Imagination
July 25
Ordinarily, I am not one to engage in apocalyptic or pessimistic visions of the future, but I think it would be appropriate today to take a glimpse into the future in the case that political conservatism and corporatism prevail. I do not think this will happen, but if it does, we could wind up with Rove-World.
Rove-World
After finishing their educations at the World-Mart chain of high schools, colleges and universities, where each receptive young mind was indoctrinated with World-Mart approved information, including its version of history, every young man was expected to apply for a position at World-Mart. Of course, it wasn't really a matter of being hired or not, so much as a matter of what position the individual would get. The better connected the applicant, the better the position, in general. Women could apply also, but only single women, and they only were given the more menial positions (greeter, cashier, stock clerk), especially since women had been banned from going to college. On the other hand, World-Mart was extremely generous. They could afford to be, since they basically owned everything, including our government. Every new employee was assigned a house in a World-Mart community. They had a choice of World-Mart doctors, and local World-Mart stores in which to fulfill their shopping needs. Of course, only approved World-Mart products were allowed. And prior to going to live in a World-Mart community, each person had to sign a document absolving World-Mart of any legal responsibility. And since World-Mart controlled the entire housing market, there was no place to live other than a World-Mart community. Consequently, no one could sue World-Mart. At home, television viewers and radio listeners had a choice of several World-Mart stations, all plying the individual's psyche with appropriate propagandistic drivel chosen by World-Mart executives. On Sundays, all citizens were required to attend one of several World-Mart run churches.
Welcome to the world of 2108, Rove-World, named after its founder, Karl Rove, in which the United States has been under Republican control for 108 years. In fact, there is only one viable political party left in the United States, the Republican Party, which had effectively squelched all opposition one way or another, until there was barely a whimper of protest remaining. The presidential elections of 2000, 2004, and 2008, all close and controversial elections, were looked back upon by historians and World-Mart's owners as crucial in the story of World-Mart's ascendency to power. In 2000, George W. Bush became president despite losing the popular vote, and despite the fact that he should have lost the electoral vote, as well, thanks to his friends in high places. In 2004, George W. Bush won another close election, although there were suspicious circumstances occuring in some areas, especially Ohio. In 2008, John McCain once again became president despite losing the popular vote. After running a campaign rife with racial and religious slander against his opponent, Barack Obama, McCain managed close victories in several key "swing states" under suspicious circumstances -- polling stations in areas with predominantly Black populations running out of ballots, polling stations in Democratic strongholds closing early, computers suddenly "finding" large numbers of votes for McCain, but none for Obama. After that, world history was all downhill. Of course, the historians who wrote the history were all empoyees of World-Mart, so their version of history celebrated these elections as great turning points for the better, and failed to mention anything about the controversies and suspicious circumstances surrounding these elections. Similarly, politicians, being funded soley by World-Mart, voiced the official World-Mart version of history.
Meanwhile, executives at World-Mart's world headquarters in Beijing were in charge of setting policy. For example, the official policy for the United States included teaching its citizens that the United States was the "world's greatest nation" and the "world's greatest democracy." America was "the land of the free and the home of the brave" as it had always been. Now that China's government had control of the entire world's business, the world had been made to resemble a 1950's style Chinese commune, except that its citizens were being duped into believing that they lived in some sort of great democracy, in which people went to the polls every so often to vote for World-Mart's chosen politicians, and except that its citizens had more technology, but fewer actual choices to make. There were occasional grumblings among the citizenry about World-Mart's total domination, but people, even though secretly unhappy about the situation, felt helpless to do anything about it. Mostly, they were too busy working like servants permanently indentured to World-Mart to really think about it. And since vices such as smoking, liquor and gambling were rampant, as well as crimes both petty and violent, and the food of the masses was cheap and of poor nutritious quality, and health care had deteriorated to third-world quality, except for World-Mart's executives, average life expectancy had decreased to 55 years. And there were still wars and skirmishes between nations, which still had their own governments and ambitions, despite the fact that it was really World-Mart which was pulling their strings as though they were puppets. Most of these wars were over resources. Meanwhile, psychopathology had reached record levels, with depression and suicide being epidemic. Why had life deteriorated so? In fact, World-Mart's leaders wanted life for ordinary citizens to be this way. The feared that a well-fed, well-rested, well-educated, physically and psychologically healthy populace would represent a threat to their power. When the standard of living rises among ordinary citizens, and people become well-educated, people start thinking for themselves, and when people think for themselves, they want freedom and want to reshape the world for the good of the people, rather than the glorification of its leader/owners. They get ideas, and that is not what World-Mart wants. Ideas -- especially in combination with time and energy -- can lead to revolutions. Thus I say, let us get the idea, and make sure that Rove-World never happens.
