Dealing With Suicide Bombers, Judge Dredd Style

Rhyming Couplet Of The Day

We’re gonna be the band that writes the song
That makes Israel and Palestine get along
- Formed A Band, Art Brut

The REAL Miss Universe

Miss Japan be damned, the real Miss Universe will always be Miss Mars to me.

Song Of The Day

This awesome cinematic video perfectly captures the grunge-gospel, dirt-transcendent feel of the song, featuring one of my favourite vocalists, Mark Lanegan.

Soulsavers - Revival

Said "Gonna be revival tonight", oh
Wanna see revival, yeah

Gonna be revival tonight
Lord, let there be a revival, yeah

Forgive what I have done
It means my soul survival, oh

I need you so insane
Put an end to my suffering, oh

Why am I so blind
With my eyes wide open? oh

Trying to get my hands
Clean in dirty water

Mmmmm

Wanna see revival tonight
Lord, let there be a revival, yeah

I need to see a revival tonight, oh
Wanna see revival, oh

Why am I so blind
With my eyes wide open? yeah

Now I need someone
Let this dark night be done, oh

I need you so insane
pouring into my suffering

Wanna see revival tonight
Lord, it needs to be revival

Playing The Game To Death

I just saw an episode of the White Rapper show on VH1, which I found oddly fascinating. As ignorant and, in a few cases, sociopathic as some of the rappers were, I have to have a certain respect for the ego integrity required to go to the South Bronx and freestyle in front of complete strangers in the ghetto. Rap is about defining your terms of reality and aggressively molding the outside world to fit your image of it. Which is where some of the sociopathic tendencies come in, particularly among the white rappers. Because fundamentally they create an illusion for themselves, a mythical gangster image to live up to, and when that image is challenged it's an affront to their whole conception of reality. It's a matter of faith, and true zealots in any religion would rather die than renounce their beliefs. That's why designated martyrs like Tupac and Notorious B.I.G. are so universally respected in rap: through death, their realness can't be doubted. Where I think the special zealotry of white rappers comes in is that they know they have something extra to prove. Their illusion is going to be constantly challenged because of their skin colour, so they have to be doubly committed--or deluded--in their own persona to prove the doubters wrong. I think this is part of the rationale of Eminem: he has to be over-the-top psychopathic in his rhymes in order to feel he can personally measure up to the more garden-variety sociopathy of the average black gangster rapper. In the mainstream rap game it takes a white psychopath to earn the respect of a black sociopath.

An example of the ego-reality clashes in the episode I watched involved a confrontation between a legitimately hood butch white girl named Persia and a probable wankster named John Brown. Butch women, by which I mean those with traditionally masculine personality characteristics, seem to be particularly drawn to the hip-hop lifestyle. I think it's because they can get a lot more respect for being tough in that culture than in mainstream white society, which expects a much more feminine role for women. Regardless, Persia was insulted by the inanities of John Brown, whose pretentious title of "King of the Burbs" offended her. This is probably because while she wanted to dig as deep as she could go into the ghetto to gain acceptance, John Brown's suburb references presented an alternate and thus threatening version of the white rapper archetype. Another more obvious factor was that John Brown seemed to be completely full of shit, spouting cliches like "Ghetto Revival" and "I'm not a rapper, I'm an entity" without having any apparent idea of what he was talking about. Though Persia undoubtedly won the battle, her total assimilation into the black rapper archetype--complete with the controversial use of the word "nigger"--made her persona rather superfluous, a literal pale copy of the real thing. What Eminem manages to accomplish is to remain respected among the black rap community while acknowledging his differences and attracting interest by skirting society's cultural and colour lines. The successful white rapper has to be true to most of rap's orthodoxies while also not insulting those orthodoxies by pretending that they are not qualitatively different than their black competitors.

