Autobiography of My Father by Trevor M

{note: i got this idea partly from (a) aging and thinking about how much time i have left and (b) watching fast forward which gave people an insight into their lives in "only" 6 months but the idea that something might be inevitable, and likely disappointing... well, here's the first draft... ouch in advance}



my father, what a douche bag. well i just wanted to get that out in the open so you wouldn't think this was one of those sweety sweet things where i reminisce about him, gee whiz, i wish i spent more time with him, etc. well, i spent plenty of time with him because he was a loser "stay at home dad" who leached off my mom who leached off her dead parents. they were something probaby. movers and shakers, i wish i could have met them, though my mom says that they wouldn't like me because i'm fat. well, i blame my parents for that too. they were too lazy to force me to eat well, too "copedendant" (their word) to take on my anger at being forced to eat well. so mostly they fed me fast food even though ostensibly they ate heathily and constantly wrung their hands at my nutritional issues. nevertheless all i had to do was while and voila they'd schlepp me in some Arby's sandwhich or a Chipotle burrito, even Burger King because, well, because I wanted it. i take no responsibility for my weight, why should i, if i can blame them? but now that my dad's dead and my mom lives in a cabin in the rockies with no phone or email who's gonna care if I blame them? i mean who's even gonna read this fuckin' thing. i hope not my older brother, he's so weird, like a marine or something, a knight maybe, talking about honor, where did he get that, the comics? who needs that shit?

i have to give some credit to my parents for "forcing" me (LOL) to be "creative"... i guess now that i'm making a decent living from my fantasy novels i have to give some credit where some credit is due. plus they schlepped me to those role-playing fantasy games where I could have been abused (just kidding, i'm not going there)... and I give them credit for that. my mom really hates me now, well, not hates but feels really guilty that i'm so bitter (and fat). she blames my weight on (a) her genes (b) her own eating problems and (c) their codependancy. All true, I suspect, but I like it most when she thinks it's mostly her at least now that my dad is dead. he died watching with bodyfat count if you can believe that. talk about narcissism.

Essay on the Fame Virus

My wife feels sorry for me that I’m not famous. I feel sad when she expresses this, there’s nothing I can do about it. I know there are ways to keep trying to get the world to notice me, more and more now with YouTube et al, but I find it kind of crass and desperate. Why should the world care about me more than I care about the world? Actually, that’s a meaningless sentence. Of course, I care about the world, the one I live in, raise my children in, walk my dog in. The world I am not so sure I care about is the world I thought would be the focus of meaning for me: acknowledgement, even adulation, by Important Cultural Guardians, i.e. The New York Times or their ilk. I think the search for fame has only gotten worse in our culture since I first encountered it in the 1970s. Then my idea was to shrink the world down to a “counter culture” (and I did mean culture, specifically “underground” film) and within that world eek out a living (probably academically) while producing edgy small non-commercial works that the occasional museum would edify with a retrospective, preferably a “living artist” retrospective.

Somewhere along the line I lost that alternative vision of culture and even for many years escaped the sharp pangs of hunger for fame. Then, late in my life, as a by-product of the questionable mantra “Follow your bliss” it struck me again like a virus lurking in your cells then a virulent outbreak seemingly out of nowhere. The Fame Crave hit with it’s usual trappings of innocence and its lies. One of its lies is that, if you do your “homework” and rise above the crowd (“A student”) you will find your way to the doorway to fame which will, of course, open for you. It’s a bit like trying to get into an Ivy League college. There might have been a time (was there really?) when being an A student could get you in, but now you have to have aced the SATs, 4.0 average, athletics, extracurriculars and it would help if you were a minority. I don’t know if the world of cultural fame was ever easy to get into, I doubt that it was. I think back when Raymond Carver was writing short stories, I’m guessing less people wanted to be writers and artists than they want to be today. There were many more careers (and money) that attracted people in the 1950s and early 60s. It was only after the “creativity revolution” inherent in the drug culture (one get high and thinks one is an artist) that many people began imagining they would make their livings not only from writing, painting, etc, but also from bodywork, performance art, and unusual types of therapy not even close to being covered by any insurance program. This wasn’t exactly identical to the search for fame but it certainly was influenced by the Follow Your Bliss dictum of Joseph Campbell/Robert Bly. Following your inner guide was a little bit of fame (glamour) that you could get your hands on. You could be a life artist, and many were, many of the same ones now looking around with a stunned look on their faces with no 401K, no health insurance, and the recession slashing away at their livelihoods as they realize their creatively imagined services are technically in the luxury category.

