I decided to do a commercialism/consumerism bit because in the United States of America it is Black Friday, which is a day when the bottom falls out of consumerism and people draw blood for 20% discounts on dishrags and various goods manufactured overseas. The obvious problem is that Black Friday is not patriotic. If you want to see how eager the average citizen of the world is to sell out their country, you just have to search YouTube for Black Friday videos. It seems most people would bum-rush the secret service for a $20 doohickey or polymer-based thingamajig.
What really sickens me is the subliminal vibes I get from the videos. There are literally herds of consumers. Yes, they are consumers at that point and, to the people advertising at them, not humans. They forget themselves in a strange orgy of incompetent and overloaded greed. I see that as degradation. There are a few news stories about it each year but no gigantic outcry.
Well, I think that Black Friday makes explicit the implicit degradation of consumerism, in which every bit of human potential is swept up in a subhuman madness to get the most for your money - from corporations to the individuals who mimic their behavior. There are no particular individuals to blame for a pathological, systematic problem. I don't hate consumerists. I don't even pity them. They are just bums with money, and in this era being a philistine is completely acceptable, so they work towards the next holiday, the next sale, the next iPhone, et cetera...
Despite facile attempts at being ethical and ecologically friendly, consumerism is more and more a bald lie that people chase because there's little else to do in the modern world but buy things, favourite things, attend things, unbox things, use them, show them off, and throw them out when they become outdated or broken. Oh and if you don't fit into this system there are labels for you: from communist to hobo to slob to snob. This goes beyond the differences between a pedestrian and a highbrow activist. I don't want my and my descendant's future sold to the highest bidder and sold at inflated prices to a mindless horde. I have to wonder if the bottom has fallen out of consumerism, but despite scenes of insane lemmingism I feel it will continue to be a powerful force in the world. Smug capitalism laughs, because this is all a useful distraction.
I find it sickening. Others might see it as fun or harmless, but consumerism guts economies and degrades not only the planet but the human spirit. For all that, spineless millions are unable or unwilling to give up the endless chase and (almost all) world leaders are curiously quiet on the matter. If commercial reform is going to happen, it will have to start with the literate consumer and work its way down the food-chain. Greed is a powerful and addictive drug, next to which cocaine looks like baby powder. This habit is going to leave our species on a truly heartbreaking comedown, and the more we snort the harder we will fall.
And I'm not innocent. Nobody is innocent, and I admit that we need things. However there are currently too many things and not enough reasons for them to exist. Production quotas could be fairer to natural resources and manufacturing does not have to be concentrated in coastal China. There are a lot of things that could be done, and our deluded quality of life might have to change, but if it doesn't, it's only a matter of time before herds of North American Consumers are fighting not for deals, but for livelihoods, to say nothing of consumers, producers, and bums across the world. So in the end I have to give it to Black Friday: thanks for showing how disgraceful we really are at our cores, and hopefully we notice this and do something about it.
11/26/11
11/24/11
Douchestache
Douchestache – unrelated to Movember – just a good portmanteau. Feel free to spread it. Or hate it. I think it's good for a chuckle or two.
11/21/11
Terrible Mustache Month
But it's all for a good cause so everyone's happy and cheerful about it. Especially anybody with an epic mustache.
Still it's kind of odd and all. If someone were to suggest a month where a woman, say, stops shaving her legs or armpits I'm sure there would be zealous adherents and frothing opponents. In short there would be some type of stir, instead of some type of placidly accepted status quo and some good-natured chuckling. And I'm not just Politics of Identity 101 with a spastic keyboard or anything, so in lieu of a truly similar month for women (I'm thinking February because Valentine's should be for the true lovers ONLY) I have this funny idea and I write it out cautiously on the blog. Should there not be an equitable analogue? Does it even matter?
Movember is just kind of unremarkable. If you forget to grow your mustache there will be mounting tension toward the end of the month as the involved stare you down. If nobody you know engages in this sort of behavior there is a chance of escape, but those around you will otherwise consider you a cancer supporter if you shave your top lip. Maybe they'll be joking, but the thought will have existed all the same. I think a man should grow a mustache whenever he damned well wants or when there's no more razors or shaving expertise around. Yet who can contradict the almighty important cause?
