Posts Tagged ‘ranting’

Farmers’ Market

Friday, September 22nd, 2023

A big part of why I started blogging in the first place was that I realized that the internet in recent times has become, for lack of a better term, dumbed down with academic cred. I see graphics of quotes from well known intellectuals of the past and sometimes present reposted ad nauseam all the time. The implication of intellectual engagement with the least amount of effort.

The fact that this is so common—and that I often see the same platitudes posted by multiple people across the span of a few days—feels very endemic of the current state of online discourse. Radically minded thinkers putting up their hands and putting their fingers to the keyboard in an emphatic burst of passion…only to share a doom-confirming quotation from a source seen as reliable, with any additional commentary boiling down to an annoyingly exasperated sigh and “yep”. That’s not even two words.

Where do we go as a country when the best commentary we can muster on our society is someone else’s theory regurgitated verbatim with little thought regarding the content as long as it sets off nicey bells in our heads? In today’s America, we choose a side and ride it ’til we die, only activating those wonderful Critical Thinking Skills when it’s to demonize someone who even slightly leans towards the opposition. That’s not freedom of thought. That’s mental slavery. Your freedom is the price you pay to come off to your friends as “right”.

It is almost as if this glory of proving yourself “right” to the nebulous entity that is whoever may be observing you at any given time, outweighs the formation of actual solution and action that can lead to the solutions you want. It’s a damn shame that the legacy of these smart-whipped creatives who wrote the originals, if we keep sitting on our asses, is going to be “all we did in reaction was sigh”.

In our interactions with the wider world we always see ourselves as the little guy. This transcends any sort of societal status or access to privileges; everyone loves to be a victim. Because of this we embrace negativity and wallow in it. If ignorance is bliss, then abject suffering must mean we are intelligent, and intelligence equals righteousness. We conduct ourselves to these standards of being the most “right” to such a degree that we simply don’t take action. Action is normally messy. Individually crafted politics are inherently so. Getting mustard on your sweatshop-new, hackney-slogan t-shirt isn’t a good look.

This is because we have taught ourselves that humans have an apex and we ourselves, to ourselves, are that apex. It’s the mythos of the little girl getting depressed by her peaches and cream Barbie, except we are are the little girl and the doll simultaneously. We plasticize ourselves because we are faced against not just established systems of power and economics but the will of human nature itself, and not much can be done to radically alter the not so skillfully applied makeup of humankind. We are still humans underneath all the buildup, vested with the history proven capacity to make radical good and to make radical evil, though we often forget the latter attribute since we don’t like thinking about scary things and prefer reducing anyone who doesn’t agree with us to a subhuman, a fascist ball of primordial ooze. (As if we’re not collectively swimming in it.)

It’s much easier to blame everything on a redneck who lives five states away. Obviously the blame is on the big guy only as it applies to the little guy, but the other kind of little guy than you. This is unity, right? This is getting things done?

When we prune ourselves over like this for others we deny ourselves the do, because doing requires room for error and failure, and belly flopping isn’t the “right” thing to do. So we become complacent to what ails us instead. We may know the truth that the people running the asylum are the real crazies, but we’re so obsessed with proving our own manufactured sanity that we can’t let ourselves be seen as even 1/24 delirious. But you have to be a little unhinged to have the ambition to actually try. You have to let that side of yourself be seen.

But ambition isn’t a good look. It gets you looked at funny at best and gets you locked up at worst. So we call for our armchair revolutions all the while.

If we keep up this lethargy then maybe the only solution is to keep our eyes peeled to the heap of melted plastic as it slowly disintegrates into the landfill earth. To keep doing the same thing we’ve been doing. Half life after half life.

But it does not have to be this way.

