No More Cult of ‘Me’

I am so weary of the Cult of ‘Me’.

Image result for the ego

What is the Cult of ‘Me’? I don’t think its an actual movement. I think its an unconscious reasoning that affects everyone at some point. I think its something that dominates many people’s thinking and thought process, even though they may not realize it. In fact I think it dominates many people’s thinking 24/7.

It’s that almost silent – or maybe, not so silent voice – that convinces us that we are in the right, and everyone else is in the wrong.  That anything that counters our arguments is ‘false’ or ‘fake news’ and that only the “I” knows what the truth is.

The Cult of ‘Me’ is Ego, its Arrogance and it’s self-delusion. And too many in power hold it up as unassailable and something that can’t be, shouldn’t be questioned.

“We both have truths. Are mine the same as yours?” are lines from a popular musical. It’s the age old argument, me vs. you, left vs. right, dark vs. light.

I think the Cult of ‘Me’ drives most advertising and marketing and that its a core value of most religions. And I think it is detrimental to the health of human society.

Let me state right up front, I don’t have an issue with spirituality or belief. I do have a big problem with religion. Especially evangelical and fundamentalist religions. I’m not going to go into that here – that’s a post for another day. But suffice it to say – I think religion cultivates and fosters the Cult of ‘Me’. It’s a requirement in fact.

The Cult of ‘Me’ is present in the belief or thinking that yours is the only answer, the only point of view, the only emotion, feeling, or argument that is valid and worthwhile.

Its a childish kind of thinking; a self-defensive mindset that rejects anything other than holding the self above everything and everyone.

I think a lot of people are more sociopathic than they care to admit. When you get right down to it, everyone is selfish. You may think you are doing things for a good cause or not for the you – but if you are truly honest with yourself, you will admit that most everything you do is geared toward your benefit.

You probably adhere to, cling to and defend stances, systems and principles that are not in your best interest.

Those who are blind to their Cult of ‘Me’ only obey one morality – that of the self. They may not recognize it as such, may justify or produce reasons to show that they are thinking of others or at least not solely about themselves.

No one is truly selfless. I think its impossible to be totally selfless. Even me writing this I am really just assuaging my ego, placing myself above the Cult of ‘Me’. When, in actuality – I am engaging in the very type of thinking I’m railing against.

It’s pretty evident that the Cult of ‘Me’ is alive and well in this country, given how much anger and ugliness there is in the current political and social climates of the U.S.

The false morality of many is one example of the Cult of ‘Me’. The chest-beating, hair-pulling protestations about one’s morality in the face of accusations and proof of horrendous behavior shows us how hard the ego will try to maintain control. That the willingness to deny rather than to admit fault, to cover up the truth at all costs is the hallmark of liars, hypocrites and sociopaths. It is better to feign the appearance of being good and trustworthy, of being upstanding and moral, than actually live that way.

To admit guilt or to plead guilty is somehow seen as a bigger crime. Because the death of the Ego is something that so many people cannot handle, they cannot conceive of surviving without it.

Can you imagine a world with no Ego? Can you imagine a society where no one placed themselves above another person?

Can you imagine a world where you never thought – ‘what about me?’

Its almost impossible to consider it. Especially in this capitalist “democracy”. Where the accumulation of personal wealth and gain is the sole reason for existence… more, more, more; bigger, badder, faster.

The Ego is insatiable. And everyone has one. And they are all fighting and squabbling all the time.

I’m weary of the Cult of ‘Me’.

Weary of the war of Egos.

I’m weary of a world that sees justice bought by the highest bidder. I’m weary of morality as something that can be bought and sold. I’m weary of a consumer driven impulse purchase existence. I’m weary of too much entertainment, from too many angles, that’s too expensive and lacking in content and creativity.

But mostly I’m weary of me thinking about things like this – because the outside world is taking on the shape and substance of something ugly and harmful.

I do my best to maintain a healthy and hopeful outlook. I really do.

But, dear reader, I am weary. So very weary.

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#CultofMe #Selfishness #immoral #vanity #religion #ego

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I am a Murderer

[…] went back and forth on actually killing him in this story, saying “I think that it was a tough decision. I really like […] as a character, I’ve had a lot of fun writing him. He’s been big part of my run and I didn’t know that I was going to do that when the run started. It was heartbreaking to do that to […].”

The above quote was taken from an interview about a certain comic that has just been released, one that is courting a lot of controversy and backlash.

I’m not going to go into great detail about that particular comic, one because I disagree with the arc and two because this isn’t really about whether or not a cultural icon is or really isn’t a Nazi. (that should give it away… if it doesn’t, well good. Stay ignorant. You’ll be happier believe me.)

What this is really about is what a writer is and what he/she is capable of.

Writers are heinous criminals. We lie, cheat, steal; we commit adultery, we blow up buildings, send cars careening off cliffs and yes… we kill.

What prompted me to write this… (and what I’m writing about isn’t new, other authors have addressed the subject of the ‘amorality’ of writers) is the sort of nonchalance that the quote giver expresses his ‘heartbreak’ over killing off a character. Now, the author who is quoted may very well have been sincere and choked up when making that statement, I can’t really say for sure. I’m guessing it was just said in a matter-of-fact tone. It was just one of those ‘no big thing’ type statements, one that every writer makes when discussing death in their work. And for all I know, the writer did think long and hard and went back and forth about it, but in the end — went ahead and did it anyway. What troubles me about the this particular “killing” is that, it’s not really their character. The character in question belongs to a comic publishing company and other writers (including the one who invented the character for said comic book company) have spent time, energy and creative talent to bring the character to life.

In one sense, you might ask… ‘what right do you have to kill off another writer’s character?’ And on the heels of that, you might ask – hold up, ‘why are you killing them at all?’

Writer’s kill for one reason. To illicit a response from the reader. That response can vary of course, dependent on the character, their importance, the reader’s emotional connection or indifference to said character and so on and so forth.

But the goal is to get the reader to feel.

