Whatever you’re doing at this moment, please stop. We’re all going to sing:
Lead Vocal: “…War! — Hyunh!! Good Gawd, Jy’all! — What Is It Good For..?”
Chorus: “Uh-Absolut’ly Nuthin’!”
by Donald Croft Brickner
What follows in its entirety is unlikely to qualify as glum, or even unpleasant — but due to the urgency of the topic (war v. no war) with its endless deadly disputes all over our planet, commonplace expressions of hatred and prejudice warrant some sober preliminary acknowledgment before armed conflict, itself, is addressed.
This is particularly so when one comes to recognize that such destructive biases so effortlessly surface from within one’s own self — in fact, from within most of us.
I’ll begin by making a serious criticism and, as well, an equally serious admission:
It’s taken me 60 years to experience what it feels like to be discriminated against for being an Anglo-American. I don’t like it. Whatever; I experience it almost daily.
The irony in that is obvious.
Prejudice, I’ve discovered, is usually oversimplified (and incorrectly identified) as simply racial in origin. Most of the time, it’s less about differences in skin color or even (off-putting) cultural traits than it is about an unfounded fear of “the other.”
The psychological insights of a Carl Jung should be taught in our grade schools, sin dudo. The concept of “The Shadow” side of our personalities alone belongs not only in public education, but in every discussion of this nature. Unfortunately, as a global humanity (including here in America), we’re just not ready to go there.
Not yet.
We’ve all pretty much decided we need to get our noses snot-bloodied a few more times first. Such an unwavering and determined ongoing lunacy, like the one still so effortlessly sung here in the U.S., continues to suck me into its vortex, and prompts me — yu-eh!! go-go-go-go-go-go-go!! — to hurl expletives like hand grenades at everybody and their grandmother. At least those within my purview.
I hate the casual glee so many of us snort up while this country remains at war.
The stupidity of such a stance, psychologically, emotionally, physically, spiritually and most of all, ontologically — we’ll get to that part later — boggles the mind … which, oh-by-the-way, is separate from our brains … allowing we all have one.
* * * * *
Virulent prejudicial events and interactions often materialize from seemingly all directions in the region where I live (at this writing) — and it’s led me to become at times paranoid, ready to figuratively lock and load in advance of the new day ahead.
If I happen to be in a surly mood (for no related reason), I’m ready to pounce all over any hint of discrimination, real or imagined. Some individuals I pounce upon (when I do — really, it’s not that often!) are simply themselves having bad days, and they have little interest in me one way or the other: they’re just trying to make it through their own personal and job-related struggles. But that doesn’t deter me.
To topic: I’m ready to go to war — and sometimes I’ll even pick the fight. I’ll initiate a first strike verbally before any possible anticipated snide word even pops out of the other’s mouth. A rowdy offense easily slips past an unprepared defense. Yes.
Then there’s a flash point that erupts between me and this other individual — it’s a stunning (yet always predictable) pre-violence blood curdle whenever it occurs.
The other person burns. I burn. I’ve got a mouth on me, too, and I’m ardently ready to use it: Bring it on, you (bleeping) (bleep)hook — you muther(bleeping) (bleep)! I’ll kick your (bleeping-bleep) from here to (Bleep)day. And so on.
Trash talk trash talk trash talk.
Keep in mind, neither one of us probably knows the other from a cricket on the floor.
* * * * *
Yet, right now, as I tell you all of this, I’m not filled with the rage I’m describing — and it’s that state of “rest” that’s prompted my bringing this sub-topic up in the first place.
I discover I’m filled with shame, and what’s shifted into a familiar, deep sadness, instead.
Less than a half hour ago, prior to my planting myself in this seat, a woman from “that” culture just did a little something unexpectedly thoughtful (i.e., just plain nice) in my regard — and my own rage that I’d felt so powerfully earlier this day was quickly dissipated … and then lost.
Gone — at least for at least another 18 hours, or thereabouts.
With that in mind, then, this next philosophical question just begs to be resolved:
If the disgust and self-righteous loathings I’d been feeling had a valid substance, then, wouldn’t they have held up under a simple, not-so-random act of kindness?
Seriously: Wouldn’t they?
… And not just melt away in my mouth like some slight, artificial chocolate drop?
Before we fully address such a fundamental query, I’d like to invite you on a short detour you may, or may not, be familiar with:
We’re going to visit the wildly popular interactive Internet game called Mobsters.
