which is a pack of ligers,” said the dwarf.
“Thanks…” the giant said.
Henry looked at Hugh. “I don’t think you can go.”
“Why not?” asked Hugh.
“You need to ride on horseback to get there, and we don’t have any horses that could carry you. Maybe a few could bear your weight, but none of them could carry you at the speed you must travel over the terrain you will need to cover. There may be horses in the north that can carry you, and we’ll be on the look-out for one to add to our stable, but for now I’m afraid you’re bound to the city.”
Hugh looked at the twins. They had never in their lives slept out of his sight. Hugh felt uneasy. The giant looked back to Hugh, smiling with only half her mouth. Her eyes looked sad.
“How are we going to trap a live liger?” asked the dwarf.
“I’m not an expert on that,” said Henry. “I imagine some sort of net, as you can’t hurt the animal at all. It has to be healthy for its appearance in the arena. Come, we’ll get you saddled up.”
To be continued…
Walker walked out onto the balcony before a cheering crowd. A magistrate in flowing purple robes stood holding a large metal rod.
As the crowd noise died down, Hugh struggled to understand everything that was said through the haze of last night’s festivities. He only heard bits and pieces, as the magistrate seemed to mumble through the ceremony.
“With this… for all… you swear to…”
Walker put his hand on the rod, and looked out over the crowd, shouting clearly, “On this scepter, I swear to uphold the law of the city, to defend her from all dangers, both within and without, and to be ever mindful of the city’s wellbeing in all of my decisions.”
The magistrate let go of the rod, and proclaimed in a loud voice, “I present to you: Chancellor Edward.”
The crowd roared, and Hugh winced. He looked over at the twins. The giant was cheering loudly. The dwarf was holding his stomach with one hand, breathing laboriously. Hugh turned to him and put his hand on his shoulder. The dwarf looked up for the briefest moment, then vomited on the feet of all three of them.
Hugh just kept patting the dwarf on the back as the giant looked down in disgust.
Walker set down the scepter and approached the railing. He leaned forward on it with one hand and waved his other. After his gaze had panned across the crowd a few times, he motioned to the crowd with his palms downward. Everyone quieted.
“Only in Polity,” said Walker. A huge roar rose in the audience. Walker smiled and turned to someone behind him to say something. He faced the crowd again, smiling and laughing. “Only in Polity could a humble farmer ever hope to one day rise to the highest position in the city he has lived in and loved his whole life.”
The crowd cheered again. Walker drank it all in for awhile.
“I’m not one for long speeches. I’m like you: simple. So, I will give you simply the greatest spectacle you have ever seen.” More cheers. “I am pronouncing a celebration, complete with free public access to the arenas, race tracks, and theaters, which will be entertaining you from dusk ’til dawn for three days straight.”
As the crowd cheered, women carrying baskets circulated through the crowd, handing out small cakes wrapped in rice paper, tied shut at the top with a little red ribbon bow.
Hugh was handed one. He opened it and popped the moist, white cake into his mouth whole. It was softer than anything he had ever eaten, like how he imagined a cloud would feel in his mouth. There was a hint of citrus over the savory-sweetness. It was enough to make him forget about his head pounding rhythmically amid the din of the ceremony.
A little girl walked up to Hugh and pointed to the ribbon in his hand. He gave it to her and she smiled before running off. Hugh noticed many of the girls in the crowd were tying the ribbons into their hair.
The giant looked to Hugh with her eyes wide open as she took a bite of her cake. She smiled while chewing.
“I’ll save mine for later,” the dwarf said, blinking erratically and wiping bile from his beard.
Walker outlined some things he planned to do, and before long he was leaving the balcony to deafening fanfare.
As the crowd began to disperse, the three of them looked at each other.
“Now what?” the dwarf finally asked.
“We need to plan a burial,” said Hugh.
“Okay… and how do we do that exactly?” asked the dwarf.
“Walker promised us he would help us if he won,” said the giant.
“Right,” said the dwarf. “So… I guess we just go ask him?”
“I suppose so,” said Hugh.
They looked at the balcony where Walker had been standing. They walked up to the building and around it to the front. Outside two large double doors were two guards.
“Hello,” said Hugh. The guards stood silently. “We need to talk to Walker for a moment, it won’t take long.”
One of the guards snickered, then he said, “No one sees Chancellor Edward without an appointment.”
“Here’s the thing,” said the giant. “We’re guests in his house. He has the dead body of our friend in his basement. I was wondering when we could expect him to get a sea burial.”