Out Here

Tuesday, August 30th, 2022

I’ve been away from the homestead for over a week now adjusting to the trials and tribulations of college. I must admit, it’s a very liberating feeling being left to my own devices, mentally mapping out routes to dining halls and wandering around campus when I have free time. I’m already getting a lay of the land pretty easily, and I can’t believe I’ll be showing some out of state (and in one case, out of country) friends around this not-so-little old place in just a few weeks. (Seriously, DEVOtional cannot come quickly enough.) Maybe someday younger students here will be asking me for their way around, intimidated by the many routes of getting to Eastway or unable to not keep dropping their school issued ID cards. For now, I’ve been socializing with other members of my class who are in the same boat as me, though they happen to have friends from high school lingering in the area. I’ll always be an introvert, but talking to these brand new people has been strangely refreshing recently. It’s a nice, liberating feeling being a blank slate to a whole bunch of people who, like me, are also baby faced, weird, and anxious as hell.

Even as I make connections in the real world, I’m still checking my frequented sites and social media accounts. I expected I would do less of that as I transitioned into college life, but in retrospect I feel like I’ve been going through a mental transition regarding my time on the computer all along. Ever since I began making progress towards even attending Kent in the first place, I’ve been taking the digital world less and less seriously, and I didn’t even take it too seriously to begin with. Now I look at people getting into comment section flame wars sometimes and just feel a little bit sad. I feel sad that these people, apparently, have nothing better to do than insulting people on the internet for fleeting moments of manufactured superiority. They could be learning new things, opening their minds to new experiences, and actually engaging in the real world, but they aren’t. It’s frustrating sometimes, because it feels as if so much potential is being wasted on useless, stupid arguments when the participants could have been doing something more productive in the first place. (Hey, if me being a student makes me a vital part of the conscience of America, I gotta put my honest opinion out there.)

My year-long honors English course is centered around the theme of disenfranchisement, the act of being made into an outsider. But sometimes, strangely enough, I like to feel like an outsider. I like to look at inane arguments and know that I have no place there, that there’s something much better to be doing than fighting fire with fire. I’m learning that the type of fire that actually needs to be fought can be fought with words, expression, logic, truth. I’m really grateful to have the chance to hone these skills.

I Want My EmpTV

Thursday, April 21st, 2022

Somehow, in this media hypersaturated world, I’ve been feeling like I should watch more television. It’s the end of the academic year, and I constantly find myself in a weird limbo between feeling overloaded with home stretch work and having absolutely nothing to do. This limbo usually fluctuates within hours multiple times every day. And when my schedule creates a void, I need something to fill it. (I guess my time management skills are too good.) My teenage years made me into a movie watcher as I subconsciously rejected the cartoons of my childhood. But as someone who loathes dismembering a movie that was intended to be watched in one sitting, finding the time to fully digest one is sometimes tricky. TV can provide a similar experience in a (usually) shorter time frame, making it easier to work into a night. And, when done right, it can be the medium for incredible and moving works.

Not that everyone is “doing it right.”

The internet alerted me yesterday to the fact that horribly corrupt anti-democracy politician Rudy Giuliani made an appearance on a show called The Masked Singer. (It had apparently first leaked a while ago, but it somehow it didn’t appear on my radar back then, or maybe the news cycle moves way too fast for anyone to keep up in today’s world.) The first thing that popped into my mind upon learning this oh so crucial piece of information was this: Again? It was only a few months ago that that show, which I have never watched, made similar headlines for having Sarah Palin on as a fluffy singing bear or something, which had made me want to slam my head into a wall. Why?

Well, I think I’ve figured out why. Prior to those two media meltdowns, the only times I had to deal with The Masked Singer‘s existence was my DEVO fan friends cringing at some video game streamer bro singing “Whip It” on there, because their cultural assimilation continues to be amusing. Otherwise, I would have been blissfully unaware of anything regarding the show except maybe seeing a commercial once or twice when I wasn’t paying attention.

