The Zen of Indifference


Indifference gets a bad rap. There are far too many euphemisms for this rather agreeable state of being and they all tend toward the negative:

Cold, apathetic, heartless, insensible, callous, selfish, are a few that compliment a barrage of uns; uncaring, unresponsive, unsympathetic, uninterested, unconcerned, unmoved, unfeeling, etc.

We are even judgmental in our syntax, it appears. Allow me to suggest an alternative interpretation.

In a world that distributes far too much information not germane to our own well-being, a government that dallies in subterfuge and confusion in order to secure our allegiance, a political system that panders and provokes on an elementary school level … in this environment we could use a little space to gather our thoughts … OUR thoughts … and draw conclusions based on sound assessment and deduction. We need a spot to sit and think and avoid the onslaught of the influence peddlers. This is where indifference comes in. It serves as a neutral realm that prohibits any entity that strives to inflame or critique our own sense of reason. We are at peace here and might actually unearth a vein of wisdom given the opportunity.

The abused and misused pawns of the culture are preyed upon by con men in varied guises; the politician, the priest, the flim-flam man, the snake oil salesman, the gold digger, the military recruiter … and none of these use logic to appeal to you. On the contrary, they all feast on your emotional needs. They know where to find your hook if you allow them to. Indifference turns them away at the gate and secures your autonomy. If we are born alone and will die alone, we can very well think alone; ergo, indifference is the study hall of our psyches and an essential part of our survival as consummate individuals. Viva indifference! JC

Kate and Wilma

They seemed to prefer Americans, these two; both Latin and North Americans. When they were finished, you knew they had been there. They left devastation and havoc in their wake, like twin viruses, and their presence revealed more about the immune systems’ inability to cope than had been suspected. They have become the harbingers of our times; just ask Mary Shelley.

We have finally entered the last reel where the mad scientist realizes the folly of his ambition. He overstepped the bounds of restraint and can no longer control his monster. You guessed it; the entire countryside will pay the price.

What have we learned from these oft told morality tales? Not a fucking thing. I believe it is in our collective nature to disregard the cautions of propriety and give vent to our reckless impulse to tease and bait the creature. We will never see clearly the error of our ways until the last breath of being leaves our person with an exclamation of, “Oh, now I get it!”

We will not end this saga chasing down the fiend with our torches of righteousness held aloft. The creature has proliferated and we have become the hunted. Our only solace is that Big Oil and the eager polluters that value their example will not have the last word. That honor, my friends, is reserved for the humble writer of obituaries.

Our best hope for survival on this planet may well have been conveyed by Mary’s esteemed husband, romantic poet Percy Shelley. He is purported to have said something to this effect: “The world will not truly improve until the last king is strangled with the guts of the last priest.” Now that would make a great ending! JC

I just sent off a letter of gratitude to the teachers and parents in Dover, Pennsylvania who are, along with the ACLU, bringing suit against the enforced teaching of Intelligent Design in the classrooms there. They are fighting the battle for all of us and we should let them know they have our backing and our thanks. This is my letter:

“You are the impediment to a corporate induced coma that endeavors to control all modes of thought and divert them into one, massed produced ideology that will, ultimately, render us malleable and susceptible to whatever agenda is good for the power elite. This ploy has been utilized by tyrants and spin-meisters throughout history and it would be dismally ironic if it finally succeeded in what we used to call ‘the land of the free’.
All of us that claim our minds and our hearts as our own are eternally grateful to you.”
JC

You can do as much, if you wish. Just go to:
http://action.aclu.org/site/R?i=DybK7FHGvJKinB1W2yEQ-w..

Overcoming the Corruption of Mortality


We hang bright lights because we will someday be lost, brought back to the slime from whence we emerged and left to rotting flesh and doubtful consciousness.

We hang bright lights and we sing.

We give to others unceasingly and we never imagine how they will regard our corpses. We only hope they will remember. Not our deeds in their behalf, but remember us at all.
We will have been documented. We will have lived. With a sufficient resume we may yet live again. Can you attain immortality with a C minus?

