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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Why God Hates Gay Marriage

Most of you have read this already, but I'll be damned if it ain't one of my favorite bits that I've written. Originally released on May 2, 2009.

We all know that gay marriage is an abomination that will forever sully the sacred institution of marriage, destroy society, and upset the natural balance and order of our Lord God’s universe. The signs are already there for all to see: this new swine flu—excuse me, the H1N1 flu—is a pestilence sent by God to show his disapproval of Iowa; Satan’s minions are hard at work off the coast of Somalia; and Paul Blart: Mall Cop was actually the number one movie in America for that short, dark time in our lives not so long ago. 
“But J,” you ask, “how do we know God hates gays?” 
Well, friend, the answer is simple: it’s in the Bible. The Bible gives us a very clear answer to this question. If you read Leviticus, you shall know our kind and gentle God for the gay-hating deity that he is. Leviticus 18:22 says, “Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is an abomination.” Clearly, God hates gays. If you need more proof, look no further than Lev. 20:13, which states, “If a man lie with mankind, as he lie with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death.” This is a clear indictment of homosexuality, and even suggests you go out and bash some homos (bring the kids; it’s fun for the whole family). So as you can see, God hates gays with a passion pure and true. 
“But J, doesn’t Jesus say that we should all love one another? Didn’t he tell us to ‘judge not, lest ye be judged’”? 
I’m glad you brought that up, friend. You see, sometimes it can be hard to tell what God hates, especially with Jesus’ message of love and understanding mucking things up. First of all, God knew that the Bible was a really, really long book, and that most people wouldn’t have the time or twelfth grade reading level necessary to read it all. That’s why he put the really important parts like Leviticus in the front. So when in doubt, ignore Jesus’ hippy rantings in favor of the Old Testament’s more wrathful take on things. 
Second, most people have an incomplete Bible. Most Bibles completely omit the Gospel of Cletus, the thirteenth apostle. Cletus was once an attendant at a Roman bath, until Jesus showed him how totally gay it is to stand around helping naked men all day. As a result, Cletus quit his gay job in order to follow another man around the Holy Land. The Gospel of Cletus shows Jesus’ true feelings about homosexuality, which the other homo-loving apostles left out. Cletus 13:34-37 clearly states, “A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another. Excepting, of course, those damn queers. Oh, and brown people. God, I hate brown people. I guess what I’m trying to say is that ye should love those people which ye hold dear, and feel free to hate everyone else. I mean, c’mon. How hard would it be to actually love everyone? That’d be, like, impossible.” As you can see, a complete Bible shows us the way our good Lord really feels about all manner of things. 
“Thank you, J, for showing me the light. I now understand why I should hate gays. But did God say anything about gay marriage? Would it really be so bad if gays were granted the rights they so desperately seek?” 
A fine question, my good friend. No, God doesn’t say anything about gay marriage explicitly, but it’s easy to read between the lines. Marriage is a sacred institution, meant to be shared between a man and a woman. We heterosexuals treat marriage’s sanctity with the proper amount of respect. Elizabeth Taylor is a shining example of this. She loves and respects the institution of marriage so much that she’s been married eight times! If gays were allowed to marry, they would desecrate the institution with their flirty eyes, pouty lips, and hard washboard abs. How could a man resist the urge to cheat or divorce when constantly faced with the firm yet supple man-ass that surrounds him at gay clubs, restaurants, and libraries? It’s impossible, and God knows it. Thus, he hates gay marriage. And as for wanting to be able to visit each other in the hospital, inherit each other’s belongings, and get tax breaks . . .what do gays think they are? Human? 
I’m glad we had this talk, friends. I hope that I have cleared up any doubts that you may have had regarding the evil nature of gayness and gay marriage. Never forget that it is a pestilence that will spread throughout the land, infecting us all with good fashion sense, the desire to go to the gym, and a love of show tunes. Now if you’ll excuse me, the Lord has just commanded me to go take a cold shower.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Choices: Responses

I got some responses to "Choices" on Facebook and wanted to reply to them without being confined to a "comment" box. So here are the comments and my replies.