But The Masked Singer has cracked a code: Putting high profile, morally reprehensible people on your ditzy TV show gets headlines and, in turn, free promotion. Your content can be the most useless dribble in existence, but you can glue a controversial face onto it and the world cannot refuse to ignore it. Does the show in question bring anything new to the table? No. To, appropriately, apply an one-off DEVO catchphrase to a wider scale, people have been wanting their EmpTV for a long time. They like their charming C-list celebrities and cheesy old songs (which, in Rudy’s case, was the most tainted rendition of “Bad To The Bone” possible, which I don’t think even the guys from DEVO could have made up). Is there any reason to pay attention to it other than its promotion of some hideous politicians (and Jenny McCarthy)? Not anything meritable. Did it even matter that the rude-y episode actually hit a low point in viewers despite its shock value? Considering that I’m also seeing articles from the same publications about their epic fail, probably not. Any attention is good attention, and effort that could have gone into reporting about something not mindlessly idiotic and crass was forced to divert itself. It goes to show how cynical our modern world and media cycle is when you have to promote some of the world’s most undesirable people to get the share of the floor that you crave. It’s nice to call yourself “relevant,” even when you’re exploiting political starpower and uplifting people who only seek to slam the boot down on the little guy. And when cute little grandpa Rudy wanting to make a good impression on his granddaughter—he has kids?—comes off as harmless, it’s all the easier. It may have gone slightly awry this time, but maybe it won’t the next. Think of the people who viewed Joe Exotic as some sort of kitsch god after Tiger King gripped us in the early days of the pandemic, or Dubya Bush trying his best to fill in for Bob Ross. The media is manipulative; it just depends on what angle you’re viewing it from.

There’s plenty of shows out there that are actually worth sitting through, and we’re the ones who choose what we watch. Can we change the channel already?

01/06/2022

Thursday, January 6th, 2022

A year ago today, I did not go to school. Due to our COVID-enforced hybrid schedule, Wednesdays were at-home days where no virtual classes took place.

In our living room, my mother had the news on in anticipation for the televised electoral vote count from the previous year’s election. I was interested to see how the event would play out, as I was well aware that protestors would be at the Capitol insisting that the loss of the previous president to the people’s vote was unjust. I was expecting to laugh at a gaggle of delusional, pathetic fools as one of this country’s final remaining tenets of democracy did its thing.

What I actually ended up seeing was a direct, effective, borderline killer threat to democracy itself.

I was practically glued to my television screen as rioters with their profane chants and absurd displays of red, white, and blue clumped into a boisterous mass eventually powerful enough to seep into the Capitol with very little restraint. I got to see a makeshift militia of brainwashed, blood lusted, homegrown terrorists, ordered by their chosen leader to protect their country by trampling on its foundations, stumble around those supposedly sacred halls of American institution, power-drunk and disgraceful. What did the popular vote matter when these once-marginalized, now-organized morons didn’t get their favorite flavor of Popsicle?

I knew right away that things would never truly be the same again.

The storm was ultimately unsuccessful at actually overthrowing the government. But it threw the doors wide open for those who cannot stand to think that we are all human. It beamed from the rooftops: fight for your belief in lies! Fight for inequality! You can do it! And these signals have worked, based on how many concerned parents have been putting up hands at school board meetings or opting for homeschool because their districts dare to teach children basic truth, or how many people are passing around cups of bleach flavored Kool-Aids about everything under the sun.

A lot of people love to cry “never again” at every big, culture-shattering event before excusing events of similar magnitude that do not negatively effect them or their favorite political pundit. But it’s true: deluding yourself has never been so cool.

Maybe it’s time we stop living in fear of the truth. Maybe.

Twenty Twenty Twenty One Hours Gone

Saturday, January 1st, 2022

Jeez, how did this year go by so fast?

In the midst of the chaos of 2021, it was actually a great year for me on a personal level. I remained dedicated to my studies and hobbies despite a worldwide pandemic and repeated human fallacy telling most people that giving up is the better option; I was able to go out and actually do things after a year indoors, meeting people I have always wanted to meet and going places I have always wanted to go; I started this here blog. I can tell that the person I am has become more mature and more realized, due in no small part to support from all the people I have connected with and the experiences I have had along my way. I’m grateful for all of it, and I know I personally wouldn’t want a do-over…

…even though the world could really use one. If this year proved anything on a major scale, it was that we as humans are all still self-obsessed, anxious, confused little babies with false concepts of freedom and liberty implanted in our heads, acting on our base impulses. Every headline about humans ignoring COVID safety protocol and media pundits taking advantage of ignorance for their own selfish gains has been more agonizing than the last. The Omicron strain doing its very un-sexy thing doesn’t help. I received my booster shot on Monday—and that’s after two jabs and a minor bout with the ‘rona—but I’m still a human. And humans are as resilient as they are fragile.