I'm obviously approaching hip-hop from an outsider position. It's not my culture and its values are not my values. But I wouldn't use the word "wigger" to describe any of the contestants on the show because in a strange way their philosophy meshes a bit with mine. I believe in the idea that there is no being, only becoming, and that the actor can act himself into reality. My ambition is not to be a rapper, but my ambition is to inhabit an idealized persona, one of my own making, and this too requires many of the skills the white rappers bring. Particularly the ability to define the reality around you and interpret it to your own terms. The fundamental difference for me is that I also recognize what you might call consensus reality--in other words I'm not completely delusional. Yet a part of me thinks that only the delusional ones have ever conquered the world, have ever molded it in their image. No one is ever going to challenge Eminem's persona because he's firmly constructed it through tactics of aggression. People may hate him, but no one challenges his right to be a white rapper, which counts as a sociological and personal success whether you like rap or not. That's why I rooted for him in his feud with Moby. Despite disliking them both intensely, at least Eminem stood for his own individual values and integrity. Moby seemed to be the utter embodiment of the colourlessness that characterizes the worst of upper-class liberalism's wishy-washy tendencies, and part of the reason so many white people indeed flee to the certanties of hip-hop culture. Liberals like Moby demand respect for everyone but themselves, while at least assholes like Eminem recognize that respect is not a right but a privilege to be earned and fought for. That's why, counterintuitively, gangster rappers like 50 Cent supported George W. Bush. No matter how wrong his real was, he kept it.

I don't support either 50 Cent or George W. Bush. I think they're both almost mirror images of the way keeping it real can be a very bad thing. But the alternative should not be Moby or John Kerry, losers who preach respect while commanding none. The ideal leader or role model should have integrity and vision, but integrity and vision in service of a noble goal. Making it to the top of the rap game isn't a noble goal. It's not a worthless goal, and it does require strength, but strength in the service of strength is just barbarism. That's where a social conscience comes in, that's why the best rappers talk about issues beyond themselves. But that requires daring, it requires challenging orthodoxies and assumptions. And none of the white rappers on the VH1 show were willing to do that. They wanted to be respected as archetypical rappers instead of transcending the archetype of the rapper. As I said before, I respect the ego integrity it takes to mold yourself into a persona and defend it against all comers. I just don't view that as a noble enough end in itself, especially when the persona is nothing but a pastiche of gangster clichés taken from Scarface and BET. The best rappers transcend rap, like the best rock stars transcend rock and the best people in any era transcend time to become myths and legends. Being "the next white rapper" is nothing compared to being the first of something else new entirely. And to achieve that aura of next level shit requires integrity not just of ego but of vision and values. As DMX put it, "If your heart was as big as your mouth you'd be real."

A Child's Interpretive Map Of The Middle East

Click to zoom.

I found this objet d'art in an old bag in my closet consisting of my young self's various maps, lists, and doodles. Although it is likely more reflective of my pre-adolescent fixation on maps, fantasy worlds and... barbarians apparently, I prefer to see the latent geopolitical implications of the work. The Lake of Meteors is what's left of Israel after Iran nukes it, while the Barbarian Wastelands are... everything else. Ogre Lands = Afghanistan? Deathport (Lawless Thief Hole) = Mogadishu? How did I predict this stuff!

Rhetorical Question Of The Day

Why don't sexy half-naked African girls ever take me to their secret treetop villages?

Rhyming Couplet Of The Day

In this world of shit
Baby you are it
- World Of Shit, Eels

Ten Personal Mottos Taken From Album Titles

10. The Night And I Are Still So Young, courtesy of Heavy Blinkers


9. Skyward In Triumph, courtesy of Godheadsilo


8. Don't Blow Your Top, courtesy of KMFDM


7. Pussy Galore, Right Now!, courtesy of Pussy Galore


6. Exit Planet Dust, courtesy of Chemical Brothers


5. Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven, courtesy of Godspeed You Black Emperor!