The guard who spoke before looked at the other, who doesn’t move, before saying, “The Chancellor is not to be disturbed. He is still finalizing the plans for his victory celebration, he has council positions to appoint, and… he’s more than a little hung over. We were instructed to let no one enter the Chancellery.”
“You talk too much,” said the other guard without turning to look at him.
The chatty guard turns to the other. “Come on, don’t you recognize them? Do you think it’s some other cyclops with two huge companions?”
“You’re over-thinking the job,” said the other guard. “Just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told. Don’t look for exceptions, just obey.”
“You’ve been doing this too long,” said the first.
“And you, not long enough,” said the other.
The first guard hangs his head and sighs. “Look, guys. I suggest you go catch a play or gladiator match. Just have a good time. It’ll be a while before the Chancellor will be able to attend to you. Your best bet is to wait for him as his home tonight. He has not yet made arrangements to sleep here, so I know you can catch them this evening.”
“You see, right there,” said the other guard, “If they were trying to kill the Chancellor, you just gave them a roadmap.”
“Oh shut it,” said the first guard. “I know for a fact the Chancellor wants to talk to them. They’re part of the entertainment.”
“What?” asked the giant.
“Rumor has it you’re going to be the first woman to fight a man in the arena.”
“She will be,” shouted a distant voice from high above them. Walker leaned out a window a few stories up. “Though not today. Today, I will need to employ your services as hunters. It seems we’re a liger short for the grand finale on the third day. I already sent a courier to Hank, so head back to my house and tell them you’ll be leading the expedition. I’d hurry if I were you.”
The three of them ran to Walker’s estate. They found Henry sitting in the garden writing.
“Walker wants us to get the liger,” said the dwarf.
Henry looked up. “Very well.” He immediately looked back down and crossed a few things out.
“What about the body?” asked Hugh.
“He is currently in the mausoleum covered in fire-dried sand. It will preserve his body from rot and decay for weeks.”
“Weeks?” asked Hugh.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make arrangements for longer storage soon,” Henry said, still looking down and writing. “Hopefully it won’t take longer than a few months.”
“Well, I would hate for our liger hunt to take a few months,” said the giant.
Henry smiled, wrote for a few more seconds, looked up, and said, “My dear, you will do well here. But I assure you, the Chancellor is very busy at this point. The burial of your friend is low on his list of priorities.”
“It’s such a small request,” said Hugh.
“Is it?” asked Henry. “Sea burials can only occur on the day before a new moon, so there can only be one per month. The next one is in eleven days, and it has been reserved by that person for twenty-six years. He was a member of the High Council, and he died three months ago. Is that a small request?”
“But here’s the thing,” said the dwarf. “It could be on the night of a full moon for all I care, I just want him buried at sea.”
Henry squinted at him. “Is this a joke?”
All three said no.
“You don’t care what day he’s buried at sea, or what time?”
Again, all three said no.
Henry stared at them, mouth slightly ajar.
“Is this insulting?” asked Hugh.
“Not to me,” said Henry, “It’s insulting to your friend.”
“How so?” asked the giant.
“If you’re buried during a full moon, there’s basically no chance you will ever become a star.”
“What?” asked the giant.
“Do you have any idea what a sea burial is?” asked Henry.
The three of them looked at each other.
“We thought it would make it easier for him to get to his mansion under the sea,” said Hugh.
Henry blinked a few times, then laughed, and he laughed in that awkward, uncontrolled way that people who don’t often laugh in public tend to do. It was kind of embarrassing, really.
“It’s the desire of everyone to be given a sea burial, because you are put onto a ship that is set out to sea, then lit aflame, and it will sail you into the heavens to become a star, but you must avoid the Moon, for she is jealous and will swallow up those who try to get too close, thereby drawing attention away from her.”
“But wait,” said Hugh, “If you set a ship in the water on fire, it will sink to the bottom of the sea.”
“I suppose, yes,” said Henry, “That is what happens. But you should see it. It looks like the ship is sailing over the horizon and into the sky itself.”
“Since I don’t think he’s aiming for the stars, I don’t think he has to look out for the moon,” said the giant.
“Well, if you just want his body to be at the bottom, why don’t we just have a boat take you out, and you can dump him over?” asked Henry.
“I want to see the boat thing,” said the dwarf.
“It will save you the cost of a boat,” Henry said.
