Sentient Meat

Sentient Meat
I always like arriving late to the party, but for once, I was actually ahead of the pop culture curve and finished True Detective with everyone else when it ended its run a couple of months ago on HBO. One of the best shows that I have had the pleasure of getting swept up in, and the best part, for me, was the philosophical dialogues given by Rust Cohle.
Almost all of his philosophical points resonated with me (from his Nietzschean aspects on eternal recurrence, to his quip to Marty about the average IQ of the people attending the revival tent, to the excellent line, “we are just sentient meat”) save the last one, the one where he and Marty are out of the hospital in the last scene of the last episode and as Rust is lighting up he is recanting his earlier held beliefs. That part rang false for me if for no other reason than it smacked of another intellectual show cashing out for a “feel good” Hollywood ending that would not leave people with a pessimistic sour feeling.
I think that anyone, when faced with their own mortality, tends to do a certain sort of “bad faith” renegotiation of their belief structure, that is, if you don’t believe in some religion (I honestly do not know what people who believe do when faced with a near death experience, perhaps it just reaffirms their belief structure and it all falls under, “God wasn’t ready to bring me home yet”). I think, for agnostics and atheists, this portrayal of a near death reevaluation of one’s belief structure (especially when one is talking about this character who was so sure, so ready for death’s sweet release) is a cop out. Personally, I don’t seek any benefit when I die save for an end of this existence and a return to the void where my time is over and I decompose back into the universe.
This very thought, faced with an abyss of nothingness, used to scare me, it provoked high levels of anxiety and doubt and concern over my human condition and my desire for some form of sentient immortality. During these anxious moments I wholeheartedly embraced Platonic theory (the closest to any form of religion I could allow myself to follow) for comfort. Then at some point I just let it go. I realized that a majority of human experience is filled with suffering, regret, anger, and despair. Yes, there are some highlights that help break this cycle, but for the most part, this curse of being sentient meat is filled with strife.
By embracing that life is hard one cannot be let down by unrealistic expectations, such expectations offered under the false hope of religion. Religion, like everything else, is corrupted by the human desire to deny what we are, to deny that we are simple animals who are cursed with the ability to know what we are, and then we spend all of our years denying a simple truth with the sweet deceptive lie of “life after death.” That is just too much to handle for me, I embrace my nature as a temporary human consciousness in the vast cosmos that gets a brief time to enjoy contemplation and try to leave some sort of legacy to my child. When one accepts this, accepts the strife, strives to do some sort of “good” and then passes out of what we term existence it becomes much less a pessimistic outlook and one of the greatest forms of life affirming optimism that one can hold close.
Anything else would be hypocritical bullshit.

Unknown Knowns - A Review

Anyone who pays attention to politics, lived through the George W. Bush presidency (that was stolen in 2000) and survived to tell about it should sit down with Errol Morris' latest documentary, The Unknown Known.  The subject:  Donald Rumsfeld.

It should be known that Rumsfeld is quite charismatic, holds his own, and, even to this day, does not shy away from the decisions he helped shape in the months and years after 9/11.  There is a coolness to Rumsfeld that led me to believe that he is not just a man repeating party lines or "just another politician" rather he believes what he says, believes so badly that you almost get swept up in his genial bullshit.  It is not just that the man is a lifelong politician, it's that by watching the many press conferences he has given in his political career it is easy to see his confidence that borders along hubristic arrogance, is a very extension of his center of gravity.  The man does not pause,  he does not stutter, he is cool and confident in everything he says, this documentary shows that he was more than just Bush (or, realistically, Cheney's) bag man at the DOD, he was, and is, a true believer.  We are given very little in this documentary about the Bush cabinet in-fighting between him and NSA Rice, but it is glimpsed at and you can see that Rumsfeld was not one to bow to anyone he felt was outside of the chain of command.  Something that permeates from his very posture and smirks as he narrates his views on torture (or, what is not torture).

