Billy Goats Gruff

Sunday, March 30, 2008

That's about right

It was a beautiful day in El Rito. I hung my laundry up to dry on the clothesline outside. The wind was strong and blew my sweatpants down a few times. But they're sweatpants, so I didn't care too much.

The neighbors had a little community coffee hour down the street. There were a bunch of folks there, all from the neighborhood, some of whom I actually knew. There were little kids running around and good turkish coffee. I made plans with one guy to climb a mountain and with another guy to watch a movie this week.

I walked home and watched the late afternoon light hitting the Latir Mountains, which form the eastern wall of the neighborhood. I got a kick out of the little purple cactuses along the road. I wasn't sure if they had just popped up or if they were just covered by the snow before.

I got home and picked my clothes off the ground. A little dirty, but at least they smelled good.

There were a few moments in there today...a few moments that felt about right.

Now I'm listening to Gregg Brown's song "Spring & All" on repeat. I'm sorry for posting all these lyrics, but bear with me.

"Spring and what's left of the hippies return
from old rooming houses and Mexico.
More letters, more journals, more poems to burn;
Real heat at last. At last my words glow.

My friend Jim just broke up his band,
the guys all have jobs and the nights got too long.
He's selling the amps, one guitar, and the van.
I'm sure you could have it all for a song.

Snow on the north side, trash in the yard,
love like a newspaper tattered and stained.
A two bourbon twilight, fog from God's cigar.
the neighbor's retarded dog chasing the train.

Don't see any good in just hanging around,
take a tip from the birds and change the scene.
Find some long river and follow it down
to where our old sins have washed up in New Orleans.

Spring and what's left of the songbirds return,
to fight about loving and nesting and such.
Thanks for the letters you sent back to burn.
Their smoke is as light, and as dark, as your touch."

Just Felt Like Writing Something

"Poor Old Buddha turned into stone. Mmmmhmmm
That's why I drink tea alone. OOOHH, OOOHHH

Buddha's made of stone and his eyes are rubies. MmmmHmmmm
But his thoughts and dreams are distilled in the tea. Ooohhoooh"

Michael Hurley
The Tea Song


God, such a beautiful song.

Tired...SNL was a rerun. Bullshit.

Here's a bit of a song I wrote from my adventures out here.

"Now I'm holed up in El rito right next to my friend
who knew me back in Indiana, back when I was thin
a quarter life crisis and a heartbreak on the mend
will do.

My friends are getting married, one by one their gone.
The Times They Are A-Changing turns to Blonde on Blonde
The memories of the peepers and the ashes on a pond
come through."

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Ridiculous Beliefs

I was talking to my neighbor the other day, and I was describing somebody else I knew. The neighbor says, mid-conversation, "what's her sign?" Completely seriously, like it was a perfectly natural question to ask somebody.

Was she assuming that I believed in astrology (in the EXTREMELY dubious contention that knowing the month somebody was born will elucidate their personality)? Isn't it somewhat rude to assume that somebody subscribes to your crackpot belief system?

If I were a Christian, I'd love to ask her about her friends. "Oh....is so-and-so saved?"

But I can't, because I subscribe to the emerging religion of secularism. To the asonine view that the scientific method, combined with rigorous logical argument, is the best arbiter of truth.

I like the scientific method because, if astrology contains some truth, then the scientific method should be able to detect it. As my buddy pointed out after I objected to the explanatory use of astrology in casual conversation, celestial bodies exert gravitational force on the earth, which changes over the course of time. Also, people who were born at the same time had parents who copulated at the same time, and perhaps the time of copulation is co-incident with some characteristic of the parents, which could in-turn effect the outcome of the child.

So, there's at least a conceivable causal connection, implausible though it may be, between date of birth and personality based on scientifically recognized understandings of physical, biological, and psychological paradigms

But if there is, the scientific method would be able to detect it. Social scientists could easily design a survey or mine other studies for data that would reveal the existence of systematic personality differences between Leos and Capricorns.

Secularism IS a religion, though, and it is one that has very few true adherents. Truth be told, I'm not really a true believer either. It's a religion because, for its adherents, it creates an operating paradigm through which they orient themselves to existence. It also involves a degree of faith, both in its orthodox and heterodox manifestations. In the orthodox version, there is always a degree of faith in human reason and in the existence of an external world, combined with a faith in the reliability of that world (random quantum physics notwithstanding). There is a faith in the accuracy of analytical methods, like regression, and in the fundamental principles behind experimental design. To most people, these are incontrovertible. But, as a former philosophy student, I can tell you that the arguments of the Skeptics and empirical epistemology were pretty damn solid. The human mind can come up with fairly indisputable reasons to doubt just about any contention put forth. So, even with the strict SCIENTIFIC skepticism demanded by the scientific method, there is still a remainder of unjustifiable faith (i.e., a belief based upon insufficient evidence to constitute proof).