“How about this,” said the giant, “We’ll dump the old man’s body at sea so he can get to his mansion. Then, we’ll stick around for the sea burial that we don’t have to pay for.”
“Works for me,” said the dwarf.
Hugh nodded.
“Alright,” Henry said, “This will be much easier than I thought.” Henry got up and motioned for them to follow him. He moved into the house and handed his writing tablet to a man just inside the door, who took it and ran off. Henry turned to the three of them. “Let’s get you on some so you can set out to meet the hunting party.”
“They’re already out there?” asked the giant.
“If all is going as planned, they’ve already located an assembly of ligers.”
“An assembly?” the dwarf asked.
“That’s what a group of ligers is called,” said Henry. “There are semi-permanent hunting camps on the outskirts of the savannah, which is a full day’s ride from here. We’re going to have to get you mounted up and on the road with a guide to direct you, and you should arrive early tonight. The next morning you’ll rendezvous with the group that is tracking the nearest assembly.”
“Which is a pack of ligers,” said the dwarf.
“Thanks…” the giant said.
Henry looked at Hugh. “I don’t think you can go.”
“Why not?” asked Hugh.
“You need to ride on horseback to get there, and we don’t have any horses that could carry you. Maybe a few could bear your weight, but none of them could carry you at the speed you must travel over the terrain you will need to cover. There may be horses in the north that can carry you, and we’ll be on the look-out for one to add to our stable, but for now I’m afraid you’re bound to the city.”
Hugh looked at the twins. They had never in their lives slept out of his sight. Hugh felt uneasy. The giant looked back to Hugh, smiling with only half her mouth. Her eyes looked sad.
“How are we going to trap a live liger?” asked the dwarf.
“I’m not an expert on that,” said Henry. “I imagine some sort of net, as you can’t hurt the animal at all. It has to be healthy for its appearance in the arena. Come, we’ll get you saddled up.”
To be continued…
God, Hallucinogens, and Disillusionment
One the strangest paradoxes of religion is that believers say religion must be based on faith, but they also have all sorts of “evidence” that always amounts to nothing more than tired old fallacies. It’s an easily solved paradox, though… since there is no evidence, so religion is undeniably a faith.
The fact that religions claim evidence for their beliefs creates the situation where people try out a religion and become disillusioned with it. Given the outrageous claims made by religion, who wouldn’t? Ranging from promises of happiness and inner peace to assurances of spiritual healing and magical wealth, there’s really a broad range of things for a believer to become disappointed with when it comes to evaluating a religion in reality in comparison to the religious sales pitch.
I kind of liken it to something else I have experience with: hard drug use. Hallucinogens in particular have a reputation for doing all kinds of mystical things. They supposedly “open” and “expand” your mind, or “alter your consciousness.” We hear about famous people doing them, like Steve Jobs and every musician in the 60s and early 70s. And Hunter Thompson is a very compelling Pope figure…
But here’s the thing… while I don’t regret doing hallucinogens, I’m only glad I did them because I had a good time doing them. I don’t think acid or mushrooms changed the way I think. I’m fairly certain I thought differently before I took drugs, and that’s probably why I did them in the first place. Maybe you just have to be a little weird to want to see space elves dancing on the walls.
Not that you’ll probably see that. I have to say… if tripping was a movie, I would not be impressed with the visual effects. This is one area where Hollywood’s unrealistic interpretation is just much better than the real thing, kind of like sword fights or road trips.
The most visuals I ever got occurred while taking too many mushrooms. I felt nauseous about 45 minute after eating them, so I grabbed a wastebasket. I looked into it and the bottom sunk out of it. The bag took on the appearance of burning rock, and I swore I was staring down into Hell. Then, I puked, and it was just a vomit filled wastebasket again. I started walking around the room like a velociraptor, followed by rolling on the floor while giggling, until I crawled up to a mirror. I smiled, and the corners of my lips curled into a spiral for eternity, and it reminded me a bit of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, because all I could see was my exaggerated grin.
That was about it, though. Nothing major, or even that interesting, really. There was nothing to take from it, no deep meaning or introspective insight. Out of about 125-200 trips, those were the most tangible visuals I ever got. Nearly everything else was wavy patterns, the appearance of surfaces breathing, or color distortions (in particular, I see a sort of shiny hue on the outskirts of my vision that I term “incantransdulescent”).