He is classically and absurdly human, but he does not give in to the Morris queries on if the Iraq quagmire was worth it, Rumsfeld with very little hesitation (almost as if he were shocked this this question is repeated so much in the post-Iraq invasion) replies, "I guess time will tell."  (Which the view should juxtapose this with his report about the Middle East from his late '80's trips on behalf of President Reagan where he recommended the U.S. stay out of the Middle East.) There is no remorse, no contemplation now that he is a man of leisure, there is just the arrogance that history, in the future, will be on his side.

One of the most telling throw away lines in the documentary is when Rumsfeld states that years after Bush has left office, and after the campaigns of Obama on being anti-GITMO, anti-Patriot Act, anti-surveillance, Obama has done nothing to dismantle these things and in Rumsfeld's mind, these provide him with the necessary proof that the policies he helped create were the right ones.  Chilling.

Keeping my Eye on What's Important

It is very quaint to me that I still get upset over small, trivial things.  Alright, quaint is not the right word, it is annoying that I still get upset over small, petty things that in the grand scheme don't matter.  In the end I know that I am just food for worms, just a sack of meat that has been cursed with sentience.  That last sentence makes it sound as if I don't wish to be sentient, that is not true, what I wish is that I could keep my eye on the prize, which is to raise a daughter that feels connected to her community, that feels that there is more to just a buck for labor exchange.

What is hard is that I myself, while wanting to feel connected to my community, feel the most disconnected when I make errors in judgment (such as when I push off paying bills for an iPad, or some such electronic device that is mined by struggling laborers in the developing world).  This does little to help my community, in fact, I feel that rampant, runaway mass consumerism in America is what is destroying communities (but that is a topic to address later).

When I ran the Portland Marathon in January what I saw amazed me and made me feel proud not only to be a Portlander, but to be a part of something that was and was not about me.  It was about the community gathering together to cheer on and support runners.  I was winded on the last eight miles, I was hobbling because my training always peaked at 14.3 miles, never more, so I was unprepared for my feet to be in so much pain, while I was limp run/walking many fellow runners and spectators not only cheered me on, but asked if I was alright.  Community, that was the one thing that I took away from that marathon (other than train harder and better).

One does not need to run endurance sports to feel connected, my example worked for me, but the easiest way to get involved is to take an interest, help people, smile, make eye contact.  It is so easy in today's fast paced big meal world to just ignore, look the other way, ramp up the volume on your iPod and plug out from those around you.  In fact, for me, sometimes I want to, I want to ignore the populace on my commute (MAX to bus route 15), but I also like to bask in the debate I witnessed over the summer on Trimet's bus line 15 over the fluoride vote, it was truly  inspiring.

What I am getting at is that I was in a bit of a funk after my work review, I kept wanting to spew Marx's labor analysis at my employer (actual labor versus compensated labor, etc.) but in reality, I make enough money to fit my current needs, and if I want to make more, well, for my experience in what I do, my training, and my resume, I know where the door is.  But it is not about that, advocating for oneself is one thing, but just finding ways to be unhappy is quite another.

All that makes me happy is treating people with the same respect that I would want if I were in their shoes.  That's always been a big problem for me as I tend to be a very self-centered asshole of a human being (an no, despite what some people want to claim, having a child is not a cure-all solution to this type of personality disorder), but I want to stop doing that, if for no other reason than that for 31 years it has cost me far more than it has ever rewarded me.

Ghandi said "If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. … We need not wait to see what others do.”  There is no larger burden than those willing to be like the Philosopher in Plato's allegory of the cave, not everyone will want to listen, most will laugh, but it's the not trying that fills you with regret when you go to sleep at night, and remember, there is no guarantee that you will wake up in the morning.