June 29
The Future of Sports, Capitalist Style
I was not planning to do this post yet, but I saw (parts of) a very strange game on television last night. The Dodgers beat the Angels 1-0, but the really strange thing was that the Angels pitchers (Jered Weaver for 6 innings, Jose Arredondo for 2), did not allow a hit to the Dodgers, but still lost. (The Angels pitchers did not pitch the bottom of the ninth since the Dodgers were playing at home and already had the game won.) The only run reached base on an error, advanced to third on a stolen base attempt which saw the throw from the catcher sail into center field for another error, allowingthe runner to advance to third, and a scoring fly ball to deep right field. Dodgers' announcer, Vin Scully, was thoroughly loquacious about what a special game it was. It was only the fifth time in major league baseball history that a team pitched a no-hitter and lost, but somehow, it just seemed like another baseball game to me, baseball having long lost what little magic it may have once had for me. Yes, I watch it, certainly when the team I used to be inveterate fan of, the Angels, plays the team I used to hate, the Dodgers. But now, it just looks like the real Los Angeles team beating the fake Los Angeles. team. Since Artie Moreno bought the Angels, he has managed to raise its payroll astronomically, give it the most rediculous name I have ever heard of in sports (the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, despite playing in a different county from Los Angeles), and they still aren't as good as before Moreno bought them. Meanwhile, several former Angels players have been implicated in the steroids and amphetamines scandel. Perhaps these trends are only a harbinger of the future. I am reminded of the way my mother consistently refers to sports as "hideous sports," although that has its own story behind it which I plan to make the topic of a future post.
The following is my vision of sports' future if we do not do something to turn this nation (or indeed, much of the world) around to serve the needs of the public.
Setting: the United States of Carl Rove, circa 2050; Scene, the American League Championship Series between the New York Red Sox of Boston and the New York Yankees of New York. The favored Red Sox, fresh off their victory over the New York Orioles of Baltimore, are preparing to play a home game at Wal-Mart Field against the Yankees. Corporate moguls from around the globe are landing their private jets on the airfield which used to serve as the Red Sox parking lot. They, along with various ludicrously rich heirs, and former athletes, who are also among the world's richest persons, are gathering in their private booths, which have replaced the seats which used to be adorned with average customers. These average customers have to settle for watching the game on a television set. But hey, that's not so bad, right? Meanwhile, the players are seen openly taking amphetamines to "pump up" for the game, having already pumped up their muscles with steroids in the clubhouse. The consensus among the fans seems to be, "If it helps them play better, why not? More power to them. We really can't do anything about it, anyway." The players are noticeably larger and more muscular than in the past. One-hundred mile-per-hour fastballs are commonplace, but so are home runs when a batter connects.
Setting: a soccer (A.K.A. football) field in England; Scene, World Soccer Cup championship game between the United States and Brazil, 2052. The United States of Carl Rove have won 11 straight championships, ever since their genetic engineering experiments have resulted in web-footed individuals who are exceptionally proficient at kicking soccer balls. Meanwhile, top professional athletes are gathering to declare themselves temporary amateurs in order to play in the Olympics. Those from third world countries, or those who participate in less popular sports which do not host professional teams, are given large sums of money, equipment, apartments, houses, free training, etc by rich sponsors of by their governments.
Setting: a basketball court in Los Angeles; Scene, the National Basketball Association Championship series between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Chicago Bucks of Milwaukee, at Staples Center, 2060. The Lakers, averaging a shade under 9 feet tall and with a collective rap sheet as long as their basketball records, are favored to win, lead by star 10 footer P.G. Rapovitch. Ever since tall parents began giving their young sons Human Grouth Hormone and steroids, in order to give them a chance to become rich and successful basketball players, the game has been transformed. The basket has been raised twice, first, to 12 feet high, then, to 15 feet high. Yet the taller players still manage to dunk the ball. The NBA keeps saying it will do something about the unfortunate side effects of the drugs given to children and players -- increased violence and antisocial behavior, and severe heart problems leading to a life expectancy of only 42 years among the NBA players -- but nothing ever seems to happen. Perhaps that is because it is hard to convince impoverished parents that having a rich, famous, successful basketball player in the family is a bad thing, And besides, none of the players ever seem to go to jail, or suffer the consequences of their bad behavior. (Does this sound familiar?)
Setting: Texaco Field, Houston, Texas, in the year 2070, where the rich and famous are gathering to watch the Superbowl in their private booths which have replaced the stands where ordinary fans used to sit. Scene: a huddle of football players, six of whom weigh over 500 pounds, and it's mostly muscle. The really big ones are the offensive linemen, and the tight end. The 7 foot tall quarterback, meanwhile, attempts to peer over these 7 foot behemoths to check the offensive alignment. Lost in the crowd, are 2 fleet-of-foot 250 pound running backs, and 2 speed-burning, 200 pound wide receivers. The use of steroids, amphetamines, and other performance-enhancing drugs which we in 2008 have yet to hear of, have long since become prevalent in football. "It's their lives, they can do what they want with them" seems to be a prevailing attitude among the fans. Secretly, many fans are jealous of the riches and attention lavished on the professional football players, even though their life expectancy is only about 50 years, due to the drugs' effects.
The previous may be an overly pessimistic view of the future of sports, but if current trends, including corporatism and conservatism continue to prevail, this seems to be the direction we are heading. Let us hope that the real Angels win in sports, not the fake ones. Meanwhile, I fondly remember the days when ballparks and sports arenas where named after their locations, and the players who performed in them for the most part were intelligent, noble, well-paid but not filthy-fich people who seemed worthy of our admiration.