Comment A (regarding this preface I added on Facebook: I'M YELLING BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO PAY ATTENTION TO TWO THINGS: 1. THIS IS RATHER DARK. 2. DON'T READ TOO MUCH INTO THIS! GOT IT? GOOD!):

I like it. You've done a wonderful job of capturing the "lost" feeling of having every door open for you and not knowing which one to pick, lest you pick the wrong one and can't go back.

Just one thing, though....I wish you'd stop setting rules for your readers at the beginning of the things you write. I think that clouds your readers' minds with opinions and judgment before they've even had a chance to read and react. Just write. And if you have to clear something up afterwards, deal with it then.

If you're writing to be provocative or make a certain point, warning them ahead of time that what they're about to read is "dark" and to not "read too much into this" defeats the purpose of what you just wrote, in my opinion.

But yeah, I like it.


I totally get what you’re saying about not giving readers something to judge before they even read the main text.
However, in this particular case, it was something released on Facebook, which means the majority of my family can read it. I love my fam, but my history of depression makes them a wee bit jumpy, and I’d rather preface something like this than deal with numerous texts, e-mails and phone calls asking me how I am and whether I do indeed own a Desert Eagle (I don’t). So this was really about saving me the trouble of explaining myself 50 different times and nothing else.


Comment B:

interesting, but dammit man more. give me the despair through the asperger's and alcohol. it's too uncommitted. i need the relief of the weed or the high velocity projectile into the spinal column via mouth through the words. details, details, details. oppress me then let me make a connection with the ways out... wind me up and then give me relief. if you can't give it to me full force fuck it. if i can't feel it i can't care. stop hiding what you mean behind your words,] and detach a little. other than that not bad.

Despite the title, this was never really about Xander’s two paths. That’s why I didn’t bother to go into detail about his forms of escape. This was essentially just an exercise for me, trying to relate how a person comes to this kind of choice, about how some of us are slapped in the face by reality rather late in life, the shock of it, and the inability to recover and deal with it properly.
Although I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, a Chuck Palahniuk quote (from the book Fight Club) offers a view similar to what I was trying to relate:

We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war, our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.



Comment C:

At the most basic level, humans operate out of either fear or curiosity... I think anyways. Because we're all headed for death anyways, I think life can hold much greater fears for most people. Death is a stable, certain state, but life in its unpredictable nature can change in the blink of an eye.

Death is a given, so why not have a perverse curiosity about life? I guess its an argument I always come back to every time I think about sticking my head in the oven. Besides, the "false" world of sedation is only one color in the full spectrum of reality, it's just as real as the world of celebrity obsessed pop-culture is to teenage girls. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'd like to read a sequel where this Xander fellow stops buying into what the world tells him about himself. Fascination with self-destruction, physical or psychological, is ok- it's part of a creative cycle.


I’m not entirely certain I understand everything you’re trying to say, but I’ll try to respond.
I would argue that while death is stable, there’s nothing certain about it. I’m certain it will happen, but I’m sure as hell uncertain as to what it means. And that uncertainty breeds fear. That said, I agree that, in the end, there’s much more to fear from life than death. I’d also agree that humans operate out of both fear and curiosity. I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive. In fact, I think our fears often drive our curiosity.
In regard to the “’false’ world of sedation” being an equivalent to an obsession with pop-culture, I agree to a point. Both are certainly forms of escapism, to be sure, but one does not generally die of complications due to pop-culture obsession. People do, however, die regularly due to cirrhosis of the liver brought about by alcohol abuse, smoking-induced lung cancer, and strokes caused by heavy cocaine use.
I’m not sure what you mean by Xander “buying into what the world tells him about himself.” Self-destruction is self-destruction. It is not a positive thing. One may glean positives from it, but it is, in the end, counter-productive.
The funny thing is, Xander is simply choosing between quick and slow methods of self-destruction. While a bullet is certainly more immediate and efficient, the weed, as he is using it, is not only slowly killing him physically by filling his lungs with tar and a heap of potential carcinogens, but also killing him psychologically by robbing him of the full breadth of human experience and keeping him in a state of psychological stasis.
He would be better served spending his energies addressing the root problem, rather than masking its symptoms. What he’s doing is akin to taking morphine for a broken leg and then walking on it. He may not be able to feel the pain, but the problem is still there and he’s probably making it worse.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Choices

Well, this got some interesting reactions when I posted it on Facebook, and I've decided that they're reactions that I would like to reply to at some length, so I thought I'd do it here. And since I don't want those of you who aren't my friends on Facebook to feel left out, I figured I'd post the original material first. In the next day or so I'll post the reactions and my responses to them.
So here's a rare bit of fiction for you guys.


