Saturday, November 8, 2008
Response to Readers
Do you believe that collective consciousness is a force powerful enough to effect real change as we have seen in the phenomenal efforts of the american voters this election?
Or do you believe that the average "joe the plumber" or "nancy the nurse" will retreat back into their own world or personal consciousness, embracing and protecting their individual cultures while ignoring inequalities, gender discrimination, and ecological destruction?
And finally do you believe that we, as a people, have evolved sufficiently to awaken our capacity for collective knowing and conscious action?
“Collective consciousness” is an interesting concept, particularly when applied to an activity such as electing a president. My impression of a collective consciousness entails everyone in a particular group being on the same page; having the same idea about a particular subject; sympatico. This can be as simple as a family unit knowing exactly what is being referred to when the crazy cousin is mentioned or as broad as a nation experiencing a moment of homogeneity, for example, everyone understanding a pop culture reference like the expression “voted off the island.”
But do I believe that it is a force powerful enough to effect real change? Obviously there is a form of collective rallying that brings about change. Examples of this are the American Revolution, women’s suffrage and the civil rights movement. However I wouldn’t classify the source of these phenomena under the same category as “collective consciousness.” To me, the collective consciousness is the “awake version” of the collective unconscious, as described by Carl Jung. It is my opinion that such a consciousness is completely passive, in other words, knowledge about a thing that is shared by a homogenous social group, be it a family, a classroom, friends at a local pub, a town or a nation. The changes to which this reader refers and the instances I mentioned above take a far more active participation. The result of the recent presidential election was not really a function of the collective consciousness, although obviously a certain degree of being “on the same page” was involved. Certainly the majority of the nation was sympathetic to Barak Obama, but his actual election was carried out because of millions of actions by individuals, not because a lot of people were simply aware of Obama and his ideas. Non-Obama voters were aware of Obama and his ideas, but this didn’t help get him elected.
As an analogy, let's look at a mountain. Over time the mountain is eroded, worn down. Why? Not exactly because of “the rain” that falls or “the beach” at its base that scours. Just because weather and the forces of nature exist does not necessarily mean that they will affect the mountain. But each individual raindrop makes a tiny but indelible mark on the mountainside. Each individual grain of sand scours its own tiny groove in the mountain. Every glob of ice that freezes in the mountain’s cracks makes those cracks a tiny bit wider. If the rain or sand or ice are not in proximity to the mountain, they do nothing. Eventually, after enough actions of the tiny drops and sand and ice, the mountain is eroded down to nothing. Similarly, it was not the collective awareness of Barak Obama that got him elected just as the mere existence of weather will not erode the mountain, but the collective actions of millions of individuals that did so, much as the millions of raindrops and sand grains that, individually and collectively, accomplish their task. As I said before, this is a much more active participation than simple collective consciousness. Barack Obama (and John McCain and all the other candidates) had to not only exist, but inspire their constituents. This took work. Once inspired, the voters could not just sit home and cheer, but actually had to take action. This same process had to take place with the other examples listed above - the American Revolution, suffrage, civil rights, etc. In another analogy, a smoker may be conscious that his habit is harmful, but that knowledge is useless unless action is taken. Consciousness is necessary for any overhaul, whether involving an individual or group, yes, but collective action is a far more important step in implementing changes in a society.
Now I think the real question this reader wants to know is ‘do I think this “force for change” will continue?’ This is hinted at in the next questions asked. Will “Joe the plumber” and “Nancy the nurse” retreat back in their own little world and ignore the problems with society? Well, there have always been segments of society who are xenophobic, agoraphobic and any other phobia you can describe that involves anything new and different. The individuals making up these societal groups may vary, but the phobics will always be there. An even bigger question is: Will the people that rallied and supported and elected Obama continue their momentum and remain active participants in the process of “change,” or will they sit back and say “I’ve done my job; I voted; now let Obama do all the rest of the work”?
That seems to be a far more challenging question to answer. The American public has been motivated before to effect real change, such as in the other examples I’ve given. The American revolutionaries didn’t just get motivated for one day, it took years of action, work, suffering, meetings, fighting, and killing to accomplish their goals. Passion was not enough, action was what was needed. The same goes for women’s suffrage, civil rights and many other transformations in society. The real issue is whether or not Americans are willing to do their individual part in taking actual action in making things happen. Are we willing to make our voices heard, to speak to our neighbor, to make sacrifices for change?