Oh but wait, the best part of all of this is yet to come: growing hair is a constant, unconscious, passive thing. What better way to fund-raise, and show support for a cause, and do something profound than to let alone a natural process for a couple of weeks? When some men grow out their facial hair they are looked at funny, and if they have unfortunate trimming habits they will be judged accordingly, sometimes negatively. Some men can only grow sparse facial hair, and do not want patchy, isolated follicles and the pseudo-juvenile appearance that goes along with that.
Finally, explicit focus on the mustache makes a dilemma for the habitually bearded. What does he do? He wears a mustache as a matter of habit but when it is not isolated from a beard it is less of a statement, because a 'stache simply makes more sense as part of a bearded face.
I don't know. I think it's an odd business for a good cause, part of the passive-man reorganization of society that has been underway for the better part of two thousand years. I have no alternatives so I am not critical of it, but I look at it strangely – as I look at the unfortunate mustache on my own face. And I am tempted to get rid of it, but then I just know that the end of November AKA 'Movember' (A statutory holiday for hipsters and activists) will turn into a hazardous farce if I dare shave at this point. Occam's Razor, even, could not solve this type of problem
Still it's kind of odd and all. If someone were to suggest a month where a woman, say, stops shaving her legs or armpits I'm sure there would be zealous adherents and frothing opponents. In short there would be some type of stir, instead of some type of placidly accepted status quo and some good-natured chuckling. And I'm not just Politics of Identity 101 with a spastic keyboard or anything, so in lieu of a truly similar month for women (I'm thinking February because Valentine's should be for the true lovers ONLY) I have this funny idea and I write it out cautiously on the blog. Should there not be an equitable analogue? Does it even matter?
Movember is just kind of unremarkable. If you forget to grow your mustache there will be mounting tension toward the end of the month as the involved stare you down. If nobody you know engages in this sort of behavior there is a chance of escape, but those around you will otherwise consider you a cancer supporter if you shave your top lip. Maybe they'll be joking, but the thought will have existed all the same. I think a man should grow a mustache whenever he damned well wants or when there's no more razors or shaving expertise around. Yet who can contradict the almighty important cause?
Oh but wait, the best part of all of this is yet to come: growing hair is a constant, unconscious, passive thing. What better way to fund-raise, and show support for a cause, and do something profound than to let alone a natural process for a couple of weeks? When some men grow out their facial hair they are looked at funny, and if they have unfortunate trimming habits they will be judged accordingly, sometimes negatively. Some men can only grow sparse facial hair, and do not want patchy, isolated follicles and the pseudo-juvenile appearance that goes along with that.
Finally, explicit focus on the mustache makes a dilemma for the habitually bearded. What does he do? He wears a mustache as a matter of habit but when it is not isolated from a beard it is less of a statement, because a 'stache simply makes more sense as part of a bearded face.
I don't know. I think it's an odd business for a good cause, part of the passive-man reorganization of society that has been underway for the better part of two thousand years. I have no alternatives so I am not critical of it, but I look at it strangely – as I look at the unfortunate mustache on my own face. And I am tempted to get rid of it, but then I just know that the end of November AKA 'Movember' (A statutory holiday for hipsters and activists) will turn into a hazardous farce if I dare shave at this point. Occam's Razor, even, could not solve this type of problem
11/15/11
Community.net/No Obituaries Yet/Don't Panic/What?
NBC is a troubled network. Let's get that out of the way. Other networks have crazy-popular TV franchises and series and the name of the game is viewership. Quirky shows don't do super well in a line-up crowded by quirk-fests such as Glee, Big Bang Theory, and How I Met Your Mother. However you look at it, or however you feel about quirky television, there are still lame-stream sitcoms being made in this era, and they are still watched. NBC has led the pack in terms of quality for a while. 2009 was a ridiculously strong season for them: 30 Rock at its peak (or just over it), Community out of the blue like a bolt of lightning, and Parks & Rec to round out the quirky slapdash humor.
But there was competition by shows that simply got more viewers. So the NBC lineup was always dwarfed by Two and a Half Men or American Idol or any type of one-dimensional trash. I've stopped watching television and I think the latest season of Community is the most inconsistent yet. I have more or less stopped watching or being excited about it, but there was at least one fantastic episode, so the show is not a write-off. There have been enough weak efforts, though, that the executive decision to shelve the program is not entirely surprising. There are simply not enough regular watchers to buoy the show, and the fans are a dedicated bunch but they're not the millions of people the show needs to survive.