* * * * *
But before we land there, I feel the need to address (particularly for my previous readers) how well I believe my observations and predictions from 2008 stand up today, regarding “The Great Leveling” (which, oh, btw, I only just discovered last week was a phrase once voiced by trance medium Edgar Cayce regarding very similar circumstances facing his peers back in the late 1920s — and that captured my attention, I can tell you!; I was about to drop the phrase, as I’d considered it a tad too [bleeping] bombastic).
I continue to believe that, once the smoke clears, a minimum of 80 percent of my writings from last year will stand up pretty well, in retrospect. Only two things can likely alter that, from this focal point in time (mid-January 2009): 1.) if the Obama Administration and our Congress will exhibit unanticipated clarities, insights and wherewithals in their well-meaning attempts to significantly mitigate “TGL,” which will still take its toll economically and stability-wise throughout this year; or — 2.) if humility will take over planet Earth, years in advance of its (likely still-3-5-years’-away) semi-scheduled arrival.
My greatest concern regarding all global governments at this stage in our history is that they’re all about to face The Big One — and most of their figurative starting rotations and bullpens are populated by batting practice pitchers.
Such individuals, therefore, will spend most of these next several years — when they’re even in the game, so to speak — backing up third base.
Regardless: true Humility — its widespread absence will be the bottom-line focus of just about everything that’s approaching us during the half decade ahead.
We human beings have some serious (and rigidly unflagging) Pride issues.
* * * * *
As a two-year member of Myspace (www.myspace.com/donaldcroftbrickner), I was invited some four months ago by two separate Myspace “Friends” — I don’t actually know most of these folks personally; that’s often the way of cyberspace “communities” — to join two games at the same time: Mobsters, and its Myspace knock-off, Mafia Wars. Feeling lower than worm sweat due to finances, I joined.
I was then tasked with advancing up endless (and often functionally irrelevant) “levels,” which fly by pretty quickly as you perform any of five basic actions (your choice): complete a “mission,” so you can climb the levels and acquire useful extras; invite other Myspace Friends to join your mob (mob sizes are generally critical); buy some properties that will pay you money back every hour … so you can buy weaponry and defense-oriented “armors;” and then, finally, fight any and all opponents who aren’t in your mob — which can return you more money and, now and then, help you “kill” the person you’re attacking (or are attacked by).
Hawkish, much? I mean, really — give us a gun, real or fake, for Christmas, and way too many of us still get all cuddly-kissy-smooshy.
The word, “kill,” demands quotation marks — because, in fact, no player ever actually “dies” when participating in these games!: even when the game, your opponent, and you are all in agreement that, in game terms, you’ve been “killed!”
Please don’t blow off that above observation. It’s kind of critical here.
* * * * *
Hardly one single individual out of countless millions of Mobsters’ (and its ilk’s) players who’ve been killed during game action — and then, surprise, killed again! — seems to be up to making what should be clear game-philosophy connections:
One: if you never actually “die” and just keep playing (piling up death numbers, which are meaningless apart from won-lost/died-murdered records), then the Mobsters world view, cyberspacey though it may be, incorporates instantaneous reincarnation for every participant, at the very core of its construct design — and even more outrageously, two: there is simply no point to playing these games!
Just like in real life — for the overwhelming majority of today’s Earthly inhabitants!
* * * * *
But, play, a preposterous (and ever climbing) number of players do. There are no winners ever, unless one simply compares total wins, total murders, or total won-lost percentages as a gauge for success. It’s not possible to feel fulfilled playing either game, or their bevy of copycat “apps” (applications) … like Fashion Wars.
You don’t kill opponents in Fashion Wars, one might add. You throw them down!
Perhaps the most annoying of these games — and in an entirely unexpected way — is Mafia Wars, where collecting oodles of money and properties becomes so-o easy as to be totally meaningless, all unto itself. I’ve only played that game for four months now, and already I’m “earning” $98.4 million … an hour!
Really, if you think that’s a wonderful experience, just give it a try — I strongly encourage you to, in fact (you can even join my MW mob, where I’ve chosen “Stiletto” as my avatar name). Each time I sign on, I have to figure out what I’m going to do with what’s grown into billions of dollars between sessions.
How many (bleeping) casinos and marinas can one buy, and to what purpose? They don’t stop me from having been “killed,” oh, 17 times between sessions.