But wait! What changes are we talking about? That’s another big question, isn’t it? Specifically, what is it we want changed? We’ve heard that word over and over and over. Change change change. Any reasonable person would want to know exactly what it is they are expected to sacrifice and work for. In our examples, the goals were very tangible: independence from an oppressive government, the right to vote, equal treatment regardless of race. In the current topic, I look forward to seeing what our new president plans on doing. But specifically what changes are we expected to strive toward? “Tax reform” seems a rather vague goal for everyday Americans to sacrifice for. “Universal health care” sounds nice, but what precisely am I expected to do about it? “Global warming” sounds like a good, solid cause to rally around, but there is no reason to expect that the country buying Toyota Priuses is going to restore the polar ice caps. The broad term “change” is entirely too nebulous for me to work toward. I’d be happy to do something, but what? At least in the American Revolution our forefathers were able to pick up a musket or sword and aim it at something tangible. Right now, not so much.
Lastly, I believe I’ve already answered this readers third question, namely if we have sufficiently evolved to awaken our collective knowing and capacity for conscious action. “Collective knowing” is just that. It requires no action beyond just being awake and somewhat aware of society around you. Collective action has been a part of human history since the dawn of civilization. In fact civilization would not exist were it not for some form of collective action, even if it is as simple as being part of a village in the most primitive hunter-gatherer society. The questions facing our society today are “Where and how should we direct our collective action? And are we willing to?’
Monday, November 3, 2008
Top 10 Good Thing Regardless of Who Wins
Top ten good things if McCain & Palin win:
10. Tina Fey has four years of steady work at SNL.
9. Free elk & moose hunting licenses for all.
8. Democrats sulk for four more years.
7. We get to petition the government for a bailout whenever we’re overdrawn (precedent, right?)
6. We explore the U.S. like Lewis and Clark because other countries want to kill Americans.
5. Satellite photos of Russians looking across the Bering Strait saying “I can’t see her house. What is she talking about?”
4. Revolving door at Mexican border furnished with plush carpeting and string orchestra.
3. George W. Bush captured by Iraquis and exiled to Isle of Elba, Napoleon-style.
2. Great Britain declares independence from United States.
1. David Letterman and Jay Leno have awesome monologs while Sarah Palin in office.
Top 10 good things if Obama & Biden win:
10. The look on welfare recipients faces who voted for Obama when they are now expected to get jobs.
9. The look on Obama’s face when welfare recipients refuse to get jobs.
8. Canada welcomes rich folks seeking tax refuge with open arms.
7. Other countries not quite so dangerous to visit.
6. Christians get first-hand experience dealing with those mysterious Muslims.
5. Huge reduction in military spending because the U.S. can’t afford it anymore, what with all the Socialist...er...”domestic” spending.
4. Everyone who shops at The Gap can look like the first lady. (4a. Fifth Avenue elite stores go out of business and the neighborhood becomes far more interesting.)
3. Revolving door at Mexican border replaced with one-way door into US, but no plush carpet or orchestra. Driver’s licenses handed out upon entry.
2. Universal healthcare clinics staffed by Obama voters. Affordable Chinese herbal medicines, rhinoceros tusks and chakri stones are the standard of care.
1. Russia, Cuba & China are our new best friends forever. Long live Obamunism!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Throwing Your Vote Away
Second, the particular candidate who I plan on voting for is someone who I believe has a firm grasp on many changes that would be a strong positive influence on America as a nation and as a society. He has had many years serving in the federal government and has plenty of experience with foreign policy. I have read his writings and find that the vast majority of his ideas not only make sense, but are entirely workable.
There are other reasons as well, but the main point of this particular diatribe is in response to friends and acquaintances who have confronted me with their challenge about why I am “throwing my vote away” on an “also-ran” candidate with no shot of winning the election. My response is this: The candidate I have in mind has the right idea to make the changes needed to at least boost, if not fix the economy. His views on foreign policy are exactly what the country needs to limit its vast expenditures overseas while simultaneously reforming the rest of the world's general despise of the USA. His ideas on tax reform are quite fair and workable. I do not believe he is some sort of messiah; no president could ever be. In fact, I strongly believe that being president precludes any sort of messianic aspirations one may have.
Neither front-runner candidate (McCain or Obama) has any sort of plan that is any more than a reshuffling of the deck chairs on this particular Titanic country. My friends have encouraged me to not “throw away” my vote. Some have pleaded with me to vote for Obama so that McCain doesn’t get into the White House. Others have begged that I vote for McCain so Obama doesn’t acquire the Presidency. Both camps have asked me to vote for the lesser of two evils.
