"Defending Jesus"; Facebook advert; Christian duty (an opinion, not a knowledge claim).

What's with this "defend Jesus" advert I've seen on Facebook recently? Hello there, Christians, Jesus defends us, we do not defend Him. Jesus Christ requires no defense. He is the defense. Our job as Christians is to adore, worship, and depend on Him, with all we've got, and to witness to others how He has worked in our lives, in the hope that they may realize equal results; not to "defend" Him [as if such a thing were remotely possible for us] from the ignorance, slights, or slanders of others. This is not to suggest that there is anything intentionally unsavory about an honest desire to defend the Lord. As I see it, when we speak of Christ to our fellow men, with an interest toward enlightening them of His Grace, and His true affect upon our lives, we are not defending our Lord, but giving public testimony to His power, affirmation of trust in His guidance, and glad and grateful acknowledgment of His authority, in God the Father.  Merry Christmas!

- written 12.25.13 -

Old PFFA BB post, as Urizen; noun/adjective pairings; modifiers

Scavella,

In regard to your exerpts (and I'm only thinking of the first one presently, as the second one is much better, I think), I recall reading somewhere (and agreeing with it) that when people use modifiers they have a tendency to use very common ones, like 'large' 'big', 'small', 'little', 'dark', 'old', and color-words. In the Wordsworth passage I see quite a bit of those kinds of words. I also see some that are redundant, which Eric has already pointed out, like 'craggy' and 'rocky'. Then there's 'sparkling', which probably sparkled a great deal more for readers two hundred years ago. But I will say that if I were to read the passage without some special focus on something in particular, I doubt I would have thought anything at all about the presence or absence of modifiers, or about the particular ones Wordsworth uses. I should also say that I like Wordsworth a great deal, but could never get through the "Prelude". Some of his shorter pastoral poems in blank verse I like considerably more.

All I know is: I have nothing against the use of modifiers unless they begin to call attention to themselves unfavorably, as in: if there are too many, if they seem to function mainly as padding, if they are cliched or redundant, or if someone is overloading his or her lines for some sort of musical effect and doing it badly. I think there's not much worse than a fourth or fifth-rate Poe or Swinburne. I decided to sit and think of a poem or a passage of verse which I think is outstanding, and one of the first bits that came to mind for me was the opening of Shakespeare's Richard III:


Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings;
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now,—instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,—
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Going through it, I see there are a lot of modifiers, mostly adjectives which strike me as being, on average, just as purposeful as the words they are modifying. 'deep' is sort of useless sense-wise, but very strong sonically; 'glorious' 'victorious' 'bruised', 'merry', 'dreadful' and 'delightful' are more than pulling their weight sense-wise, and of course, this is Shakespeare: this stuff is a treat for the ear. 'bruised' echoes 'brows', and then there's the alliterative 'merry meetings', and the alliterative (not to mention sarcastically disparate), 'dreadful/delightful'--'marches/measures'. 'sportive tricks' sounds great, as does 'wanton ambling nymph'. And sometimes the adjectives assist in showing N's contemptuous and jealous mindset, in phrases like 'lascivious pleasing', 'dissembling nature', 'weak piping-time of peace' 'idle pleasures of these days'.

Shakespeare is light on the adverbs, and the ones he uses work well: "capers nimbly in a lady's chamber" is a great line. And later, 'rudely' and 'lamely' both work in stark contrast to 'nimbly'. The word 'breathing' in L21 is a mystery to me, and 'fair' works well once, but not as well the second time. Other than that, without going through the whole passage, I think Shakespeare demonstrates that he is thinking very carefully about all of the words he's using, to hark back to what Donner said.

When I try to think of famous poems which I think could be examples of the disadvantageous use of modifiers, the only one that really pops into my head is "London Snow" by Robert Bridges. Here's the opening bits of that (first, fourth, and seventh lines are indented in the text I copied):


When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.

All those adverbs, Ack!-- It's too much. Now, I know this is a beloved poem by a famous poet, a Laureate no less, and I do admire quite a few of Bridges' poems, but I really can't stand the passage I quoted, and it's mainly because of all the adverbs. We won't even go into the "ings". And no, I don't mean I can even hold a candle to Bridges, even in his worst moments, myself. I just don't particularly care for this poem very much (although it gets better later on), and the reason why just happens to be on topic.

BB post; on snark vs smarm; criticism; publication; vanity; @ Eratosphere

 Well, I read the article linked to, and I don't suppose I had the reaction I was supposed to have. In fact, I pretty much agree, though with some important caveats, with the quote by Eggers:

 

Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me, and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them.

 

 Caveats: I think it's perfectly fine to "be a critic". Being a critic isn't a bad thing in and of itself. I admire Howard Bloom, just to name an example of a critic of poetry who is not also a known poet himself, more than I admire a great many known poets. I think he has done great things in the world of literary critique, and he obviously knows how to read poetry. I love his defense of Shelley, for example, against many famous poets who thought ill of him and claimd he had a "tin ear" - Auden, I think, and a few others. While I don't think Shelley had a great ear, it wasn't a tin ear. If you want to know a famous poet I think truly did have a tin ear, it was _ _. On second thought, nevermind. I always get into heaps of trouble when I mention this great poet. He was a contemporary of Shakespeare, and everyone seems to love him to death. I find many of his works very fine, but by and large I find him almost impossible to read at length. If anyone is curious about whom I'm referring to, my inbox is open.

 

 Another caveat: I think you can dismiss a work of art without being able to create something in the same medium, but it should be something one does rarely, not as a matter of routine. I rudely dismissed a major motion picture in an Amazon review which I thought was not only garbage but evil garbage, but I made sure to point out the movie's technical cred first, and explaind that I thought the film was a waste of the talents of many people who workd hard on getting the film out. One shouldn't just wantonly dismiss works of art—particularly something like a film, which usually requires years of work and the concerted efforts of hundreds of skilled and talented individuals—without expecting someone at some point to call you on it and remind you to mind your manners.

 

 Also, doesn't a "dismissal" of a work of art come with an implied agreement that while the dismiss-or has waved her hand and dismissed, it's granted that the work of the dismis-ee may, and no doubt does, have appeal to other people who do not agree with the opinions of the dismiss-or? The appreciation of art always has been, and alway will be, subjective. Even Ayn Rand, the fountainhead of Objectivism, admits to that, in her book, The Romantic Manifesto. I think a great many people forget that simple fact in the haze of their anger & indignation while loading their slings & arrows.