Xander stared at the two items on his desk, assessing his options. On his left sat a blue and green glass pipe, filled with marijuana. The object on his right was a .50 caliber Mark XIX Desert Eagle, its finish dark and unpolished. Both offered relief, but the variety offered by the Desert Eagle was much less fleeting. Xander sat there, trying to decide whether that sort of finality was what he truly desired.
Things hadn’t always been this way. He hadn’t always been tempted to mute the pain with drugs or orally applied hunks of high velocity metal. His childhood had been wonderful, charmed. He’d gotten pretty much whatever he’d wanted, not because he was spoiled, but because he’d always had realistic expectations and a taste for simplicity. Sure, he’d ask for a new video game console every now and then, but for the most part he was content with a pile of books when Christmas or his birthday rolled around.
He’d always loved to read, to learn. He had an insatiable curiosity, an almost physical need to know as much as he could. It was a non-competitive desire, completely self-fueled. His thirst for knowledge had nothing to do with being at the head of the class or making others feel inferior. He just needed to know things. It was compulsive.
This could have been his social downfall, his ticket to Nerdville and daily swirlies, but his skills on the football field had saved him from that fate. Despite his distinctly brainy bent, he had a love of football and talent to match. He was discovered in 5th grade, during recess. A friend’s father had come to the school to drop off a forgotten bag lunch and witnessed Xander making a diving one-handed catch. True, the ball had been of the spongy variety, but the man, the local high school’s football coach, knew talent when he saw it and quickly sought to mentor him in the subtle art of being a wide receiver.
By the time Xander reached high school his hands were superb, and he quickly earned a spot on the varsity team. His ability to catch anything that came within reach earned him the nickname Super Glue, a moniker he was proud to have earned. By the time he left, he’d set school records for career touchdown catches, yards after catch, and yards per catch. He seemed destined for the NFL, but college, of course, came first. Many universities had courted him, football powerhouses like USC and Texas, but he had decided upon Stanford. He was, after all, a geek at heart.
And that’s when things started to deteriorate for Xander. It’s not that Stanford was bad for him; it was simply that his life had changed drastically, had taken a form that he found unfamiliar and daunting. The first thing to go wrong was football. He played football because he enjoyed it, but high school and college football were different beasts. College football was a ravenous thing, eating up free time, never satiated. There were endless practices, innumerable weight training sessions, and piles of video footage to comb through. The demands on his time began to overwhelm him, destroying Xander’s enjoyment of the game. He quit after one season, a red shirt who never touched the playing field.
This had left him in something of a predicament. He’d foolishly assumed that he’d breeze through college, get drafted by the 49ers and make millions. Now that this was no longer a possibility he was unsure of what to do. Unlike many people, he hadn’t grown up wanting to be a fireman or surgeon. He’d never put much thought into that kind of stuff. It wasn’t as if the football thing had been a lifelong dream. It was simply what he had perceived to be the path of least resistance. Now he’d lost that path, and a new one failed to present itself.
Faced with the sudden necessity of choosing a career, Xander’s mental health had begun to fail. His intellectual strength now felt like a weakness. He honestly believed that he could do whatever he set his mind to, but rather than comfort him this belief brought only despair. The wealth of options before him was too large; it paralyzed him. He fell into a deep depression and began to have such powerful anxiety attacks that he often had trouble leaving his room. He managed to stay in college, eking out mostly Bs with the occasional A, but he flitted from major to major, unable to find something that truly ignited a passion within him. He was stalling and he knew it, but he couldn’t find an answer, couldn’t see a way out.
Having never been much of a drinker, he turned to weed for solace. It calmed his anxiety, and quieted his depression, at least in the short term. But he knew, even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, that he was simply masking the pain, not eliminating it. The green was a crutch that he was slowly becoming dependant upon. It was becoming as much of a problem as a solution, but it was all he had, his only path to a moment of peace, and so he limped onward.
After seven years of college, he finally graduated with an anthropology degree. He didn’t really want to be an anthropologist and he had no intention of going on to grad school, but he had decided that he needed something to show for all of the time he’d spent in school. So he got the degree, for all the good that it did him.
And now here he was, an over-educated bookstore clerk making $8.50 an hour, struggling to make ends meet, student loans hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles. He was no closer to a career now than when he had started college. He was still lost, still rudderless in choppy seas. He felt that he was capable of so much more, but he was unable to distinguish what “more” meant.
All he knew was that he was miserable, and that he could see no way out of his predicament. Because the problem, as he saw it, wasn’t just with him. He detested the necessity of money, the struggle to procure enough so that he could live even a modest life. He saw no point to modern life. It felt cold, pointless, and hollow. He despised the rat race. He felt he was running a maze in which cheese was the only prize, and he was lactose intolerant.
And so here he sat with the only two choices that made any kind of sense to him, flawed as they were. He could take the path to the left, smoke his green and find a short-lived and imperfect peace, a numbness more bearable than the existential pain that haunted him. Or he could turn to the right and rush down that short and violent path, whose terminus was shrouded in mystery.
He sighed and picked up the pipe, brought it to his lips and set fire to its contents, inhaling deeply. His body and mind relaxed. His curiosity had been the deciding factor, just as it always was. There was still so much to explore, to learn. But that other path stirred his curiosity as well. It held a macabre allure, and he recognized that one day, if things did not take an unexpected turn for the better, the weight of the world would drag him down, and his curiosity would get the better of him.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Quote of the Day