Personally, I wanted to address the issue of personal creativity and not only the internal desire for fame (like a chronic addiction, one can learn to live with it), but the way the “world” looks on creative people who get no money or little money from their art. My wife’s interest in quilting, plus my own now frequent trips to Michael’s Arts and Crafts, has shown me there is a world, largely female, that makes all kinds of things, mostly for very little income and almost zero chance at fame. There are also microcosms, like wildlife art, Southwestern art, where one can achieve a degree of fame and money but one is “locked out” of higher culture which has no interest in or way to critique these microcosms. So when Philip Roth calls Nora Roberts an “entertainer” (she’s a romance novelist, very successful) he’s invoking the privilege that being recognized by the highest level of gate-keeping (i.e. The New York Times). She could very well make more money than he. One can think of other writers, Stephen King, John Iriving, and Leon Uris who though popular are effectively “locked out” of the highest approval levels by the accusation of being mere entertainers. Supporting this way of thinking is a vast network of college English departments, many staffed by sophisticated writers with very little acclaim to show for it, who set standards for high art and teach them to the next generation of wannabes, many of whom will go on to teach English and write “on the side” their challenging, cutting edge novels.

Can one cure oneself of the claim to fame, intervene on oneself so to speak or is it a life sentence like the herpes virus that cannot actually be cured but can go silent for years?

part II

what if, what if I could just “let go” of this fantasy that my creative endeavors would EVER amount to more than they amount to now which is people who know me know that I am creative and kinda feel sorry for me (LOL) that I never “made it.” what if that was in the end, the “I coulda been a contender” thing for me, I coulda been, if if if… but in the end wasn’t. just a guy who near the end of his life (god willing not soon) did all kinds of nutty shit like write a novel, paint, and make masks. what’s the difference between me and say Philip Roth, well, plenty. on his deathbed (no matter what a schmuck he was and I don’t know maybe he’s a great guy) he could look over and see all these books and sure he can say (to his grandchild) “you’re what matters,” but we know once in a while he’s looking over there at the shelf of books and saying “I did something. I was someone. I have a legacy.” but so few people have a legacy like this, creatively speaking anyway. and there’s the stories (hundreds plus) of artists considered important AFTER their deaths. van gogh is the poster child. now his works command millions of dollars but in his lifetime he struggled, probably thought most of the time he should have been a cobbler or a dentist. except for the schizo stuff, but there’s plenty of schizo dentists. so in the end, the bitch fame is not a nice lady. even when she deems you worthy many can’t handle it… ever… not that they (Brittany spears) would trade it for not having an intimate relationship with the bitch goddess, but still… it’s not easy. the “happy” people are the ones who don’t care at all, let’s just call them the Christians for shorthand, the ones that believe their reward is in the next life and all you have to do is slog through this one and get to your (deathbed) as intact as possible with as many (loving) people around you as you can gather. can I “act as if” as they say in the 12 step programs? I don’t know.

Radical Notion (Why don't more people commit suicide?)

Several things:
(1) Friend #1 says I have a "bad relationship" with Fame. If she were a woman (love relationship) it would someone I was incompatible with, someone I should let go of... and yet I can't stop obssessing
[INSIGHT: Could I actually LET GO of the whole "wah wah they didn't come and make me famous (and validate my life)" thing

(2) Friend #2 is a "real artist" with an 8 pg resume (i.e. impressive), a job teaching art, and he says he's tired of the game of shows/galleries (other than the local which are "fun")...
[INSIGHT: I carry around this dream here, too, that "they" will somehow validate all that I do... like someone their whole life thinking they are ugly but it's really like Clan of the Cave Bear and Darryl Hannah is a babe but he's a Cro Magnon living with the Neanderthals who think her neotonized features "ugly"]

(3) Friend #3 an #4: though they make a living from art, mainly by working intensely day and night and not having kids or pets to distract them... what makes their art MEANINGFUL to them is that is does have PERSONAL meaning... death of parents, aging, loss... it's all there...

Conclusion: If I could, I'd like to put this all together as some kind of breakthrough for me. WHAT IF I ACTUALLY worked for "fun" could let go of the Fame Banshee Hungry Ghost Blood Sucker... what if...

Political note: I do think we're bankrupting the country, whether through conscious conspiracy (there's a case here) or lack of education, the fact is that at least 50% of us are convinced we WANT a europeanized life style of some kind and "don't mind" what it might take to get there...
but... but... it's not really my business... I'm really too old to care... I could go there...