4. Nothing's Shocking, courtesy of Jane's Addiction


3. Never Mind The Bollocks, courtesy of The Sex Pistols


2. Surviving You, Always, courtesy of Saccharine Trust


1. No Way Out But Forward Go!, courtesy of Killing Joke

Honourable Mentions: Cruise Yourself, courtesy of Girls Against Boys; Stop Making Sense, courtesy of Talking Heads; Outer Space Is Just a Martini Away, courtesy of Thought Industry; You Can Always Get What You Want, courtesy of Trans Am

Hamilton: To Know It Is To Love It

"A 14-year old is approached by two female teens in Gage Park and they begin to punch her. Both are wearing bandanas across their faces but the victim recognizes them. She walks home and her father takes her to Hamilton General Hospital. Before police have a chance to interview him, the father heads for the Rosemont Avenue home of one of the suspects where he is confronted by a group of people. He punches one teenage girl in the mouth and grabs another by the neck. When a male youth starts hitting him with a baseball bat, he Tasers him and drives away. Police later charged the 47-year-old man with assault with a weapon and assault causing bodily harm."

- Hamilton Spectator Policeblotter

Song Of The Day

A sad song of heartbreak and loneliness and mesh hats. This band is wonderful, featuring a very off-kilter but poetic and honest lyrical perspective. What better description for the heartless is there than "Just for fun, from-behind bastards"? Pick up the album Not on Top if you should chance to see it, because this is one underlooked band that deserves the support. Another choice lyric I give an amen to: "I'll lose my hair but not my fire."

Herman Düne - Walk Don't Run

Walk don’t run, don’t let them know
That you’re all alone
’Cause they’ll chase you and throw you stones
Just for fun, from-behind bastards
Here’s a feather, I got it from a crow
Put it on your mesh hat, I know you like to wear black
Make it straight to the nearest phone and call me
(Did you keep my number zombie?)
’Cause I’ve been there before and I know what you’re made of
You call her a bitch but you wish she was right here
Tell me about how she played you like a fool, like a rookie
How you’ve never put your trust in anyone before and how you’re never gonna do it again
Then if you make sure that there’s no one around, I’ll tell you a secret, baby
You’re right, she was the one and she’s never gonna come back, she’s gone
And now you wish you were dead or at least you could fuck your brains out
’Cause there’s nowhere in the world you’ll stop thinking about her

Foolproof Alibi Of The Day

A woman, who identified herself as the rapper's mother, arrived at the Glendale home and was told that Taylor had been arrested on suspicion of making criminal threats. She protested, 'He's a gangsta rapper.'
- LA Times

Spider-Man 3 As Nietzschean Morality Play

I didn't come in to Spider-Man 3 expecting a Nietzschean morality play, but that's what I saw in it. The alien symbiote Venom turned Peter Parker into a Dionysian practitioner of what Nietzsche called master morality, emphasizing pleasure, power and the urgency of now (Smashing Pumpkins reference). Instead of accepting his super-powers solely as a grave responsibility Peter began, God forbid, to enjoy them a little. It took the grounding words of nagging hen Aunt May for Parker to return to a traditionally Christian, what Nietzsche would call slave, morality of forgiveness, humility and submission to divine law. Even the Green Goblin redeemed his sins through martyrdom, a very Christian response, while Peter got rid of Venom through the aid of a church bell. Although by the climax Peter had returned to the side of "goodness" and the viewer was supposed to be relieved, I for one liked the Dionysian side of him better, despite some admitted excesses. As a Dionysian Over-Man, Peter defeated a rival at work, conquered an old enemy, earned a promotion and got sweet revenge on the love who scorned him. The film made it clear that all these actions were well deserved, only the way Peter went about it was deemed overly aggressive. I disagree with this conclusion. From the break-neck atmosphere of the newsroom to the mortal combat of the Manhatten skyline, a frenetic life like Peter's demands aggression. Even in love, Peter's approach was consistent with the sometimes sad but inevitable truth that nice guys finish last. To the dancer goes the spoils, not the wallflower.