Who is really the one throwing their vote away? The one who votes for the guy who might actually do something positive for our nation? Or the one who votes for the lesser of two evils? Imagine what a great nation we could have been if voters actually elected the right man for the job, rather than the one with the “best” political endorsements. I am the one asking you: please don’t throw your vote away.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
New Mayor Ray Nagin Pinata!
But the fun doesn't end there. Just like it's namesake, it doesn't take much for the Mayor Ray Nagin Piñata to release its treats that party-goers and media personalities can chew on for a long, long time! To cut down on weight, the head is mostly empty, but the mouth part of the piñata is filled with goodness. Yes, after the fun of whacking Nagin's head for a while, the mouth opens and spills out a seemingly endless torrent of sweets with virtually no nutritional value!
From the Mayor Ray Nagin Piñata, there comes a delightful assortment of treats. You'll find no shortage of chocolate bars – Chunky's, Nestle's, Milky Ways and Hershey's (with and without nuts). As a unique feature, the piñata will also gush forth with fortune cookies, all featuring a classic Nagin gem as a fortune. “New York can't fix a hole in the ground,” “By the end of the day, this will be a Chocolate City,” “Everything is the media's fault,” and the latest Naginism, “Just ask for the Ray Nagin special” are among the fortunes you'll find. Trade with your friends and collect them all!
With the new Mayor Ray Nagin Piñata, you'll find that piñatas aren't just for kids anymore! Everyone's fantasies are indulged with the ability to physically beat Nagin as well as a Category 5 tempest of delicious sayings right from his mouth! Also available soon from Chocolate City Industries is the Mayor Ray Nagin Piñata Mark II, which features the Mayor's foot already inserted in the mouth. In addition, soon you can look for the Stealth Piñata – an image of the mayor's spokeswoman, Ceeon Quiett. The Stealth Piñata makes a great gag gift to give to anyone who appreciates an ironic sense of humor. You can poke her, beat her and otherwise coerce her, but she'll never let anything fall from her mouth (for advanced piñata users only).
If you're one of the first 500 to order, we'll throw in a piñata stick with which to beat the Mayor Ray Nagin Piñata. This is no ordinary stick; it's guaranteed to make the Nagin-beating experience 100% more enjoyable! How, you ask? It's tipped with a replica of the “Courage and Leadership in Recovery” award! But wait, that's not all! If you order now, we'll include free of charge a sheaf of apology letters from various city government and business associations addressed to anyone who might be injured or offended by Nagin's droppings. Get one today!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Nola.com Needs to Remove the "Comments" Section
Article
Some person was killed in the nth hundred block of [Random Street] in some ghetto neighborhood. NOPD has no motive or suspect. Call Crimestoppers (yeah, right).
Comments
Posted by (Happy_Glad)
I'm just glad that there's one less thug to worry about on the streets. We can all be happy that the city's a little bit safer now. Let the thugs take each other out!
Posted by (White_Racist)
All these black people are ruining the Chocolate City. All black people are criminals and should be exported to the ocean!
Posted by (Black_Racist)
You're an idiot White_Racist. All crimes are committed by white folks. It's just that blacks are the only ones ever arrested.
Posted by (White_Racist)
No, you're the idiot.
Posted by (Black_Racist)
No, you are.
Posted by (White_Racist)
No you are.
Posted by (HolyMaryMotherofGod)
I just pray for the poor victims and their families! Oh, how forlorn the mother must feel! I pray for all victims of crimes because they must all be perfectly innocent!
Posted by (Pundidiot)
Well, I think all the crime in this city is because of [Public Official]'s greed and corruption! It's obvious that he/she is stupid and should be removed from earth! And It's all NOPD's fault too, because they should be able to stop people from even thinking about criminal acts! Get rid of all city officials!
Posted by (SaveTheChildren)
Were any children hurt in this shooting/stabbing/whatever? I hope not. Oh please let our poor fragile soap-bubble kids be okay...(boo hoo blubber blubber)!
Posted by (HurricaneHunter)
How can you people worry about murders and crime when there's a tropical storm in the gulf? We all know that all social ills are Katrina's fault anyway!
...And so on for about 100 posts. Thank you.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Crescent City Afternoon
Crescent City Afternoon
New Orleans, Louisiana
I walked out from Canal Place into the French Quarter to do some research on art galleries for an assignment. It was a typical New Orleans afternoon - sultry and breezeless, but not nearly as hot as it could have been. Most of the tourists would be gasping at the heat of the afternoon, but three-plus decades in this city had inured me to the heat and I thought that eighty-eight degrees Fahrenheit was quite nice. I pressed on into the streets, pleased that I had chosen such a tolerable day for my little outing.