The news is that NBC have moved Community off the roster of televised shows for the midseason (January). Whether this is to be competitive or what it means for the show remains to be seen. Obviously, television nerds are furious about this decision, especially since the reeking bomb that is Whitney has not been cancelled yet. And that show is probably the reeking bomb of the season, but I understand why it was made and why the network is still apparently supportive: the dumb pantywaist yuppie demographic needs its fix of lukewarm comedy, and Friends was so long ago, and so fondly remembered, that it would be foolish not to try and resurrect that kind of audience and show.
But nobody can recapture that magic. Friends had something that no contemporary similar show has captured. Perfect Couples was near to doing it but got canned just as things were heating up. Then the Paul Reiser show that NBC doesn't even acknowledge having broadcast. Things are tough at that network and there's just no coherent stance. They can't have too many Parks & Rec, 30 Rock, or Community-styled shows without appearing 'highbrow' or purveyors of 'comedy snobbery' so they have to pander to the folks who are still loyal to Two and a Half Men. Whatever. Some people watch television for background noise, or to simply stare at moving pictures, or to yawn and relax. Not everyone wants to think about a joke, remember a scene, or pay attention. That's how it is.
Well, Community may stay or it may be cancelled. Lots of good shows don't last long, and lots of bullshit keeps airing after any of its worth has expired. I believed television was more or less hopeless before Community and I'm sure another great show will come along. Eventually. Until then people can keep trying to make this into an issue. But it's not an issue, it's just a slight deviation from regular programming.
But there was competition by shows that simply got more viewers. So the NBC lineup was always dwarfed by Two and a Half Men or American Idol or any type of one-dimensional trash. I've stopped watching television and I think the latest season of Community is the most inconsistent yet. I have more or less stopped watching or being excited about it, but there was at least one fantastic episode, so the show is not a write-off. There have been enough weak efforts, though, that the executive decision to shelve the program is not entirely surprising. There are simply not enough regular watchers to buoy the show, and the fans are a dedicated bunch but they're not the millions of people the show needs to survive.
The news is that NBC have moved Community off the roster of televised shows for the midseason (January). Whether this is to be competitive or what it means for the show remains to be seen. Obviously, television nerds are furious about this decision, especially since the reeking bomb that is Whitney has not been cancelled yet. And that show is probably the reeking bomb of the season, but I understand why it was made and why the network is still apparently supportive: the dumb pantywaist yuppie demographic needs its fix of lukewarm comedy, and Friends was so long ago, and so fondly remembered, that it would be foolish not to try and resurrect that kind of audience and show.
But nobody can recapture that magic. Friends had something that no contemporary similar show has captured. Perfect Couples was near to doing it but got canned just as things were heating up. Then the Paul Reiser show that NBC doesn't even acknowledge having broadcast. Things are tough at that network and there's just no coherent stance. They can't have too many Parks & Rec, 30 Rock, or Community-styled shows without appearing 'highbrow' or purveyors of 'comedy snobbery' so they have to pander to the folks who are still loyal to Two and a Half Men. Whatever. Some people watch television for background noise, or to simply stare at moving pictures, or to yawn and relax. Not everyone wants to think about a joke, remember a scene, or pay attention. That's how it is.
Well, Community may stay or it may be cancelled. Lots of good shows don't last long, and lots of bullshit keeps airing after any of its worth has expired. I believed television was more or less hopeless before Community and I'm sure another great show will come along. Eventually. Until then people can keep trying to make this into an issue. But it's not an issue, it's just a slight deviation from regular programming.
11/8/11
The Unpublished Writer
There's really no worse type of writer. There are hack writers, there are pretentious litterateurs, there are boring scholarly writers, there are award winners, there are profound writers, there are dead writers, there are exciting but empty pulp writers, and there are amateur writers who fund 200 copy runs out of pocket and sell most of them to friends and family and get interviewed in small town newspapers. All of those writers are doing what they love and are not worried about tomorrow: they produce, sometimes they get published, often they are the victims of overrating and hype. For the most part they are just adding to the colossal pile of wasted paper that represents literature in situ.