I'm not saying I entirely agree with Nietzsche's idealized view of morality, being that it must be tempered by responsibility for society to function. But the inevitable conclusion of Spider Man 3, in which traditional morality triumphed, showed the degree to which Christian values unconsciously underlie popular ideals of good and evil. The idea that Peter could unabashedly value rather than be almost ashamed of his power and still be a hero was beyond the pale of the narrative. The Peter who knocked the Green Goblin out only to bring him to the hospital so he could fight another day is somehow superior to the one who recognized that, after your "friend" attempts to kill you for the fourth or fifth time, perhaps it's time to let go of the friendship. There's a song by the British punk band New Model Army that features the stirring chorus of "I believe in justice, I believe in vengeance, I believe in getting the bastard, getting the bastard," and frankly there's something to be said for that sentiment. At Nuremburg, Winston Churchill wanted to simply shoot the higher-level Nazis without trial. Why? Because show trials would be, as the Nazis claimed of Versailles, victor's justice. As Charles Bronson well knew, sometimes the cleanest form of justice is the quickest, and it doesn't get much quicker than a bullet. A web is not enough to defeat an enemy; you need a spider to finish the job. Otherwise the enemy will escape and hate you even more for your mercy, like Saddam Hussein after the first Gulf War.

I wish the world wasn't like that. I wish that all evil could be explained and all enemies eventually won over. I wish goodness alone was enough to attract women and achieve success. But the world isn't like that, and since most of us haven't achieved superhuman powers by being bit by a radioactive spider, we remain as Nietzsche said, "human, all too human." I don't root for evil, but I do prefer badass good over schoolboy good. That's why I prefer Judge Dredd as a hero over Spider-Man, though unfortunately the Judge Dredd movie was terrible. I admire the intent of do-gooders like Peter Parker and Jesus, I really do. I just think that sometimes a greater good requires performing a lesser evil, such as shooting Nazis and throwing rapists off helicopters. Stalin may not have been a nice guy, but it was great to have him on our side in World War II. Similarly, the Venom-assisted Peter Parker may have been a bit of an asshole, but when it comes to protecting my city I'll take Stalin over Uncle Ben. The only way moral codes like "turn the other cheek" work is if everybody does it, but everybody won't. Someone is going to manipulate the system for their own benefit, and thus exploit those true believers who actually care for the common good. The same goes with communism. There were plenty of well-meaning communists, but communism as an ideology is flawed in that just a few well-placed bad apples--and there will always be a few well-placed bad apples--ruin it for everyone. Then to fight fire with fire we end up moving closer to what we hate. Well I say that we should move just close enough to what we hate to destroy it and feel guilt-free partying in celebration afterwards. It's not perfection, but it's a nice compromise.

The Late Great James Brown

Rhyming Couplet Of The Day

We’ll buy some drugs and watch a band
Then jump in the river holding hands.
- Candidate, David Bowie

Palestine By Zeppelin

In 2001 the Palestinian Authority issued a set of stamps commemorating the flight of the Graf Zepplin over the Holy Land in 1929.

Courtesy of Dan's Topical Stamps

The Many Mussolinis

"I? I am not a statesman. I am more like a mad poet."
- Mussolini, The Mad Poet

"The Socialists ask us for our program? Our program is to smash the heads of the Socialists."
- Mussolini, The Anti-Socialist

"The mass, whether it be a crowd or an army, is vile."
- Mussolini, The Man Above Yet of the People

"If I go forward, follow me! If I go back, kill me! If I die, avenge me!"
- Mussolini, The Eternal Champion

"The bullets pass, Mussolini remains."
- Mussolini, The Self-Mythologizer

"Every anarchist is a baffled dictator."
- Mussolini, The Anarchist Fulfilled

"Lenin is an artist who has worked men, as other artists have worked marble or metals. But men are harder than stone and less malleable than iron. There is no masterpiece. The artist has failed. The task was superior to his capacities."
- Mussolini, The Anti-Lenin

"Blood alone moves the wheels of history."
- Mussolini, The Blood-Driver of History

"War alone brings up to its highest tension all human energy and puts the stamp of nobility upon the peoples who have the courage to meet it."
- Mussolini, The Warrior God

"The history of saints is mainly the history of insane people."
- Mussolini, The Fascist Saint