Admittedly, Death is the easiest button to push in order to get a response from a reader. A lot of that has to do with how we view death in real life… how much of our lives is spent trying to avoid it, how many of our fellows are scared of it, how much of it takes place around us… and how many times how unexpected it is.

A writer kills because it serves the story.

Of course I had to have Sean Bean die in this post – ’cause reasons

Sometimes this is done with great skill and attention to detail, the writer has skillfully drawn the character so that the reader is affected long after the story is over and done with. The impact resonates.

Other times its ham-handed and ineffective, the reader can see it coming or isn’t invested enough in the character to care one way or the other about the event. It’s treated with a sigh and a shrug and quickly forgotten.

Writers kill because we are human. Death and killing is a part of who we are as a species. Every great story has death in it. A death. Or more than one death. It’s necessary, to be honest, in order to make the stories come to life, to be real. Which is kind of ironic in a way.

There’s that armchair-philosopher maxim that states: Given an infinite universe and infinite time, all things will happen. You could extrapolate that to creative mediums and say that every character in every book or comic or TV show or movie exists in some alt-universe out there, somewhere in the vast unknowable vastness of existence.

Which begs the question… am I pretending to kill a character off? Or am I causing the death of someone, somewhere… out there?

And that for me is a very interesting rabbit hole to jump down into and explore. It brings up question about morality and existence – the should I or shouldn’t I? aspect of just about every decision you make in your life.

In all of literature, how many “lives” have been extinguished in the name of entertaining those of us in the real world? How many have been snuffed out to enrich the life experience of us here in this one who consume the pages their brief time is opened to us?

Writing a death shouldn’t be just some small thing. It’s something that should be given thought too… even the small, nameless and faceless ones that happen to bystanders and those “people” that get caught in a building fire, that are no way involved in the main thread of your story or narrative.

Everyone of those ‘characters’ has a life don’t they?

And that’s something that, in these politically volatile and fractious times, we all forget in heated moments. Everyone has a story, everyone is the lead in their own narrative.

Comb through any thread or topic on your favorite book or comic or film and inevitably you will find statements that causally comment on or dissect the death of a character, and no doubt you will find ones that discuss them in terms that range from dismissive to derision. We treat literary deaths as though they rank on a scale – probably because they do.

What is meaningful in a story is only rated in terms of how it affects the main characters. All others are chaff on the wind. And how does that apply to our real lives?

Do you feel the same about the death of Robin Williams as you do about the death of a relative, or Umberto Eco?

As a writer, I’ve killed a great many characters. And to tell you the truth, some I didn’t even think about. They were side-line entities, there only necessary as a minor moment in a greater scene.

I think that speaks volumes about how we look at life. ‘If it isn’t happening to me, then how important is it really?’

I can’t really say if that’s healthy or not. Life is complicated and filled with so much information and a constant stream of events that we can’t give equal weight to them all. And it’s the same with death I think. Some times its too much to deal with. The weight of it is too much to take. And other times its a simple as turning a page or closing a door.

The Trouble with Giant Monsters

Let them fight.”

Probably the one line in a giant monster movie that sums up what they are all about. And at the same time, it highlights the gigantic flaw with them as a genre.

And even though I’m going to do my best to refrain from revealing anything pertinent about the plot or specific moments about the film Kong: Skull Island, just in case: *SPOILERS* if you have not seen it yet.

Don’t get me wrong. I love giant monsters. I sat wide-eyed with wonder in my formative years, devouring each and every one that was shown on Saturday afternoon TV or on Sci-Fi extravaganzas or Chiller Thriller Theater shows on late late night TV. I begged and pleaded for as many issues of Famous Monsters of Filmland as I could. I’d gleefully stare at the images of King Ghidorah or Rhodan or Gamera or the King of All Monsters – Godzilla.

I sat through the latest giant monster movie to grace U.S. screens today: – Kong: Skull Island.

I saw the original King Kong (1933) some long ago Saturday afternoon in the early 70’s. I sat in the living room in front of our TV and watched the black & white stop motion classic with a mix of horror and fascination. Looking at the film now, you may ask, what on earth did you find about it that evoked horror? It’s a tame film compared to the spectacles we have today. But something about that log rolling scene (when my child-like mind didn’t see stiff dolls falling to their doom but real people) stuck with me. I actually got a sick feeling in my stomach seeing those “bodies” strike the earth. Kong was a force of nature, a killer beast and men were insects he would crush underfoot.

And I’m sure that’s the reaction the filmmakers were hoping for when audiences saw it 40 years earlier. Its the same reaction that modern films aim for as well – the thrilling, voyeuristic depiction of death by monster.

There are a number of similar sequences in Kong: Skull Island, but they didn’t impact me as profoundly as did that log scene from the original. Of course it can’t – I’m much older and much more jaded than when I was nine.

Skull Island takes the premise of the original Kong movie and takes it out of the 30’s and puts it right smack dab in the 70’s. The synchronicity of my exposure to the giant gorilla and the setting for this latest incarnation is not lost on me, but its simply an interesting coincidence. Placing it in the Vietnam era and using the burgeoning reliance on satellites to uncover a ‘mythic’ island in the South Pacific is a twist that isn’t quite new, but the presentation of it is handled well.

The music used to hammer the time period home just seemed cliche and almost cringe-worthy to hear. Its like the producers needed to hammer everyone over the head with ‘its not 2017! It’s 1973! Can’t you tell? That’s Airplane’s “White Rabbit” for crying out loud!’ Give me subtle rather than in my face anytime.

Skull Island suffers not from a lack of amazing looking set pieces – but rather from a tired plot of ‘humans treading into spaces that should best left alone’. Much like the ’33 Kong, the film is about trekking through lethal jungle terrain to reach a point of safety and rescue. Along the way – the filmmakers showcase a number of giant monsters and deadly threats… which are really nothing more than filler to eat up time getting to the showdown between Kong and Man and the other reptilian threat that inhabits the island.

The one plot device I did find very intriguing was the whole “Hollow Earth” angle that the Monarch Organization was hoping to prove or exploit or whatever it is that their end goal is – it’s left vague or unanswered – that contrived end title scene notwithstanding. And by contrived I mean it felt forced and tacked on.