On Running

In Plato’s Apology, Socrates briefly draws a connection between the craft of teaching and that of horse training.  Granted this is also in the middle of specious assault against Socrates for so-called corruption, but this section of Plato’s dialogue, to me, represents the metaphor of my life as a runner.
Running, for me, is not particular a glorious affair.  I don’t run for a personal best w/r/t time, I don’t run for fame, I don’t even run for stamina (although, to be fair, I really do run for stamina) so much as I run for the same reasons that Lester Burnham does in American Beauty.  That being said, there is nothing really rational in my approach to running.  I don’t do it for the health factor, in fact, I hate running, I abhor exercise and if I could just have maintained my college shape without having to work for it as I grow older, I would do so.
The stench of my sweat, the chafing of my clothing (even if it is the expensive wick-away-sweat clothing from Nike) against my skin, the blisters on my feet, the minor aches and pains, and between miles seven and eight where I just wish God would strike me down for heresy, yes, all that glorious exercise I would do away with if the technology promised during the 3:30 a.m. infomercial was, in fact, real.  But it is not, so, for selfish and ridiculous reasons of vanity I push myself at 5:30 a.m. to go running for a minimum of four miles just hoping that a car will see me and opt not to hit me.  Thus, circling back to Plato’s Apology my desire to run is, for me, anti-rational to a lot of self--interests.

But then, during my early morning, crisp air run I start a stream-of-consciousness that would draw the envy of Joyce.  My breathing falls into place, the classical music run playlist that I created on Spotify hits the right crescendo as I crest a hill and it all just irrationally clicks for me.  I am alive, I am not training horses (okay, maybe just a little bit) I am an artist, sculpting both my physical and mental self.  Running is not really about vanity (okay, just a little bit) as much as it is about time to contemplate further my Weltanschauung.
During runs I find that I am okay with writing off the “pop culture” music (among other facets of pop culture) that I find so dissonant and distasteful (I can stomach it in small doses, but Stravinsky will always be my dissonant master).

I realize that I would rather it there for those who can find meaning and solace in this music, but for me, the Bach Brandenburg Concertos or Wagner’s Ring will always reign supreme (not to mention a certain deaf composer).  I don’t feel the need to be snobbish about it (oh but I used to), I just also don’t feel the need to feel that I have to lower myself in order to blend in with my peers, or my daughter’s friends (although my six year old is a Wagnerian – Rheinmaidens grabbed her in Das Rheingold and wouldn’t let go).  It’s okay for people to like Game of Thrones without reading the books, it doesn’t cheapen the experience, people of the world don’t have to agree with me that the age of Shakespeare was the age of Elizabeth, the age of Pericles was the age of Sophocles, and the age of de Vinci was the age of de Medici – that is, that art is of vital importance to a culture in order to balance out said culture’s imperialistic tendincies.*  I will argue this and have done so with people, but at the end of the day, my running in the morning reminds me (usually around mile seven) that it is okay that others exist not solely to agree with me.  Discourse and dialogue are good things.

On the downhill conclusion of my run I finalize, always towards the end of anything, an ever expanding set of life goals, which are and in no particular order:

• Invest 10,000 hours in study of chess and become a Grandmaster;
• Invest in my future by studying the LSAT, getting into law school, and committing a life to the pursuit of civil justice for victims of injury;
• Learning the violin;
• Spend a month or two in Germany;
• Learn French;
• After law school and once I am financially stable, obtain a PhD in Philosophy (that one is just for me);
• Run the Athens marathon.

I’m not sure if I will do all of these things, but the possibilities that float through my head while I’m running leave me with a feeling that there is nothing holding me back save myself.  Yes, I’m usually this campy and that is when I end on a good note, I may have just lost a toenail but damn it, I certainly can compose a Haiku while strumming my violin reciting a French poem while putting that anonymous player in checkmate.
My world gets positively brighter when I run and for no other reason, that is why I do it.