"The instinct of man is to pursue everything that flies from him, and to fly from all that pursue him." --Voltaire (1694-1778)

Monday, February 15, 2010

Quote of the Day

"A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they shall never sit in." --Greek proverb

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Quote of the Day

"Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the mind as the wish to forget it." --Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592)

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Quote of the Day

"The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out." --Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-1859)

Friday, February 12, 2010

Quote of the Day

"A man does not show his greatness by being at one extremity, but rather by touching both at once." --Blaise Pascal (1623-1662)

Thursday, February 11, 2010

The Village

This was originally posted on September 12, 2008.

I just finished watching M. Night Shyamalan's The Village, and I've got to admit that I loved every second of it. I was struck by the implications of the plot twist, as well as by how horribly marketed it was.
Let's start with the latter point. I should probably start by mentioning the fact that, in general, I think the people in marketing and advertising fall somewhere in between prostitutes and Nazi soldiers in terms of moral fiber. They seem willing to do or say just about anything to get our money, and seem to feel no remorse when pulling a fast one on us. Not only that, but their apparent lack of humanity seems to make it hard to relate to actual humans.
This is especially true in movie advertising, where marketers seem to take special glee in revealing the best moments and surprises of a given film in the trailer. This is why I've stopped watching the trailers for movies I'm really looking forward to; they invariably ruin at least one special moment.
Amazingly enough, this was not the case with the trailers for The Village. Instead, those responsible for the trailers took another common route: completely misrepresenting the movie. I guess something about Shyamalan's movies just throws them off, because they did the same thing in the trailers for Lady of the Water. In both instances, the advertisers attempted to make each movie appear to be a horror movie. I guess they figured that since The Sixth Sense did so well, they'd try to fit these two square pegs into its round hole. As a result, people often left both movies disappointed, and why not? If you pay over $10 for a movie and it ends up being nothing like you expected, odds are you're going to be at least a little disappointed. Mediocre reviews and even worse box office earnings are the result.
At this point you're probably wondering what this has to do with anything. I suppose it is a bit tangential, but it irks me when a good movie (or anything else, for that matter) is underappreciated, at least in part, because the people in charge of marketing it didn't understand it. Then again, maybe I'm being too hard on these guys. For all I know, there's an IQ limit at marketing firms and they should actually be applauded for even being capable of using their computers for inter-office e-mails. Regardless, I encourage them to bone up on what they're advertising in order to represent it fairly.
And this movie definitely deserved to be represented correctly (and this is where you should stop reading if you care about spoilers; if you haven't seen the movie I highly suggest that you watch it first, because I'm about to ruin everything). Like all of Shyamalan's films, it has tremendous heart enveloped in a shroud of mystery and confusion. For much of the movie, you are constantly wondering, "What the heck is going on, exactly?" I love when a movie engages me in such a manner. I enjoy applying myself to what I've seen in the hopes of figuring out the mystery before the big reveal. Perhaps this stems from my childhood fascination with Scooby Doo, but I really couldn't say for sure.
Much like The Sixth Sense (and most of Shyamalan's other movies), The Village reveals its plot twist at the last possible moment. I wasn't even blown away by the fact that this little community was squirreled away in our modern world (I half expected it). What grabbed me were the ethical implications of starting a community cut off from the outside world.