"I intend absolutely to stop periodic attempts against my life. I say this not on account of myself, because I truly love to live in danger, but on account of the Italian people."
- Mussolini, The People's Egoist

"War is to man what maternity is to a woman."
- Mussolini, The Alpha Male

"Ruling the Italians is not difficult; it's pointless."
- Mussolini, The Governor of the Ungovernable

"The best blood will at some time get into a fool or a mosquito."
- Mussolini, The Wit

"To live is not to calculate, it is to act."
- Mussolini, The Master Actor

"All within the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state."
- Mussolini, The Totalitarian

"This is the epitaph I want on my tomb: 'Here lies one of the most intelligent animals who ever appeared on the face of the earth.'"
- Mussolini, The Intelligent Animal

"For my part I prefer fifty thousand rifles to fifty thousand votes."
- Mussolini, The Democratic Pragmatist

"I have never made mistakes when I have followed my instincts, but often when I have obeyed my reason."
- Mussolini, The Man of Instinct

"Let us have a dagger between our teeth, a bomb in our hands, and an infinite scorn in our hearts."
- Mussolini, The Romantic

"Women are like sardines, best kept in tins."
- Mussolini, The Ladies Man

"I am not a collector of deserts!"
- Mussolini, The Collector of Deserts

"Youth is beautiful. I love the young even when they bear arms against me."
- Mussolini, The Lover of Youth

"Youth is a malady of which one becomes cured a little every day."
- Mussolini, The Lover of Age

"Race! It is a feeling, not a reality; ninety-five per cent, at least, is a feeling. Nothing will ever make me believe that biologically pure races can be shown to exist today. Amusingly enough, not one of those who have proclaimed the nobility of the Teutonic race was himself a Teuton. . . National pride has no need of the delirium of race."
- Mussolini, The Anti-Racist

"Kindness can never be excessive."
- Mussolini, The Gentleman

"The Jews have lived in Rome since the days of Kings [and] shall remain undisturbed."
- Mussolini, The Protector of the Jews

"Thirty centuries of history allow us to look with supreme pity on certain doctrines which are preached beyond the Alps by the descendants of those who were illiterate when Rome had Caesar, Virgil and Augustus."
- Mussolini, The Anti-Nazi

"Seven years ago I was an interesting person. Now I am a corpse."
- Mussolini, The Living Corpse

"Yes, madam, I am finished. My star has fallen. I work and I try, yet know that all is but a farce. . . I await the end of the tragedy and--strangely detached from everything--I do not feel anymore an actor. I feel I am the last of spectators."
- Mussolini, The Last of the Spectators

"Every one dies the death which befits his character."
- Mussolini, The Self-Prophet

"Shoot me in the chest."
- Mussolini, The Chest Wound Victim

The United Nations League Of Supervillains

Zimbabwe has been elected head of the United Nations Commission on Sustainable Development despite having the world's lowest life expectancy, having had its economy shrink more than any country ever in peacetime, going from the breadbasket of Africa to being unable to feed its own population and boasting the world's highest infation rate. Additionally, the Zimbabwean Minister for Environment and Tourism who will be heading the Commission apparently transformed his own white-appropriated farm into a barren wasteland in addition to presiding over the collapse of his country's once-pristine wildlife sanctuaries. In the same spirit, I'd like to recommend the following nominations to various U.N. bodies and agencies:

Commission on Global Governance: Cobra Island
Commission on Legal Empowerment of the Poor: Guatemala
Committee on the Rights of the Child: Sierra Leone
Global Water Challenge: Western Sahara
Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change: United States of America
International Centre for Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology: Genosha
International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia: Rwanda
International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda: Serbia
International Fund for Agricultural Development: Singapore
International Labour Organization: Confederate States of America
International Maritime Organization: Kazakhstan
International Refugee Organization: Cuba
International Telecommunication Union: The Bermuda Triangle
International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea: The Barbary Coast
Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS: Vatican City
Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs: Iraq
United Nations Centre for Urgent Environmental Assistance: Easter Island
United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO): The Philistines
United Nations Division for Palestinian Rights: Israel
United Nations Drug Control Programme: FARC-controlled Colombia
United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF): King Herod
United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space: The Klingon Empire
United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD): North Korea
United Nations Holocaust Memorial: Iran
United Nations Human Rights Council: Libya*
United Nations Industrial Development Organization: Mongolia
United Nations International Research and Training Institute for the Advancement of Women: Saudi Arabia
United Nations Iran-Iraq Military Observer Group: Iran/Iraq (co-chairs)
United Nations Population Fund: Antarctica
University for Peace: Mordor
World Health Organization: Marlboro Country
World Tourism Organization: Somalia