Then there are unpublished writers. Like cockroaches, they are headless survivors, unable to feed on their aspirations, often orphaned from inspiration, hiding in the shadows and mostly consuming (when they can, headless and all) and producing filth. It's impossible to really understand how many unpublished writers there are, or what drives them. Beyond merest subsistence, this type of writer has few goals that are concrete. A poem-a-day work quota, three hours of prose/day, or half a screenplay each night are not unbeknownst to the unpublished writer, but they are better acquainted with day-jobs and drinking binges and hopelessness. When they set down to work on half-forgotten characters and plots, these poor souls get caught in a vicious cycle of re-reading and compulsive editing. They are procrastinators, and in fact their relation to cockroaches is facile and untrue.
The cockroaches, at least, get published and exist in the tedious middle-ground of writerly success: readings, signings, 10-15k a year plus some royalties if they're lucky, and maybe some articles and exposure pieces to round out the old portfolio. They could go into television or radio writing. They could go into various types of copy writing. Marketing and advertising are the prime escape vectors, but times are hard. Sometimes they're shortlisted for a prize and their cachet goes up for a while and they entertain visions of success.
Compare this to the spider that is the unpublished writer: day job madness, late nights, drugs, hair-pulling typing escapades with open source word processors. They see themselves as hopeless moonlighters. Somewhere in an immense tangled web of wasted promise, these writers slowly produce tortured works that are blurred with self-revelation and inconsistent style. Then silence for weeks or even years. Inspiration comes brightly and passes quickly and leaves no marks. No, the unpublished writer is wretched, and each year passes without a printed work or anything noteworthy for the portfolio. Queries are shot down in flames, credentials are nonexistent and mocked, routes to success are suggested, and the book is closed.
And another year passes, and with it any hope of true and honest publication. All they ask for – these withered shells, who write from their soul, who wouldn't use a vanity publisher if they were paid to, whose every word is wearied and grim – is a spot at the corpse-crowded table where the hacks drink greedily and pontificate about saleability and audience, where the old guard hoard awards, where the bright new prodigies bullshit openly, and where the eyes of the reading public are focused like the glimmering eyes of wolves in the dark... yes, the reading public, waiting for their three or four inspired works per decade, habitual readers who yearn for something new – something, perhaps, that has been overlooked, a supposedly worthless bauble in the cold, dying grasp of the unpublished writer.
Then there are unpublished writers. Like cockroaches, they are headless survivors, unable to feed on their aspirations, often orphaned from inspiration, hiding in the shadows and mostly consuming (when they can, headless and all) and producing filth. It's impossible to really understand how many unpublished writers there are, or what drives them. Beyond merest subsistence, this type of writer has few goals that are concrete. A poem-a-day work quota, three hours of prose/day, or half a screenplay each night are not unbeknownst to the unpublished writer, but they are better acquainted with day-jobs and drinking binges and hopelessness. When they set down to work on half-forgotten characters and plots, these poor souls get caught in a vicious cycle of re-reading and compulsive editing. They are procrastinators, and in fact their relation to cockroaches is facile and untrue.
The cockroaches, at least, get published and exist in the tedious middle-ground of writerly success: readings, signings, 10-15k a year plus some royalties if they're lucky, and maybe some articles and exposure pieces to round out the old portfolio. They could go into television or radio writing. They could go into various types of copy writing. Marketing and advertising are the prime escape vectors, but times are hard. Sometimes they're shortlisted for a prize and their cachet goes up for a while and they entertain visions of success.
Compare this to the spider that is the unpublished writer: day job madness, late nights, drugs, hair-pulling typing escapades with open source word processors. They see themselves as hopeless moonlighters. Somewhere in an immense tangled web of wasted promise, these writers slowly produce tortured works that are blurred with self-revelation and inconsistent style. Then silence for weeks or even years. Inspiration comes brightly and passes quickly and leaves no marks. No, the unpublished writer is wretched, and each year passes without a printed work or anything noteworthy for the portfolio. Queries are shot down in flames, credentials are nonexistent and mocked, routes to success are suggested, and the book is closed.
