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?

A Nation of Cowards?

In honor of the unjustified hoopla surrounding Chris Matthews' innocent comment, I give you an old blog on a similar theme, originally released on February 18th, 2009.

Eric Holder, our nation’s first black Attorney General, has called us out. In a speech given to Justice Department employees, he has stated that, in matters of race, we are “essentially a nation of cowards,” and that we should start discussing these matters, however difficult, more openly and honestly. Well! To quote Yosemite Sam, “Thems fightin’ words!”
I’m not saying I disagree. I agree completely. But, whether you think I’m tactless for saying it or not, it’s a lot easier for a black man to make that statement than it is for a white man. You see, if an African American wants to talk about race, he can just talk about his personal experiences with racism, oppression and the like; he’s bound to have some. But white people have no real experience in this area. We would be speaking from an inherently unknowledgeable position, which means we’re more likely to make a misstep. And a misstep for a caucasian on this subject could mean the loss of a job or a friend. Thus, even those of us who consider ourselves relatively enlightened on the subject of race tend to avoid it like the plague.
But screw it. There’s something that I’ve been meaning to write about for a while now, and this provides the perfect opportunity. I may offend some people, but please understand that no offense is meant. I’m simply calling it like I see it.

I want to talk about the word “nigger.” Personally, I hate it. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of another word in the English language that I find more vile and offensive, and I’m white, so I understand how it must make an African American feel. But that’s what confuses me. If blacks find it so offensive, why the hell do they use it so often?
I understand that blacks pretty much never say “nigger.” That word is left to toothless Klan members and non-blacks that really, really want to piss off an African American. Instead, blacks use the variation, “nigga.” It might seem like a small difference, but it’s always been an important distinction to me.
I know that some people are of the opinion that using the word lessens its power, but I don’t buy it. A white guy won’t get his ass kicked any less for using the term in front of a black guy, and the black man won’t be any less offended, no matter how much he might use it himself.
If there’s going to be a distinction between “nigger” and “nigga” among blacks, then I believe that “nigga” should be fair for all to use. It’s all a matter of the intent, and the intent is usually plain as day. For example, I love hip-hop music, which is replete with the use of “nigga.” Hell, in his song “Put It Down,” Redman ends almost every line with “nigga.” If I were singing along with the song it’d be pretty damn obvious that I meant no offense, but I’d still get a serious beat down if I got caught doing so. That’s crap.
I hate double standards, and this is a big one in our culture. The black people in the audience might be rolling their eyes, thinking “Poor little cracker. A double standard that goes our way for once.” I understand how one might be inclined to feel this way. But, as the cliché goes, two wrongs don’t make a right. I hate all double standards, whether they are detrimental or favorable to me, because they are inherently wrong. End of story.
To put it bluntly, I think African Americans have a choice to make. They should either be a little more understanding when us honkies use the less offensive variation (I promise that there are plenty of us capable of making the distinction), or they should stop using the word themselves. If blacks really want “nigger” to go away, then they need to stop peppering their speech with “nigga.”
The use of the word, even a variation, perpetuates it because, whether you like it or not, black culture is increasingly American culture. White kids grow up listening to hip-hop and R&B, watching Friday and How High, dating blacks, and saying “Nigga, please!” when someone says something outrageous. They hear “nigga” on a daily basis, and many fail to understand that “nigga” coming from the mouth of a white kid still feels like “nigger” to an African American.
(I can personally attest to this. I’m from a small town in the mountains where there are essentially zero African Americans. I went away to college and one day found myself in a room with a bunch of more savvy city kids, including a black guy. I can’t remember what the exact circumstances were, but I ended up innocently quoting a line from Pulp Fiction that applied to the current situation: “Chill them niggas out.” Crickets, man. I didn’t get my ass handed to me, prob’ly on account o’ my country ways, but it was the first and last time I said “nigga” in front of a black guy.)
Another key to getting rid of this word is to ignore it. Remember what your parents used to say when your little brother was bugging you? “Just ignore him. He’ll get tired of it and move on to something else.” If you want “nigger” to go away, then stop reacting to it. I realize that this is easier said than done, but if the ignorant morons who use it see that it no longer has the desired effect, they’ll stop using it. It might take a while, but it will happen.
Richard Pryor, upon his return from a trip to Africa, stated how wonderful it was when he realized that there were no niggers there. Obviously, this doesn’t mean that there weren’t black people in Africa; he simply meant that since no one said “nigger,” there weren’t any. He said that this had inspired him to never use the word again, and he encouraged everyone else to do the same. As you can tell, the majority decided not to take him up on the offer. Perhaps it’s time we reexamined it.
Do I think that's actually going to happen? Nigga, please!

Introducing The Buddhist & The Bastard

Polymathic J: The Octopus’s Garden will often feature blogs written from the perspective of either the Buddhist or the Bastard. While that little “About Me” box to the right explains things a bit, I thought formal introductions might not go amiss. Guys, say hi to everyone.

The Bastard: Seriously? This is the best idea you could come up with today? It’s moronic. First of all, I’m not a little monkey here to amuse people. Second, how cheesy is this shit?

The Buddhist: I don’t know…doesn’t seem so bad to me. And cheesy or not, why can’t “cheesy” and “bad” be mutually exclusive? We like plenty of cheesy movies. And, come to think of it, why is “cheesy” a colloquialism for bad, anyway? Cheese is quite tasty. We’ve got at least three different kinds in the fridge at this very moment.

