There's been a strange trend in America lately, one of scandal and outrage, spying and glorification of espionage. In a recently-released statement, it was found that Bill Clinton rendezvous'd with Ms. Lewinsky while Hillary was home. And not just 'home'... In the White House itself. Thanks to some sort of disclosure running out, the records of Hillary's daily schedule for quite a long time (some 11,000 pages worth) were released by the National Archives, along with a huge mountain of raw data gathered elsewhere.
There are some who are supporting Hillary now more than ever thanks to the releasing and subsequent dissemination of this information; they admire her courage to stand by her man as he cheated on her under her nose. They think it is noble that she faced public humiliation time and time again and yet had the strength to stick with it, and now she's trying to get herself into a position to make things right.
On the other hand, there are those that are condemning Hillary more than ever over the very same things. They aren't sure they trust someone who could stand by her man as he abused her in a roundabout way, humiliating her over and over, forcing her into a spotlight -- and a position -- that she never asked to be put in. Many would say they think it is better when a person in an abusive or otherwise unsavory relationship comes to her senses and steps forward than to stick with it, trying to salvage something that might never have been in the first place.
My position and thoughts on the matter: Who the fuck cares? What business is it of ours, the general public, to pry into these peoples' lives with such vigor, to feast upon their inequities and flaws like slavering animals, to continually rip at the carcass of their underlives, bringing them into the open? Are we truly so mindless, so starved for fanaticism, that we must look inward to destroy what we already have than to look outward and hope to expose and, ideally, rectify issues -- which, arguably, are much more dangerous and pressing -- in the global reality?
JFK had a number of affairs both foreign and domestic, and nobody said a word until after his death. Hell, let's go further back: Jefferson had affairs with his slaves and fathered a number of illegitimate black children that we're only just now figuring out. Did this stop them from being excellent leaders? Did these revelations suddenly reverse the good that they did while running the country? Are they now to be vilified and left for dead in the annals of history as adulterers?
For a long time, things like leaders' private lives were taboo subjects for reporters and newspeople. Despite the sheer amount of dirt they may have had, unless it had something to do with a president's professional life and conduct (Watergate, anyone?) it was off-limits. And really, I think that's the way it should be. These people, for better or for worse, were elected by the people they were sworn to serve. In reality, what they did behind closed doors was their business and their business alone; far be it from us to judge. Are we so perfect ourselves? Shit.
For decades, America has been viewed rather globally as something of a cesspit, this writhing mass of sin washed over with a veneer of pompous righteousness. It's a gross indignation and outrage that we as a collective can feel anything other than indifference towards such acts; when 50% of all marriages in the country end in divorce, when infidelity rates are through the roof, when lives are shattered and families torn asunder daily via the improprieties of the people who live them (remember, a full half of the population)... who the fuck are we to judge?
Final thought: What Bill does with his trouser snake is Bill's business. What Hillary chose to do when confronted with the information was her business. It's not mine, yours, or anybody else's. You could argue that it reflects on their abilities as a leader, but it really doesn't. Find me someone in a position of power who hasn't succumbed to some modicum of desire, privilege, or the benefits the prestige of their office grants them, and I will show you someone you know absolutely nothing about.
And to be honest, I don't really blame Bill. It seems like the marriage was political to begin with... and really, if I had to wake up next to H-Cli every day, see that face staring at me first thing in the morning, well. I'd be looking for some relief, too. I wouldn't let that anywhere NEAR my wet, sticky cigar.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Wherein I Discuss My Relationship With Cigarettes
I bought a pack of cigarettes today (for those that must know, I bought them to sell; there's quite the amount of money to be gained from selling cigarettes to desperate college kids who are too lazy to go to the store themselves. One pack of cigarettes is about 20 cigs at around 5 bucks a pack depending on brand; sell those at two bucks a piece, you're making a 35 dollar profit. And people will pay it, because people are lazy) and on the front is a notice about how the tobacco contained in these cigarettes "mostly" comes from family-owned and operated tobacco farms. Camel filters, Turkish blend. You think the starving family tobacco farmers in Turkey care about how their crop is being used?
Before you go off on me, keep in mind I'm utilizing this as an extreme way to illustrate a point. People have been farming tobacco across the pond since before we were a twinkle in the New World's eye. I have little doubt that for millenia the various hashish smoking cultures have been cutting their grass with tobacco (or a very similar herb) in order to make it more 'friendly'; I know the old adage that if you don't cough, you don't get off, but c'mon; who actually likes hacking up a lung in an attempt to get high, other than dumb preteens in middle school who think being high is the single most awesome attempt you can make at being an adult? (Kids: Don't do drugs irresponsibly. I'm a Doctor, and I approve this message.) So what's the upshot? Guilt.