monday morning genius time

It's asking a lot of monday morning to face being a genius, an undiscovered genius, a genius who in all probability will die "unknown" in terms of the greater entertainment universe. pathetic? not really. pathetic is not appreciating what you have while you have it, and that "ain't" me.. not at all. in fact, i am privileged to be a (hmm what shall i call this?) a fop, a dandy, a dilentante, a person like the old country gentlemen of the 17th or 18th century (didn't they have to go out to war though? or empire-build?) the ones who could ride horses in the morning, meet their lover for a tryst for lunch, collection turtle shells for their cabinet of curiosities in the afternoon before helping the cooks make a gourmet feast as a surprise for the manor-dwellers, then perhaps a nap, a salon of local music and poetry in the evening including the haiku you wrote this afternoon, Sonnet to a Turtle Shell. how bad is that?
The point is it's "not too shabby" provided one can live within the boundaries set up. One thing I think is interesting is how (so many) people now live with the fantasy of "fame" however fleeting. Like the parents of the "balloon boy" so desperate to get "media attention" they put their son in the middle of a hoax. I'm sure there are worse things going on. One can only image: "Why don't you write about this?" Whack!
Sometimes I wonder "what the world would be like if" people expected each other to be (casually) creative and casually share the products of their creativity. I suppose that is why some years ago I was drawn into the idea of co-housing, my last shot at (perhaps) living in a hippie-ish eco-utopia before I realized I really didn't LIKE people all that much. I mean, I wasn't ready for endless meetings about whether the community dinner should be vegan, or whether we should "voluntarily" turn down our thermostats (to save energy). I don't think I truly have the patience for that. Perhaps if there was an opening for a "crank" I could take it, but not the way things are. I just have lost my belief in the rationality of people. Oh, we're all rational (sort of) on the small decisions, but on the "big ones" (global warming) we are buffeted around by the media, the images in our brains (as a substitute for thought) drive up inevitably in only one direction. So there's that.
Not so many years ago I thought it would "relatively" easy to become a (minor) novelist. I guess depending on how far down you define minor I achieved that goal, though I was thinking of perhaps a small blurb in the New York Times more than a pile of self-published books I'm making zero money on.
So in that sense, I am a minor artist. LOL.

Ok, go be a genius now.

I am madmen, I am breaking bad

I am madmen

I am Donald Draper

I am Donald Draper, I’m the guy who cheats on his wife and has a girlfriend in the car when she discovers that he’s an entirely different person than the one she thought she married. I’m Donald Draper who can dress up and look great the morning after the night his wife told him she doesn’t love him. I am Donald Draper who can tell a man he doesn’t like that his friendship is important to him, to his career, and they both understand that. I am Donald Draper who can make on the spot life-altering decisions like taking on someone else’s identity or starting a new company. I am Donald Draper, existentially alone, taking solace here and there in bed with a lovely stranger who will be easily dropped when she becomes inconvenient. I am a man who can do all this and feel good about myself, because I am on a mission to be a man, a man of the world, a success. everything else is negotiable.

I am Roger Sterling

I am Roger Sterling, to whom all things are a joke, should be a joke, could be made into a joke. I am the man who knows the truth: that at the core of life is a big, fat laugh. maybe it’s god laughing. maybe it’s someone else, we probably will never know because he’s laughing at us not with us, so the best we can do is make our own jokes (our lives) and pretend that’s the best we can do. and even though we know it’s funny we do crave things (alcohol and certain women) and that’s funny too because we really can’t have what we crave and chasing the cravings is funny. even falling down drunk or having a heart attack has it’s funny side. and even though I’m laughing nearly all the time it’s a deadpan laugh, because I have standards, I don’t show my amusement or whoever is laughing at the core of the universe will make me even more the brunt of his joke

Breaking Bad

I am Walter White

I am Walter White, a desperate man who lives alone in his head though in some reality he is surrounded by “loving” family who he can’t trust because he’s on a mission to save them because he’s dying and he’s wanting to leave them some money but if they know what he’s doing they’ll mess with it and then the only thing he has going (against cancer) will be taken away and replaced with limp sympathy and demasculinizing “treatments” by arrogant doctors who cannot help him yet want to charge him tens of thousands of dollars he doesn’t have just to be in the game of maybe, maybe, maybe. I am a man who has no interest in or stomach for violence and the low life but who has decided it is my only way to accomplish the only mission that keeps me going: providing for my family after my death. to this end I have allowed all morality to fall aside, I have killed people, I am enslaving others with my high-quality meth and I don’t care, even though at some level I am appalled at myself for not caring and wonder how I can care so much about my family while care so little for other people but at the same time my family is telling me I am gone they don’t know me or know if they even love me anymore, but I don’t care I don’t want that to get in the way of my mission.