But then again, every year is its own strain of hell; COVID just made the flames higher and the stupid crap stupider. Being able to recognize that certain things are, at their core, extremely stupid and laughable is a really crucial part of making life somewhat enjoyable. And I sure did a lot of that last year!

So what does this year have in store? For me, it means escape—escape to the college of my choice and a chance to start fresh. It’s the only thing that seems certain when it seems like the ability to do anything exciting is based entirely on how reckless other humans want to act on any given day. It’s hard thinking about the future when things seem so murky. In the meantime I’m trying to follow the advice assorted elders push upon me: savor this time while you still can.

The mask mandates that are repealed or disregarded…the underlying shiftiness of newfound lukewarm winters…the recklessness of humankind on display everywhere from the grocery store to the Facebook feed…the creepy fake ducks I saw in a (most likely man made) pond outside a developed community I drove by last weekend…varying states of growth and regression, evolution and de-evolution…what a weird, fascinating time to savor.

Happy 2022!

Circumstances

Friday, December 17th, 2021

Good news: I survived school today!

I’m not saying that because it was a bad day—it was an average day, and my week was a good one overall. I say that because some attention-seeking brats decided to use TikTok, the greatest social media platform there is, to spread false rumors of nationwide school violence today in the aftermath of the horrendous Oxford, Michigan massacre. I guess the human race still needs to prove how senseless it can be. It blows my mind how someone could look upon such cold blooded slaughter and then capitalize on it by spreading useless, irrational fear capable of unsettling people young and old across the nation. We are already bombarded with an overload of subliminal fear-mongering in our day to day lives; we don’t need a new generation of coddled edgelords continuing the grift. If I’ve learned anything by watching the twenty-first century news cycle, it’s that

  • my university of choice is going to be overrun by this gang of frothy-mouthed militants
  • my hometown is going to be Hiroshima’ed by that warmongering country
  • my few hopes and dreams are going to be stolen by this capsized group and
  • my entire life is in the hands of that secret-but-not-secret cabal of all-powerful baby-slurping ‘liberals’

messages that only encourage the populous to withdraw, to mistrust others, to get a gun and keep it loaded. Make sure it’s military grade, too; and never keep it locked up—you never know when you’ll need it.

Luckily none of my peers felt that need today, as the school day went without disruption. I wore a discreet Safe As Milk pin on my shirt because the other thing weighing heavy on my mind was that today marks the eleventh year since Don Van Vliet—better known as Captain Beefheart—died. A quote of his hangs attached to my bedroom mirror—“The stars are matter; we’re matter; but it doesn’t matter.” Offbeat, yet eloquent. Maybe if we chose people like Beefheart over the fear-mongers in power, we’d be a better species.

The Government Failure Jig

Monday, December 6th, 2021

I crossed another city off my bucket list this weekend: Washington, D.C., this nation’s capital.

Despite the initially dreadful parking situation, I enjoyed what I experienced of the city, which was limited to its outskirts. At one point the silhouette of the Capitol building was visible from the car’s front window as we entered the city, but that was the closest we got. Still, it was interesting to be in the place where the government I live under has its home base. I listened to a lot of Jello Biafra on my iPod as we tried to find a parking spot.

Instead of seeing those usual obelisks and statues, we saw some very rowdy humans do their collective thing. Surfbort put on a lively and very fun show at the DC9 nightclub, full of yelping, stomping, and dancing. They shut out the December chill and proved themselves to be very nice people after the show. I hope the rest of their tour goes just as nicely!