Guilt is a powerful motivator in American society, especially since that whole Recycling boom in the 80's and 90's, which is yet another bullshit thing but I may touch on that later. Nowadays you can't spit without hitting a product that has been partially recycled to save the planet, or grown in a free-range chemical (or "enhancement")-free environment in an attempt to ensure the least possible amount of suffering. So now we have this whole subculture that is convinced that helping free-trade is THE way to exist.
Now, I have no problem with free-trade. It helps the global economy in a general sense and, more importantly, it makes people feel special. (Dear reader: please keep in mind I really have no issue with helping the global economy, but there are multiple ways to accomplish this goal, none of which are inherently bad with the exception of the reinstatement of slavery. YOUR VOTE COUNTS.) But there's this push, especially in the US, about buying all-organic or torture-free or something that would benefit the non-commercial. Now, keep in mind I found this on a package of cigarettes, an item known to kill, perhaps the single most damaging legalized product in the nation (with the exception of semi-automatic ammunition). A little friendly sticker on the front with an image of two hands clasping each other, letting me know about the poor Turkish farmers I was benefacting by buying this particular pack of cigarettes.
I swear to fuck this is some sort of guilt-trip for the rich, for people who don't have real problems. Because now they KNOW Camel is the brand that supports the global tobacco market, they have to buy Camels to show they care, care in supporting farmers while killing their own kin. It underlines a deeper problem, that of supreme dissatisfaction, of not being a real human unless you take these asinine measures to show you care... which beggars the question, how much can a smoker really CARE about starving families in Turkey who supply their habit?
Something to ponder.
Before you go off on me, keep in mind I'm utilizing this as an extreme way to illustrate a point. People have been farming tobacco across the pond since before we were a twinkle in the New World's eye. I have little doubt that for millenia the various hashish smoking cultures have been cutting their grass with tobacco (or a very similar herb) in order to make it more 'friendly'; I know the old adage that if you don't cough, you don't get off, but c'mon; who actually likes hacking up a lung in an attempt to get high, other than dumb preteens in middle school who think being high is the single most awesome attempt you can make at being an adult? (Kids: Don't do drugs irresponsibly. I'm a Doctor, and I approve this message.) So what's the upshot? Guilt.
Guilt is a powerful motivator in American society, especially since that whole Recycling boom in the 80's and 90's, which is yet another bullshit thing but I may touch on that later. Nowadays you can't spit without hitting a product that has been partially recycled to save the planet, or grown in a free-range chemical (or "enhancement")-free environment in an attempt to ensure the least possible amount of suffering. So now we have this whole subculture that is convinced that helping free-trade is THE way to exist.
Now, I have no problem with free-trade. It helps the global economy in a general sense and, more importantly, it makes people feel special. (Dear reader: please keep in mind I really have no issue with helping the global economy, but there are multiple ways to accomplish this goal, none of which are inherently bad with the exception of the reinstatement of slavery. YOUR VOTE COUNTS.) But there's this push, especially in the US, about buying all-organic or torture-free or something that would benefit the non-commercial. Now, keep in mind I found this on a package of cigarettes, an item known to kill, perhaps the single most damaging legalized product in the nation (with the exception of semi-automatic ammunition). A little friendly sticker on the front with an image of two hands clasping each other, letting me know about the poor Turkish farmers I was benefacting by buying this particular pack of cigarettes.
I swear to fuck this is some sort of guilt-trip for the rich, for people who don't have real problems. Because now they KNOW Camel is the brand that supports the global tobacco market, they have to buy Camels to show they care, care in supporting farmers while killing their own kin. It underlines a deeper problem, that of supreme dissatisfaction, of not being a real human unless you take these asinine measures to show you care... which beggars the question, how much can a smoker really CARE about starving families in Turkey who supply their habit?
Something to ponder.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Wherein Life Is Discussed
You know, there's not a whole lot I like about this area, I have to be honest. I don't like the smells, I don't like most of the people, I don't like the lack of connectedness. I don't like the size, I don't like the sounds, I don't like the weather. I don't like the mentality, I don't like the way it's expanding, I don't like the industry. I don't like the fact that it shuts down at 9 PM, that if you don't drink or own a boat there's nothing to do, that if you're hoping for a good time you're looking at traveling at least two hours in any direction to find entertainment.
But one thing I do like is this: I love how dark it gets. I love how remote it is. I love that, despite everything, you can get away with relative ease. I was out walking just a little bit ago and was left marveling at how alone I actually was. Nobody was out driving despite it being Friday night/Saturday morning, and Leap Day at that. Nobody was wandering the streets being vagrants or looking for transients. I didn't have to explain to any person who I was, why I was here, and what I was doing not at home. There were no drug-sniffing dogs, no gangbangers, no skaters with an attitude. Just me, the road, the wind, and the sky. And oh, what a sky it was.