The geek in me likes the shared universe aspect of this. It sets up the inevitable showdown between Kong and Godzilla (a re-match of the 1962 version we all know and love). I would love a found footage type docu-film about Monarch, showing how they tie-in all the monster myths in this cinematic universe. The tag scene at the end implies they got a butt load of info and that the real villain of King Kong vs. Godzilla won’t be either of our two favorite giant monsters… which I look forward too 🙂

The plot of Kong: Skull Island is fairly simple – secret Organization piggybacks on a government funded expedition to an uncharted island to uh… find stuff before the Russians do.

All of the characters are pretty stock and it falls into the same safe pitfalls as any monster movie that deals with a ‘hidden land’ or ‘undiscovered island’.

Right from the start, we are told by one character (Tom Hiddleston as an ex-SAS tracker) that they are all going to die in horrible nasty ways. And then the film proceeds to march to that tune right up until the climax.

None of the characters are either likable (except for maybe John C. Reilly – he’s always a joy to watch) or despicable. John Goodman’s character is just obsessed and Sam L. Jackson isn’t so much a villain as a man who doesn’t know anything other than fighting and has a over-developed American self-righteous ego. He’s not a villain, just an angry military man who can’t believe that an indigenous life-form would dare kill those who intruded on its territory.

There are natives in this film – there always are – and like so many films of this type – they are reduced to mute savages – a wasted plot device there to simply give the main characters a place to discuss exposition before continuing the inevitable death-at-the-hands-of-giant-things mission they are on.

I think there was some confusion on the writing/casting part of the film – the “hero” is split for the most part between the Hiddleston character and another American soldier played with understated ‘aw-shucks’ Alabama goodness by Toby Kebbell. Personally I think they missed the boat and should’ve put Kebbell’s character more at the forefront and ditched the SAS tracker character altogether – but as Hiddleston has more star power, Kebbell’s Sgt. Chapman doesn’t fair well. I will note that the audience gasped at his fate – because the set up for him was handled in a way that made you root for him once things go sideways… but its a cliche cheesy tug at the heart strings kind of character to begin with.

As far as the Monsters… Kong is awesome, if a little bit cardboard. He suffers the same presentation as the human actors in the film – he’s one note and cliche. Now, don’t angry because I’m dissing on the big ape. It’s more about presentation than a comment on the King.

As an American, and growing up in the US watching the kaiju films and identifying them with certain geographic locations – Kong has always been presented as (and is in my mind) an “American” monster. He is associated with the US the same way that baseball and apple pie are… I remember having debates in grade school about who was cooler – Kong or Godzilla, and inevitably someone would always blurt out that “…Kong’s an American that’s why!” Kong is warm-blooded savagery. Godzilla is dragon-like and foreign. But if you want my true feeling – Godzilla is the better kaiju. he is the king in my book, and Kong is simply an over-sized rendition of the Beast from the fairytale – heck they even quote it in the original.

For most of Skull Island they didn’t touch on the human female / giant ape quasi-romance issue – but yet it got shoe-horned into it anyway. And it wasn’t handled in a way that made any real sense – it was just in there because the studios insisted upon it because otherwise audiences would’ve freaked out. Which isn’t true, but try telling that to them.

I liked this Kong better than Peter Jackson’s take. I remember watching it thinking I should be having more fun – and I simply wasn’t. It seemed to over the top and the actress (played by Naomi Watts) just wasn’t likable at all. Her sense of self importance was pretty off putting. And don’t get me started on that ridiculous bug valley scene… sheesh.

I guess I was sitting there watching Kong: Skull Island and wondering – what’s the point of all this? Maybe there doesn’t need to be – I mean, looking back at the first line of this post… its simply that: “Let them fight.”

I mean – what else do you really expect from a giant monster movie? Its an extrapolation of us in the sandbox with our monster toys – there are no deep and meaningful plots. Its simply an excuse to see monsters/animals battle for our amusement.

But as anyone who knows me or who has read other entries I’ve posted on this blog – fighting just to fight is boring to me. I found the reptilian beasts that were Kong’s enemies on the island to be unbelievable. Everything about them screamed “illogical” and I’m sure they were created with a “cool factor” in mind and also because audiences have had their fill of dinosaurs and other prehistoric beasts – so Kong has to fight something giant and terrifying and new! They just seemed like some dumb creature form a D&D Monster Manual. Two legged lizard things with a outer protective skull. Why? Simply to show Kong as a protector, not a savage. It just seemed convenient and forced.

I don’t know what I was expecting from Skull Island. Maybe more of a back story on Kong. Why is he so big? Why does he exist?

Instead what I saw was just groundwork for the films that will supposedly follow up on the Monarch theory that these creatures owned the Earth before us and are going to attempt to take it back.

Skull Island wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. It was just a prequel.

Let’s hope what follows has more to it – but I’m sure what we’ll get is just more fighting.

Chasing Alexander

Everyone knows of or has heard of Alexander. Or Iskandar as he is called in the East.

A bust of Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia, (356 - 323 BC), son of Philip II of Macedon and Queen Olympias, circa 330 BC. The sculpture was found in the Roman Capitol. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

A bust of Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia, (356 – 323 BC), son of Philip II of Macedon and Queen Olympias, circa 330 BC. The sculpture was found in the Roman Capitol. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

Alexander was the Macedonian King whose military exploits were the shining example of what human arrogance and achievement can accomplish. Exploits that were emulated for thousands of years after, proof that one man can do wonders. That one man can conquer the world.

Although, conquer is a strong word. Alexander sought to unify the world. To bring it under one ruler and therefore banish the ills that plagued it… which is an over simplification I know. In order to do that, the was a lot of war, blood, death and carnage, and the attempt ended in defeat. Defeat is a strong word to, and may not be entirely accurate. But this post isn’t concerned with an in-depth historically accurate portrait of Alexander.