As I'm sure you're all aware, this world of ours is a mess. It's probably not too hard to relate to these "Elders" who decided to forsake modernity for a simpler, more peaceful life. Hell, I've thought about it myself, and continue to do so on a fairly regular basis.
But instead of going Amish or moving to some secluded little town, these people created a community completely cut off from the rest of the world, even going so far, it seems, as to bribe someone to keep planes from flying overhead. Not only that, but the founders swore an oath to never return to the modern world, and created tales of horrible creatures who lived in the surrounding woods to discourage others from venturing too far.
And this is what truly fascinates me. Like I said before, I can relate to these people. The world can be a horrible place. But is it fair to deprive the ones you love of something so simple as choice in order to keep them safe? How far should we go to protect the ones we love?
There are surely people out there who will be able to answer these questions immediately. "Simple," they'll say. "It would certainly be wrong." And perhaps they're right. What these people have done, in a sense, is rob their children of their free will (or at least a large part of it). Perhaps their children should be educated about the outside world and be free to choose their own path.
But don't fool yourself into thinking that there's anything simple about the choice faced by the Elders. The funeral that begins the movie is proof of that. This man, played by Brendan Gleeson, believed so strongly in what they had created (and was so disillusioned by the outside world) that he refused to leave the village in order to obtain the medicine that may have saved his child's life.
Some may find the very concept monstrous, but there's also nobility in this choice. He put the needs of the community before those of himself and his family. This is practically an alien concept to those of us in the individualistic West, but I imagine that many Asians would understand.
Are the Elders wrong? Is it wrong to be so frightened by the state of our world that you'd risk the lives of those closest to you in order to avoid it? I honestly don't know. It is telling, however, that regardless of their isolation, they were unable to escape the demons of man. There will always be someone out there who is either immature or selfish enough to kill for what they want or believe that they deserve. But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't expect or desire more from ourselves and others.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Quote of the Day

"The happiest is the person who suffers the least pain; the most miserable who enjoys the least pleasure." --Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778)

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Quote of the Day

"My theology, briefly, is that the universe was dictated but not signed." --Christopher Morley (1890-1957)

Monday, February 8, 2010

Quote of the Day

"Nobody in the game of football should be called a genius. A genius is somebody like Norman Einstein." --Joe Theismann (b. 1949)

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Quote of the Day

"All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusion is called a philosopher." --Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914)

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Quote of the Day

"It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen." --Aristotle (384-322 B.C.E.)

Friday, February 5, 2010

Quote of the Day

"The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next you're an object." --Chuck Palahniuk (b. 1962)

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Quote of the Day

"We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like?" --Jean Cocteau (1889-1963)

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Quote of the Day

"Sin is geographical." --Bertrand Russell (1872-1970)

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Quote of the Day

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." --Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

Monday, February 1, 2010

Hunting For Meaning (AKA Can't Buy Me Love)