The Bastard: Jesus, here we go. Please, expound upon the subject of cheese for us. I’m sure the masses will find a cheese lecture to be utterly stimulating.

The Buddhist: No need to get snippy. I was just thinking out loud. Although I must admit to wishing we had some Piave Vecchio. That Pecorino Romano isn’t as good as I’d hoped. Goes quite well with Wheat Thins, though…

The Bastard: Yeah, that Piave is good…dammit, why the hell are we talking about cheese?!

The Buddhist: Well, what would you like to talk about?

The Bastard: How about we talk about how batshit this is? He’s like a ventriloquist with no dummies.

Polymathic J: Hey, leave me out of this. I just wanted to introduce you to everyone. Besides, everyone who knows me is already well aware of the fact that I’ve got a screw loose.

The Bastard: Just one? I’m not the one having a conversation with myself.

The Buddhist: Aren’t you?

The Bastard: No, I—well, kinda. This hurts my brain.

Polymathic J: Ok, I’ll make it easy on you. Why don’t you simply explain a little bit about how you view the world? Buddhist, why don’t you go first?

The Buddhist: Hmmmm, ok. Well, I believe that people are inherently good, but are capable of getting so lost or damaged that they do bad things.

Polymathic J: Care to elaborate?

The Buddhist: Well, imagine that every person is a glass lantern. Everyone has a light within them that shines through the glass.

Polymathic J: I’m with you so far…

The Buddhist: The light never goes out so long as the person lives, but our experiences and the way we live our lives can cause the glass to get dirty. Abuse, addictions, mental disorders…all these things muck up the glass, making the light harder to see. I’m sure there are people out there with glass so dark you might find it hard to believe there’s a light contained within. But it’s there.

The Bastard: Bullshit. What about someone like Hitler?

The Buddhist: I’ve seen footage of Hitler in his last days, and there is a pronounced tremor in his arm. It seems to be indicative of Parkinson’s disease. And I’ve heard that some of Hitler’s early writings suggest that he may have gotten syphilis at some point. Syphilis has been known to cause serious mental abnormalities, and having one’s body fail oneself when the brain has already experienced great insult is bound to leave one with anger issues.

The Bastard: So you think Hitler killed over six million Jews because he was upset that he had Parkinson’s and some skank gave him VD?

The Buddhist: No, I’m simply saying that those may have been contributing factors. I’ve also heard that his personal physician got him hooked on daily injections of amphetamines and other goodies. High doses of amphetamines are known to cause psychosis. One or more of these issues may have exacerbated pre-existing problems derived from genetic or environmental factors. This does not excuse his actions, of course. I merely seek to offer possible (partial) explanations for what he did. Don’t forget that he was once an artist. He wanted to be a painter, but either didn’t have the natural gift or the tenacity to excel at it. Regardless, that speaks of a certain sensitivity that most people would not believe that he possessed. How horrible would it be if Hitler was a good man driven mad by disappointment and exposure to a lowly bacterium? That would be a tragedy to make even Sophocles weep.

The Bastard: Wow, dude. You’re not gonna make many friends defending Hitler.

The Buddhist: I simply seek to point out that we cannot know everything about a man. Is it not insane to desire the death of an entire race of people? If you believe it is, and if you believe that an insane man is not responsible for his actions (as I do), then should that man not be viewed with pity, rather than hatred?

Polymathic J: I am totally going to get hate mail for this.

The Buddhist: That may be, but I refuse to silence myself simply because my views defy convention. If anything, that’s all the more reason to share them. There is enough hate in this world. Perhaps it would be a better place if we attempted to understand what is unknown to us, especially when what is unknown makes us uncomfortable. His actions were obviously repellant and misguided, but hating him does nothing to change what he did.

Polymathic J: Ooookay. We better move on before the death threats start. Bastard?

The Bastard: Isn’t my name self-explanatory? I’m a jerk. I think people are selfish, self-absorbed pieces of crap. Give your average human a choice between helping themselves and helping someone else, and they’re going to help themselves 99.9% of the time.

The Buddhist: Do you include yourself in that?

The Bastard: Of course. I may be a bastard, but I’m an honest bastard. I find it hard to see why I should help someone when they wouldn’t even consider helping me. You gotta look out for Numero Uno. No one else will. Don’t forget that I’m a delivery driver. I rely on the kindness of strangers for a living, and it’s a poor living indeed.

The Buddhist: But what if the people you deliver to can’t afford to tip you well? Shouldn’t you consider their situation, rather than just your own?

The Bastard: I could say the same thing about them. If they don’t have the money to tip, then they should come to the store and pick up their pizzas themselves. Instead, they do what’s convenient for them, and say “Screw that guy bringing the pizza. He should get a better job.” That’s humanity in a nutshell: “Screw him; his problems are his fault, so why should I help?”

The Buddhist: I must admit that that attitude is disturbingly prevalent in today’s society.

The Bastard: You’re damn right it is. So why should I be kind, if it’s just going to lead to people taking advantage of me?

The Buddhist: Well, you’ve got one thing that many people do not have: an awareness of the problem. How can one fix a problem when one is unaware of it? Perhaps you should lead by example. Perhaps your kindness could illuminate the issue for others by providing a contrast to the norm. Perhaps you should listen to Gandhi’s words: “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

The Bastard: Fuck that. That’s your job.

The Buddhist: Touché.

Polymathic J: I think that’ll do for now. Say goodbye, guys.

The Buddhist & The Bastard: “Goodbye, guys.”