 

 I was also prompted to read this poet August Kleinzahler's "takedown of Garrison Keillor". I'd never heard of Mr. Kleinzahler before, since I spend my time discovering & reading the work of long dead poets and intentionally ignore the contemporary ones, on principle (except my brethren here on the Sphere, of course, and precious few others, like Richard Kenney, frinstance, whom I had never heard of until I saw his name mentiond by my friend Don L. Lee on a post hereabouts). Well, I didn't care much for Kleinzahler's 'takedown', though I was forced to agree with a lot of what he said, or at least the points made in what he said. I checkd out some of Kleinzahler's poems at the Poetry Foundation's website, and was very impressd with one poem in particular, which I found excellent. This one:

 

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/182949

 

 It actually excited me, which rarely happens anymore when I read contemporary poetry, particularly poetry in free verse. This poem reminded me of William Carlos Williams at his best, and many others in that modern American vein. The vocabulary, the lists (I have an inordinate fondness for lists in poems), the older language: oaks, poplars, timber, Ford chassis, rock salt., contrasted with a newer, techy language: formaldehyde from the coffee plant,/ dyes, unimaginable solvents—/ a soup of polymers, oxides,... , which brought to mind various late C20 American poets, chiefly Hugh Seidman. His fast, streetwise style is sort of similar, at least in this poem, to the cyberpunk novelist William Gibson. That being said, let me reach for my prophet's hat (*dons prophet's hat*) and predict that the bulk of Kleinzahler's work will not have the same endurance & survivability as many of the poems he so confidently dismisses; or, more correctly: the kind of poems he seems to disdain, and which Keillor favors. I may be wrong, and probably am. But that's my prediction.

 

 I'm very interested in reading Keillor's response to Kleinzahler's rant, if he did respond, if I can find it. I hope he mentiond that the edgy, gritty, & somewhat mouthy Kleinzahler seemd to have forgotten that poetry is not some sort of elitist enterprise, but is for Everyman. I dislike saccharine, preachy, overtly sentimental poetry as much as the next guy; but I know that there are many readers of poetry who like that sort of thing. Hence the Edgar Guests, James Kavanaughs, Rod McKuens, and [insert your favorite homespun and/or "popular" poet here]s of the world. Furthermore, skilled poets who write in that vein can, and often do, make things which are quite beautiful and lasting, and which are more than entitled to a place in the canon. Whether Mr. Kleinzahler likes it or not.

 

 What I really want to say is that I believe the world is, frankly, choked and brimming o'er with poets, good & bad. And of these poets—

 

 and I'm not the least bit interested in the "what is poetry" debate. There's no controversy. If a person makes a pile of words in a certain fashion that the greater majority of intelligent readers will recognize as poetry, and particularly if said person calls her work a 'poem', then it's a poem. The thing worth discussing is whether or not the pile of words, the poem, is worth reading, remembering, and being passed on

 

 —far too many of them seem to be far more concernd with having others read their work than they are about reading the work of others, past and present. My opinion is that we need to slow down, look around, slow down some more, look around some more, and keep slowing down. We need to sit back and begin to appreciate the gigantic mountain of work our ancestors have made for us to enjoy (or not). I spend hours going through various archives: Gutenberg, Google Books, the Internet Archive, Amazon's Kindle, the Luminarium, and many other sites around the Net, and I'm finding poets and authors whom I've never heard of, literally on a daily basis. Granted, many of these people have left work which has been understandably and deservedly swept into the shadowy corners of neglect; but there are an equal number, or so it seems, of people whose work I enjoy very much. I'm especially happy to have not died without having read the longer or lesser known poems of Joel Barlow, Gavin Douglas, Archibald Lampman, Charles Harpur, Richard Watson Dixon, George Darley, Henry Kirke White, Mary Cavendish, Henry Kendall, Jeanne Robert Foster, John Dyer, Edward Rowland Sill, Henry Timrod, James Beattie, Trumbull Stickney, William Collins, William Cowper, Isaac Watts, James Thomson, Felicia Hemans, George Eliot, Robert Southey, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, W.M. Praed, E.B. Browning, Sir David Lyndsay, Leigh Hunt, John Hamilton Reynolds, Abraham Cowley, Robert Bloomfield, Thomas Traherne, and, last but certainly not least, the American poet Albery A. Whitman, who pennd a fair, and occasionally brilliant, epic poem in Spenserian stanza called The Rape of Florida.

 

 I don't worry about publishing my poems (although I do occasionally submit), because I think it's more incumbent on me to pay tribute to our ancestors than it is to spend too much energy, time, and money on making a name for myself, which, I am almost certain, wouldn't be all that big of a name. I really don't care much about formal publication, whether in print or online. I think I may have a few years left in which to at sometime pursue that interest. At present, I have a son who is on the cusp of adulthood who will be in charge of my stuff should something happen to me. I told him point blank: if you don't wish to do anything with it, then so be it. That will be your decision. If you decide to try and see how my work fares in the big world, take your time, do it when the feeling strikes you, if it strikes, and don't worry about it. He's a wicked smaht (Bostonian accent) boy and has a bit of an interest in poetry himself (he tells me he favors trochaic meter to iambic: he's 16), and he loves me a great deal. So all is well.

 

 Just my tuppence.

angryfloof removal phase 2

all gone.

On Slavery; Whitefield; attempts at justification via the Bible

In the early 18th century, slavery was outlawed in Georgia. In 1749, George Whitefield campaigned for its legalisation, claiming that the territory would never be prosperous unless farms were able to use slave labor.[18] He began his fourth visit to America in 1751 advocating slavery, viewing its re-legalisation in Georgia as necessary to make his plantation profitable.[19] Partly through his campaigns and written pleas to the Georgia Trustees, it was re-legalised in 1751. Whitefield purchased slaves, who then worked at his Bethesda Orphanage. To help raise money for the orphanage, he also employed slaves at Providence Plantation. Whitefield was known to treat his slaves well; they were reputed to be devoted to him, and he was critical of the abuse of slaves by other owners.[20] When Whitefield died, he bequeathed his slaves to the Countess of Huntingdon.[21] His attitude towards slavery is expressed in a letter to Mr B. written from Bristol 22 March 1751:

 