Ok, now on to the heterodox secularism. Orthodox secularism involves a tremendous amount of accepted uncertainty about the world, because the scientific method (officially, anyway) accepts the possibility that anything could be the case, always qualifying beliefs with the caveat "this is what the data suggests most strongly so far." It is always open to the possibility that the next experiment will yield a different result that upsets the paradigm (see Kune, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions). For all beliefs that cannot be disproved by experiment or regression analysis, the scientific method demands silence and uncertainty.

Many, many secularists regularly go beyond the limits of science to make claims about "facts." Who was it..Carl Sagan maybe?....who famously said "Evolution is a fact!" Implying that it cannot be doubted. But as Descartes argued, there could always be an evil demon out there trying to trick me. So, if scientists make claims about facts, they are usually violating the principles of their discipline. The same is true, by the way, about supposedly a-priori claims derived from pure reason (math and logic). This is not to say that people shouldn't have beliefs about the world. It's not even to say that it's wrong to have GRADATIONS of belief, with certain believes held more strongly than others. It's only to say that, in pure orthodox secularism, you should always admit the possibility (even the tiny possibility) that you're wrong.

Ok, enough epistemology for the moment. It was a nice trip down philosophical memory lane, but now onto my point about secularism's few adherents.

Most people can't handle a purely secular worldview, because it tends to suggest a fairly value-less assessment of human existence. Regarding the existence of existence (i.e., why there's something rather than nothing), pure secularism's answer would probably be something along the lines of, "it appears to be an accident." Regarding the existence of human consciousness, the answer be something like, "it appears to be an accident...a very short-lived one."

The human psyche is such that most folks find pure secularism unpalatable. They dilute it with a much more Religion-y religion, humanism. They try to figure out someway to inject beauty and value into secularism's purely observational and explanatory system.

This is basically what I do...I'm a secular humanist, by and large (with a part-time side faith in bigfoot and mothman). Humanism says, "yes, the world seems vicious and random and cruel and meaningless, and yes, I'm gonna die forever, and yes, the human race will go extinct....but I shouldn't be paralyzingly terrified and depressed, because this painting is pretty, and that baby smiled!"

It's bullshit, in other words. It's no different from the belief that a random dude rose from the dead 2000 years ago so that, not only do you get to live beyond death, but you get to live in a paradise too! It's bullshit.

I recognized this bullshit long ago, while I was still a Christian. I hated the fact that secular humanists lorded their intellectual integrity over believers, because they were doing the same goddamn thing...rationalizing their unjustifiable beliefs through dubious reasoning, simply because it made it easier to get up in the morning.

However, because I do think that ridiculous beliefs admit to a continuum of ridiculousness, I find the articles of faith in humanism to be a little more intellectually palatable than those of christianity. They have a little more evidence to back them up, cause that painting really is pretty, and it really is nice when that baby smiles.

Still, though, if you're a humanist, try to keep your intellectual hubris in check. If you're a genuine secularist, you're probably drunk or in a mental institution, and I give you props.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Namesake

The Three Billy Goats Gruff
Norway

Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was "Gruff."

On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly troll , with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker.

So first of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.

"Trip, trap, trip, trap! " went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the troll .

"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, with such a small voice.

"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

"Oh, no! pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am," said the billy goat. "Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

"Well, be off with you," said the troll.

A little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.

Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap, went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"Oh, it's the second Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, who hadn't such a small voice.

"Now I'm coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

"Oh, no! Don't take me. Wait a little till the big Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

"Very well! Be off with you," said the troll.

But just then up came the big Billy Goat Gruff .

Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap! went the bridge, for the billy goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.

"Who's that tramping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"It's I! The big Billy Goat Gruff ," said the billy goat, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.

"Now I 'm coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.

Well, come along! I've got two spears,
And I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears;
I've got besides two curling-stones,
And I'll crush you to bits, body and bones.

That was what the big billy goat said. And then he flew at the troll, and poked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him out into the cascade, and after that he went up to the hillside. There the billy goats got so fat they were scarcely able to walk home again. And if the fat hasn't fallen off them, why, they're still fat; and so,

Snip, snap, snout.
This tale's told out.