We praise our gods and curse our fate. We cannot attain the trinity. We are rich and loveless. We are loved and needy. We are aware and despondent.

Rich and despondent.

Aware and needy.

Needy, unloved, and despondent. Poor bastards.

Rich, loved, and aware? Admit it, you never met such a creature. The trinity is denied us.

We invent a substitution. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We invent a scenario for them to thrive.


CASTING NOTICE

Father: Venerable patriarch, paid his dues in the theatre, is respected for his stage presence and stentorian vocal instrument.

Role Model: Our father, who art in heaven – probably because most of us have outlived him. We are familiar with this image and will respond to it.

Son: Dynamic young persona and rising star who grabs our imagination and is doomed to a short life and an immortal legacy, leaving us to only view him in ideal form forevermore. He embodies our deepest longings in his sensitive portrayals. James Dean in sandals.

Role Model: Us. We all endure the slings and arrows that even the father cannot prevent. This role is easily identifiable and therefore the focus of our consideration.

Holy Spirit: The real star. It wrote, directed and financed this extravaganza, plays all the character roles to perfection, and is given scant screen credit. We cannot understand It. We cannot flesh It out. It remains an enigma because It defies category and good old box office appeal. Most of us are ignorant of Its function in the grand scheme.

Role Model: We cannot pin this one down, so we minimize Its contribution. Open to all races and sexes. We cannot see, hear, or taste this entity. It is the abstract form of the supreme equation and dwells in the realm of inspiration and expression. All thought, no flesh. The Primal Force from the very well of life itself. And It is not patently male.

This is a non-paying gig, but may very well jazz up your resume. Partial nudity required.

JC

News Item

Oct 7, 11:01 PM (ET)

NEW YORK (AP) - Mayor Michael Bloomberg and his police chief insisted Friday they did the right thing by going public with a terrorist threat to bomb the New York subway, brushing aside suggestions from Washington that they overreacted to information of dubious credibility.

Associated Press


I may be wrong … it can happen … but I’m not so sure our mayor has our best interests at heart here. Since last week the local airwaves have been bombarded with a political campaign ad for Bloomberg ensuring us that New York is the safest city in the world in the face of international terrorism, complete with multiple shots of police officers walking our streets and manning our subways, looking alert, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed. It is a scare tactic right out of the Dick Chaney/Karl Rove playbook that had the hair on the back of my neck standing up, not from fright, but from rage. Despicable, I thought; a real low for a city known for its sophistication and savvy.

Now comes this news item printed above. Could it be a coincidence? Coincidence is for suckers, ask any con man. I will propose a scenario to cover the facts here. The mayor had these ads already in the can and on the air when the story hit. Someone in his administration said, “Hey, this is an opportunity we can’t pass up. We have the ads, here’s the story … let’s pump up the action and make a big deal of it.” So the mayor instructs the police to close half of Penn Station and check people, packages, and strollers to combat this eminent threat while city dwellers are quaking over their morning Cheerios.

Yes, my dear readers, I am suggesting that this disgraceful strategy is what our city leadership considers good political exploitation. They endeavored to trump up the truth to the level of their hyperbole to underscore and justify a panic crusade meant to motivate our faith that Big Daddy Bloomberg is there to protect us from the boogeyman.

Am I being paranoid? Am I jaded by the system and too damn suspicious concerning our politicians and the lengths they go to secure and retain their power? Could be. I still believe that coincidence is for the suckers and a little paranoia in the face of ambition is a healthy attribute in preserving our individual integrity.

Of course my theory assumes that Washington was correct in their assessment of the situation. Hmmmm … a real conundrum.

JC


News Item

Oct 9, 12:22 AM (ET)

Quake Kills More Than 18,000 in South Asia

The earth is belching. If we pour more junk into it, maybe we can get it to throw up.

JC