No, what I really want to write about, to put out there in the blog-o-sphere, are my thoughts on the the 2004 film, Alexander by director Oliver Stone, starring Colin Farrell, Angelina Jolie, Val Kilmer, Jared Leto and Rosario Dawson.alex2004

 

A retrospective/reappraisal of Stone’s original theatrical release was writing by for rogerebert.com in 2014, which you can read here: A REAPPRAISAL OF OLIVER STONE’S “ALEXANDER: THE ULTIMATE CUT”

The film was panned when it was first released and since then it has had a number of re-edits and versions – talked about in the article above and so is now seen as a much better film than when first released. Though it still has flaws.

It’s long and flips back and forth in time, and the battle and action scenes while grand and epic, can be hard to follow at times. Its hard to encompass the idea of Alexander, as Anthony Hopkins explains in the beginning. How do you tell the story of a man who is more legend than reality?

I recently re-watched the film – which is currently streaming on Netflix) and was struck by the words Alexander uses during one of the arguments that Alexander has with he ‘companions’. The debate and discussion comes as they push further and further East, away from their homeland of Greece (Macedonia). The men are weary and trying to understand Alexander’s bid to reach the ‘outer sea’. He wants to sail back round to Africa, travel up the Nile and to Egypt, thus encircling/conquering the known world.

The argument I’m talking about in the film is, essentially, very pertinent to what we are dealing with today, here in the US and around the world. And which seems to be the only thing that matters to our society/culture/species – this never-ending conflict between East and West.

Alexander’s companions are tired, war-weary and beginning to question his motives and leadership. To them, he seems much more enamored of their enemies and to be forgetting who he is. He’s taking on their mode of dress, participating in their customs – he even takes a “barbarian” wife.

The men are naturally upset – because it goes against everything they’ve been raised and taught to believe. The tribes and people to the East are beneath them. They are decadent, overly emotional, savages. As Aristotle (played by Christopher Plummer in the film) tells them: “…the Oriental races are known for their barbarity and slavish devotion to their senses. Excess in all things is the undoing of men. That is why we Greeks are superior, we practice control of our senses. Moderation.”

The movie was released three years after 9/11 and the start of the War on Terror. In one sense, it can be seen as a pro-democracy film. Greece was the birthplace of Democracy after all. So, this film and others, like Zack Snyder’s 300 in 2006 do very much play as a reminder and assertion that the West is, as Aristotle states, superior.

The end of the argument between Alexander and his men ends with the young king furious with his men –

Parmenion: He never lusted for war, Alexander, or enjoyed it so. He consulted his peers in council, among equals! The Macedonian way. He didn’t make decisions based on his personal desires.

Alexander: I’ve taken us further than my father ever dreamed! Old man, we’re in knew worlds.

Cassander: Alexander, be reasonable! Were they ever meant to be our equal? Share our rewards? You remember what Aristotle said. An Asian? What would a wedding vow ever mean to a race that has never kept their word to a Greek?

Alexander: [throws Cassander against the wall] Aristotle be damned!

Hephaistion: Alexander!

Alexander: By Zeus and all the gods, what makes you so much better than them, Cassander? Better than you really are! In you and those like you is this!

Hephaistion: [pleading] Alexander…

Alexander: What disturbs me most is not your lack of respect for my judgment, but your contempt for a world far older than ours!

Of course this is dialogue written for a film. Its not the actual words that passed between Alexander and his men. Its thinking that is modern, said in a modern way. But it captures an aspect of what Alexander was trying to achieve.

And that argument, I think, is what we are still facing and fighting today. We’ve been entrenched in this conflict for thousands of years – West vs. East.

The East in Alexander and in 300 is painted as an alien culture and landscape, they are dark and ugly and cruel. They are ruled by despots and tyrants, made rich on the backs of slaves. They pay men to fight to enrich themselves.

The West on the other hand is light and good and fighting for freedom – the same rhetoric we hear today. Which of these is true? It all depends on where you stand.

Many won’t understand Alexander’s last line in the film scene quoted above. They think and believe as Alexander’s men do, as Aristotle did: that they are superior.

When you listen to the speeches of our leaders listen to the words that are used. Its not so much the people of Ancient Persia we are fighting against now, but ideologies and beliefs which did not exist in Alexander’s time

We not battling not the barbarian hordes, its Radical Islam.

I always am bothered by arguments on the subject that treat it as though this is something new and that can be stamped out. the truth of it – in my own mind – is that the ugly things happening out there right now: immigration bans, terror attacks, the rise of populist leaders, the Left vs. Right bigotry and hatred – stretch much further back than just a very horrible and terrible day in September 16 years ago.

And I think people forget that. I think people only see what is front of them.

Like Alexander’s men… they don’t understand the dream he was trying to achieve. The thing that drove him, the thing he was chasing and what many after him chased as well. What some still chase today.

A unified world.

Many don’t want that in this day and age. The current political climate in America is very much not about unity.

What many see, and what many want is separation and division. Them above the other. They are in the Right and we are in the Wrong.

Its an argument that stretches back millennia… and one that will not have an end in my lifetime.

At the close of the film Anthony Hopkins has the following speech:

Old Ptolemy: The truth is never simple and yet it is. The truth is we did kill him. By silence we consented… because we couldn’t go on. But by Ares, what did we have to look forward to but to be discarded in the end like Cleitus? After all this time, to give away our wealth to Asian sycophants we despised? Mixing the races? Harmony? Oh, he talked of these things. I never believe in his dream. None of us did. That’s the truth of his life. The dreamers exhaust us. They must die before they kill us with their blasted dreams.

Those who dream exhaust those who want things to stay as they are.

And they fight against a dream of unity because they fear they will be lost in it. If we are all the same, how can I be me? How can I be just one?

We the Devouring and Insatiable

So, as a creator (not that I’m great at it, but I try) I keep up with those things that influence my writing and storytelling. I read, watch films and a few non-network TV shows and I spend far too much time reading articles on the web.

There’s been a lot of ink and time spent picking apart/discussing/analyzing various popular shows or entertainment properties, especially since the ascension of geek and nerd culture as the top source for those items that a great many people obsess over – from comics to video games, to superheroes and shows about sentient robots (Westworld), a fantasy world with dragons (GoT) and humans doing despicable things to one another during a world ending event (TWD).