And another year passes, and with it any hope of true and honest publication. All they ask for – these withered shells, who write from their soul, who wouldn't use a vanity publisher if they were paid to, whose every word is wearied and grim – is a spot at the corpse-crowded table where the hacks drink greedily and pontificate about saleability and audience, where the old guard hoard awards, where the bright new prodigies bullshit openly, and where the eyes of the reading public are focused like the glimmering eyes of wolves in the dark... yes, the reading public, waiting for their three or four inspired works per decade, habitual readers who yearn for something new – something, perhaps, that has been overlooked, a supposedly worthless bauble in the cold, dying grasp of the unpublished writer.
11/6/11
Daylight Savings Time
Probably the worst invention ever, Daylight Savings time robs hard-sleeping, late-rocking people of one full hour of darkness and also ensures an early nightfall for the rest of everyone who goes to bed on time. There's no deal like less daylight. I once researched DST and saw that it was done mostly to screw with farmers and boost consumerism. Seeing as where screwing farmers and chasing consumerism has gotten us, perhaps it's a good idea to drop DST like the filthy bastard it is. We don't need our only link to natural time (moving sunlight) altered on an arbitrary day.
We could also experiment with waking up later, not having an ironclad, unrealistic time-table for small business and retail, or just being happy with the usual dawn and usual dusk. These things do not have to be altered, and the hour everyone gains is actually a lost cause, more or less. DST is one of those small things that's actually a gigantic sign of human arrogance and the arbitrary nature of 'time' as mechanistically conceived nonsense.
We are, apparently, an intellectually gifted species, so why do we balk at the idea of darkness? Why do we ignore the fact that there is simply less sunlight at certain latitudes? Why do we delude ourselves with arbitrary judgements? Why can we not live in harmony with nature's cool tricks? Turn your lights off and keep sleeping. Buy blankets for your bed and keep your furnace off and grow a thicker skin, humanity. In 50 years our starving ancestors will hate us for hoarding comfort in our time, and if they find our elder selves they will skin us for our treasured soft-skin, even though it is fragile and lets cold air through.
Maybe I say this because I like darkness at 6:30 in the morning, and I wouldn't mind an 8:00 AM sunrise in mid-December. I think if you live in the northern or southern hemispheres of this planet you should goddamn well deal with the colder temperatures and the fleeting sun. Make the most of your day, don't change it by an hour so you can feel like you're doing something.
P.S. It occurs to me that I may not know anything about DST, in which case my objections stand. If DST was never brought around these frustrations would never have existed. I don't know whether DST actually steals or gives hours (which is unlikely, as matter and energy yadda yadda) but when it changes anything, it does so in a troublesome way. If DST is responsible for darker mornings and longer evenings, then I suppose I am against my own self-interests, which is fine, just look at America. Yadda yadda yadda.
We could also experiment with waking up later, not having an ironclad, unrealistic time-table for small business and retail, or just being happy with the usual dawn and usual dusk. These things do not have to be altered, and the hour everyone gains is actually a lost cause, more or less. DST is one of those small things that's actually a gigantic sign of human arrogance and the arbitrary nature of 'time' as mechanistically conceived nonsense.
We are, apparently, an intellectually gifted species, so why do we balk at the idea of darkness? Why do we ignore the fact that there is simply less sunlight at certain latitudes? Why do we delude ourselves with arbitrary judgements? Why can we not live in harmony with nature's cool tricks? Turn your lights off and keep sleeping. Buy blankets for your bed and keep your furnace off and grow a thicker skin, humanity. In 50 years our starving ancestors will hate us for hoarding comfort in our time, and if they find our elder selves they will skin us for our treasured soft-skin, even though it is fragile and lets cold air through.
Maybe I say this because I like darkness at 6:30 in the morning, and I wouldn't mind an 8:00 AM sunrise in mid-December. I think if you live in the northern or southern hemispheres of this planet you should goddamn well deal with the colder temperatures and the fleeting sun. Make the most of your day, don't change it by an hour so you can feel like you're doing something.
P.S. It occurs to me that I may not know anything about DST, in which case my objections stand. If DST was never brought around these frustrations would never have existed. I don't know whether DST actually steals or gives hours (which is unlikely, as matter and energy yadda yadda) but when it changes anything, it does so in a troublesome way. If DST is responsible for darker mornings and longer evenings, then I suppose I am against my own self-interests, which is fine, just look at America. Yadda yadda yadda.
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