*All my pop culture bitching aside, Futurama remains one of the greatest satires of the American Empire that has been created.  The whole idea of mocking the present from the comforts of the future reminds me of the Ancient Greek plays where Athens was criticized from the comforts of the play being set in Thebes, Corinth, or Sparta.

The Pyrrhic Victory of The War on Terror & At Home

Edward Snowden and Bradley Manning should be are heroes.  They should be given parades, honorary diplomas and the rights to their stories sold to Hollywood.  Instead, PFC Manning has been locked away and is fighting with his advocate in Court and Snowden is prepared to be snatched in the night by his own government for letting his government's citizens know just how far gone our liberties since 9/11 the terrorists have won.

They won.

We lost are losing.

Every major politician who is, has, or wants to run for office under the umbrella of a strong national defense loves to tout that somehow they are, or want to be, or have been responsible for helping usher in the police state in order to prevent another 9/11.  Pretty much this:

It is approaching 12 years since the attack and yet the shadow of that event colors every federal US election.  Democrats or Republicans don't want to look soft on defense so they do everything they can to distance themselves from the Bill of Rights and turn their evil Sauron-like eye on their own citizens under the arrogant notion that safety is the paramount concern.

A victory in the so-called War on Terror does not begin at home (or abroad for that matter).  It does not begin by suspecting your own citizens.  It does not being with this new found hallowed idea that a preemptive strike is the philosophy for dealing with problems.  Watching our e-mails, social networking, listening to our telephone calls, reviewing our text messages is not going to make me safer, what it is going to do is set up a profile of me in some data center controlled and accessed by the NSA.  What I write in 2013 will be used against me should I do something in 2020 that the government doesn't like, that is PRISM, that is the road ahead.

The precedent is slowly being set and accepted by a loyal, flag waving populace who either are not paying attention, don't care, or worse, really think that this is keeping terrorists from winning.  Terror can achieve victory in more ways than simply resorting to physical violence.  The psychological threat is enough to usher in a feeling of panic, insecurity, and a desire to find a quick, temporary solution.  It is akin to a stalking victim carrying around a firearm, finger on the trigger ready to shoot the next shadowing figure walking next him or her.  It is not a solution, it is trauma.

The entire nation is stuck in a nightmarish world of PTSD from 9/11.  Naomi Klein wrote an excellent book, the Shock Doctrine, here's the trailer:

I would love to say that the people are waking up, but the mainstream media is taking a lax approach to covering PRISM, luckily we have a free Internet (for the moment) where all of us can rally against government abuse and really pad that PRISM profile at the same time.  Dissent is just as hard as patriotism, maybe harder.

This country was founded on Enlightenment principles of freedom, freedom from government, freedom to rebel, freedom to change, freedom to assemble, petition, and freedom to speak dissent.

PRISM monitors and profiles the dissenters as well as the terrorist cells in the US.  Presidents and politicians are fickle, but they like their jobs, all it takes is the loyal few to march, assemble, petition, and mouth off to get noticed.  It's what the founders would want expect.  Anything less, and the terrorists are winning without blowing anything else up.

Offer Better Streaming Plans

The New York Times ran this article and it has tapped into a personal grudge of mine, well, at least two grudges/concerns that I have been harboring against both HBO and Spotify (just two of the companies that offer streamable content online and one of two that I subscribe to).

With HBO GO it bothers me to no end that they will not abandon, or at least open up, their content in a similar way that Hulu, Netflix, and a variety of other companies will: on a subscription basis.  I would happily abandon Netflix at $7.99 a month to subscribe to HBO Go at $9.99/month or even $15 or maybe even $20.  I don't want to get cable, I would have to use Comcast and I give them enough money a month just to retain high speed Internet access.  I called Comcast and said, "Just give me HBO," and they said they wouldn't without a base cable plan, plus a premium attachment.  That's just total bullshit.  It's just a money grab.  Sure, I would love basic cable so I could watch C-SPAN, TLC, and The History Channel.  But I don't need the infotainment triumvirate of CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC, or the shitty sports and other "lifestyle" channels.  And I shouldn't have to have access to them simply to get to premium content.