To be honest, there’s so much content being produced its really kind of overwhelming. But I guess that’s the result of years of advertisers and media moguls chasing after the next billion-dollar profit maker – because in the end, profit is all that matters.

anger

But, maybe that’s not the whole issue.

We’ve reached a point in our civilization where we have a great deal of free time due to industrialization and automation and surplus, we are – a lot of the time – bored with life.

I happen to think that the vast majority of us are insatiable when it comes to content and entertainment. We demand it at an insane rate, and devour it so quickly that we feel unsatisfied and letdown or immediately hungry as soon as we finish a book or a show.

Ask yourself how many times you been on your computer, surfing Netflix or clicking through the media guide on your TV or browsing a book shelf or scanning the comic book wall and seeing nothing that interests you… Maybe its not that way for you – maybe you easily hop from one thing to the next and aren’t bored… but have you ever felt overwhelm by the choices presented to you?

Either way, boredom or the feeling that there’s just too much, leads to a sort whining childishness – a pouting demanding sense of privilege entitlement.

Entertainment must and should be provided to us whenever and however we want. One of my favorite comics, Dana Gould, had a great bit where he stops in the middle of his act and kind of deconstructs it – he turns a chair around and with his back to the audience rants and vents about what they (we the audience) EXPECT from a show.

Do a dance, sing a song, smash some fruit! ENTERTAIN ME!”

We are constantly faulting films and shows and comics or *insert product here* for being either bad or unfulfilling. Because our expectations are not met. Advertisers and film studios and publishers tease and promote these products to an absurd degree — to the point where by the time they are released, we expect them to be the NEXT BIG THING – only to walk away from them let down or bummed out.

People will find fault with anything. Its not just the teasing and the ads and the promos that are the problem… If I had to put a finger on it, I’d say that its just simply our demand that we have more that’s the problem.

In this day of instant gratification, content streaming, on-demand programming and one-click purchasing options… we’ve become monsters that consume and devour at a frightening pace.

I just read an article [Comics Should Be Published Weekly]that “demands” the comics industry immediately switch its distribution model from once a month to weekly – simply because asking a reader to follow a story parceled out in increments every month isn’t reasonable. The author cites the example that comics should be created the way TV shows are created, and gives examples of how this has worked in the comics industry… And perhaps he/she has a point.

But what galls me about this is the assertion that entertainment should be shoveled into our hands at an accelerated rate… because WE WANT IT NOW.

Information and content is fed to us, thrown at us, pushed at us at such a speed that we don’t take to digest or appreciate it. We gobble it up, toss it aside and are immediately looking for the next thing.

We don’t appreciate waiting periods of any kind. Ignoring the benefits of pause, of taking time to relish what we have just seen or heard or tasted.

It’s already soured in our mouths and we need something else to wash it away.

More, More, More!

The long, prolonged derangement of the senses that Morrison spoke of , the thirteen channels of shit on the TV to chose from that Floyd sang about — they have become an avalanche – a tidal wave of consumerism that mires us in a swamp of content overload.

I don’t think comics need to be provided to us on a weekly basis.

Rather than demanding that outside forces need to change and alter to fit our will, it’s our expectations that should change.

We need to re-discover our sense of wonder and fun – instead of expecting it to be spoon-fed to us every second of every hour of every day.

Sacred Childhood… uh, not really

First, I just want to say, this isn’t about taking anything away from anybody. This is just my opinion – and you can feel free to reject it, piss on it or flip me the finger… That’s your right.

Just as it’s my right (as this is my blog, my soapbox) to say what I’m about to say.

No matter what you may think – your childhood memories aren’t sacred.

They are simply, your memories… just as the memories of your grandfather as his memories, or your grandmother her memories. Yeah, the ones you thought were sooo lame and out of touch.

Welcome to that point in your life when your idea of what’s what runs headlong into a new generation’s newer, shinier, better and cooler what’s what.

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So… that’s my two cents.

 

 

 

The Myth of the Magician

When I was a young boy and well into my young adulthood, I viewed the world through a distorted lens. That lens was fixated on the idea that the mystical and the magical that I read about in books – stories that ranged from the myths of Ancient Greece, endless versions of the Arthurian legends, Charles de Lint’s urban shamanism, Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft’s antediluvian and Stygian practices of mad wizards and priestesses, Carlos Castenada’s Don Juan cycle, Huxley’s Doors of Perception, Walker’s Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets, and any number of books that purported to be about piercing the veil between this mundane world and the world of “the other side”.

The typical stuff a white nerdy guy in middle America assumed was the right kind of material to gain hidden or secret knowledge.

I wanted to be something other than what I was. I wanted the things I read about, and the characters I portrayed on the stage (Merlin in Camelot, for example) to be accessible; to be actual. I wanted them to be what was real, not the dull and dreary plodding normalness of what I was experiencing as the “real world.”

I was guilty of wanting. I was guilty of a White/Western way of thinking that the simple desire or yearning for a thing granted me the right or ‘specialness‘ required to gain access to or ownership of a secret or hidden knowledge.

whiteshaman

I wanted the world and I wanted it now.

I want to talk about apprenticeship.

If you read the article in the link above you’ll find a particular passage and message that resonates with me and which I’ve talked with a few friends about before and that is the lack of and almost non-existent practice of apprenticeship in the Western world.

“In Western culture, most people will never know a shaman, let alone train with one. Yet since ours is a literate culture, you do not have to be in an apprenticeship situation to learn; a written guide can provide the essential methodological information.”

Now, before someone jumps on me about that statement, let me go on record and say that this is just my perception – this is just my viewpoint. Whether or not it is actual fact or true is quite debatable. I’m sure some will say that Medical School for example, or four years of undergraduate and four years + of graduate school in order to get a degree or another four if you want a PhD, is “apprenticeship” and get steamed because my statement seems to dismiss that… which it doesn’t.

What I’m saying is that it isn’t the same thing.

Education is a good thing. Books are a good thing. Learning of any kind is a good thing.