* Libya actually chaired the Human Rights Commission, the predecessor of the United Nations Human Rights Council.

Song Of The Day

My future last words.

Califone - Don't Let Me Die Nervous

Weather like the crucifixion
Dreaming of a whore that's sparkling like a sparkler
Dead eyed starlet calm

Laid you down upon the coats covering the bed
And said you are my brothers and what's his is mine

The blinder you get the more you can taste
Don't let me die nervous

The kids are eating candy skulls
Your face is buried in the engine
The breaks were singing as you slide someone else's name

Like a crosseyed baby teething on a rusty knife
I'm gonna have your backside
Lay your plantation down

Jump the fire, burn your hair
Don't let me die nervous

You can't hear a noise til your tongue's bitten out
Don't let me die nervous

Sweated off the number on the palm of your hand
Cold rain about to bust in between your bones and skin

Forgot what I was begging for
You walk like a healthy meal
The car alarms are moaning someone else's name

Jump the fire, burn your hair
Don't let me die nervous

The blinder you get the more you can taste
Don't let me die nervous

Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous
Don't let me die nervous

The Great Unspoken

Conversations run in circles
Round and round the Great Unspoken
Pacing faster, never closer
Like a rhythm fearing chorus
Holding off the Great Orgasm
Cause you can't die until you come
And our promise is to mom
That we won't be born again
Though we can't be born again
But we've promised to pretend
Like a rhythm fearing chorus
Round and round the Great Unspoken
On the verge of some great secret
The virgin's dying word is "fuck"

Least Intimidating Militant Group Ever

The Absurd Struggle For Meaning

Albert Camus suggests that the absurdity of life is an unavoidable fact of the modern human condition, the consequence of consciousness taken to its limit. This absurdity is the result of the gap between man’s need for meaning and clarity in life, and the complete disregard of the universe to man’s plight. As man comes to realize the abyss between his subjective yearning and the objective nonchalance of the universe, he is forced toward a decision: either suicide, the termination of the struggle; a leap of faith into a pre-conceived dogma that colors over the struggle; or an acceptance of absurdity but also the struggle that allows absurdity to be overcome. For Camus, this last option is the only way of living meaningfully without illusion or self-deception. Although the notion of an absurd and uncaring universe is a source of despair, it can also be the source of an almost dizzying sense of freedom, for as the power assigned to the universe retreats man’s own power over himself increases. If we can subjectively define our own meaning over an absurd universe, we have the power to thereby shape our own place in the world, even to transpose our own vision of the universe over that of other people. In an absurd universe, our self-invented “real” is as real as that of society and the outside world, and with enough will and passion even more so. Our own standards and values allow us to define ourselves as we wish to be defined, and this definition is as valid as any definition societal consensus wishes to place on us. In fact it can become even more valid when we live up to it and thus impose it over our sphere of existence. The recognition of the absurd therefore leads to the recognition of the inherent freedom of the individual to choose his own form of struggle against the nihilism of a meaningless existence, as well as the artificial meanings others attempt to ascribe to this existence. The recognition of ultimate freedom goes hand in hand with the recognition of ultimate responsibility, as we alone must answer to ourselves with no recourse to the supernatural or an outside arbiter of consensus reality.