I awoke yesterday feeling rather “blah.” Not depressed, just bored and unmotivated. As much as I loathe my job, I often find that I’m unsure of what to do with my free time. Sometimes I play video games, but the ol’ 360 has been overheating, so I figured I’d give it a rest. I love to read, but I’m currently slogging through a book on Tolkien, and the prose is as dense as if Tolkien himself had written it; I just wasn’t up for it today.
So, as I often do, I began to think about food. I love food, and, while I am a maddeningly picky eater, I can generally find enjoyment in food when my enjoyment of other things has waned. Thus I began to think about the gyros and cinnamon rolls that are available at a mall 30 minutes away. It was tempting to make the trip, despite the fact that I have a hard time justifying a 30-minute drive just to get some food. As a further justification, I thought about getting a David Foster Wallace book while I was there, ignoring the fact that the Borders probably wouldn’t have it.
I was just getting myself psyched up to go when a thought occurred to me: buying things makes me feel good and, I assume, has a similar effect on others. I began to wonder why this was. Perhaps, I thought, the act of buying things commandeered a vestigial drive to hunt. Perhaps my act of “hunting” out a book provided satisfaction to that primal part of me that would have been satisfied by bringing down a deer.
It then occurred to me that I had read something similar to this a month or three ago. A scientist had said that gender differences in shopping behavior reflected gender roles from when humans were primarily hunter-gatherers. Thus, a man’s desire to shop quickly, to swoop into a store in Navy SEAL-like fashion and then leave in a similarly no-nonsense manner, was due to a genetic proclivity to hunt in the same way. Conversely, a woman’s desire to dawdle, to carefully inspect each item, and to look for just the right things in a number of places (as opposed to just one), was due to the care necessitated by the act of gathering (for it is necessary to know what is ripe, what is poisonous, etc. before bringing it home to eat).
Upon remembering the article, I was first and foremost dismayed. Any of you who know me are probably aware that I have a fantastic memory for certain things, but an abysmal memory for others. I started to wonder how often “my” good ideas were something I ingested and forgot, and then came bubbling back up into consciousness. A disturbing thought, since I do my best to live an honest life. I would hate to steal someone else’s ideas, regardless of the fact that I’d be unaware of it.
I quickly shunted that thought aside (that way lies madness), and focused instead on money. Why is it so important to people? It seems to me that spending money is somehow just the filling of a void. Like a gambler who gets a rush from winning, we get a rush out of spending money, out of procuring things that we feel we need or want. But there’s nothing inherently necessary about money in a survival sense. True, we in the developed world need money to buy food and pay bills, but, in the grand scheme of things, money is valueless. It is only worth what we think it’s worth.
So what’s the deal? What void is spending money, an inherently worthless act, filling? Again, I thought of the hunter-gatherer issue. Is it really that simple? Are we spending money simply to satiate a largely obsolete behavioral drive? And if so, why are so many of us miserable?
I’m starting to think that this is exactly what is going on. I think that we’ve taken the necessity of hunting (or living off the land in all manner of ways) and distorted that drive, in a Freudian manner, into something else: a desire for things. I think the reason many of us are miserable is because we’ve lost all sight of what is truly important in life, something that living off the land reminds us of.
Think about it. When one lives in a hunter-gatherer society, what is important? Your priority is, first and foremost, the survival of yourself and the ones you love. In order to survive you need very specific things. You need water, food, and the shelter from the elements provided by clothing and a home. That’s about it. Even medicine, generally in the form of plant matter, is a luxury (but even that is about survival).
If you live this kind of life, you live on the razor’s edge of survival. There are times when food is plentiful, but waste is unacceptable even then, for there will certainly be times when food is scarce. Thus you learn the value of moderation. You learn to value your life and family, for hard times might literally mean the death of yourself or the ones you love. Not only that, but killing an animal for food gives one an intimate understanding of life and death. Therefore, living the life of a hunter-gatherer can be said to give one a very harsh but realistic perspective regarding what is important: life and family.
Much of today’s world has no such equivalent. We don’t experience that razor’s edge. We live in luxury. We have water piped into our homes, and thus have no need to walk to the river to fill gourds; we have vast buildings filled with foodstuffs, so we need not spend days in the wild hunting. We have our problems, but in comparison they are petty and insignificant.