But what I’m talking about is the practical application of that knowledge. A work-a-day practice, a years-long study alongside a higher level teacher or leader. Clothing, shoes, art, painting, sculpting, carpentry, stone masons, any and every profession had a set number of years where you were known as an apprentice.

Being an apprentice was a good thing. It notified others that you were attempting a craft, you were learning. You had prospects.

To illustrate how we think about apprenticeship these days – we turned it into a reality TV show. The Apprentice. Which really wasn’t about apprenticeship so much as a mad scramble for dollars and a “get the job” prize at the end. It highlighted everything that’s Western and privileged about how we view things.

In my chosen profession of acting, there used to be (and yes I realize there still are) troupes that would traverse a country or countries performing plays and characters for audiences. These troupes were the ‘schools’ of their time. They were the standard of how to learn the craft of performance. Because it wasn’t just putting on a costume and walking out on the boards to say lines.

That doesn’t make you an actor. No more than putting on scrubs and walking into a hospital makes you a surgeon. Or putting on a suit, and walking into the stock exchange makes you a broker.

It’s the time spent in honing your craft that leads to profession. And I think its a lot longer than four years.

I wish I had taken part in a program or opportunity like a troupe – I think I would’ve had a better work ethic, more appreciation for the reward and a greater understanding of how to shoulder the wait that is necessary in order to reach some goals.

It used to be that a man or woman could not lay claim to the title of professional until a higher up had either retired or passed on. That the ranks and rungs of the ladder were climbed slowly and steadily and that “success” was something that was the culmination of a lifetime of experience, learning and honorable practice of one’s chosen craft.

But here in the West, here in the modern world of books and graded courses, of online diplomas and standardized testing – practice and practical knowledge is dispensed with and a certificate or a award is the marker for moving up in a profession – in fact, in a real sense – that award is seen as the be all and end all of a profession. And its celebrated as such.

In my late twenties and early thirties I became very disenchanted with my pursuit or my hope of ‘breaking through’, of finding the hidden world behind the veil of this very dull and burdensome real one. But the real truth is that I was disenchanted with reading and reading and reading about this elusive thing I thought existed. I didn’t practice it, I didn’t seek out a teacher… I blindly followed the tradition I was taught in my Western schools – I stuck to the written guides that were supposed to open the door and grant me access to the other side.

And so, like so many before me, I quit. I quit seeking the mystic and the magical.

I think this also led to my disenchantment with my chosen professional path. I stopped auditioning, I stopped acting in or going to plays, I turned away from reading about acting or theater.

As a matter of fact, I stopped reading altogether, for the most part. And for almost a decade or more, didn’t have anything to do with either acting or books. I felt very disappointed in them both, one because it was too easy for me (and by easy meaning I found myself in a position of being cast often, in a community that knew what I could do and how reliable I was) and the other because they just seem to repeat themselves over and over. I wasn’t learning anything new, I didn’t feel challenged.

And I had a great feeling of dissatisfaction in my life – not just professionally, but in pretty much all aspects of my day to day experience.

themagician

In the mid-90’s I was cast in The Grand Tarot by Charles Ludlam, written for the Theater of the Ridiculous and probably the last time I participated in something that was even closely tied with anything esoteric or mysterious. I played the Magician and if I remember correctly (memories are tricky things), he was seeking a divine union with the High Priestess. In the play its expressed as a physical union as well as a union of the senses or spirit. It was a fun play, lots of comedic moments and overall a great time.

The magician in the play is pretty much like a lot of people, and like myself as well. Misguided, seeking answers in places where they aren’t and hoping that life can be summed up in a single moment, or a simple set of magic words – utter a spell and the world will be healed. He wants a quick answer, he rushes about sure that if he can just do this one thing – everything will be open and explained.

And that’s the myth of the magician – that there is an easy way to get what you want.

We humans seek answers. Aside from the basic necessities of sustaining ourselves, that’s what we do… We live for puzzles and challenges, to expand our world.

There used to be a period of apprenticeship that served not only as guide to make a living or to create things that a community needed, it was a way to know more about one’s place in the fabric of this reality. It wasn’t a method for keeping people in their place or establishing class distinctions (at least in my perception – I could be very wrong about that). Apprenticeships fell into decline and disappeared as the Industrial Revolution progressed and machines took over menial labor and lesser jobs that had once been performed by human apprentices.

And this seeped into the pursuit of the esoteric, the pursuit of the spiritual and mystical. Traditional means of achieving enlightenment or hidden knowledge was no longer about sitting at the feet of a Master, but rather doled out in pamphlets and placed on book shelves in stores and libraries.

Can I say that this has truly been harmful to us as a society? I don’t know. There are examples of individuals who either bucked the system or dropped out of school or simply worked out their own method to produce works of art or to make a discovery or climb a corporate or business ladder that didn’t rely on years of study or practice. Their natural or innate talent and ability allowed them to circumvent the traditional mode of tradecraft. Films and movies too are filled with this type of “success” story, which furthers the notion that you don’t have to follow the beaten path.

We celebrate those that skirt past everyone else, who break the rules and do it their way, who disdain tradition and triumph over the odds. Winning is everything.

Nerd portion of the post: I guess that’s why I have such a hard time with BvS: Dawn of Justice and the portrayal of both Batman and Superman in that film. The assertion that “this is anew Superman” rubs me the wrong way because its this whole ‘let’s ignore the history of the character and let’s skip his apprenticeship – he makes mistakes, and that’s ok. But he’s still the pinnicle of what a meta-human should be’.

Only, for me – he isn’t. He hasn’t earned it.

He simply tells people “I’m going to do things on my terms. Trust me.”

Which is everything great about America (since that is what Superman represents after all “I grew up in Kansas… I’m about as American as you can get.”) and everything awful all in the same sentence.

We don’t need apprenticeships because we are just that good.

Only we’re not.

And we have a country full of dissatisfied and despondent people who were sold on the idea that you can be the best. That you deserve to be the best – simply because you want it. There aren’t any apprenticeships anymore because what we are told is – all you have to do is cross the finish line ahead of the others. It’s only when you cross the finish line do you realize that there are a thousand thousand that have crossed ahead of you. And a thousand thousand coming up behind.