I am Jesse Pinkman

I am Jesse Pinkman and I wanted to be a player and everything I have ever done has gotten so fucked up even my parents hate me and kicked me out onto the street and for what—because I need to get high once in a while because the world is so fucked up and even though I came from a nice family and went to a nice high school, nothing helped me find my place, even as my friends found there’s all I had was the place of comfort the drugs offered me and then I thought why not I’m cool why can’t this tough guy world be my world, but I knew deep down I didn’t have the guts for it, I was a pussy, I was too easily moved by things like little kids abandoned by their meth parents at the same moment I have a gun on those parents without even the guts to pull the trigger I’m so much of a loser I even ended up with my straight-white-male chemistry teacher for a partner, what torture is that, I even failed his class and now he’s trying to boss me around and tell me how to live the life on the streets

psychicism left out of god's mix

today part of me feels lucky. i have money, people who love me. a cool place to live. a nice dog. several lovers. i'm good looking, creative, smart and funny. sad, too, but i think of that as a kind of philosophical sadness that's unrelated to "happiness", it's more about "this vale of tears" and sort of getting it that it's a rigged system to set up these smartass monkeys to think they're so important than "disappear" into the woodwork if you will (i'm thinking of god) yet stay just present enough to give us joy and orgasms and delight and babies and dogs and all this beauty and great shit. it would have worked just as well (?) with about half the beauty i think, i mean people live with very little hope and beauty and still go on.
i think the gift that god was toying with giving us was psychic powers... what a strange and different world it would be if we could tune into each other's thoughts. both "good" (less lonely) and bad (random thoughts would hurt feelings)... of course had that happened a whole magister ludi / zen culture would have evolved to train us NOT to invade other people's space, yadda yadda... so maybe it was good that it stayed out of the mix.

trap of reasonableness

I like Obama's reasonableness. It's a good quality to have in a friend, a parent, or teacher. I'm not as convinced that reasonableness is a quality that prepares one for a full encounter with the world. In my opinion the world is not reasonable, thus religions (however extreme) are in a odd way more attuned to the nature of the capricious universe than reason. We wish it were not so, but it is. A reasonable person always wants to talk things through, believes in educating more sins, crimes and character defects away. Sometimes reasonable people are capable of firm and decisive (disciplinary) actions, but they are reluctant to deliver it and feel as if in some way their reasonableness has failed them if it comes to this.
The "unreasonable" conservative Christian has much in common with the unreasonable Muslim. There are subtle differences in their inspiring (revealed) sources, and more importantly differences in the amount of time their unreasonable philosophy has had to bump up against other philosophies and inevitably made more reasonable compromises. People have said this before, but a big issue with extreme Islam is that is it a
"young" religion (1300 years vs Christianity's 2000 years or vs Judeo-Christianity's 5000+). Still, 1300 years is a long time. But take 700 years off Christianity and we're in the age of the Inquisition, with decades of religious wars to follow. Christians still fight (Northern Ireland) but few would argue it's over the finer points of doctrine versus class, ownership, patriotism and generally transmitting grudges through education.

Save the Earth and the Taliban

the green movement arising out of a projection of our own desperation, projected onto the earth, our petty complaints (money, work, sex, who isn't cleaning up what) shrink into the background obfuscated by huge Save The Earth (and/or polar bears) concerns. it makes perfect sense and whether or not it is "true" or warranted (or unwarranted) it does what most religions USED TO do. What are my troubles (here in the muddly Middle Ages) compared to the importance of saving (my and others') souls? Soul-saving is soul-making. We need it. Right wingers rail against ecology as a religion, but perhaps their best defense would be to come back and say, so what? It's a good a religion as any. If it gives people "meaning" (purpose, reason to get out of bed in the morning) how can we argue against it? Conservatives argue we are inadvertently giving up our freedoms (to drive big cars, smoke, use electricity) but their religion has limited our behaviors too. Sex, drugs and other behaviors remain criminalized by our Judeo-Christian culture, all rationalized by "civic need" but that logic doesn't alter the fact that they limit our choices. So the new religion (which MIGHT in the end be easier on sex and drugs, though the jury's still out) will be tougher on different areas of our lives. In the end the government will (probably) sanction gay marriage, legalized pot (and probably other drugs), but will criminalize smoking, gas guzzling, and using the wrong lightbulbs. All religions eventually limit our freedom, the tradeoff is inherent in the bargain. You "feel better" by being connected to something greater than yourself (Salvation or Saving the Earth) and you "give back" some freedom (freedom to fornicate, freedom to drive). It's all logical and there is no good or bad in it, unfortunately. Christians are "shocked, shocked" at the failure of their religion and the widespread embrace of a form of civic paganism, but they can't change it. The Taliban are able to do what they do because people in their districts are uneducated, unenfranchised and poor. The freedoms they give up to the Taliban (women to be educated, for example) are not deeply valued by the population. What they get in exchange is connection, belief, certainty--things the West aren't so good at countering.

why are people liberals?