It made up well for having had to cancel a Thanksgiving weekend roadtrip. Luckily, we were able to make the best out of out Mourning Turkey Day. The break had its fair share of ups and downs, and I’m grateful—even thankful—that it’s ups were so, well, up. That, alongside seeing from a distance the site of such a cruel and maddening attempt at a coup in D.C., reminded me of the stark contrast between security and discomfort, truth and manufactured reality. It’s becoming more and more frustrating how so many people hide behind facades of good intent. Maybe “facade” is the wrong word—it seems like almost everybody in today’s world wears their worst traits on their sleeves. It’s a transparent veil at best. From the highest ranks of society’s ladder to somebody on your block, goons are everywhere.

They try to make you feel appreciated when they really want to use you; they try to make you value meaningless things; they will suck up your time and try to justify it. They will place you into boxes, for categorizing humans as three dimensional takes up too much brain power that could be instead used towards contemplating the complacent nature of such cardboard cutouts. If you let society mold you in this way, you may gain popularity within some circle of equally fake people who will only show their true selves when they intend to harm you or at least wear you down. They want to reprogram your way of thinking, to make you think that the things that are harmful are harmless. The longer the frog boils in the pot, the more comfortable it becomes. You are reprogrammed to live a lie.

It takes work, courage, and awareness to stand your ground. It’s not easy to do alone.

If there was anything I was thankful for this last Mourning Turkey Day, it was the true friends I have for support. They provide more comfort and warmth than an early Christmas tree ever could, and they’re the people who remind me that there’s a few good eggs out there. If only they weren’t the 0.1 percent.

But not all is depressing, because life is full of fleeting absurd moments that really make living what it’s worth. I will never forget walking out of the DC9 as it transformed for the wee hours of the night from a punk club to, supposedly, a dance club for rich kids. Judging by the incredible lines outside other buildings we saw later as we drove away, this was not too uncommon. As we made our way down the stairs from the showroom to the small ground level tavern, a vaguely familiar synth melody came on over the speakers. I tried to put my finger on what it was, but soon enough the lyrics answered my question and a wave of pure confusion dawned on me: “Dog goes ‘woof;’ cat goes ‘meow.’” In the year 2021, a club was playing “WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY.” A million times better than Whamageddon.

The Slog Of Life

Wednesday, October 6th, 2021

My time in COVID-19 induced quarantine has had me reflecting on the things that I crave or look forward to in life that remain perpetually out of reach. Like a nice dinner outside in my general area without the party being crashed by invasive insects. Multiple times, the dinner I had with my family the other weekend was interrupted by spotted lantern flies landing on our table or dive bombing us. You could barely walk anywhere without seeing one of them flattened on the pavement. It was disgusting to experience. Spotted lantern flies, like all insects, are fascinating creatures. That does not subtract from the damage they have been doing to local ecosystems since they arrived in America a few years ago. They did not completely ruin my dinner, a genuinely good meal on its own, but they were a nuisance.

Recently, it seems like life has been filled with nuisances, and they accompany everything otherwise worth living for. All of them point towards the path of one of life’s cruelest, most disabling nuisances—DOUBT. Seeing those harmful insects polluting the air makes the restoration of the world you once knew seem more and more unlikely. Seeing people’s conversations de-evolve into mindless sloganeering and virtue signaling makes you question anyone’s ability to think critically. Having your view of the world ignored and shot down makes you question if your words even have meaning. You get overwhelmed by a gaslighting world, you lose grip on your motives and sense of self, you become complacent. You are crippled when the spotted lantern fly that just landed in your hair should have been the one to take the boot.

I know from personal experience what it is like to be overcome with dutiful, certain passion. Ninety percent of the time, that passion feels one sided. Life becomes an uphill battle to defeat the monster assembled from the tangled wires of consciousness and unconsciousness, decisiveness and anxiety, love and hatred—and nothing is right until the mission is completed. The rewards are usually temporary and unsatisfying, and true fulfillment has a waiting list. Now that’s what I call a nuisance.

