February 3rd, 2010
I once read an interview with a prominent intellectual wherein he referred to spectator sports as “training in irrational jingoism.” The accusation struck me, in part because it is a shocking and seemingly incisive observation, but also because it is an observation that only a huge nerd would make. I’m fairly certain that when a bunch of homo erectus started kicking melons around, they paid little thought to the potential for inculcation.
The statement “irrational jingoism” also has a pejorative ring that I take exception to. I would argue that those susceptible to jingoism of sports are made better by distraction (and might benefit from training of any kind). It’s true that professional sports encourage a rainbow of distasteful effects: chief among them the poisonous role models with their celebrity scandals and criminal propensities such as the corruption of steroids – we might enjoy the spectacle of warring gorillas if any of the virtues of athleticism were preserved.
Nevertheless, I reckon spectator sports are a net positive: when we seriously consider the disposition of our race it’s a relief that we have something pacifying to hold our interest. Moreover, the criticism is ignorant of the curative effects of sports: Israeli/Palestinian football teams or Indian and Pakistani cricket tours spring to mind, and the stage provided to the likes of Jackie Robinson, Muhammad Ali and Jesse Owens, demonstrating against the ‘irrational jingoism’ of their day.
All this is not to excuse the mindlessness of a life dedicated to spectating, unless one is a worker drone in which case I can think of no better avocation. As for those with the potential for independent thought, consider the mind only needs to relax and watch sports if it is at other times vigorous. And, take heed: there is some truth to the “training in irrational jingoism” side of spectator sports, but we can still enjoy them if we are conscious of it, and vigilant.
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January 27th, 2010
When one attacks the cult of alcohol one contends with the whole of human history, and yet, after literally thousands of years of whitewash, it requires still another coat, for all its faults are bare. When our cousins, the primates, happened upon fermented fruits in the wild, and began falling out of the trees and drowning in their own vomit, the other beasts did not watch with envy.
Yet, we creatures of the highest order saw something desirable about it, and today are proud patrons of another billion dollar industry funding crucial research. Who can doubt that elderly folk who prefer a glass of wine every night have fewer heart attacks, particularly the ones who die before they have the chance? They report to us that wine is rich in antioxidants, which saves us from having to eat fruits and vegetables which are bothersome to digestion.
What madness in our race encourages us to embrace this poison? For those that do, it is worth all kinds of misery. We are told to feel pride in a habit that, if pursued with vigor, will undo all pride. We learn intoxication in place of certain skills: how to connect with people, how to have fun, how to relax, how to cope with problems and emotions, how to be happy – skills we might miss later. The cult of alcohol suggests itself as way to assert certain virtues like courage and rebellion, when in truth we are submitting to cowardliness and conformity.
No doubt it’s fun to have a few drinks and act like an idiot, but alcohol helps you with your life like credit cards give you money. It brings out the very worst in us, it is undeniably one of the great instigators of misery, violence and death in the world; so how important to us is this monkey pleasure? Prohibition is sadly ignorant of human nature, and social opposition pays scant dividends; we can only look to the distant day when we will grow up as a species and leave the rotten fruit to our boorish cousins.
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January 20th, 2010
As we continue our march on oppression, having trod on some of the sacred plants of civilization, we turn toward their most accomplished sibling: coffee, the mainstay of Colombian narcotraffic, the drug that hooked the world. The fair majority of the human race savors this delectable flavor, enough to look for it in cups of burnt and bitter acid diluted in hot water. All the while they pay little heed to the potent stimulant they have chained their being to.
Caffeine convinces your brain that you need to key up, ostensibly to deal with some minor emergency. When your life is a minor emergency all day every day, you have effectively adopted the outlook of a junior high school girl. I realize that you, dear reader, are likely sipping the drug as you read this; nearly everyone I know is lost to the addiction. Take comfort: you have a multi-billion dollar industry behind you, though one wonders how it won your trust where others failed.
All that money has funded some remarkable research on the health effects of this beloved beverage. A few studies have made the interesting assertion that the benefits of drinking coffee ‘outweigh the ill effects’. That would be a fair conclusion but for the world of other beverages whose ‘ill effects’ are – none. You don’t have to ask the man drinking carrot juice whether he’s sussed out the pros and cons first.
As is the case with all addictions, one is quick to forfeit principles when it comes to their favorite drink. The most conscientious citizen can be stalwart in all habits except the one, paying no thought to the grave social and environmental impact of their morning pick-me-up. If they have any consternation it is assuaged with a sticker. Certainly coffee is not the most wicked poison on the menu, but those in the grip of this psychoactive stimulant should at least temper their judgment on those snared by like habits.
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January 13th, 2010
Marijuana. No herbal remedy has kicked up more data, factual or otherwise, and yet how little of it seems to have settled. The one observable certainty is that smoking marijuana makes you temporarily retarded. Hence the marijuana preachers make retarded arguments, and the marijuana congregation nod at their soundness. The herb has lately taken on the character of a patent medicine: what started as a modest tool for managing pain and nausea has lately become the belle of the ball, a means of combating HIV, cancer, Alzheimer’s, seizures, and a world of other ailments. I suppose it’s hard to spot a red flag with half-closed eyes.
If it was the health effects smokers were after you would think edible extract or a vaporizer would do. When I see someone blast a J I’m guessing it’s for a different reason. It’s always fun to watch a freethinking anarchist rail about carcinogens in the atmosphere and then blow out a huge billow of smoke. Marijuana advocates then say characteristically retarded things like, “weed is from the Earth” and “God put it here,” - arsenic is also from the earth, and God put deadly nightshade here.
They like to hold up the fact that the likes of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson grew hemp and that we should take a page out of their book – let’s hope it’s a page that does not mention slaves. I’d be surprised to even have to point these things out if I did not recognize the drugs primary effect: the retardation. Lest I be accused of just poo pooing other people’s fun let me say that I mostly don’t care if people smoke marijuana. It’s not entirely without benefit and its ill effects are relatively mild; it probably should be legal.
My own personal problem with the drug boils down to two consequences: the more superficial of them being that when people smoke marijuana they become about as interesting as ice fishing. Being a non-smoker among a party of smokers makes the non-smoker feel like some sort of reverse buffoon: in the position of having to entertain everyone with their sagacity. To me the most grievous crime is the insidious myth that marijuana is a material source of creative genius – an idea that could only sit well with the temporarily retarded.
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January 6th, 2010
The advent of a new year, the cockcrow of a fresh decade: however inauspicious it feels, tradition dictates that we make some perfunctory resolution, to improve our sorry selves. We erect these monuments to self-delusion fully expecting them to topple after only a few days, a few hours, a matter of minutes. For a society that pretends to cherish personal freedom how eager we are to clap ourselves in irons.
In this series I invite you to consider a handful of these fetters that keep us bound to our lower selves. Would that we could disentangle from them all and leave behind that grimacing ape that pursues his every pleasure without forethought. First let us consider tobacco, an example that should be clear to everyone – even the most avid connoisseurs know that they are destroying themselves.
A chief hindrance to the smoker’s escape is the abrasive nag who tells him, without experience, why he should quit. Would that they were the ones who smelled wretched, squandered money, had poor health and died early. The smoker has blundered into a tar pit; these sanctimonious people admonishing him about the dangers of tar pits only make him want to drown.
In spite of these philistines, he must do everything in his power to escape. In shaking off this heavy chain he is not identifying with those contemptible idiots, as he fears – his identity will remain not only intact, but stronger, now that he is free to walk upright among them.
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