i keep wondering, why, way down deep people want to be liberals? i know if you're one this must sound awfully smug, but i invite you to do the same to the other side, only you probably already have and know they (we?) are upright, sexually repressed, control freaks, etc. i think that essentially liberals are (ready?) lonely. Lonely and envious. I say envious but what I actually mean is they feel slighted that they somehow have not gotten their "fair share" which oddly they still feell no matter how wealthy they are. if they are wealthy they transfer this feeling of having been slighted to "others" (native peoples, minorities, women, gays, etc) who they need to stand up for and in solidarity with.
Now back to loneliness. Liberals love the idea of community, the idea that the truly functioning human unit is (don't laugh) something like The Shire (hobbits) where low-tech (by choice) unites the community in happy and rewarding work, roles for everyone. And lots of parties where even the fat girls dance. This fantasy is evident in science fiction (often) where Star Trekkers or others come upon an apparently peaceful quasi-medieval society that often integrates some key elements of high tech into their otherwise 16th (?) century life. Lots of goat feeding and rawhide clothes. Maybe they're vegan, but that's not important. But if they eat meat they kill it themselves, praying to its spirit before and after.
So, let's review, lonely and envious. They aren't lonely for everyone. In fact certain types (old white males from Texas for example) aren't desirable as friends (or rulers) though perhaps could be tolerated as a village elder/idiot. The dream of inclusiveness extends to "other tribes" often people they have had no contact with like Maoists in Nepal, or inner city gang lords in Baltimore,... the fantasy is undeterred by "reality" that many of these groups would want nothing to do with them other than to rob and/or rape them. That is irrelevant to the fantasy.
I suspect if one could look at culture in a Freudian (?) way there is a paradox here. On the one hand the last desirable person, let's say that Texan Cowboy Patriarch, is a clear pariah, but at the same time these same people have a "weak spot" for The Good King. The Good King should be young, "of color", etc. but if he qualifies as the Good King our lonely envious liberals are willing to give unto him many of their freedoms. They want desperately to believe he has arrived and will MAKE THINGS BETTER. Their "tribe" has won, is in the White House, so if standards of living decline, so be it, we will all decline into friendly cafe-life Europe together. We'll be poorer but feel better, and we'll all be in the same boat, so many privations can be endured. They know it will hurt the people they don't like (the christian-texan-patriarchal-owners) more than it will hurt them. The rich have farther to fall.
So appeals to loss of liberty will fall on deaf ears.
There is an expression Kill the King, Long Live the King. We shall see how long the fantasy holds. This is probably why our current king is trying to move so fast. he knows the people are fickle and will only love him if he moves radically and quickly so that he cannot easily be deposed as he is our captain and taken us into unfamiliar waters. without him we will be lost.

Unfortunately for the human primate the only way to fight tribalism is with more tribalism which is probably why war will never be obsolete. the other side, feeling as they do ATTACKED and OVERWRITTEN (or written out)... will appeal as survivalists to some primordial group instinct to watch out for their own.

The King is King until a new King arises. A new king would have to see the "chinks" in his armor, places (like christianity) that were must-haves for the old king but signals of subterranean loyalty to an order that excludes them. you see some of this in the debate about gay rights, gay marriage, etc. a new king will have to be more "radical" (perhaps a Queen)... yes, a queen could do it, could claim a territory of authority that has never been owned before. take us to new-new lost territory and be our guide in the darkness.

mad

mad at my best friend who went to inglorious basterds with someone else. jeez he's not your date. mad at my kid for being crabby and fat and 14. mad at my wife for having so many problems.
mad at myself... let's start with my body... why this persistent "kink" in my back, what, for 5 fuckin days? jeezUs. at mad at being nearly 60, yeah, you heard me, fuckin 60. and what do i have to show for it other than ("a great life" they all say) and they are all right, of course, duh.
mad at the world... persistent stupidity in all forms, everywhere... we are nearly the smarty pants monkeys we think we are. JeeZus. is it ok to be mad? ha, what a dumb question. i'm mad at that question. i'm mad at everyone.

being mad, why is that "bad"...

am i depressed, crabby or merely pessimistic?

i can't tell what i am

maybe i'm "depressed" that
i'm getting old
that the world isn't the way i hoped it would be
that i have disappointed so many people
and they have disappointed me
that the world hasn't beat a path to my
unhumble door
that marriage turned out to be
much lonelier and less fun than I had hoped
that my children turned out
overweight and lazy
did i really say that?

is pessimism a bad thing?
my book on survivalism says
pessimists survive better in plane crashes
(is life really a big plane crash?)


let's get back to depression
"age" is kicking in
not in a horrible way either
more like an infestation
by termites or ants or soul-crunching lice
or something

why am i so negative?

has my inherent genetic pessimism kicked in?
is it "the medications"
is it realizing my precious opinions
are likely to molder like a stack
of undelivered mail...
found in an old house
infested by soul-crunching termites

old and confused

i'm feeling old.
i have high blood pressure now
and arthritis in my neck
and i got dizzy during my personal trainer
and i have high glucose
and low potassium
and the chiropractor wants to see my 3x week
ADD, too!

a cop stopped me for driving without my lights (oi vey)
and a woman honked at my after i moved into
her lane (suv? old? bad neck? distraction?)
why keep track of these things?