May 5
Today I will write another new type of post, one of imagination. Tomorrow, I will finally get back to the topic of propaganda, cults, and cult-like behavior in the United States.
My life as an Oyster
As a child, I often wondered why I was a human being. I find it remarkable how seldom people seem to question their status as human beings. Perhaps in a Buddhist or Hindu society which believes that people may be reincarnations of animals, or be reincarnated in the future as an animal, this question would receive more attention. Personally, I find it rather egotistical that people in a society such as this do not question how they came to be human beings, in fact. Ultimately, my answer to this question is that if I were some other life-form found here on earth. at least, I would not not the intelligence and consciousness to examine this issue -- that in us humans, is concentrated intelligence, consciousness and spirit which is an inherent property of the universe. The difference is one of quantity, however, not one of kind. Thus, we should always show concern for and compassion toward other kinds of creatures, as well as our fellow humans. We are caught in a cycle of dependence on life as animals. Whatever we eat, comes from life. Yet we must show compassion for life, as well as make appropriate use of other lifeforms. The ultimate significance of this cycle is still unclear to me, but I think it has to do with us being a part of everything around us. I also recognize the likelihood that there are innumerable other planets in this universe which harbor life, and many of those probably have intelligent lifeforms as well. To think otherwise, would be incredibly egocentric. However, Earth happens to be the home of we humans and other lifeforms that evolved on this planet. For now, at least, life on Earth is all we have direct knowledge of. The great variety of life on Earth is mind-boggling. Many forms of life have a very limited existence, so I sorry for them, in a way, and blessed to have life as a human being. The following comes from my spontaneously placing myself in the life of an oyster one night a few months ago as I was trying to fall asleep.
This rock is a pretty comfortable place to live. I like it when a gentle current sweeps over the area, and I can open up and "let my mantle down." I especially like it when the current is out of the south and there is lots of tasty plankton to eat. Fish don't bother me. If one gets too close, I just "clam up," so to speak. Sometimes, a starfish or Octopus crawls over me and its time to "clam up" again. Once, a Sea Urchin walked over me. That really tickled! You ask me how does it look down here? I really don't know. I don't have any eyes. How does it sound? I could not tell you; I have no ears. I can tell you that there's a really sexy oyster right next to me. I think her name is Eunice. Every year, when the tide is just right, she releases her eggs. Woohoo! That's my signal that it's time for me to do my thing and release my gametes, too. I think we must be the proud parents of -- well, I can't count that high, but it must be a lot a baby oysters. My name is Robert, by the way. Eunice and I are always sending pheromones to each other. That's our way of talking. Nothing says "I love you" like a little water-borne chemical messenger called a pheromone. Each year, we grow a little bigger, and our pheromones grow a little stronger. It is quite the love story, I suppose. The bigger and plumper we grow, the sweeter our lives grow. Our love is as solid as the rock we live on. I wonder whether other oyster guys love their oyster gals the way I love mine. Somehow, I doubt it, but I really don't know. I hope nothing happens to her. I heard tell through the chemical grapevine that there are these huge rubbery creatures with big long arms that come down from above sometimes and yank us oysters off our moorings. I don't know; it's probably just another sea creature myth.
There is one thing that has been bothering me, though. A couple years ago, when I was feeding on some delicious, tender little baby plankton, all of a sudden, down plops this irritating little piece of sand right in my mantle. Dang it! No matter what I tried to do, I couldn't get rid of it. Finally, I gave up and just started surrounding it with my calcareous secretion -- you know, the one that quickly hardens and turns into a shell. I figure, that way, at least I wouldn't have to feel that darn piece of sand anymore. But as time goes on, that shell-thing has gotten bigger and bigger and its all round. It's not connected to the rest of my shell, either. It just sort of sloshes around in there, and it's getting more and more uncomfortable, the bigger it gets. I think that is what they call, a "pearl." Well, I'll be darned if Eunice didn't tell me the other day she was developing one of those things too. What a waste of calcium! I guess the whole world can't be your oyster. I sure wish we could get rid of these "pearl" things. Maybe there is someone or something out there which actually likes those "pearl" things. One can always hope. On the other hand, here is a little "pearl" of wisdom: Be careful what you wish for! Let us suppose, just for argument's sake, that those big rubbery sea monsters are real, and, as barbaric as it might seem, that they swoop down from above and yank us oysters off our rocks, crack us open, eat us, and remove our "pearls" to use as love offerings for a potential mate. I suppose stranger things have happened.
To all of this, Robert the human responds, "Yeah, but oysters are yummy and pearls are pretty." Fortunately for us, I guess, actual oysters barely even have a brain, and are certainly not capable of the kind of thoughts and feelings attributed to Robert the imaginary oyster. Nonetheless, they are living creatures, and therefore something to be nurtured and not wasted, rather than something to be carelessly crushed and tossed aside in the pursuit of "valuable" objects such as pearls.