The end is what’s important. Not the journey.

The simple path, the easy answer. That’s the lie.

I still want there to be mystical and magical things in the world. I still want to break through and reach beyond this one. But I won’t find it in books or by simply wanting it. And at this stage, I’m a bit tired and a bit old to go looking for it.

Maybe in a few years, I’ll get to a point where I’ll be ready to start my apprenticeship. I’ll be ready to get my head out of the dirt and set my feet on a path, I’ll find a teacher. And I’ll starting learning.

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So much rage, so much hate

I get angry at times. I think we all do.

Life is frustrating, complicated, annoying and at times infuriating. Too many cars on the road, long lines in the grocery store. Make a list of all the things that get under your skin and you’ll probably find at least one or more of them really sets you off. You know, the one thing that as soon as its mentioned or as soon as it happens you just get angry – really angry.

It could be something someone said to you, or it could be getting cut off in traffic or whatever – take your pick.

I-AM-IN-A-RAGE

In any case, the level of response is disproportionate to the offense, usually. Are there cases where the response is justified? Of course. But so many times the anger that erupts, the rage that spews forth isn’t just because of one thing.

It’s been building, for a long time, and is tied to other things in your life or others lives.

I read an article today about gamer rage that resulted in an arrest and is just one example of thousands of instances that happen daily (the rage, not the arrest) – because there are a lot of angry, rage-filled people out there.

Pick your poison – politics, film, TV, comic books, a female opinion – they are all triggers for people to suddenly go off in a fit of apoplectic hate and derision. The interwebs are filled with so much vitriolic, racist, sexist and just plain angry comments, screeds and book-length diatribes about any given topic that it is soul-crushing and mind-numbing.

Why?

I’m sure some of these rants healthy ways to purge the anger one feels about a Ghostbusters movie or to just get it out of your system that this or that really bothers you.

But it seems that most are just put out in the world to cause misery. “I’m upset, so others need to be too.” “You said something I think is stupid or something I disagree with so *insert insult* and *insert insult* and *insert slur* … ad infinitum until a desired outcome is achieved – that outcome either reducing someone to tears, quitting twitter or – in the worst of cases – taking their own lives.

The article I mentioned earlier that landed the angry gamer in jail details a new policy that Blizzard Entertainment has instituted to deal with those people who play their games that harass or insult other players in game, through chat messages or private messages – usually offensive or threatening messages – aimed at making other players angry or miserable, ruining the experience or just for simple dickery.

The solution Blizzard implemented, to deal with problem players, I felt was exactly the right one – they would “silence” the offenders account, basically preventing said player from sending messages for a set period of time.

The most effective thing you can do to someone who is clamoring for attention is to take away the ability for them to do so – trolls cannot live in a vacuum – if their bile is spewed out and the only ones that hear it are themselves, it loses any potency.

And so, after being ‘silenced’ the troll, whose anger was so consuming they felt it necessary to message the company directly – and to use threats of a violent and destructive nature, going so far as to tell them he would show up at their offices “with an AK47 amongst some other ‘fun’ tools”.

Sitting far away, in the relative safety of my room, its easy to shake my head and wonder: Why?

Why on earth is this person so angry? What is it about life that has caused this level of anger or hate or rage?

In my limited view and opinion, this isn’t abnormal. Sadly, its actually pretty normal behavior.

The social nature of the internet has – and I’m not saying anything new – pulled back the thin veneer of social graces and niceties we supposedly taught growing up and allowed for the dislike that we generally have for our fellow human beings to come spilling out. In great waves. But what do you expect people’s behavior to be like when they are fed a steady diet of dissatisfaction, bad news, high prices and any number of other little things that make living a chore?

On a tribal level, we have a natural human instinct to choose someone around us and attack them – most often this presents its self in the form of bullying or harassment. There is a pecking order among us, those on top, those beneath and bullying and harassment is the most basic way to establish your place in that pecking order … shit flows down hill, so better to be higher up than down below.

Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening

In one sense I really don’t think we were meant to live in groups this large. We are able to do so because we have mastered our environment – through tools and intellect we have bent rivers to our will, grown more food than we know what to do with and subjugated, controlled or  destroyed every other species on the planet – including our friends and neighbors.

But is it really in our self-interest as a species to continue growing and expanding? Bumping up against one another is greater numbers generating even more pecking orders and hierarchies to fight through in order to be seen, to be heard, to live in relative safely and security?

I’m not sure. I’m not an expert, I’m not qualified to really speak on the issue – I haven’t researched the social, environmental or geographic data to support or to refute the idea I have about there being too many of us.

It does however seem connected to the issue of the anger in us.

So many opinions, so many critiques and so many people who simply play games and get lucky or who are better and so forth become targets for vicious, ugly and violent messages and posts designed to hurt and belittle. And why? Just because they can. The need or impulse to vent, rant or otherwise puke out one’s thoughts and opinions is part of the internet’s beauty and appeal – the sense of freedom and that someone, somewhere will agree or support your view is quite appealing.

Unfortunately, the downside is there is a lot ugly out there.

The best tool in my arsenal to fight against such ugliness is to ignore it. To silence it in my sphere of influence – meaning in my limited reach, in the fifty or so feet around me personally or by monitoring my social media – I can feed the trolls a steady diet of the one thing that will starve them.

Silence.

“Hello darkness, my old friend…”

“…a little human compassion…”

Bob Hauk: Plissken, if you get back in that glider and fly back here without the tape or the President, I’ll shoot you down myself! You try to climb out, I’ll burn you off the wall! Do you understand that, Plissken?
Snake Plissken: [beat] A little human compassion.

Probably my favorite moment of Snake’s.

The exchange above, is of course, taken from John Carpenter’s dystopian cult hit Escape from New York, which celebrates it’s 35th Anniversary today, July 10 (it was released on the same date back in 1981.)