but i'm fit
and lost 6 lbs and look pretty fucking
good for a guy of 59

my work is in total disarray
after the "meth high" if you will
of doing all those books
("wow!", "congratulations!")
what? i don't deserve that!
take that back!

i painted that big
"green arctic" piece then froze up
like it's "too good" to mess with
ha!

my faux wall street book
just seems like too fucking much work
and i want it to be GOOD

thank god i'm going to the prison today
and afterwards
i might feel grateful again!

why i can't get excited about how video games are ruining boys

We look for reasons that boys aren't manly. We look at their pleasures and if their pleasures are things we are unfamiliar with, we blame them. That's why video games are the centerpiece of the "worried about boys" movement. Do I disagree that boys are "less manly" than they used to be? Yes. Ah, but even saying "manly" is controversial. People want to know, "Do you mean the bad, old-style WWII manliness that we cured in the 60's through sensitivity?" Because if you do, then they are happy that kind of crude manliness is gone. What they mean is the largely imaginary sensitive (non-racist, non-homophobic, title9 supportive, anti-competitive, vegan-friendly) New Man. The problem is this New Man never took root in the culture. We pretend he has, but he hasn't. Instead we have Sports Man, "Seth Rogan" ironic pot-friendly crude man, Gang Boy/Men, and one hell of a lot of confused boys hunkering in basements playing video games. Do I think they could do better things with their time than play video games? Of course. But aside from sports (which have taken on a manic quality for boys and girls, to the point where it's just another school-related stressor) when these basement dwellers poke their heads up they find a male-unfriendly world. Military is not cool, even Boy Scouts are paramilitary homophobic organizations. Manly combat (boxing, wrestling) has become a multimillion dollar farce of steriodism, and the "new manly extreme sports" are one step above dog fights. Their dads (if they're lucky enough to have them) are overworked beat-up Homer Simpsons, or fiercely angry blue collar or underclass drinkers whose healthy outlets for male comraderie (poker games, bowling leages, smoking and/or drinking clubs, Freemasons) have been cast in a negative light by enlightened feminists who distrust any male-only society.
So men are largely alone, largely denigrated (when was the last time a decent dad was freatured in a cartoon show or sitcom? Hel-lo?), crabby and hostile without knowing exactly why. So the sons play video games and dad looks at online porn, while the women organize Get Out The Vote movements where they can get together and say how awful men are.

So why are video games so bad again?

Monkey Nature Economics

I'm coming to some conclusions.
(1) I won't see much change in the political situation in my lifetime. I mean change toward a libertarian/free market model. We could and probably will drift slowly leftward, toward an inefficient mix of Euro-socialism (crony capitalism?) mixed with enough "environmentalism" (quotes for its political rather than nature orientation) to stay in power. with global warming theory entrenched enough to at least not "go away", there will be fewer ways to critique a regime that is "trying" (good-hearted) no matter how unsuccessful they are at attaining any of their goals. I expect no progress on global warming, "progress" on national healthcare to stumble toward an inefficient rationing-based system, and the economy to be unable to recover its robustness due to the denigration of its key components: desire for profit, risk taking, independance of government.

(2) Supporting this belief, I think that the "monkey nature" we carry in our genes is inherently biased against those "free market" virtues which can only be sustained with a national temperment to support them. Without philosophical support we will inevitably drift toward socialism, a state where the rich are suspect no matter what benefits their presence creates. Studies show people are more resentful of wealth and willing to squash percieved unfairness even to the detriment of their own situation. So socialism IS more "natural" than capitalism, and though it may return, the bottom line is that wealth creates a philosophical void in which instinct rushes in.

(3) Though I say that socialism is natural and in some ways inevitable (even if vastly more inefficient than capitalism at creating and sustatining wealth) I think a contrarian part of our "monkey nature" is that we also (naturally) gravitate to strong leaders, even royalty. We don't really like to admit this, it is mildy degrading, but it's clear that's what we want. Whether it's Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie, Princess Di or the Obamas, we want to be lead by the "good king/queen"... We dislike the complexity of the world (for good reason, our lives are complicated enough) and yearn to believe that "someone (powerful and smart) is looking out for us." Though this can lead to Stalins and Hitlers it's more likely to lead to sequential royalty... [The King is dead, Long live the King!] We replace one with another, become inevitably disappointed and move on. Charisma plays a role. Surely the healing balm of Obama relates to the idea that "ah, now we aren't racists. we can move on from that!". True or not, other factors play in. Royalty MUST BE attractive and speak well. That's about it. They don't really need "credentials" though it helps.

(4) My own situation is that I am pretty much alone in my beliefs. Everyone I know is basically left-oriented or left-center. All my friends and family. I am withdrawing with my beliefs in "codgerism" that is the time honored state for the elderly of being able to dislike "everyone" in power.