Source: Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, De tre bukkene Bruse som skulle gå til seters og gjøre seg fete, Norske Folkeeventyr, translated by George Webbe Dasent in Popular Tales from the Norse, 2nd edition (London: George Routledge and Sons, n.d.), no. 37, pp. 275-276. Translation revised by D. L. Ashliman.

Quoted on http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/type0122e.html

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Zombie Jesus Day

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

HE'S EATING MY FLESH AND DRINKING MY BLOOD! HE THINKS I'M COMMUNION!

SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD! IT'S GOTTA BE A BRAIN SHOT!

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Rich Slavery

What is the most depressing word in the English language? Suburb.

Here's what happened.

Companies saw that people were making lots of money after WWII, stemming from the GI Bill and the flood of government spending that started with the New Deal and continued with the weapons industry during the war. They wanted to make things for people to buy with their new money. But people didn't need the shit they wanted to sell. So, they hired advertisers. Advertisers convinced people that their lives were ugly and arduous and ignorant and backward, and because they were ugly and arduous and ignorant and backward, they were not happy. They convinced people that they needed to buy things to have modern and comfortable lives, to ride the sweeping current of inevitable modern progress, and that would make them glamorous and important and sophisticated, which would give their lives meaning and make them happy. People started going to college, because that would allow them to get the jobs that would get them money to give their lives meaning. People abandoned the pursuit of useful skills that gave them some minimal degree of self-sufficiency, skills like carpentry, farming, sewing, plumbing, and engine repair to pursue academic success. They moved to the cities to manage factories and run businesses. Then, the schools were desegregated, and their children had to go to school with black kids. They thought those black kids didn't have stuff, and weren't sophisticated like them, so they thought those folks were ignorant and meaningless. They were dangerous, cause they might infect their own children with the plague of low ambition, which might lead to lack of meaning and unhappiness. So, the white folks moved to the suburbs, where they had more room to store the shit they wanted to buy (that would be the shit that gives their lives meaning).

And now their kids grow up, and are slaves to the same fate, regardless of how they really want to live, because nobody knows how to live a different way, because those skills were lost in the fog of the past, just like the languages of decimated indian tribes are lost when they were forced into white schools. Nobody knows how to build or make or fix anything, so they are enslaved to the owners of knowledge capital. They have no choice but to follow the same path toward the suburb so that they can make enough money to buy the services and products that their great-grandparents provided and made themselves.

The advertisers pulled-off one of the great swindles in history, creating a permanent slave-consumer class. And the best part? People still actually believe that they can achieve real happiness if they can just purchase One...More...Gizmo! The consumer-slaves are not just captives...they are true believers in the very cult that has enslaved them! There is almost no end to the sacrifices they will place on that alter...their families, their children, their marriages, their friendships, their health, their time, their hobbies, their passions, their dignity, their morals, their environment. It would be sad enough if they killed these things simply because they have no other...simply because they know no other way, which they don't. But, they justify doing it...they believe in doing it...because they believe that the things they can buy will make them happy.

OK...END OF OVERBLOWN,OVERSIMPLIFIED, AND EXAGGERATED TIRADE.

Those lefty economics books are taking hold.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Signing off, and starting the lazy revolution

My dearest little creatures,

Chronicles of Joenia will be inactive for a week or so, as I'm sunning myself in Jamaica. I'm hoping this will cure my clbt...chronically low body temperature. Good riddance, 91 degrees! Apparently it's some kind of vestigal process from our amphibian years...I don't know.

I've been lifting weights again, cause damnit, I'm sick and tired of being pinned beneath heavy objects! Oh, wait...someone's gonna make a joke about fat chicks, I just know it. You guys are assholes!

Land...it's all about land. If I could just get a piece of land, I could realize my dream...which is to work about 20 hours/week. I feel like I could really give those 20 hours everything I've got. I could use the considerable capital investment in my brain to add value to the GDP. I could then take my earnings home and be warm and fed while I pursue other things, like reading and music and lookin around at stuff. If I could get a 40k/year job at 40hrs/week, doesn't it stand to reason that I could get a 20k/year job at 20 hrs/week? That makes sense, right? Damnit...this property ownership hurdle is really screwing me up. Man, I don't even need to own the damn thing...just don't make me pay rent! I'll get solar panels and grow vegetables and raise chickens. I just need the damned land!

That's it...it's time to redistribute. I guess i need to muster my red army. I'll call Mugabe in Zimbabwe for advice.

Being lazy is not about being averse to labor...it's about having other interests. It's about valuing your free time because you have other things that you want to do. That's always been my objection to exercise...I don't mind sweating. In fact, I sort of enjoy it. I just hate taking the time to do it.