    As for the lawfulness of keeping slaves, I have no doubt, since I hear of some that were bought with Abraham's money, and some that were born in his house.—And I cannot help thinking, that some of those servants mentioned by the Apostles in their epistles, were or had been slaves. It is plain, that the Gibeonites were doomed to perpetual slavery, and though liberty is a sweet thing to such as are born free, yet to those who never knew the sweets of it, slavery perhaps may not be so irksome. However this be, it is plain to a demonstration, that hot countries cannot be cultivated without negroes. What a flourishing country might Georgia have been, had the use of them been permitted years ago? How many white people have been destroyed for want of them, and how many thousands of pounds spent to no purpose at all? Had Mr  Henry been in America, I believe he would have seen the lawfulness and necessity of having negroes there. And though it is true, that they are brought in a wrong way from their own country, and it is a trade not to be approved of, yet as it will be carried on whether we will or not; I should think myself highly favoured if I could purchase a good number of them, in order to make their lives comfortable, and lay a foundation for breeding up their posterity in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. You know, dear Sir, that I had no hand in bringing them into Georgia; though my judgement was for it, and so much money was yearly spent to no purpose, and I was strongly importuned thereto, yet I would not have a negro upon my plantation, till the use of them was publicly allowed in the colony. Now this is done, dear Sir, let us reason no more about it, but diligently improve the present opportunity for their instruction. The trustees favour it, and we may never have a like prospect. It rejoiced my soul, to hear that one of my poor negroes in Carolina was made a brother in Christ. How know we but we may have many such instances in Georgia ere it be long? - Wikipedia.

 

~

 

In my heart I feel nothing but contempt for anyone who could work in the slave trade: stealing human beings from their native countries, tearing apart families, packing them into ships like objects without sensation, the brutality of That! alone, dammit, makes me want to forget this Whitefield instantly. But this letter shows perfectly clearly that the man knew that the manner by which the people from Africa were being barbarically torn from their homes and families was wrong; and it shows that he was concerned for their welfare - once here - and knew that they could be educated: that they were human beings of equal status with whites. All that being said, and granted: slavery is not condemned in the Bible, while its barbarity and cruelty is most definitely illustrated, I cannot find it in my heart to apologize for the institution of slavery as it was practiced in any nation at any time on this planet. Of course, work must be done, and labor requires laborers, but you don't go raping and pillaging multitudes of  human societies and human individuals, and you don't pack human beings in ships  like objects! You Do Not do this! Anyone who could stand by and tolerate, or contribute to such barbarity, whether by passive bystanding or willful cooperation, is not a Christian, and is not godly. Yes, we have civilizations that arose from such evil practice, from the vast exploitation, waste, and brutal destruction  of precious human life, but does the end justify the means? If God says yes, then I must accept that. But as a man, and being the sinful creature that I am, my heart cries out an eternal Hell No to the entire idea of constructing any kind of concerted and sanctimonious apologetic for the institution of slavery. 12.9.13

BB post, unposted; poem critique; sanitation & food safety; BB etiquette

Sounds like N should have called a county sanitarian post-haste. I made my living as a cook from 1989 to 2012, with a two-year stint as Dietary Manager in a Nursing facility. I've done every task there is to be done in a kitchen, save for expert cooking (I'm a cook, not a chef). The moral problem of consuming something forbidden because of religious observance is dwarfed here by the far greater concern for "public 'ealth!"* Foodborne illness is traumatic, can be fatal, and often is. People die because of poor hand-washing, or no hand-washing, poor food-handling practices, poor sanitation, inept and dangerous food storage practices, refrigerators and freezers that do not maintain proper temperatures, lazy or careless food shipment drivers, lazy or careless kitchen staff, cross-contamination in food-preparation, underpaid, overworked, disgruntled grunts with axes to grind fixing your salad with no gloves, no hairnets, and a three-day growth of facial stubble (men included ), with little grasp of what the unsafe temperature zone is, who wipe their hands on filthy aprons or dirty hand towels, who think the handsink is a place for storing their portable CD players, whose sole priority is making time for their next cigarette break or phone call to their significant other... [/uppity poetry critter]

 

Though the media paints a far different picture, poor food-handling and sanitation practice goes on more in restaurants than in institutional facilities - at least from what I've observed - because the former, here in Imperial Rome [D'oh!** what a give away!***] I mean...here in America, are typically only required to undergo bi-annual county inspections, while the latter have to deal with annual state inspections as well as county. County inspections are often a kiss on the cheek: a half-hour tops, if the sanitarian is overworked, which is most often the case (this applies to restaurants in general, not five-star establishments or prestigious venues). State inspections last a minimum of three days and usually take up to four, and the state comes as a team of surveyors whose sole intention is to catch you with your pants down. If they have an inspector in-training, then you're really in for it. Occasionally, when the state people are suspected of not giving the white-glove treatment, or if there is a major problem, the feds come in. Yay (and there was much rejoicing...***) !

 

But [and...now...*] seriously, ignore what I've just typed, because it has precious little to do with poetry, or why I didn't care for this poem. I think it would be fine for a song lyric, but as poetry it leaves much to be desired. I would fine-tune the metrical problems John B. mentions, and consider Michael's comments with keen attention. I would also refrain from any over-long defense of the poem, or equally long explanations of what you wanted the poem to say and how you went about trying to say it. Doing that doesn't improve the poem's chance of being appreciated or generally well-liked. From what I've observed over the past 12 yrs of workshopping, it causes the exact opposite to happen, every time.

*     John Cleese (father's real surname name was Cheese)
**   Homer (no relation)
*** Michael Palin (no relation, leastways, none that I've heard of)

BB post; frdb; free will yet again!

To Be Free Or Not To Be

 

 

a play in one act, by Wikipedia. Odd, extra, superfluous lines added by WilliamB. Funded by Public Utilities.

 

Dramatis personæ:

 

 WilliamB (WB)
 Speakpidgeon (SP)
 Prof
 Togo
 aupmanyav (aup)
 fromderinside (FDI)
 Jaybees
 DBT

 

 

Setting: a kitchen. The cast is at a table, with a view of the door to the basement, in a tenement building. City: New York, New Delhi, Sidney, Melbourne, Paris, London, Honolulu, Toronto, even Speederfundus, if you like.

 

WB (who has always been afraid of the dark): It's dark in here, will someone please turn on the light?