I never saw or thought anything amazing while tripping. That was my goal for a long time when taking hallucinogens. I would keep a journal near me so I could write down all the amazing ideas I would have. Honestly… just writing that now makes me laugh. It’s downright adorable. Oh, younger me… you stupid, stupid fool…
I don’t oppose hallucinogens, by any means, but people should know that a) they won’t make you a smarter, better, or more creative person, and b) you should take precautions that your use of them doesn’t hurt other people. Your fellow users would probably also appreciate it if you didn’t hurt yourself while on drugs, either, because every user is sick of stories about some person doing acid and jumping off a roof.
Read this carefully: if you were able to fly, you should be able to do it from ground level. Trust me.
This is sort of why I think hallucinogen use is so similar to religion. This isn’t a particularly novel concept, by any means. I’m not claiming this observation as my own. As many as a quarter or more of the people I know who trip (especially on a regular basis) actually consider this type of drug use to be their religion. I don’t know if this is a sincere opinion, or if it’s an attempt to exploit the concept of religious freedom.
I guess it doesn’t matter, because I think people should be allowed to do their drug of choice, which is also why I wouldn’t try to take a person’s religion away from them. This isn’t so much out of respect for them as it is about my own safety. If there’s one thing I learned from being around users, it’s “never get between an addict and their fix.”
The fact that religions claim evidence for their beliefs creates the situation where people try out a religion and become disillusioned with it. Given the outrageous claims made by religion, who wouldn’t? Ranging from promises of happiness and inner peace to assurances of spiritual healing and magical wealth, there’s really a broad range of things for a believer to become disappointed with when it comes to evaluating a religion in reality in comparison to the religious sales pitch.
I kind of liken it to something else I have experience with: hard drug use. Hallucinogens in particular have a reputation for doing all kinds of mystical things. They supposedly “open” and “expand” your mind, or “alter your consciousness.” We hear about famous people doing them, like Steve Jobs and every musician in the 60s and early 70s. And Hunter Thompson is a very compelling Pope figure…
But here’s the thing… while I don’t regret doing hallucinogens, I’m only glad I did them because I had a good time doing them. I don’t think acid or mushrooms changed the way I think. I’m fairly certain I thought differently before I took drugs, and that’s probably why I did them in the first place. Maybe you just have to be a little weird to want to see space elves dancing on the walls.
Not that you’ll probably see that. I have to say… if tripping was a movie, I would not be impressed with the visual effects. This is one area where Hollywood’s unrealistic interpretation is just much better than the real thing, kind of like sword fights or road trips.
The most visuals I ever got occurred while taking too many mushrooms. I felt nauseous about 45 minute after eating them, so I grabbed a wastebasket. I looked into it and the bottom sunk out of it. The bag took on the appearance of burning rock, and I swore I was staring down into Hell. Then, I puked, and it was just a vomit filled wastebasket again. I started walking around the room like a velociraptor, followed by rolling on the floor while giggling, until I crawled up to a mirror. I smiled, and the corners of my lips curled into a spiral for eternity, and it reminded me a bit of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, because all I could see was my exaggerated grin.
That was about it, though. Nothing major, or even that interesting, really. There was nothing to take from it, no deep meaning or introspective insight. Out of about 125-200 trips, those were the most tangible visuals I ever got. Nearly everything else was wavy patterns, the appearance of surfaces breathing, or color distortions (in particular, I see a sort of shiny hue on the outskirts of my vision that I term “incantransdulescent”).
I never saw or thought anything amazing while tripping. That was my goal for a long time when taking hallucinogens. I would keep a journal near me so I could write down all the amazing ideas I would have. Honestly… just writing that now makes me laugh. It’s downright adorable. Oh, younger me… you stupid, stupid fool…
I don’t oppose hallucinogens, by any means, but people should know that a) they won’t make you a smarter, better, or more creative person, and b) you should take precautions that your use of them doesn’t hurt other people. Your fellow users would probably also appreciate it if you didn’t hurt yourself while on drugs, either, because every user is sick of stories about some person doing acid and jumping off a roof.
Read this carefully: if you were able to fly, you should be able to do it from ground level. Trust me.
This is sort of why I think hallucinogen use is so similar to religion. This isn’t a particularly novel concept, by any means. I’m not claiming this observation as my own. As many as a quarter or more of the people I know who trip (especially on a regular basis) actually consider this type of drug use to be their religion. I don’t know if this is a sincere opinion, or if it’s an attempt to exploit the concept of religious freedom.