At least I’m lucky that a few of the waiting lists I’ve found myself on have been growing shorter. That’s not always the case.

A Few Words On The Celebrity Gossip Machine

Monday, September 13th, 2021

It blows my mind that there are people who don’t believe others deserve the basic right to privacy. So many people in media authority make immense profits off of the most useless and manufactured celebrity gossip. Glutting mainstream newshubs with this empty information tells the masses that world conflicts and political corruption are of no concern when baby scares and wedding fiascos exist. It commodifies the human experience to a systematic extent—how are we supposed to escape it? It’s a bafflingly cynical line of work.

While heinous acts of terror and rape deserve to be dealt with accordingly, celebrity gossip culture places all forms of human fallacy—from murder to making fun of another grown human person with a fully developed brain on the internet—under the same umbrella. The real problems hold the same magnitude as adolescent he-said-she-said. It only promotes a crippling twenty-first century hypersensitivity and, at times, viciously targets people who, in the grand scheme of things, never actually hurt anyone. Getting distracted by these meaningless items only allows the real offenders to scurry away scot-free in the meantime.

For the people receiving the feed, keeping up on such “news” can become an addiction. As human beings, we are all faced with varying levels of insecurity regarding our inherently selfish and prideful nature. Seeing a person in power who has done a supposedly “bad thing,” no matter the magnitude, tears down the curated, perfect image that stood so prominently before. The true, flawed nature of man is put on full display. It elicits almost a sense of pride in the lowly observer, who now feels superior than the persona-person for having not committed the same crime—or, in the most likely case, not getting caught doing the same thing. With enough repetition, the hypocrisy becomes commonplace and irremovable. As long as the happy buttons in the brain are being pressed in time with those on the “volume up” control, all is good from the armchair. Nothing of actual substance gets done, and the world keeps on disintegrating as usual. What the observer fails to realize is that no-one is inherently better than another, for we are all sitting here waiting for the earth to be consumed by the sun, preaching the gospel while whipping ourselves for our sins behind closed doors.

09/11/2021

Saturday, September 11th, 2021

Since I could first cognitively think, September 11 has been a day of lecture. Every year on that day, my teachers would take a special few minutes at the beginning of every class period to reflect on and explain their personal 9/11 experiences to us. It was an attempt at contextualization for our young, burgeoning minds who never got to live in a world without taking your shoes off at the airport or the Department of Homeland Security.

It sometimes feels unreal that, as much as I may relate to the adult role models who surround me, they knew waters that I will never swim in and no one ever can again. The pool is remodeled, and all those changes can’t be undone, and all I can do is read the recounts, look at the old photos, and try to understand the facts.

I never intend to speak for my entire generation’s perspective, though. As much as my generation gets classified as a homogenous cluster of activists and freethinkers, I know first hand how blatantly ignorant and close minded some people my age can be. Sadly, looking at the world through the clearest lenses I have, it’s quite safe to say that most of them will retain their false pride for the rest of their lives. While some love to argue otherwise, cruelty and selfishness know no generational restriction. Just look at the response that was unleashed twenty years ago, when not blindly saluting the flag in the name of Middle Eastern slaughter was “un-American.” I wonder why Muslim hate crimes in America have yet to reach pre-9/11 levels after they skyrocketed in 2001. Humans here aren’t as nice as the propaganda makes them out to be.

With American flags waving in the wind right beside Trump 2020 signs, it seems like barely anyone has learned from the jingoism, the violence, the hatred. But was learning ever the point? The wildfire continues to rage, and people continue to suffer in cruel ways supported by deep roots. The fostering of close-mindedness and suppression of critical thought that billowed up like clouds of debris smoke resulted in a terror that was homegrown, not some tricky bogeyman from abroad. It is a terror that has culminated in the destruction of lives and the obliteration of common sense, and there’s just no going back.

You can decline the supersize Freedom Fries offer with your Happy Meal, sure. But when Big Daddy has force fed you blind submission to the powers that be your entire life, isn’t succumbing just so much easier?