Friday, March 07, 2008

Drink from my dick, James Bond

Fuck the University of Chicago, and fuck the University of Michigan, and fuck Duke University.

They can all eat my assholes.

Sending my money overseas

Hey, I'm going to Jamaica next week! Island princesses, good dope (which I can't smoke, unfortunately, because it tends to make me believe that I'm dying), getting my hair braided, sunshine, the water, and a WEDDING!

Let me officially invite Jesus, in case we run out of wine.

Don't know exactly what I'm gonna do down there for the first few days when I'll be by myself. Probably pretty much what I do here all day by myself....talk to the imaginary leopard who follows me around.

I'm also gonna make some progress on this side project I'm doing, where I'm doing research for a documentary about economics...well, about capitalism specifically. I'm reading a lot of fairly lefty books about the modern economy, at least to start out. One I just started, called The End of Work, has a pretty interesting premise...that technology is eliminating the need for workers. I've been talking a lot with my brother lately about the fact that this is precisely what has happened in the U.S. (and even the global) manufacturing sector. Everybody likes to blame "outsourcing" or "capital flight" caused by free trade policies for the decimation of the u.s. manufacturing labor market. But, when you look at the numbers, the majority of that loss has been due to improvements in technology that have decreased the need for workers! (I've been spouting that theory since I mindlessly accepted it from one of my professors a few years ago). This book even argues that the same is happening in the service sector, and even that it has been happening in the "emerging economies" of China and India.

Keep in mind, manufacturing productivity has been doing pretty well (or fucking incredible if you're China). Companies are still making bank. They just don't need as many people to do it.

As the aforementioned professor explained to my class way back when, the displaced workers in the U.S. have generally been absorbed into the service sector. But, he asked the ominous question, what happens when the service sector becomes "technologized"? Will we have robots at wendy's? We already have automated customer service almost across the board.

Now, when you add the outsourcing phenomenon (which I'm not denying exists...just saying it's not as important as the political rhetoric suggests)...then, if you're an american...get your shotgun and start hunting rabbits?

Anyway, that's just one perspective. It would, of course, be belied by the incredibly low unemployment rates that we've seen in the past few years (though, it is important to keep in mind that the unemployment rate only counts people who are looking for work...not those who have given up). We'll see what this housing bust entails for the labor market, I guess.

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

You gotta serve somebody

I've been having all kinds of profound thoughts lately, but whenever I sit down to write on this blog, the only thing that comes to mind is a mental picture of a solar-system sized vagina. No, not a black hole. A real vagina, with labia and a clitoris and...well, I don't really know how to match the other parts to their names. I know some names of some other parts, but I don't really know what they are. Oh, wait...cervix! I know what a cervix is!

That's not really true. Well, it's true that I know what a cervix is, but it isn't true that I've been receiving mental images of vaginas that are measured in lightyears.

I have been thinking a lot about the Bob Dylan song, "You Gotta Serve Somebody." "It may be the devil, or it may be the lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody."

In a world where things could be better, and in which making them better requires change, and in which change occurs through the actions of organizations, not individuals, just what is a self-absorbed contrarian skeptic to do? If you want to have an impact, you have to cooperate with other people, which means that you're going to have to COMPROMISE! You have to be willing to join a movement, an organization, that you might not agree with on a lot of things.

But, how the hell do you draw the line between responsible compromise and cowardly cave-in?

When I was briefly considering becoming an elementary school teacher, I had an interesting conversation with my dad. He never had any ambition to be anything other than a teacher. But, he had perrenial conflicts with his boss (whom he called Big Nuts, for his predilection for power tripping). In dad's view, Big Nuts saw Dad's intelligence as a threat to his power.

Anyway, Dad told me, "if you don't like having a boss, you only got one choice. You got to become the boss, which means you have to kiss ass and knot-up (where a tie)"

This, of course, is a variation on Rick Flair's famous line, "To be the man, you got to beat the man."

Not sure how to bring this all together. Something like, "if perfectionism prohibits you from joining a group and compromising, you'll never get anything done." And, "if you don't like compromising, but like the power of the group, you got to become the boss."

Plus, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. I wonder what giant vaginas get?

Saturday, March 01, 2008

Cat excrement

Cleaning up cat shit!

Scoop it out the sand box!

Everybody watch this!

I throw it at the red sox!

Put it in the bread bag!

Plastic keeps it off me!

Mouth breathe and don't gag!

Cleaning up cat pee!

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