It just so happened to be the day after Southern Decadence, the big gay and lesbian festival that draws a retinue from all over the continent. Gay guys were all over the Quarter, wandering in their little groups in and out of antiques shops and souvenir stores, occasionally eyeing me up and down. I didn't care. You can't live in town like New Orleans and be offended every time some fellow looks at you funny. Especially since it was me entering their turf down here. I let them walk by.
I passed restaurants whose smells made me want to stop in and eat, even though I had just had lunch. I listened to tourists trying to pronounce words like pray-leens, cray-fish and New Orleenz. I laughed for a second, and then caught myself as I recalled having to ask people in Ireland to repeat themselves five times because I couldn't understand their dialect of my own language. I felt a little bad about my intolerance of outsiders' ignorance or our very unique culture and dialect. Even I sometimes had a hard time with Cajun names for our own local food!
As I ambled through the streets I occasionally paused to watch some street performer juggling or playing music. They varied in skill from one to another. I noticed that the possession of talent didn't necessarily mean that you could draw a crowd. Many of the performers who had the most money in their coffers were the ones who did the crowd-pleasers. Musicians who hacked out "New Orleans" jazz and beloved pop tunes always had more money than those who lovingly and painstakingly played original compositions, no matter how well performed or composed. The fire-jugglers made more cash than the jugglers who juggled simple balls, regardless of how many times the fire-throwers dropped their sticks or how ineptly they recited their plagiarized comedy lines. You could tell the experienced ones; forsaking art for whatever got bills and coins lobbed into their boxes and instrument cases at their feet. I guessed the phenomenon of being a "sellout" wasn't limited to bands with big names and influential record labels.
Up Royal Street I went, searching for the shops I was supposed to write about. I found the first one. Closed. Annoyed, I peered past my reflection in the glass to get a feel for the store in case I didn't get a chance to come back when it was open. Distant thunder pealed, alerting everyone to the oncoming routine afternoon rainstorm. I took a few quick notes and moved on up the street, appreciative of the breeze that the nearby storm was kicking up.
I got to my next shop. It, too, was closed. I was determined not to get too aggravated by my failure to find open shops and galleries, yet I couldn't help but argue with the shopkeepers in my mind. 'Don't you know my pieces are like free advertising? Besides, you're missing out on all kinds of art and antique sales with all these gay guys in town!' I recalled a business report on the positive impact of Decadence on the local economy and wondered why everyone wasn't taking advantage of it. Then I paused and looked around me at the old buildings and streets, largely unchanged since the Spanish and French settlement. I felt almost ashamed that I had succumbed to the pervasive Yankee spirit that seems determined to erode away New Orleans' traditional laissez-faire attitude towards everything.
I had always been appreciative of the laid-back ennui so prevalent in Catholic countries I had visited like Mexico, Ireland and Italy. New Orleans, being primarily a Spanish colony, reflects that same feeling and hence embraces any time off from doing work. If you need evidence of this, just take a look around anytime there's a tropical storm anywhere close to the Gulf of Mexico. People don't track storms here to calculate how much time they'll have to prepare for the worst, but rather to see if a hurricane is close enough to furnish a legitimate enough excuse to take off from work. Today was a perfect example of this: if you're supposed to be closed on a Monday, then dammit, you're going to be closed, no matter how many rich gays are in town with cash burning holes in their tight pants. It is in contrast to the frenetic work ethic that brought us Germans, New England and corporate America. I grew even more appreciative of my town for gently reminding me that a Monday afternoon could be spent on a slow roam around the Vieux Carre, drinking in the ambiance that I supposedly am steeped in.
The rain eventually made its way down to my vicinity. You can always tell the locals from the tourists when it rains. The tourists took refuge in doorways and under overhangs, staring up at the sky, as if that would drive back the deluge. The locals, simply press on with wherever they were going or whatever they were doing, maybe opening an umbrella, maybe just getting wet. I kept going. As I never bring an umbrella with me, I just got wet. I smiled to myself, pleased with my own damp courage as I passed the cowering visitors. But soon the rain no longer wanted to share center stage with anyone and began coming down in earnest, driving even locals to sheltered areas lest they be painfully pelted with the precipitation. I paused and stood under an awning. The water was coming down faster than the downspouts on the buildings could handle, and it spurted up in geysers at knee level where the pipes were ill fitted into the ground. Nowhere else but in New Orleans could you have a rainstorm that poured down from the sky and up from the ground simultaneously.
Thunder and lightning cracked from the sky. From my awning, I happened to look directly at the sky when a brilliant bolt of lightning seared across the clouds, followed by an earth shaking rumble that jarred my bones. God was taking flash pictures, and the heavenly hosts of angels were all shouting "Cheese!"