Not that that makes any difference, either.
So my murders-deaths percentage sinks. Woo-o.
Are you beginning to see the rapt similarities between these games, then, and how we conduct ourselves as a humanity? There are clear parallels, I tell you.
It’s not too far from the truth to suggest that we fight wars, in part, because we’re bored to death living genuinely meaningless lives.
And that’s what happens when an individual has no tenable world view to fall back on, or embrace. When one’s life lacks meaning, he or she doesn’t turn to anarchy as an alternative perspective, say, as social scientists might suspect. No one cares about dotting I’s and crossing T’s when they live their lives — most all just want to have a good time … even if it that “time” isn’t so very good. So, they hope a little — and they pretend a lot.
…Hey, check it out! I’m wearing a jacket filled with real bombs… Watch thi—-!!
( … )
Never mind that most of us need a psychotherapist just to get through the day.
Were only we able to afford one.
* * * * *
And so we come to the almost-conclusion of yet another philosophical treatise — where authors are encouraged to provide solutions to the problems they discuss.
I wish I were less adamant about the solution I’m about to offer (and over the last two years of writing essays, I’ve proposed this conviction several times):
At the core of my argument is this: Just like in Mobsters, we don’t really die. Ever.
When we physically “die,” our souls/spirits/you-pick-the-noun vacate our physical bodies (which, in turn, when discarded, become basic, simple fertilizer) — and those souls/spirits go “elsewhere.” That’s just a lock, for me — isn’t it for you?
What do you mean, no?
I have an atheist friend who thoughtfully pauses, and then tells me that life-after-death as a real world concept is “counter-intuitive” — and I know he’s not alone in that reaction.
The problem there, as I see it, is he’s as yet to subjectively experience his “spirit” being separate from his body — and therein joins minimalist, mean old positivists by demanding at least some smattering of empirical evidence instead.
Positivists. These are folks who believe that science is a philosophy — which is a little like saying a BlackBerry is a River of Dreams. Something got way lost in translation.
Science, as I view it, is a methodology first — and almost nothing second. When that methodology dictates what is and isn’t true about human beings, simply in its absence of experiments conducted — then the tail is wagging the dog of pursuing truth — which in the end is what science claims it’s actually striving to accomplish.
So, does God exist? Scientists unequivocally cannot say yes — there just is no “hard evidence” to support the concept. Yet, many scientists are Christians, who necessarily believe in God. Are they being hypocritical? The scientist-Christians would say no: Scientists take off their “empirical” caps when they go to church.
Sigh.
Many of the same issues apply, then, when discussions turn to the notion that human beings are “spirits” first, and flesh-and-blood bodies second.
Despite ever so much quality anecdotal evidence already on hand to support that simple idea — enough to founder an entire fleet of Exxon tankers, if you wish (and I do) — not one nation on our planet today truly believes in its reality, much less practices it.
To Christians: where does your soul go after you die (allowing that you’ve been a good Christian)? Heaven. Doesn’t that mean your spirit survives death, then? No.
We can go from religion to philosophy to even New Age beliefs — which, when push comes to shove, are quite often disingenuous (…Some people will survive death, maybe, but I won’t; I don’t deserve to…) — and so what we say we believe commonly doesn’t mesh with what we really believe (and, yes — there’s an entire field called social psychology that has repeatable empirical evidence to support just that dumbfounding behavior — and, yes, sometimes scientists do get it right).
* * * * *
When these topics are applied to acts of aggression and/or war, they should take precedence … only they don’t. They never have, and some are sure to insist they never will.
But … but: if global cultures formally changed their beliefs about our surviving death, there’s an excellent chance we wouldn’t fight wars … because just like in Mobsters, we’d come to realize war was not only pointless — no one ever really dies, even in the “real world” — but a slew of new unanswered questions would then surface, and take precedence.
Like — what the hell are we all doing here?!
All of these are ontological questions, btw: about consciousness in relation to the (highly probable) nature of reality.
* * * * *
You want to end wars? Seriously? …Like, for ever and ever?
First, let’s all get a new world view — one that reflects a genuinely tenable nature of reality … which we already have enough evidence on hand to back-engineer.
We honestly do! It’s just that no one’s acting on it — at least on a large-enough scale.
And, secondly?
…Oh, what the hell — why not?:
It’s inevitable, anyway.
Let’s all check into rehab.
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