I guess it doesn’t matter, because I think people should be allowed to do their drug of choice, which is also why I wouldn’t try to take a person’s religion away from them. This isn’t so much out of respect for them as it is about my own safety. If there’s one thing I learned from being around users, it’s “never get between an addict and their fix.”
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Tolerance is Bullshit
I don’t believe in tolerance. I believe in liking some people, disliking others, and making no secret of either. I think it’s a simple philosophy, and it’s much more honest stance than “tolerance.”
I also don’t like the implied conditions in the “pro-tolerance” view of the world. For example, I will never tolerate gay people. How can I? I don’t hate gay people, so there’s nothing to tolerate. Toleration always implies that the other person is doing something I should be annoyed about, but by tolerating it and holding in these negative feelings, I’m somehow nobler than the person who voices their opinions honestly.
That’s a load of bullshit. It’s incorrect twice over. It’s wrong in that no one has any legitimate reason to hate gay people, and it’s wrong in that it’s dishonest for someone to hide their true feelings. People should express what they really believe, not self-censor themselves into appearing to be a better person than they actually are. What’s more, if we encourage people to hide their bigotry, we’re inviting a whole host of other problems, primarily focused on the breakdown of dialogue between opposing views.
Then you have the now-famous trope that tolerance of intolerance is not a good thing. But it doesn’t end with intolerance, as many things should not be tolerated. Liberals, then, should not be pushing “tolerance,” especially when they don’t have the common courtesy to give us a tangible list of what should and should not be tolerated… as if such a thing were even possible.
Tolerance is a worthless concept, especially in light of how intolerant these tolerance-purveyors actually are. Groups like feminists and the LGBT community are full of individuals who are mind-bendingly intolerant. There aren’t enough egregious incidents of it to make me hate those groups like I do most conservatives, but an element of short-sighted wrathful vengeance is certainly present in many liberal circles.
If you think this applies to you, then please: don’t change.
Many of the things liberal groups are intolerant of are things I also can’t tolerate. The problem is, it’s more than a little hypocritical for someone to go around preaching tolerance and to then bombard someone with violent vitriol. It’s not difficult for me to still have respect for someone who is mean to others, but when the next day they are entreating people to have a more patient understanding when dealing with people who are different… I have to call bullshit.
There’s probably no clearer example of this than the “anti-bully” movement. It’s like slowly watching liberalism repeatedly stab itself in the eye to watch liberals ruin the lives of folks that are often guilty of no crime besides bad taste. Strangely enough, it’s my own liberal predilection for siding with the victim that has me pissed off at anti-bullying advocates. If you turn assholes into victims, I’m going to feel bad for the assholes. For some odd reason, I can relate to assholes who say things that piss people off.
What’s more, I know liberals love some bullies. What is Jon Stewart, if not a bully? Sure, he mocks people liberals don’t like, but if he was mocking gay people and women instead of rich people and racists, it would be more obvious. The crux of the “anti-bully” argument is empty. Liberals don’t give a shit if you’re mean or not, they care if you’re mean to specific types of people.
I don’t think the world needs more intolerance, all I’m asking for is a little intellectual honesty.
I also don’t like the implied conditions in the “pro-tolerance” view of the world. For example, I will never tolerate gay people. How can I? I don’t hate gay people, so there’s nothing to tolerate. Toleration always implies that the other person is doing something I should be annoyed about, but by tolerating it and holding in these negative feelings, I’m somehow nobler than the person who voices their opinions honestly.
That’s a load of bullshit. It’s incorrect twice over. It’s wrong in that no one has any legitimate reason to hate gay people, and it’s wrong in that it’s dishonest for someone to hide their true feelings. People should express what they really believe, not self-censor themselves into appearing to be a better person than they actually are. What’s more, if we encourage people to hide their bigotry, we’re inviting a whole host of other problems, primarily focused on the breakdown of dialogue between opposing views.
Then you have the now-famous trope that tolerance of intolerance is not a good thing. But it doesn’t end with intolerance, as many things should not be tolerated. Liberals, then, should not be pushing “tolerance,” especially when they don’t have the common courtesy to give us a tangible list of what should and should not be tolerated… as if such a thing were even possible.
Tolerance is a worthless concept, especially in light of how intolerant these tolerance-purveyors actually are. Groups like feminists and the LGBT community are full of individuals who are mind-bendingly intolerant. There aren’t enough egregious incidents of it to make me hate those groups like I do most conservatives, but an element of short-sighted wrathful vengeance is certainly present in many liberal circles.