But it seldom lasts long, and shortly after it began the sheets of rain diminished to mere pillowcases and dust ruffles of rain. I ventured down the walkway past the gay musclemen hiding in the doorways to the last art gallery in walking distance. I found it, recognizing it as the same spot where my car had been towed a few months before. I ducked in out of the persisting weather and knocked over one of the potted trees on the steps. Smooth. I was sure that the gallery owner would have a great first impression of this writer even though it seemed to me that such an ornament was ill placed on such a public thoroughfare. Nice going.
But he was very pleasant after all. In fact, the shopkeeper was actually the artist himself and I had a fascinating conversation with him. He offered me an umbrella to take with me as I left the gallery, which I politely declined (after all, I was soaked to the skin already; I'm sure I looked like a drowned rat) though I was truly impressed by his hospitality. I stepped back out onto the sidewalk and knocked over the same plant again. I was sure it wasn't my fault.
As I ambled back up Royal Street, I began to listen to the sounds around me. The rain had made everything sodden and most of the background noise was a hiss of some kind or other. Car tires squished along the wet road, remaining trickles of water hissed down from balconies onto the pavement and the moisture sizzled almost imperceptibly as it began to evaporate from the hot concrete and flagstone. Then through the hissing, a baritone voice boomed down the streets. As I got nearer its source, I could hear the song it was projecting. The verses of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" came through in what was unquestionably the best rendition I have ever heard. The singer was an old black man who had taken up in an archway on Royal that certainly had the most serendipitously perfect acoustics of any outdoor structure in the Quarter. I stopped for a minute to listen in awe. I had stepped into one of those picture postcards in the souvenir shops. I looked at the box at his feet. There was no money in it.
My town had surprised me once again. It is easy to get so disenchanted with New Orleans when you live here. You get fed up with the crime, the weather, the corrupt politicians and so on that you become blinded to the uniqueness that draws so many to our city. It had been an afternoon in the heart of New Orleans, spent doing truly "New Orleans" things; things that I now hoped others could appreciate. I hoped that my fellow New Orleanians would spend a few lazy afternoons in their town without trying to fight the heat or beat the weather or sneer at the tourists before deciding that they hate it here and move out. I hoped that more would appreciate the things that have always made this a great city since before there was an NFL and regardless of who is in City Hall and whether or not we have a big fancy stadium. Newly impressed by my town, I determined to make sure that it would not be long before I spent another Crescent City afternoon.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Taco Bell Mexi-Mood
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So I was at my local Taco Bell today, hankering for some fat-laden, artery clogging grub. After all I did write this article yesterday. While there, I noticed this advertisement beckoning folks to come join their team.
It encourages prospective employees to "apply your energy!" In the photo on the ad, there is more energy than an all-gay Broadway production of "Hairspray." (Yes, I realize that "all-gay Broadway production" of anything is redundant.) Anyway, look at the energetic kids in this ad! Laughing, smiling, singing and dancing! You'd have to measure their joy on the Richter scale.
Impressed by the depiction of frenzied paradise that must surely be the "Taco Bell employment experience," I looked around my immediate environs for the thrill-ride reactions that the local employees must surely be displaying, since they were already 'applying their energy' to this
particular establishment.This was my finding. Initially I was slightly disappointed, but then I decided to give these fun kids the benefit of the doubt. All that energy expenditure must take a lot out of an individual. Perhaps it was just intermission. No doubt they were just briefly recharging their batteries for another wild, wacky episode of Evening Shift at the Taco Bell. Patiently I waited for the energy to infuse the room.
Tick, tock.
One girl cracked a smile. Was this it? Was that the cue for the energy explosion?
The smile faded. Tick, tock.
The drive up window cashier chatted briefly with the expediter. The cashier at the counter register ate something from a bowl. Some burritos were thrown into existence. Another employee stared at the wall for a bit. Tick, tock.
Slowly, it began to dawn on me that the energy depicted in the second picture was about as intense as it was going to get. I nearly broke down in tears at the letdown. There was no singing, no dancing, no jazz-hands. I had been hoping for a napalm-fueled happy bomb to go off. All I got was the Snap'n'Pop of Apathy.
I won't let that get me down, though! I am determined to find that Taco Bell where those advertisement people are employed. I want to apply my energy. I want to soak up their energy. There must be a Taco Bell establishment with enough energy to power a town, judging by the recruiting ad. I will find that restaurant. I will be guided by its glow. There will be jazz-hands. I will be joyful. Amen.