 

(basement door opens, and DBT speaks from the top stair)

 

DBT: You don't just 'turn on the light'. Simply hitting the switch does not take into account the intricacies and complexities of electricity. Electricity is the set of physical phenomena associated with the presence and flow of electric charge. Electricity gives a wide variety of well-known effects, such as lightning, static electricity, electromagnetic induction and the flow of electrical current. In addition, electricity permits the creation and reception of electromagnetic radiation such as radio waves. In electricity, charges produce electromagnetic fields which act on other charges. Electricity occurs due to several types of physics: electric charge: a property of some subatomic particles, which determines their electromagnetic interactions. Electrically charged matter is influenced by, and produces, electromagnetic fields. Electric current: a movement or flow of electrically charged particles, typically measured in amperes. Electric field (see electrostatics): an especially simple type of electromagnetic field produced by an electric charge even when it is not moving (i.e., there is no electric current). The electric field produces a force on other charges in its vicinity. Moving charges additionally produce a magnetic field. Electric potential: the capacity of an electric field to do work on an electric charge, typically measured in volts. Electromagnets: electrical currents generate magnetic fields, and changing magnetic fields generate electrical currents. In electrical engineering, electricity is used for: electric power where electric current is used to energise equipment; electronics which deals with electrical circuits that involve active electrical components such as vacuum tubes, transistors, diodes and integrated circuits, and associated passive interconnection technologies.

 

SP: Merde! Just go and turn on the light, WilliamB, it's only a few metres to your left.

 

Prof: I'm closer, I'll go turn on the light.

 

aup: Paropakaram punyaya, papaya parapeedanam.

 

FDI: (cheeky) And God said, let there be light, and behold, there was light...

 

Jaybees: It was bound to happen, in exactly this way. WilliamB could not have turned on the light.

 

WB: I felt certain that I could have.

 

Jaybees: Of course you did.

 

WB:mumblemumblewordswordslotsofwords.navelgazing. colonssemicolonsdashesandbrackets -

 

SP: The only thing that matters is that the light is on.

 

FDI: Another thing that matters is that I'm thirsty.

 

Togo: The sink is right over there. Tapwater in this part of the city isn't too bad.

 

WB: No litotes! The water is potable. Maybe bring me back a glass too, FDI?

 

FDI: (rising, going to a cupboard to get a glass, moving to the sink) Why can't you get your own water, WilliamB?

 

WB: Well, Jaybees said I couldn't have turned on the light, so I thought...

 

Jaybees: It doesn't follow. These are a different set of circumstances. If you want some water, just go and get some.

 

(Basement door opens, DBT speaks from the top stair)

 

DBT: No, one doesn't just 'go and get some' water. It's not that simple. It doesn't take into account the intricasies and complexities of water supply systems and plumbing. Water supply systems get water from a variety of locations, including groundwater (aquifers), surface water (lakes and rivers), conservation and the sea through desalination. The water is then, in most cases, purified, disinfected through chlorination and sometimes fluoridated. Treated water then either flows by gravity or is pumped to reservoirs, which can be elevated such as water towers or on the ground (for indicators related to the efficiency of drinking water distribution see non-revenue water). Once water is used, wastewater is typically discharged in a sewer system and treated in a sewage treatment plant before being discharged into a river, lake or the sea or reused for landscaping, irrigation or industrial use. But let's not forget about plumbing. Plumbing is the system of pipes, drains fittings, valves, valve assemblies, and devices installed in a building for the distribution of water for drinking, heating and washing, and the removal of waterborne wastes, and the skilled trade of working with pipes, tubing and plumbing fixtures in such systems. A plumber is someone who installs or repairs piping systems, plumbing fixtures and equipment such as water heaters and backflow preventers. The plumbing industry is a basic and substantial part of every developed economy due to the need for clean water, and sanitary collection and transport of wastes. The word "plumbing" comes from the Latin plumbum for lead, as pipes were once made from lead. Plumbing is usually distinguished from water supply and sewage systems, in that a plumbing system serves one building, while water and sewage systems serve a group of buildings.

 

aup: Vidyā.

 

SP: Oh mon dieu!

Curtain.

frdb post; freedom; poetry

Any and all freedom comes within certain boundaries and with certain restraints. Absolute freedom is impossible, and is not something one should wish for even if it were possible. Our well-being and happiness is the result of being aware of, and constantly identifying and defining, certain boundaries: our universe, our world, our country, our state or province, our county, city or town, our neighborhood, our street, our house or apartment building, our apartment, our bedroom.

 

Who could be happy without boundaries, without borders, without roofs and walls? It would be chaos. Absolute freedom equals chaos. We live within a highly complex, determined system, and we're tiny within it. We're at the mercy of the engines of the universe. We can either obey, and live with nature, or be destroyed by it. As reasoning beings, we can understand nature, at least to a certain extent, and cause her to work to our advantage, as in irrigation and agriculture, medicine, electricity, the building of dams, etc. We can't change the laws of nature, but we can certainly make them expedient for us. And that's exactly what we've done.

 

To use as an analogy something I know a little about, you hear it said by some people who write poetry that rhyme and meter hamper their force of expression, that rules about accent and stress, the technicalities of scansion, rhyme schemes, etc, are stifling to their creativity. The truth of the matter is that once a person learns about rhyme and meter, and becomes comfortable using those tools, she will find herself in a sweet-spot of sorts: a place where she is aware of and alert to the constraints (willfully put on) of rhyme and meter, of formal verse structures, and yet with a virtually infinite magnitude of words and concepts at her disposal. That's where the best freedom lies, in my opinion, when I give myself a challenge and work towards meeting that challenge. No one is forcing me to write a poem. I could just as easily loll about in bed or watch a movie. I put the yoke on myself and go at it. Not to make money, not even to get a publication credit. Just to do it. That's the best freedom the world has to offer, at least for me.

 

Bear in mind: it's pefectly fine to write in free verse, and many great poets do; but there is still the challenge, and one must still use language to compose something that wasn't there before. Anyone who simply wants to spray words out on paper at random, without any thought to craft: well, that's their business.

BB post, frdb; 'holy' books, Jesus, Buddha, money, value, Rand, etc.

Originally Posted by S.W.:

 ...the last place that one should look for moral guidance would be in ancient "holy" books. Those would be the source of arbitrary, primitive and self-sacrificial principles that any sane person should reject just as any sane person should reject theism.

***

Steve, I'm 96% in agreement with you. My epistemology is still closely aligned to Objectivism (I believe you'll tell me I'm wrong). When it comes to metaphysics, I dissent somewhat, out of respect for the vastness and complexity of the universe. I assert that it's plain silly to think we humans on this speck of cosmic dust have figured out how the whole universe operates, and that we have anything near a comprehensive understanding of it. What we have observed could very well be a tiny fragment of a much grander, far more complex cosmos. To quasi-quote Somerset Maugham, it requires a good deal of information to discover one's ignorance.

 Sure, the ancient, sacred texts of all religions are unreliable. We have all sorts of problems with dubious authorship, ambiguous and often disparate translations, and translations of translations; suspicions as to the authenticity of documents various and sundry; not to mention the prejudiced and no-doubt politically motivated selectivity of certain persons who were in charge of deciding what was canonical and what wasn't, what was heretical and what was the God's-honest-Truth, etc.