If you think this applies to you, then please: don’t change.
Many of the things liberal groups are intolerant of are things I also can’t tolerate. The problem is, it’s more than a little hypocritical for someone to go around preaching tolerance and to then bombard someone with violent vitriol. It’s not difficult for me to still have respect for someone who is mean to others, but when the next day they are entreating people to have a more patient understanding when dealing with people who are different… I have to call bullshit.
There’s probably no clearer example of this than the “anti-bully” movement. It’s like slowly watching liberalism repeatedly stab itself in the eye to watch liberals ruin the lives of folks that are often guilty of no crime besides bad taste. Strangely enough, it’s my own liberal predilection for siding with the victim that has me pissed off at anti-bullying advocates. If you turn assholes into victims, I’m going to feel bad for the assholes. For some odd reason, I can relate to assholes who say things that piss people off.
What’s more, I know liberals love some bullies. What is Jon Stewart, if not a bully? Sure, he mocks people liberals don’t like, but if he was mocking gay people and women instead of rich people and racists, it would be more obvious. The crux of the “anti-bully” argument is empty. Liberals don’t give a shit if you’re mean or not, they care if you’re mean to specific types of people.
I don’t think the world needs more intolerance, all I’m asking for is a little intellectual honesty.
Wednesday Word: Religionista
Religionista: someone who wears their religious affiliation with too much pride
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Rape Jokes Are Still Funny
When I was watching the Daily Show last night and Louis C.K. talked about the Daniel Tosh rape joke incident, I had a few epiphanies.
The first is that he was dead-on about one thing: some people think that how they feel is somehow important, and the rest of the world should have to accommodate their feelings (he chose to say “women,” but I have seen men do this too) . This observation is all too true for too many people.
Some think that the rest of the world cares how they feel. I assure you: no one gives a shit how you feel, except you. Anyone you talk to about your feelings is only listening to be polite and internally wishes you would shut the fuck up. Those who listen patiently to you probably want something from you, either sex or for you to return the favor and sit through their boring bullshit, but they may just want money or a promotion. This is why you have to pay therapists: no one cares about you or what you think or feel.
None of us are interesting, no matter how many boring people we manage to get to read our blog posts. Trust me.
The other thing I got from the Louis C.K. interview, and perhaps the most important part, is that I thought about the discussions I had with people on Facebook about this. They tended to all go the same way:
Me: Get over it, people can say whatever they want.
Them: Don’t tell me to “get over it!” I’m not saying Tosh can’t say something, just that I am going to complain publicly while demanding action against him for what he said and/or for everyone to agree with me.
Me: Okay… well, you’re stupid.
Them: Oh, so now people who oppose rape are stupid?
You see what happened there? They were stupid, and I presented an argument that was completely beside the point. It’s no wonder nothing was gained in these exchanges. Granted, even if I made a good point, trying to change the mind of a stupid person is literally a fool’s errand.
I don’t think “freedom” plays much into it, as I initially argued with others. Many people have pointed out Tosh did in fact have the freedom to say what he wanted. Those who are indignant over this insist that it’s important in a system that allows freedom for people to be able to demonize others for what they say publicly. Apparently this only works in one direction, because if I criticize what they are saying… look out.
For those who don’t know, Tosh supposedly said it would be funny if a heckler got raped. At one point, I was conversing with someone who was convinced that what Tosh said was wrong, wrong, wrong. When I persisted in disagreeing, they proceeded to tell me what they hoped a large man would do to my rectum while he held me down. This was after some normal, polite discussion where neither of us insulted the other. It kind of took me off-guard how stupid the comment was.
As you might expect, I wasn’t insulted… I laughed, and it was the best rape joke I had heard in a while.
How can I take seriously a person who is so blatantly hypocritical? I’m meant to believe that joking about someone being raped is totally wrong for comedy purposes, but it’s okay for someone to tell me that I should be raped in order to make some sort of point. That almost makes sense… if you subscribe to the “do as I say, not as I do” school of ethics.
I think it's healthy that people make jokes about everything. The holocaust, rape, date rape, prison rape, pedophilia, child molestation, birth defects, 9/11, dead soldiers, dead celebrities, dead babies, having sex with the bodies of dead babies, kidnapping, mothers, sex with mothers, dead mothers, sex with dead mothers… really, there’s no end to what can be joked about. It’s all hilarious if you have the right timing and enough weed. I don't trust someone if they think there is a topic that is off-limits to humor. That person lacks basic control over their own emotions, and I find that to be far more dangerous than off-color jokes.