The thing about here is that it doesn't get much precipitation. We're high desert. We get lots of wind, but as far as rain goes we're left pretty dry. So the clouds tend to be a bit on the pathetic side. I stood for half an hour just staring up into the sky, watching the thin wisps streak across the sky in an intricate spiderweb of chaos, without form or function, trying desperately to gather strengths and become a storm. It created an interesting illusion, where the sky was interconnecting layers on a two-dimensional plane, with neither depth nor substance to differentiate. There was one sky, the True Sky, which was deep black, a window to the heavens, constellations shining brightly against a backdrop of nebulous space, our arm of the Milky Way. And then there was the Cloud Sky, catching the light from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities, everything reflected off the great Columbia, giving the sky light but no illumination.
It was almost like two worlds, one that was black and deep, True Sky, and another that was so dark it was white, Cloud Sky. The two danced and twirled together, advancing, parrying, parleying, prying, guarding, attacking, defending, pushing, falling, like playing children or quarreling lovers. The distinction between the two is rarely more than an issue of semantics, really. I watched Cloud Sky change shape, forcing True Sky into submission in its own right, forced to give way... and then I watched True Sky punch a hole in Cloud Sky, creating its own version of shape and form and life, a smirking show of one-upsmanship. And I came to understand how this mirrors life in a strange, almost caustic way.
We come into life at a disadvantage, trying desperately to differentiate ourselves, to prove our worth over our 'better man', our brothers, our fellows. We do this following codes of conduct instilled from us since the moment we've left the womb, rules and guidelines that are somehow ineffable and unchallengeable. It's an awkward ploy, a facade of fragility, demonstrating in an amazing microcosm how far we have yet to go to to achieve any sort of enlightenment. A philosopher whose name escapes me put it best: "The wisest man is the one who admits he knows nothing at all." It is the acceptance of ignorance -- true ignorance -- that allows us to expand. A difficult task in a society that is determined to keep us bound and boxed, compartmentalized and forgotten. Like Cloud Sky and True Sky, we are at odds with each other, when really it is those around us that shape us and mold us into what we are, what we once were, and what we will become.
But one thing I do like is this: I love how dark it gets. I love how remote it is. I love that, despite everything, you can get away with relative ease. I was out walking just a little bit ago and was left marveling at how alone I actually was. Nobody was out driving despite it being Friday night/Saturday morning, and Leap Day at that. Nobody was wandering the streets being vagrants or looking for transients. I didn't have to explain to any person who I was, why I was here, and what I was doing not at home. There were no drug-sniffing dogs, no gangbangers, no skaters with an attitude. Just me, the road, the wind, and the sky. And oh, what a sky it was.
The thing about here is that it doesn't get much precipitation. We're high desert. We get lots of wind, but as far as rain goes we're left pretty dry. So the clouds tend to be a bit on the pathetic side. I stood for half an hour just staring up into the sky, watching the thin wisps streak across the sky in an intricate spiderweb of chaos, without form or function, trying desperately to gather strengths and become a storm. It created an interesting illusion, where the sky was interconnecting layers on a two-dimensional plane, with neither depth nor substance to differentiate. There was one sky, the True Sky, which was deep black, a window to the heavens, constellations shining brightly against a backdrop of nebulous space, our arm of the Milky Way. And then there was the Cloud Sky, catching the light from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities, everything reflected off the great Columbia, giving the sky light but no illumination.
It was almost like two worlds, one that was black and deep, True Sky, and another that was so dark it was white, Cloud Sky. The two danced and twirled together, advancing, parrying, parleying, prying, guarding, attacking, defending, pushing, falling, like playing children or quarreling lovers. The distinction between the two is rarely more than an issue of semantics, really. I watched Cloud Sky change shape, forcing True Sky into submission in its own right, forced to give way... and then I watched True Sky punch a hole in Cloud Sky, creating its own version of shape and form and life, a smirking show of one-upsmanship. And I came to understand how this mirrors life in a strange, almost caustic way.
We come into life at a disadvantage, trying desperately to differentiate ourselves, to prove our worth over our 'better man', our brothers, our fellows. We do this following codes of conduct instilled from us since the moment we've left the womb, rules and guidelines that are somehow ineffable and unchallengeable. It's an awkward ploy, a facade of fragility, demonstrating in an amazing microcosm how far we have yet to go to to achieve any sort of enlightenment. A philosopher whose name escapes me put it best: "The wisest man is the one who admits he knows nothing at all." It is the acceptance of ignorance -- true ignorance -- that allows us to expand. A difficult task in a society that is determined to keep us bound and boxed, compartmentalized and forgotten. Like Cloud Sky and True Sky, we are at odds with each other, when really it is those around us that shape us and mold us into what we are, what we once were, and what we will become.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