More later

my son's a socialista now

ok
what do you want
his girl's in love with Che
his "best teacher"
is a fucking commie

what do you want?

is that all i have to say?

maybe

thank god for poetry

;-)

politics and education

my son is writing a paper for his smart but lefty high school history teacher. the subject is the cold war and he's saying it was a failure because it hurt so many people and made the world hate us. fair enough. but as we discussed it (he wanted to say we spent too much on defense, money that could have gone to "other things" like "fighting racism") it occured to me, hey, what about the nuclear bomb? during the cold war we were scared shitless about being bombed. might have made us a bit paranoid when it came to dealing with "nationalistic revolutions with merely a communist flavor" (like vietnam, he said).

ok. seque. i've been listening to my pandora station of folk rock. when i was in high school, yes, during the vietnam war, the coolest music was "underground" folk music also known as protest music. as i listen to it now i see that it assumes that WHAT IS TAUGHT IN SCHOOL was pro-american, pro-war, and probably pro all the bad shit like racism, but let's stay to the issue of war. so, "we" the boomers (supposedly... i also know people whose progressive high schools were already fashionably marxist) were taught by straight-laced patriotic americans. fair enough.
maybe some of us were.

fast forward seque. so now, the EDUCATION ESTABLISHMENT is solidly liberal-left. they gleefully re-write (re-teach?) history with this slant -- that racism indicts the entire pre-1960something american world. that and patriarchy, etc. they don't teach wars (much), preferring to praised eleanor roosevelt, comparing her contributions to churchill's. excuse me?

so there you have it.
patriotic (supposedly, not sure i believe that) teachers in the 50s-60s
spawn the unpatriotic boomers (mostly)
boomers become the teachers
indoctrinate their students with environmentalism, feminism, pacifism, all the isms

what happens next?

will the "underground" music (south park?) rebel?
south parkians call earth day the brainwashing festival

so there you go

god's gifts of decay and death

i think i had an insight

self hate and hope are a bad combination

liberals tend to hate their "roots"
(it used to be their parents before
the second and third generations kicked in)
they hate "america" (ie. walmart, wall street)

yet they are ODDLY optimistic aboout
government
things we can change (save the....!)

i think i'm the opposite
i respect my roots
monkey, human, american, all the flawed creatures
that preceeded us

and i don't have much hope

everyone will make their mistakes
honesty is difficult
clarity is impossible
thinking is flawed
emotions are ultimately selfish
death and decay
are gods incomprehensible gifts
what would it be like if
we understood them?

and yet

i am cheerful
even joyful

but not hopeful

maybe it's grandiosity, but

maybe it's grandiosity, but I think I have a messiah complex. I don’t even know what I mean by that, but I have this odd, very odd sense that I have something serious to offer. people “like me” probably are the ones who end up with odd full page ads in the new york times about world peace through befriending animals (or something) but that’s only if they focus, focus, focus on fundraising which I most likely won’t.

m. why do you think this?

because I have this sense, almost a panic at times, that we I mean our culture I mean western society since 1950 are so far “off the mark” that there is no going back.

m. how doesn’t this make you more enthusiastic about alternatives, food, culture, etc. I sense a cynicism and/or despair about that.

well, you’re right. there was a time when I thought that was the answer. build a new world, we thought we could do it in the 60s, but…

m. but what?

well the world that built is in many ways worse. it’s completely paranoid about the world ending (pick from a list of 25 ways updated daily), it’s narcissistic and snobbish (my massage trumps your job at walmart) and the people though smart and supposedly educated tend to only read that which supports their conclusions and talk to people who agree with them

m. so you have a conservative solution? something? what? back to jesus?

I don’t know that’s just it. I wish I was L. Ron Hubbard. He had the right idea, just make your own religion and fuck everyone else.

m. why a religion? why not a political movement?

politics, egad. it seems like there is no where to turn where the power over other people (and companies and other peoples’ money) isn’t corrupting, maybe not morally corrupting but it’s asking a small computer (our glitchy minds) to process a task that even a massive computer of the future (so to speak) wouldn’t be able to do. that computer of the future might say what are you crazy, you aren’t giving me nearly enough data to “figure things out”

m. so you’re an anarchist? an Objecivist?

I don’t know. I hate that I’m reading ayn rand again. how embarrassing! the fact that I like it—what does that mean, that I’m not a ‘real’ writer. no one at the loft would give it more than a fart. so what does that mean?

m. I don’t know, but what is it you had an insight on? where is it you think you could help?

well, I had this vision that a lot of our problems arise from grasping for things that are clearly beyond our means. let me see. on the person side I see my kids running ragged “for college” so they can “get a good job”… not to mention there are no easy alternatives to school. they’d be home now! god forbid. but we’re in a top rated private school which at best does what it says it does (college prep) but the public schools even here in MN are atrocious.

m. so you want to fix the schools?

no, no. it’s just an example. we are schooling kids for nonexistent white collar jobs. we are simultaneously allowing them to be indoctrinated on more of the same philosophy that got us here

m. which is?