 But on the other hand there are many profound things contained in these old writings. Isn't it interesting that Jesus - according to so-and-so - on certain issues completely contradicted the teaching of the old school? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Isn't it interesting that billions of people follow the teachings of a man who purportedly hung around with a prostitute [edit 1.25.14 was she? Did you know this, William? Or did you just assume it?] and prevented a mob of thugs from murdering her? Especially since Solomon of the old school explicitly warns us not to seek out the company of such women, because their mouths are the pit of hell? And since public stonings are condoned in earlier books? I think it's interesting, especially since, if I lived back then, and a bunch of thugs were planning to lob rocks at a young woman until she died simply because she took money for sexual favors, I'd sure as hell step in and try to stop them. I'm not sure if I'd have had those great words to say, but still, the game would be ON.

 Even if there were no Jesus, if this person was an invention, the fact remains that someone back in those times had a grip on things, and could think rationally; and KNEW that throwing rocks at a human being with the purpose of killing them was INSANE.

 Then again there's the fact that Jesus - according to so-and-so - talked about people going to hell, or into the fire, or wherever, for reasons that didn't seem justifiable at all. And some writers had Him say that you had to love Him more than your own mother and father, and various other things that didn't seem to make sense, that didn't gel with the really good things He was reported to say, like loving one another, like hey, take a look at these people over here, they have very little, life is difficult for them - show them some compassion, give them a hand, help them out. Once you start doing it, you realize that giving really is it's own reward. It doesn't have to be a duty. It can't be a duty. In fact, the Biblical Jesus would agree with Ayn Rand that if you give charity by force of law or duty alone, then: IT IS NOT charity. Giving, helping others, must come voluntarily. That's what charity means. Theft is not charity. These ideas were around, were in circulation, a long time ago. The ideas of value, and of currency, were in full swing, even then.

 My personal belief is that greed really is a sin, and a really bad one. There's nothing wrong with being wealthy. Of course not! I'd LOVE to be wealthy! I hereby declare before the world that yes, I'd LOVE to be a billionaire. But on the other hand, it doesn't trouble me at all to know that I'll never be one. I don't care about money, in and of itself. I only care about the measure of freedom it can give me. That's its best and only purpose, really. If I had ten billion dollars given to me by a mysterious benefactor, I guarantee, promise, on my word as a father and a gentleman, that the first thing I'd do is figure out where and how and to whom I could give nine billion of it away. That'd leave me with a cool one billion. Even after dumping 90% of my wad I'd still feel ridiculously affluent.

 That's if all that money was given to me. But it would also hold true if, let's say, I put a book of poetry out and all of a sudden I'm the greatest poet since Virgil...hell, since Homer! Boom! My books are going faster than popsicles in aitch ee double hockey sticks. I'd be the same guy I am now, only with a lot more free time on my hands and a lot less twisting in the guts. I'd still give 90% of it away, and keep for myself, my kids, my close friends and family, what I thought was adequate to maintain our level of comfort, happiness, security, and posterity. This is just a round about way of saying that the world still is, as it always was, rife with money-grubbing, greedy bastards, who do not fully grasp the principle and value of money, but love money for its own sake.

 Even if the Judeo Christian bible never existed, there are the Hindu and Buddhist texts, in which there is often great wisdom. I'm not saying we need to read them all and pray over them and make a big to-do; all I mean to say is we need not throw them out or hand-wave them away. There are plenty of people in the world who'll seek out those writings for the poetry in them, the beauty of language, all that stuff.

 We just need to be balanced and level-headed. To recognize bullshit when we see it, and also those occasional points of light, the sparks of genius.

The Columbiad; Joel Barlow; Amazon review

Yet another vastly undervalued poet. I can't imagine how American poets like John Greenleaf Whittier and Oliver Wendell Holmes are better remembered than Joel Barlow. I can only guess that the former wrote in a more quaint and accessible manner, typical of that rather dry period for American poetry, and that Barlow, from a previous century, aspired to loftier heights and perhaps took on a theme which was not yet ready to be cast into epic poetry. I can understand the difficulty a student or reader might have with this work, the first book of which is jammed with geographical, ecological detail, exhaustive lists of North American mountains, lakes, and rivers, balanced against the story of Columbus, and in general a highly romanticised history of regions in South America, and intermixed with gods, such as Atlas and Hesper. While the heroic couplets are nearly as fine and consistent as Pope's, the poem is more reminiscent of Milton's Paradise Lost in its multitudes of graphic descriptions and place names; and, with respect to its reverent and genuinely heroic theme, it's the polar opposite of the stinging, but too-often mean-spirited, satire that Pope was known for.

I won't say that the work deserves the acclaim accorded to epic poems like the Aeneid, The Odyssey, or Paradise Lost; but it certainly doesn't deserve to be forgotten. Barlow is a poet's poet. If you can admire a master technician at work, for the sake of that alone, without worrying too much about the narrative, you might want to take a look at this. Besides, it's free!

Also, this free version is perfectly lineated and formatted, and contains both the author's preface and introduction, and all internal notes.

The Uncelestial City; Humbert Wolfe; Amazon review

I was first aquainted with Wolfe's poetry via Louis Untermeyer's anthology "Modern Poetry", issued originally in 1920. What struck me about this poet was his economy. The poems featured in that antholgy were predominantly what I would call miniatures, a typical one being this charmer, called "The Lilac":

Who thought of the lilac?
"I," dew said,
" I made up the lilac
out of my head."

"She made up the lilac!
"Pooh!" thrilled a linnet,
and each dew-note had a
lilac in it.

On the basis of that little handful of poems alone, I sent away for this volume. My copy was printed in 1930, and the book does show signs of wear and age. Though the hard cover binding is still excellent, the pages are heavily browned but still sturdy. An interesting little surprise with this book was that a few of its pages had not yet been cut. It marked my first and only acquaintance with a book with uncut pages.

All that aside, I was more than pleased with The Uncelestial City, particulary when I noted that it was one large work comprised of short pieces. Without explaining the over all theme or content, let's just say that Wolfe addresses many issues in this work, issues philosophical (primarily moral), theological, as well as addressing social class systems, the judicial system of the poet's time, and, albeit subtly and with delicate fondness, romance. Most of the story unfolds in the environment of a courtroom, and there are speeches and pontifications humorous, satirical, and deadly serious.

I won't say that the work ranks in the highest strata. Despite its length, it is not epic poetry. Nonetheless, I found it emminently readable and at times profound, as well as warm, without sentimentality or pathos.