No comedian should be crucified just because they make a bad joke. Sometimes a joke isn’t funny. It happens. No comedian sets out to tell a joke that won’t make people laugh (except maybe Andy Kaufman, though he is recognized as a genius for it). If a failed joke’s topic is semi-controversial, that person is not an uncaring monster. I mean… you’re free to believe that, but only because you’re free to be stupid.
If someone tells a joke about rape that isn’t funny, that doesn’t make them a monster. It makes that joke not funny. It doesn’t even mean that person isn’t funny, because one bad joke does not define a person’s sense of humor. Thinking otherwise makes you… well… stupid… which you are free to be.
Since this whole thing started, I’ve read about four extended metaphors or pity stories about rape. I even read a horribly strained scenario urging me to imagine I lived in a world where men got castrated and female comics joked about it.
Never mind that we live in a real world where men are raped by the millions in prison, yet we all laugh about it without people getting butthurt, figuratively speaking. I am sure some people will claim it bothers them, but where are the people walking out of comedy clubs and blogging about the evils of prison rape jokes? I’m not saying I want such nonsense to start, I’m saying that there’s clearly a double standard here.
So, imagine this:
Imagine a crazy, hypothetical world where people have been kidnapped, tortured, and killed simply because they said something that pissed off the wrong person. I know… it’s hard to imagine such an impossible scenario. I’ll call this hypothetical phenomenon “censorship.”
Imagine how someone who has been “censored” feels watching some entitled asshole complaining about what some entertainer said. Imagine the memories of suppression, loss of control, pain, and feelings of helplessness that will be dredged up in the victim, just because some thoughtless jerk-off wanted to declare a fatwa on rape jokes.
Plenty of people who have been censored might tell you to shut up, but they’re no better than the anti-rape-wisher who wished rape upon me (which I want to emphasize again, I found amusingly hypocritical and stupid, not evil). If someone really opposes censorship, there is really only one thing they can say to a person who is trying to censor others, “You are a stupid censor.”
And don’t try to give me this “it’s only censorship when the government does it” crap. That’s like being opposed to capital punishment but being okay with murder. You can go on and on about what can or cannot be done, but “can” isn’t the issue.
You’re free to be a stupid censor… I just find it odd that someone would exercise that freedom when they keep going on and on and on about how “just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.” Censorship has actually killed people, whereas no rape joke has so much as accidentally bumped another person at the grocery store with their cart.
It’s pretty simple: rape is worse than censorship, and censorship is worse than rape jokes. If you can’t agree with that… well, you probably already know what I think you are.
The first is that he was dead-on about one thing: some people think that how they feel is somehow important, and the rest of the world should have to accommodate their feelings (he chose to say “women,” but I have seen men do this too) . This observation is all too true for too many people.
Some think that the rest of the world cares how they feel. I assure you: no one gives a shit how you feel, except you. Anyone you talk to about your feelings is only listening to be polite and internally wishes you would shut the fuck up. Those who listen patiently to you probably want something from you, either sex or for you to return the favor and sit through their boring bullshit, but they may just want money or a promotion. This is why you have to pay therapists: no one cares about you or what you think or feel.
None of us are interesting, no matter how many boring people we manage to get to read our blog posts. Trust me.
The other thing I got from the Louis C.K. interview, and perhaps the most important part, is that I thought about the discussions I had with people on Facebook about this. They tended to all go the same way:
Me: Get over it, people can say whatever they want.
Them: Don’t tell me to “get over it!” I’m not saying Tosh can’t say something, just that I am going to complain publicly while demanding action against him for what he said and/or for everyone to agree with me.
Me: Okay… well, you’re stupid.
Them: Oh, so now people who oppose rape are stupid?
You see what happened there? They were stupid, and I presented an argument that was completely beside the point. It’s no wonder nothing was gained in these exchanges. Granted, even if I made a good point, trying to change the mind of a stupid person is literally a fool’s errand.
I don’t think “freedom” plays much into it, as I initially argued with others. Many people have pointed out Tosh did in fact have the freedom to say what he wanted. Those who are indignant over this insist that it’s important in a system that allows freedom for people to be able to demonize others for what they say publicly. Apparently this only works in one direction, because if I criticize what they are saying… look out.