And yet we still have these drives, that need to procure that allowed us to reach today’s more luxurious reality. But these needs have been distorted into a mockery of their former selves. When an American says they “need” something, ninety-nine times out of a hundred they mean that they simply want it. In a very real sense, our actions have been robbed of their importance by our society’s excesses. Yes, we need to work to buy food, but the work in and of itself is generally valueless. Our actions don’t lead directly to our survival; they lead to money, which in turn leads to survival. That one extra step robs us of something important, and it’s a lack that many of us feel, even if we fail to understand it.
So what do we do? We distract ourselves. Think about what you spend your money on. I don’t know about you, but my main expenses are food, gasoline, bills of all sorts, and entertainment. I’m practically dirt poor, but I still find money every month for high-speed Internet access, cable TV (although I don’t pay much; I bribed the cable guy $50 to keep off most of the filters, so I get pretty much all the non-premium channels for about $15 a month), and the odd book or DVD. I believe entertainment has become something of a necessity for us because it distracts us from the meaninglessness of our lives.
Unfortunately, there are those out there who are very much aware of our “need” for entertainment, even if they are unaware of its origin (and I doubt they care). All they need to know is that money can be made when people are unhappy. This is something that has been building for centuries (Got the gout? Try Johnson’s Revolutionary Snake Oil Elixir! Guaranteed to cure a number of maladies and miseries!), but manipulating the misery of the masses was turned into an artform in the 20th century.
While I don’t know the exact origins of psychological manipulation in advertising, I’m sure that the budding discipline of psychology had much to do with the efficaciousness of 20th century ads. It’s likely that many who studied the subject failed to find a job in private practice or academia (or got kicked out, as John B. Watson did), and turned to advertising instead, for understanding human behavior makes it much easier to manipulate. Regardless, advertisers most certainly began using data from the psychological field to sell their products. In other words, they preyed upon our desires and insecurities to make a buck.
I find this behavior repulsive, but it’s a fact of life. Think about the Saturday morning cartoons that my generation loved so dearly. Yes, we were treated to hours of cartoons that we loved, but we were also subjected to hours of advertising as well. Hell, some cartoons were literally created as vehicles to sell toys. We were watching 22-minute commercials, interrupted by commercials! If you believe that this does not have a profound effect on a young child’s mindset, then I admire your naïveté or devotion to self-delusion.
In a very real sense, the term “TV programming” is a literal term. Advertisers are smart enough to know that if you manipulate someone while they’re young, they cease to question that manipulation, or even believe that they’re being manipulated in the first place. They simply take for granted that they need all that “stuff” out there.
Please don’t misunderstand: I’m not some conspiracy theorist who believes there’s some cabal of rich men manipulating every aspect of the world to work in their favor. I do, however, believe that this world is full of greedy people who would step over the bodies of the ones they love if it was profitable enough. Does a little psychological manipulation matter to someone who is willing to allow his factory to pollute local drinking water? Not when there’s profit in it.
And that’s what it’s all about: profit. Instead of survival, our society’s greatest "need" has become money, to the extent that there are thousands, if not millions, of companies out there who are seeking profit to the detriment of everyone else. Deforestation? How else do we find the land to maximize our soybean farming? Pollution? Increases our profit margins! Devastation of world fish populations? Who cares how many fish there are in the sea, as long as they end up on someone’s plate? We’ve become a society of pimps and whores, which is pretty ironic considering that prostitution is illegal.
But whether we are the pimp or the whore, the oppressor or the oppressed, our actions are motivated by that void, that sense of ennui. It’s such a pervasive part of our lives that many of us don’t even recognize its existence. We just heap money and things into it, hoping to feel better for a little while. Just like a drug addict. And I’m honestly unsure what’s worse: the fact that so many of us feel the same way but haven’t acknowledged it (let alone found a solution), or the fact that there are people who have realized it and decided to make a profit off of it, and thus exacerbated the situation
Regardless, our civilization is buckling under the weight of its own excess. We’re ancient Rome, just waiting for some “barbarians” to come along and exploit our weaknesses. Or perhaps the greedy are the barbarians, and we’re in the process of dying. I can’t help but think we’ve already gone too far. But who can say? Not I. I just hope that if and when we fall, those who pick up the pieces (if any exist to do so) learn from our mistakes. I hope they learn that divorcing oneself from reality to such an extent that money becomes their god and goal is a mistake that will always lead to disaster.
Some of us may be miserable at times. We may feel frustrated by and out of touch with the society that we live in, but at least we’ve realized that money can’t buy us love. Or happiness. Or wisdom.
But it sure does buy a wealth of distractions, doesn’t it?