Workshopping; frdb post; as WilliamB

The thing about workshops is that their efficacy depends more on the people involved than the program itself.

I credit the first workshop I was involved with, almost literally, for teaching me how to compose poetry. I went in with my hackles up and all my nerves bristling, and had a very rocky start. I hated it. I mocked the site to my friends at work, calling the members there egomaniacs, sadists, etc. After a while, however, once I learned how to simply say 'thank you' to someone who had just shredded my poem to bits, I realized that the process could be helpful. I lowered my guard and was able to see, for the first time, the many problems with my writing. I participated there for seven years, from 2001 to 2008. My writing improved dramatically, to say the least.

 Unfortunately, at around 2006 or so, I began to see that some of the moderators were becoming draconian in their methods, and that a lot of the senior members were taking obvious pleasure in seeing the daily dressing-down of "newbies" (a contemptible Internet term), and that the whole environment was negatively affected because of this behavior. I voiced my opinions one too many times and was banned forever from that site. They will accept zero objection to their methods, whether or not that objection is well-reasoned. It is to this day a highly-trafficked board, probably because, despite the abuse of virtual-power with respect to one or two mods, beginners are still able to have a positive learning experience there.

The board I workshop at now is a much more productive place, though it has its drawbacks, such as mutual back-patting and a tendency to go easy on 'established' writers: meaning, people who have been widely published in reputable venues.

It all depends on what goals you set for yourself. If you aren't interested in publishing, and just write as a hobbyist, or for personal fulfillment and pleasure, then I'd say you needn't bother with a workshop unless you really wish to have the experience. On the other hand, if your goal is to write poetry worthy of publication in a reputable journal or online site, or wherever, or if you simply want to be the best you can be at the craft of writing poetry, regardless of publishing, then I would strongly recommend a tough, hard-assed workshop experience. This goes double for people who are taking on traditional, metrical forms. Seasoned editors can spot a slipshod use of form at a glance, and they will generally discard those submissions without a second look, especially at venues that receive a lot of submissions.

That being said, a skilled poet can play with a traditional form as she chooses, and many fine poets do, like Seamus Heaney as a contemporary example. John Berryman would be a good example for mid last century.

re: Universals

I'm a nominalist, in that I do not believe that universals exist. Take for instance the word Society. Society is nothing more than a group of individuals, and has no real existence beyond that. It exists as a concept, an abstraction, and though it can be measured (population) and is dynamic, it doesn't exist in any strictly material or substantive sense.

I began to think of how this sort of thinking applies to being a fan of a sports team, and actually had to laugh because, when all is said and done, sports fans are ultimately supporting, and attaching their ego to, an entity that doesn't really exist.

I've been a New York Jets fan since 1969, when my Dad sat me down in front of a little black and white television and told me to "root for the guys in the white suits." As it happens, the guys in the white suits were the Jets, and the Jets won, and ever since that day I have been rooting for the Jets, to no avail, unfortunately. I paid pretty close attention to the Jets over the years, knew the names of the players, watched the games, etc., but over the past ten years or so I really have not paid much attention at all to the NFL, or the Jets. Nonetheless, if the Jets are doing well, I am happy about it; if they are losing, I am unhappy about it. At present, I have virtually no idea who plays for the Jets. I know who the head coach is, I know the QBs (Poor Sanchez!), but that's about it. Still, it made me very unhappy when they went out of contention this last season.

Not done yet.

I hate the New York Giants. I wouldn't mind at all if the team folded and went into oblivion. I don't like it when they win. I like it when they lose. Now, let's say that every member of the Giants (including coaches, staff, etc), and every member of the Jets team, were to switch places, so that everyone who is now a Giant will be a Jet next season, and everyone who is now a Jet will be a Giant next season. Needless to say, it wouldn't matter to me. I would still love the Jets and hate the Giants.

It occurs to me that for 44 years I've attached my ego to something that doesn't exist!

The salt of the earth; BB post; frdb;gb

I have had brushes with unreasonable superiors. A good example would be when I was dietary manager in a Nursing Home. The Administrator of this facility was a career RN before going into administration. She was notorious for not wanting to give employees decent raises, and commonly referred to CNAs (certified nursing assistants) as "a dime a dozen". When I took over management of the dietary department (I was promoted from head cook, one of the few long-term employees), I was the first person in ten years to get the food budget down to where it was supposed to be; my predecessors had a habit of running it up, sometimes doubling it. The administrator was excited for me and very glad that I was able to do that. Next came the labor budget. At this facility at that time, staff hours for the kitchen were not to exceed 41 hours per day. This left room for three full-timers on day shift, and three part-timers on night shift. It was nearly impossible to maintain this 41hr maximum and still make sure resident needs were being met. I frequently filled in for staff who had called in sick on weekends, essentially working for free, in order to give me a few extra hours to work with, a little elbow room.

In Nursing Facility work, there are yearly state surveys, which are four to five day affairs, in which all aspects of patient care are monitored, from top to bottom, to make sure regs are followed and that the staff are well trained. It was during my second state survey, after my second year as manager of this department, that I gave up as a manager. I felt as if I was in a situation that was doomed to failure. The staff I had were being paid a little bit above minimum, because very few did these jobs for very long and you mostly worked with newbies and semi-long-termers, had zero benefits, no union (this is Arizona), and virtually no real incentive to work hard, since merit raises were forbidden. I had tried to initiate raises based on merit but when you talked of this people looked at you as if you were Atilla the Hun. People are trained to believe that they are entitled to the same raise as anyone else, it's only fair, and how hard a worker is doesn't factor in. It's TEAMWORK!!!!!PEOPLE!!!!! That was the rallying cry against any crazy ideas like pay-raises based on merit. Administration wanted nothing to do with merit raises either. "Give em 3 to 4%. That's how it is."

Anyway, I was forced to encourage a group of very unenthusiastic people to obey all the regs and to do their jobs to the best of their ability, but I was not able to pay them what I thought they were worth, or work with their hourly allotment. It was also hard to fire people, because you had precious little to choose from by way of replacement. It was sometimes easier to keep at someone who was not very good in the hope that they would improve than it was to fire them and, most likely, get someone even less capable.

My administrator begged me to stay, but I went back to my job as a cook, at a new facility, which, as it happens, paid me MORE than I was being paid to manage the dietary department at the first facility. When the dietary manager of the new facility was fired for drug use, the admin there offered me the job. The pay would have been somewhere in the 40k per year area, but I refused. I did not want to go through all that frustration again.