For Camus, the quintessential absurd hero is Sisyphus, a figure condemned by the gods to forever push a rock up a mountain only for it to roll back down and for the task to be repeated. This ultimate futility is comparative to the human condition in that, for Camus, “The struggle itself is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” It is not the hope of an afterlife which redeems man’s earthly existence; it is our ability to find meaning and even happiness while recognizing the absurdity of the universe and the tasks it places upon us. Fundamentally, if we recognize the absurdity of the world--as Camus would argue we all do at least from time to time--we have to make a choice of what to do with that knowledge. For Camus the least absurd, the most honest choice is to continue to struggle for the sake of finding meaning in the struggle. The other choices are suicide and self-deception, potent but false temptations which the absurd hero gains strength in overcoming. For if you can overcome the idea of suicide without recourse to a reality-denying leap of faith, you gain the power in this reality to overcome most everything else. While this may drain the future of the hope faith places in it, it imbues the present with the power of momentous will. This hope for the future can be transmuted into a passion for the present, a passion which is thereby able to transform the future through the conquest of every successive moment. The recognition of an absurd universe does not necessarily mean an end to faith: rather it means an end to faith in outside sources. But faith as a self-propelled wheel, powered forward by the sheer will to faith, is the means by which Godless man may still assign meaning--his own meaning--to his life and the frontiers to which his life extends.

Camus states that “This heart within me I can feel, and I judge that it exists. This world I can touch and I likewise judge that it exists. There ends all my knowledge, and the rest is construction.” It is within this process of construction, of forging the subjective relationship between the objective self and objective world that a life with meaning becomes possible. This meaning cannot be discovered, it must be created: furthermore, one must accept that the process of creation is itself a form of meaning, as the process is all we have. Every word and action helps shape the meaning we give to our lives, but there is no divine being to judge its worth and we will not have eternity to contemplate it from beyond the grave. Rather we must judge its worth as we live it, knowing that the time of its end is beyond our control just as the time of its beginning was beyond our control. The creative process is what we make of the time between these two points. Unlike the dogma of an ideology or religion, this self-creation is not an illusion if we recognize that what we build is transitory even as we build it. The absurd hero is one who works harder and with even more passion because of this knowledge. The knowledge of our freedom and how quickly this freedom could be taken away causes the absurd hero to embrace it all the more, with the passion of a lover who knows the affair must end. Without an eternity of freedom and self-expression to look forward to, the need to fully inhabit one’s freedom and creative drive becomes paramount for every fleeting moment. Even the drudgery of routine contains within it the possibility for transcending it through recognition of its value as a stage for self-realization. Again, even Sisyphus is capable of giving his task meaning.

We create our own significance. By doing so we rebel against the insignificance the indifferent universe accords to us. We can see comedy in the tragedy, meaning in the seemingly meaningless, as long as we control the will that drives our perception. By living with an awareness of the absurdity of the universe we live with an awareness of our ability and responsibility to mold that absurdity to the form of our lives. With absolute transcendence no longer a realistic possibility, the struggle to achieve a subjective transcendence becomes transcendent in itself. Thus it becomes a matter of personal responsibility, of personal evolution, to develop a meaning for life. Books and works of art may help us in this quest, but their meaning is based on our subjective interaction with them. If we adopt their message wholesale they become just another form of dogma, an excuse for stasis instead of an acceptance of struggle. The meaning is in the search for meaning, because life provides no repose in which to sedately engage in absolute satisfaction. New challenges will shatter this satisfaction and the only perfect repose that cannot be shattered would be death: which requires an afterlife and thus a return to religion. While there is life there is consciousness, and consciousness cannot abide absolute finality: as Camus notes, “Beginning to think is beginning to be undermined.” There can be no final resolution in the conflict between man’s desire for meaning and the indifference of the universe. Absurdity is the relationship between these two poles and thus a conflicted one; to live with the absurd is to live with conflict, to seek not to escape it but to face it unflinchingly as a source of passion and freedom. An absolute answer limits the sphere of freedom and passion to compartmentalized aspects of life. There is certainly freedom within a religious set of values, but there is not the freedom to question the values themselves. If holiness is limited to an enclosed religious sphere, everything outside of that sphere becomes superfluous or secondary to the religious dimension. Believing that “this isn’t all there is” reduces the significance of the plurality of moments which are deemed insignificant. If we save our passion for the top of the mountain, the Sisyphian journey upwards becomes merely a chore to endure, rather than a template to insert our own self-visionary holiness.