Backed by Carpenter’s simple but effective score, one of the top ten anti-heroes in cinematic history took over the imagination mid-summer the year I graduated high school. I remember going to see at the Grand Theater in downtown Paris, Tx. Probably on a Friday or Saturday night, with my friends if I recall correctly. It wasn’t a date movie – it was a guy flick. A good ol’ testosterone neo-noir sci-fi western of sorts… a lone ex-military convict, forced to save the President from Manhattan Prison.

In 1988, the crime rate in the United States rises four hundred percent. The once great city of New York becomes the one maximum security prison for the entire country. A fifty-foot containment wall is erected along the New Jersey shoreline, across the Harlem River, and down along the Brooklyn shoreline. It completely surrounds Manhattan Island. All bridges and waterways are mined. The United States Police Force, like an army, is encamped around the island. There are no guards inside the prison, only prisoners and the worlds they have made. The rules are simple: once you go in, you don't come out.

“In 1988, the crime rate in the United States rises four hundred percent. The once great city of New York becomes the one maximum security prison for the entire country. A fifty-foot containment wall is erected along the New Jersey shoreline, across the Harlem River, and down along the Brooklyn shoreline. It completely surrounds Manhattan Island. All bridges and waterways are mined. The United States Police Force, like an army, is encamped around the island. There are no guards inside the prison, only prisoners and the worlds they have made. The rules are simple: once you go in, you don’t come out.”

A lot of my fellow geeks and nerds would no doubt attest to wanting to be Snake, and might even had affected his tone and mannerisms (which Kurt Russell patterned after Clint Eastwood) in the privacy of their own homes. I myself remember mimicking his voice, trying to match the gruff, whispered tones, trying (and failing) to grow the right scruffy beard and maybe even sliding an patch over one eye.

What really struck me about the film is it’s bleak outlook about the human condition – and it’s assertion that we will, left to our own devices, bring about our own doom.

It’s a stylish, low budget sci-fi pop-corn muncher and it’s also a social commentary – maybe a lot closer about society today than when it came out thirty-five years ago. Back then, it was just a fantasy… today, looking at the mass incarcerations here in the USA and the fascist political rantings happening daily on TV and the internet – not so much.

And in the middle of it there’s this wonderful little human moment – with Snake, alone in a city of criminals and psychos and cannibals, listening as Hauk growls and threatens . And Russel’s response, his line reading isn’t what you’d expect. He doesn’t growl back, he doesn’t spit out a witty one-liner.

He sees the futility of it all. He sees the death of empathy and hope. The cost of one human life – his life – doesn’t stack up against another’s. Compassion is dead.

If you haven’t seen it, shame on you. Find a friend who has a copy – I know you have one who does. Get it, watch it.

Happy 35th, #EscapeFromNewYork

Bob Hauk: You going to kill me, Snake?
Snake Plissken: Not now, I’m too tired.
[pause]
Snake Plissken: Maybe later.

Snake

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! What is wrong with us?

UPDATE #2 – The motive, she was mentally unstable, depressed and wanted to make her husband suffer. And once again the focus will shift from the fact that a gun was used, to the cry of it was ‘mental illness’ that killed them.

UPDATE: Both daughters were fatally killed.

Just to get it out of the way, I gave up #DietCoke this week.

I’m not saying that has any bearing on this post. But I would be remiss if I say it hasn’t contributed to my mood about this post.

So, a friend on #Facebook shared the post of one of his friends who had posted his reaction to the horrific story of a Houston mother and gun rights advocate – Christy Sheats – who turned those guns on her two daughters in the street outside of their suburban home – killing one of them and seriously wounding the other.

This is the post that was shared:

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Names blurred to protect privacy

The mother was shot dead by police because she refused to drop her gun and they feared she was going to shoot her daughter again.

I have no details about why she was arguing with her daughters, or why she thought that the solution to that problem was to gun them down with the weapon she had so vocally and proudly posted about on her social media – her right to own and use guns to “defend” herself and her family.

I’m sorry – but it’s not radical Islam this time. It wasn’t an AR-15 this time. It was a handgun. At what point do you stop claiming that your right to buy and own a weapon is about defending yourself and acknowledge that its about fear and power?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – and will continue to say it – gun ownership isn’t about defending yourself, your home or your property.

It’s about fear and distrust of your fellow human beings… its about the certain knowledge that their lives are expendable.

I give up, I really do. I don’t understand and won’t ever understand why people continue to bring danger and death into their lives.

I’m a failure of a human being I guess. I don’t have enough manly attributes or aspects to qualify as a true blue, red-blooded ‘Murican.

I really want to turn my back on all of this, I really do. But I can’t. Hence I write things like this in my blog – which I’d rather devote to silly, trivial stuff about writing and comic books and other topics that bring me a tiny bit of joy and happiness.

Thank you internet, for reminding me how ugly and terrible things can be once again.  I sometimes shake my head when I hear people say things like “Oh man I wish I could go back” or “remember when this…” or “remember when that…” – I shake my head because I try to live in the present, to enjoy the moment I’m in not the moments that were… its not really healthy (in my mind) to live in or revere the past that much… it just generates unhappiness because, it’s impossible to go back…

But I get it, I really do. I long for the time when I didn’t give much thought to guns or weapons – when I played army with my friends, or read books like Mack Bolan The Executioner, or Doc Savage, played games like Call of Duty or Counter-Strike or watched films like Commando and The Matrix (Guns… lots of guns).

I want to retreat into those nostalgic days when the world seemed fun and enjoyable, when I didn’t want to hang my head and think the worst of my fellow man.

We’ve only been on this earth as a species for a very short time. About 200,000 years. Just before I read the ugly story about the Houston woman who gunned her daughter to death, I had watched a short video about Human Origins.

I wanted to write about that because the last few seconds are pretty spot on when it comes to us oh-so advanced humans in this modern day and age.

But all of that was wiped out by this story about Christy Sheats and also the Orlando shooting and the tsunami of uncertainty and fallout that the Brexit will create.

Yeah, today I want to retreat. I want it to be that long ago time when all I was concerned with was … nothing.

Today I want that very much. And a #DietCoke too.