For those who don’t know, Tosh supposedly said it would be funny if a heckler got raped. At one point, I was conversing with someone who was convinced that what Tosh said was wrong, wrong, wrong. When I persisted in disagreeing, they proceeded to tell me what they hoped a large man would do to my rectum while he held me down. This was after some normal, polite discussion where neither of us insulted the other. It kind of took me off-guard how stupid the comment was.
As you might expect, I wasn’t insulted… I laughed, and it was the best rape joke I had heard in a while.
How can I take seriously a person who is so blatantly hypocritical? I’m meant to believe that joking about someone being raped is totally wrong for comedy purposes, but it’s okay for someone to tell me that I should be raped in order to make some sort of point. That almost makes sense… if you subscribe to the “do as I say, not as I do” school of ethics.
I think it's healthy that people make jokes about everything. The holocaust, rape, date rape, prison rape, pedophilia, child molestation, birth defects, 9/11, dead soldiers, dead celebrities, dead babies, having sex with the bodies of dead babies, kidnapping, mothers, sex with mothers, dead mothers, sex with dead mothers… really, there’s no end to what can be joked about. It’s all hilarious if you have the right timing and enough weed. I don't trust someone if they think there is a topic that is off-limits to humor. That person lacks basic control over their own emotions, and I find that to be far more dangerous than off-color jokes.
No comedian should be crucified just because they make a bad joke. Sometimes a joke isn’t funny. It happens. No comedian sets out to tell a joke that won’t make people laugh (except maybe Andy Kaufman, though he is recognized as a genius for it). If a failed joke’s topic is semi-controversial, that person is not an uncaring monster. I mean… you’re free to believe that, but only because you’re free to be stupid.
If someone tells a joke about rape that isn’t funny, that doesn’t make them a monster. It makes that joke not funny. It doesn’t even mean that person isn’t funny, because one bad joke does not define a person’s sense of humor. Thinking otherwise makes you… well… stupid… which you are free to be.
Since this whole thing started, I’ve read about four extended metaphors or pity stories about rape. I even read a horribly strained scenario urging me to imagine I lived in a world where men got castrated and female comics joked about it.
Never mind that we live in a real world where men are raped by the millions in prison, yet we all laugh about it without people getting butthurt, figuratively speaking. I am sure some people will claim it bothers them, but where are the people walking out of comedy clubs and blogging about the evils of prison rape jokes? I’m not saying I want such nonsense to start, I’m saying that there’s clearly a double standard here.
So, imagine this:
Imagine a crazy, hypothetical world where people have been kidnapped, tortured, and killed simply because they said something that pissed off the wrong person. I know… it’s hard to imagine such an impossible scenario. I’ll call this hypothetical phenomenon “censorship.”
Imagine how someone who has been “censored” feels watching some entitled asshole complaining about what some entertainer said. Imagine the memories of suppression, loss of control, pain, and feelings of helplessness that will be dredged up in the victim, just because some thoughtless jerk-off wanted to declare a fatwa on rape jokes.
Plenty of people who have been censored might tell you to shut up, but they’re no better than the anti-rape-wisher who wished rape upon me (which I want to emphasize again, I found amusingly hypocritical and stupid, not evil). If someone really opposes censorship, there is really only one thing they can say to a person who is trying to censor others, “You are a stupid censor.”
And don’t try to give me this “it’s only censorship when the government does it” crap. That’s like being opposed to capital punishment but being okay with murder. You can go on and on about what can or cannot be done, but “can” isn’t the issue.
You’re free to be a stupid censor… I just find it odd that someone would exercise that freedom when they keep going on and on and on about how “just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.” Censorship has actually killed people, whereas no rape joke has so much as accidentally bumped another person at the grocery store with their cart.
It’s pretty simple: rape is worse than censorship, and censorship is worse than rape jokes. If you can’t agree with that… well, you probably already know what I think you are.
Top Ten: Weird Search Terms That Have Led People To My [Old] Blog
10. gay loincloth
9. fuck the military!!! I want out
8. the virgin mary idol is a whore
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6. show us ya willie and tits
5. big dick white men
4. sex addict quotes
3. how can someone be conservative
2. anything but gay prayer
1. mitt the clit romney
9. fuck the military!!! I want out
8. the virgin mary idol is a whore
7. yuppie welfare done best
6. show us ya willie and tits
5. big dick white men
4. sex addict quotes
3. how can someone be conservative
2. anything but gay prayer
1. mitt the clit romney
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