As a manager I was upset by the absurd expectations of my administrator: get this rag-tag group of unskilled workers to toe the line and be perfect at their jobs, which in such facilities entails knowing a lot about food handling, prep, sanitation, therapeutic diets, various patient needs, when they could just as easily have gone to flip burgers for the same pay; but I was equally upset by the people who were at the bottom. To be honest, they disgusted me more. There are so many people who DO NOT know how to handle money, who spend way too much time on barstools, who spend far too much money on beer and/or drugs, who are unreliable, untrustworthy, belligerent, careless, selfish, what have you, the list goes on.

I've been working with the common worker my whole life, and it aint no picnic. If there is to be any real understanding, this myth of the noble working class hero needs to be taken down a few notches. Yes, there are millions of very fine people who work at unskilled jobs and who are wonderful all around, and many of these people are mistreated and/or exploited; and yes, the world is full of fat greedy bastards in high places; but let us at least look at the whole picture and be realistic.

For every bastard of a boss you have an anecdote about, I have one for some hapless loser who simply can't get his shit together, no matter how much help is offered.

Review of "The Hero", by Somerset Maugham; @ Amazon

This is the first novel by Maugham that I've read, and I'm glad I decided to read one of his lesser celebrated books first. It was short, and free, so it was a no-brainer, but it so happens it was a good choice.

I'm surprised by certain things I've read about Maugham's style, that he lacks an original voice, or that his prose is not as colorful as other celebrated authors, that he makes use of convenient forms of rhetoric, speech, and cliche, that kind of thing; because it seems to me that he's just as good a writer as Henry James, for example, while not as lyrical and mellifluous as Galsworthy, nor as expansive as George Eliot. The thing I take most powerfully from this novel is its honesty. It is at times brutally honest. Maugham lays open his protagonist to total scrutiny, allows us to see every feeling, every desire, every thought and raw nerve, and lets us feel the final sensation of claustrophobic moral constraint and helpless entrapment and resolve.

I'm almost inclined to give the novel only four stars, because if I'm honest myself I have to admit the narrative is unbalanced: there is too much 'telly' reportage and probably not enough 'show' ie: graphic description. If it were a poem, it would be heavy-handed and didactic. But as a novel, it redeems itself of its artistic faults by being so absolutely straightforward, and painfully accurate, especially for the period in which it was written. James loathes Mary and is in love with Mrs. Wallace; these are plain facts not dithered over or danced around in the least, in the way they would be if George Eliot had told the story. Had Eliot penned it, it would have been twice as long, beautifully delineated, and we might have been more accepting of its climax due to her authorial command; but from Maugham we get it straight and without any delicacy at all.

Unfortunately, Nature is the way it is, and tragic, pointlessly terrible things occur all the time. One could argue, should it be the job of the artist to bring Nature's losers into the spotlight? We know, as Thoreau had said, "that most men lead lives of quiet desperation", but do we need to open a novel for entertainment and have this desperation and seeming purposelessness paraded before us? Shouldn't we focus on the good, on the brighter side, on the greener pastures of our human experience?

Two years ago I would have said, yes, the artist ought to point to man's possibilities, his meaning, his purpose and intentionality in an ostensibly hostile world and cosmos. And I still do say, yes, this is what artists ought to do. But then again, what of those among us who don't get the happy ending and the sweeping music as the credits roll up? There are undoubtedly far more of those in the world, and in our history, than the happy winners who catch the golden ring and go out with a kiss and a smile and a symphony orchestra.

The Hero is a great and tragic book, and it paints its story without shallow, degrading anti-humanism and mockery. This is not a misanthropic novel. It probably perfectly reflects the lives and sufferings of many, many millions of human beings past and present. Read it.

1.28.2013

God; ideas and definitions; navel-gazing; BB post; as WilliamB

I've defended the god-idea, and capitalize the word God out of respect for English grammar as much as out of respect for whatever or Whomever it is I am referring to. Having said that, I'd be happy to dispense with the word god, or the idea of a being called God which automatically calls to mind tyrannical and irrational beings like Jehovah, and replace it with a term that better clarifies the idea I'm referring to when I use the word God.

Like Spinoza, my notion of God is not as a supernatural being. The word supernatural is a nonsense word, like the word 'nothing'; they both refer to...nothing (I realize the word 'God' may also be a candidate for the category of nonsense words). I conceive of God (and it's only my personal conception) as an extremely advanced, extremely intelligent Agent of some kind which is beyond human capacity, which means beyond the capacity of modern science, to even study, let alone understand. Or, when I'm feeling like an atheist (which is most of the time), God refers to all that going on in the Universe, macro and micro, which is beyond human understanding. It's a matter of reverence. I believe the idea that we understand all there is to know about physics is plain old hubris. It's fine to be an empiricist, a skeptic, a totally objective scientist with a deep respect for facts and truth and reality; but if someone like Einstein can contemplate God, or use the term without feeling embarrassed, than that should mean something. I think it should mean something also that the majority of scientists are not atheists. It DOES NOT mean that atheism is wrong; not hardly. Majority doesn't equal correctness; all I mean is that these highly trained numbers of individuals, a lot of them, feel a reverence and awe about the universe and have not committed themselves to the idea that the human brain can understand all there is to know about the world, and that any kind of romantic view of reality ought to be tossed into the rubbish bin automatically. Such treatment of eccentric, radical visions and ideas is akin to book-burning, in my opinion, it solves very little and doesn't progress humanity. Tolerance, even in the face of a radical theory, like those of Hameroff and Penrose, and others like them (there are many) should be common practice. Offhand dismissals and mockery won't improve the effort to find common ground amongst one another. It never has worked. Even Carl Sagan, as pure an atheist as could be, who never, ever gave an inch when it came to the idea of gods or God, was tolerant, kind, and patient in his rebuttals of such, and held an undying awe and reverence for the universe, and for those "as subtle as we."

The word God, at least how I use it, refers to that which we do not understand about the Universe, or it refers to a sublime Entity that really exists. It depends on my mood. I'm sure the term is offensive to people who respect facts and who reject Woo and any kind of mental masturbation and navel gazing. I apologize for that offense.

edit: It depends on my mood. << I understand how stupid that statement is, but I'll let it stay in there anyway.

Parenting; defense of Objectivism, contra altruism; BB post; as gb

Originally Posted by P*
Quote: Originally Posted by Gulielmus Beta

This is one of the silliest things I've ever read. Caring for one's child is not altruism. If you think it is, then you do not understand what altruism is. Caring for your child is a moral and legal obligation. One ought to go about it with love, but how that love should be selfless and unrewarding for the parent I have no idea. Do you? Can you explain it to me?