But, alas, HBO doesn't want to build the structure to deal with the end result, and when you have something that people will break down and buy regardless of the personal distaste listed above, what do they have to lose?  What was more interesting in the NY Times article is that HBO seems to understand that rampant sharing of their content is occurring, and they are taking this approach:

They have little ability to track and curtail their customers who are sharing account information, according to Jeff Cusson, senior vice president for corporate affairs at HBO. And, he said, the network doesn’t view the sharing “as a pervasive problem at this time.”

According to HBO, 6.5 million of its 30 million subscribers have signed up for HBO Go. When I asked Mr. Cusson if the network would consider figuring out a way to capture and monetize those slippery users who were piggybacking on others’ accounts, he declined to speculate on what might be possible.

“The best business approach at the time is in the business model that we currently have,” he said.

I can't see how this is not a win/win for HBO.  Just a little over 20% of it's subscription base has activated the free HBO GO feature, so those 6.5 million who are giving out their passwords are just giving HBO a free way to tout its exceptional programming, that could lead to people either 1) subscribing to HBO via cable provider or 2) purchasing HBO content either digitally or through DVDs.  Win/win.

As for Spotify, I have a love/hate relationship with those bastards.  They charge me $9.99 a month so I can stream practically any music I desire, but the minute my wife or I try to listen to different music through Spotify on any platform, it kicks one of us off.  That's pretty shitty Spotify - even Netflix doesn't pull that kind of crap.  I'm unwilling to give Spotify $20 large so both of us can listen to music.  Even old Ma Bell has a family plan for it's customers.  Which leads me to why this article was such a great boon (and worth my subscription to the digital NY Times), this might be a solution to my Spotify problem.

In the long run the old mid-twentieth century business model concerning entertainment/media is falling apart.  If content providers want to fight piracy (and let's face it, that is what streaming cheap to affordable priced digital content is attempting to do) they need to get smart, realize that we all have access to the content already, some of us are still willing to pay for what we get, just don't gouge us, the old system of price fixing is fading.

A Supposedly Fun Thing

I always remember the first time that I watched Annie Hall, that existential crisis that Woody Allen's younger self has when he doesn't seem to care to move on with, I believe it was a homework assignment or some such thing, because he read that the universe was eventually going to explode, and he realized that it all didn't really matter.

Every morning I get up I feel the same way, only on a more finite scale, that is, what does it all mean, why do I care, why should I care, I'm just going to die either later today, tomorrow, two years from now, or twenty years from now.

I'm a real upper in the mornings (usually when my alarm on my phone is prodding me up at 5:30 a.m. to go running, which I need to do since I'm running the Portland Marathon later this year and am about 50-75 pounds over my goal weight for, hell, not even for running, just for living, yet I just hit snooze and laze in my warm blankets hoping that somehow I'll just magically show up on that cold October morning ready to run 26.2 miles, and then it starts... what does it matter, I'll just be dead someday soon).

Then, when I get going, feel good, like I have some control, I feel like Bart does in The Simpsons episode, "A Totally Fun Thing That Bart Will Never Do Again:"

The general uneasy feeling I have coursing through me at any given moment is my utter lack of preparedness of my 30's.  I blew my 20's in college and saying, "I'll get serious when I have X."  Well about fifty "x moments" have come and gone and I realized something - life is a blast.  It's a horrible, ugly, brutish and fun blast.  Sure I'm going to die, the universe will end, and my cruise is closing in on half over, but I'm still alive, and since I'm going to die and can't take anything with me, why worry?  I'm not one to believe in the immortality of the soul or an afterlife.  My position in this weird conscious state of life is it's one and done, so I'm going to make the most of it, I'm going to scare myself, try new things, like getting up at 5:30 a.m. and running, on a Saturday.