“we can do it” we can make utopia. not that that’s so bad in and of itself. but it’s all messed up now. people see the way to get there through service (doctors without borders) or environmentalism or something

m. the liberal agenda?

well, it’s partly that, but on the conservative side the illusions are sustained in a different way.

m. how?

there is no underlying belief that capitalism unfettered is a good thing. there’s no real respect for entrepreneurship.
there’s a deep corrupting compromise with regulation that allowed the high flyers of wall street to “surf” on what they thought were misguided but solid programs sponsored by the government. sure, they were entrepreneurial to do that but it’s a compromise with corruption. they assumed that the underlying notions that the government was golden was something they could count on.

m. I’m not sure I follow

well, I don’t know why by I’ve been thinking about Weimar germany. the jews during the rise of the Nazis often believed the famous phrase “it can’t happen here” and didn’t emigrate. Germany was one of a handful of highly educated and cultured western societies. how could it de-volve into a subhuman regime? no one saw it as possible. so, too, the wall streeters (and I’m not comparing them to the jews, I hope you see that) live or lived in a world of the “educated stupid” where you don’t respond to perceived disaster because basically none of your buddies are panicking. “It can’t happen here” is endemic

m. like you shouldn’t live in California because there migh be an earthquake?

not quite. if you live in California you might expect devastation and death in your lifetime. what if you pictured living there and no help coming?

m. I don’t understand.

we don’t allow people to kill themselves. we don’t allow people to enslave themselves. we don’t allow people to sell their organs. we don’t allow people to defend themselves with guns.

m. um, you’re sounding crazy now.

all of our thinking is corrupted by television. without television there would be no clear way to believe that there was a government in Washington that will help us. it’s destroyed our thinking process. we have given away part of our minds, the part that would allow a destitute person to kill themselves.

m. that would allow slavery?

I don’t know. I know it all sounds nuts to you. slavery is a terrible affront to human dignity and we’d like to think we’ve come far from it.

m. but?

(shrugs) it’s just an example of how our thoughts about everything are predetermined by a mindset of imaginary civility and progress.

m. I look around, I see progress

but when you look in peoples’ hearts and minds what do you see there?

m. I don’t know what do you see?

I see panic, distraction, addiction, rut thinking, anti creativity, group think, a wasted life.

m. whoa. sounds like you ought to start that religion.

I just might.

thinking the unthinkable

I find myself stiffening against the reports of Palestinian children killed by Israelis. This is unlike me, I'm a big "kid" person. But really -- these people hide behind their children, send their children out as suicide bombers and teach them preposterous made-up history insuring their stubborn resistance to anything that might help them or "their people." Are they really such a loss? See, it's a horrible thought. They are innocent children. But was the child innocent who walks up the helicopter with a basket of flowers and tosses the basket of bombs into the copter? Shouldn't that child be eliminated with minimal sorrow? Sure the child is "innocent" but her parents and her culture is not. They are stupid and savage and bloodthirsty.

Here's the seque.

I have spent my whole life being outraged at our white cavalry ancestors who could be so cruel to the Native Americans, slaughtering women and children. How many movies and books have featured soldiers ("The Last Samurai", "Dances with wolves") destroyed the the inhumanity of their superiors ordering the wholesale elimination of the enemy, not leaving the "breeding stock" if you will. Our (white) ancestors were fully outraged by the real (and fictional) slaughters of their own people (including women and children of course). You could argue that their revenge made them less human, but that is assuming human is reaching beyond what we are. Human, historically, including plenty of wholesale slaughter of the innocents. It's only in modern times when we hope to rise above such things with rules of warfare (Geneva Convention) and so forth.

But now we have an enemy that laughs at our "civilized" restraint. They have no compunctions, whether they be Palestinians shooting random rockets at cities or suicide bombers in Iraq, or Al Qaeda targeting innocents in our own cities. They have found a way to "rise above" (for the glory of Allah) such simplistic, self-defeating notions that harming children (in a war) is somehow lower than low and we would never stoop to it, even if at the expense of defeating ourselves.

So let's go further. Why is "genocide" a higher crime than mere warfare? Surely the evil of the holocaust is somehow behind this. And I wouldn't argue how evil that was. But it's like hate crimes. If a man kills a man, how much worse can it be that he killed the man with hate in his heart or because he wanted his wallet. Killing is killing. Sure, we'd like to eliminate the philosophies and psychological dispositions that create unreasonable hate in a person or society, but it's this a reach beyond what we can do?

Thus the hand-wringing over Hiroshima many years over. Can we see ourselves making this decision again? Could we nuke Teheran as punishment for eliminating Israel. What about the children?

We are overcivilized, over-feminized and doomed.

Drink on, fellas.