P*: Of course it is altruistic. Do you seriously mean to suggest that changing dirty diapers is a pleasure for you? And for most people? (And you accuse me of silliness!) I think you are the one needing to look up the words "altruism" and "selfish", as being selfish, by definition, means to pretty much disregard the effects on others. Thus, caring for a child that involves actually caring for the child is inherently unselfish. And altruism does not entail not getting anything out of something, though it does entail a primary concern for someone else. And that is what raising a child in a manner that most people would regard as being proper entails.

Yes, changing dirty diapers was a pleasure for me, because leaving my child in dirty diapers would have meant enduring the feeling of allowing my child to suffer in discomfort. It is in my best interest as well as the child's to change its diapers, unless I become a parent by accident rather than by choice and if I consider raising a child an unwelcome burden. Altruism has connotations of disinteredness and self-sacrifice, and there are many who believe that the lesser the reward for doing a certain action, the more virtuous it is.

Your definition of selfish does not jibe with the definition Objectivists are referring to when they talk about rational self-interest. Objectivists are strong defenders of the concept of rights, and any person whose ethical system recognizes the value of individual rights would not behave in complete disregard for how their behavior affects others, for doing so would be to live in disregard of the rights of others.

Ayn Rand knew that writing a book called "The Virtue of Selfishness" would cause an unholy shit-storm, and she did it with a purpose: to get people to think about what they have been force-fed to believe about morality for so long. But if you actually crack open the book you will see that what she means by selfishness is not a crass, conceited, arrogant disregard for other people. It is not the selfishness of a knuckle-dragging brute who can't see past the end of his own nose, who is blind to the consequences of his actions and doesn't give a damn about them. That's the selfishness of a rapist, a mugger, or a junkie, not the rational self-interest of a law-abiding human being who recognizes his right to exist for his own sake and not for the sake of everyone else but him.

 Now, for myself personally, I don't describe myself as a selfish person nor do I go around extolling the virtue of selfishness, but I do understand the necessity of a strong defense for enlightened self-interest and I am dead-set against all of this anti-ego "there is no I, there is no self" nonsense that is in vogue in so many philosophy forums. Those sentiments are dangerous and stupid, and I will fight them as long as I have breath to speak and fingertips to type.

Wishy-washy theism; BB post frdb; as gb

I labeled myself a Spinozan Theist after a bout with depression resulting from a very painful divorce and a bunch of other issues I've been toting around for a good many years. I had a breakdown and experienced something which now seems like a distant memory. From my reading I gathered that what I went through is not that unusual, a sudden burst of religious certitude, a seeming transformation, or "regeneration", I suppose the evangelicals might call it. I kept it mostly to myself except for a few rather silly outbursts here, and over time this feeling of sudden faith and newfound purpose gradually evaporated. I literally cannot believe some of the things I was thinking during those few weeks. At no point did I feel like a Christian or anything nameable, I just felt as if God had grabbed hold of me. It felt very real. I believed it. All in all it was not as dramatic as it may sound since I've always had a strong interest in religion and theology, my whole life. I love cathedrals and churches, religious iconography, particularly old Catholic. I love sacred music, Tallis, Byrd, Bach, Haydn, etc; but at the same time I was essentially an atheist, in that I didn't believe in God, gods, souls or anything supernatural. It happens. George Santayana was a famous poet and philosopher who spent his last days in a convent. He loved the Catholic church but had no actual god-belief.

I explain it to people by trying to get across the idea of reverence. There seems to be precious little reverence left in modern society. One of the things I admire about Ayn Rand was that she was a reverent person. She revered reason and Man. Man (and Woman!) was a being deserving of reverence and admiration, not the whole species, lock, stock, and barrel, but one at a time, individually, and certainly not every man. Not hardly. There were, and still are, real heroes in the world, and were it not for the intellectual giants who stood head and shoulders above their fellow men and women, I would not have the way of life I have now, nor the general safety and security in which to live it. I'm a reverent and grateful person. Someone asked Einstein if he believed in God, and Einstein's answer was, "I believe in the God of Spinoza." Though I had heard of Spinoza all my life I never read him. After my depression and breakdown, I bought his complete works, and fell in love with them. I'm trying to heal myself, to stay alive so I can continue to work and save money and hopefully fund the education of my two sons, should they choose to continue with it after high school. They are both extremely bright and it would be a shame if they allowed their fears and phobias to hold them back the way I did. 'At's about it.

BB post; re: Jose Delgado; freewill; political impact

Originally Posted by WilliamB

OK. Gotchya. Would you mind venturing an opinion on this quite well-known quote from Delgado? I've put it up before in another thread. Does this sound like a healthy, rational vision of the future of humanity?


If anyone thinks this is off-topic, I would only wonder how anyone could possibly fail to see how such statements relate to the Freewill debate.

I also wonder how any rational adult person could fail to see how malignant those statements are.

D*: I agree, the statement is malignant. But what has that to do with free will? 

What it has to do with the freewill debate is that a lot of nasty political ideas have as a priority the abolition of the concept of human freedom. If you can get rid of these pesky notions of freewill you are a giant leap closer to getting rid of the concept of political freedom. A society divested of the concept of human freedom will be one made up of sheep and sheep-herders, with no in-between. It would be a tragic, dystopian nightmare.

What I am saying is that there is a lot riding on the things we are discussing here. I only mean to suggest that people take a measure of caution, that they continue to think for themselves and refuse to be swayed by what the intellectuals seem to think is so obvious, that they remind themselves of their ability to reason and to identify stupid ideas when they hear them. That there is no freewill, no autonomy, no self, no "I", that these are outmoded and obsolete terms, is a stupid idea, and I have no reluctance whatsoever in naming it so.

Nothing bothers a tyrant more than the idea of a free-thinking, free-acting people. It bothered the imaginary God of the Bible (and the authors who made him up), and it bothered all of the real butchers and tyrants who have plagued mankind from the beginning. What tyrants hate the most is not that people are self-deluded into believing that they are free-thinking and self-determining, what they hate is the fact that they are. This is exactly why Delgado, and no doubt many others of his stripe, believes that a mind-controlled society would be preferable to a free society: he knows that the only way to rid the human consciousness of self-identity, ego, determination, volition, and all those other good things, is to physically manipulate the brain. He knows that no amount of intellectual posturing, scientific theorizing, or pseudo-philosophical bullshit will alter the reality of nature.

In other words, Delgado believes in freewill. Try that on for size. Notice he says, "Man does not have the right to develop his own mind"; he does not say that man cannot develop his own mind. His own words betray him.