Consciousness contains within it the possibility of confronting one’s fate, of contemplating it and even conquering it. This is why lucidity, constant confrontation without the repose of God or hope, is necessary for the absurd hero. By believing in God or hope we surrender our fate to forces beyond our control. Thus the passion of momentous decisions is tempered by a resignation to the inevitability of decisions made. The élan vital of the absurd hero is the result of taking full responsibility for one’s fate. There will be no pleading before an archangel, no omnipresent divinity which knows the beauty of our intentions. It is up to us to realize our intentions in the here and now. We cannot delay the hour of judgment to a time beyond time’s end; the trial is ongoing and the verdict is constantly being rewritten. Redemption is possible, but it is a process rather than a final state. There is no future in which the past will be redeemed; the only available platform for redemption is the present. Every moment is thus inveighed with the weight that hope seeks to relegate to an unknown tomorrow. There is no Hell waiting below or Heaven waiting above; they are both latent possibilities of the horizontal now. The vertical dichotomy is a way of escaping the weight of a fully loaded present. The radical reorientation of the vertical moral axis exchanges the grandeur of a mythical future for the infusion of grandeur into the Sisyphian present. It is the epic of the everyday to which the absurd hero is dedicated, the fervor of the revolution without the promise of a grand utopia to follow. The closest man can get to utopia is his feeling of purpose in pursuing utopia. The absurd hero recognizes this and so seeks utopia without the pretense of believing it to be attainable.

The purpose of Camus’ philosophy is to extol that while the universe may be meaningless, our lives do not have to be. Rather if we are willing to accept the weight of responsibility, the moments of despair, the feelings of solitude, the latent anxiety of the struggle, life’s meaning is ours to define. To do so we must follow that feeling we all possess from time to time—-that feeling of nihilism, of despair at the universe—-and draw it forth to its natural conclusion. Namely that if this absurdity, this staggering gap between our subjective need and the objective truth, precludes the possibility of absolute meaning, we must create our own. And if the creation will never be “finished,” if we will never have time to stop and admire our creation as we are creating it even as we admire it, then we cannot waste time idling but must live with the passion of the artist at work. Of course there are other possibilities, there is the ever-present temptation to embrace someone else’s pre-conceived meaning, whether that of a prophet or ideologue or society itself. There is the surrender to stasis; to the comfort of a divine plan and the knowledge that one’s place in it is assured. Yet for those who feel the pull of the mind towards that abyss between man’s question and the universe’s lack of answer, this will never be a satisfactory choice. It may be a way to temporarily gloss over underlying doubts and fears, but there is a certain kind of mind which cannot help but follow those doubts and fears to the precipice where they end. This precipice is the absurd, and for some that is cause to turn back to pre-ordained meaning or out into the void of suicide. Yet for Camus’ absurd hero, this is not the end but a new beginning: through the absurd to its overcoming, the overcoming of recognizing the sheer daunting scale of the struggle for meaning, but struggling on regardless.

The Modern Search For Meaning

In a philosophy class I took, the subject turned to the meaning of life or lack thereof. The professor asked what motivated people to get up in the morning. An obviously gay student answered that working with the Rainbow Center--the name speaks to what it is--was his primary motivation. This got me thinking about the universal need for identity, especially in the modern era, on a personal and broader level. I don't doubt that sexuality is to a large extent biological, but the concept of a gay identity is a relatively recent invention. Ancient Greeks may have engaged in homosexual acts, but they didn't practice gay culture: they practiced Greek culture. The concept of defining one's entire identity around sexual proclivities would be foreign to them. They would identify themselves by their polis, and probably after Thermopylae, as a Hellene. For much of human history, and in many parts of the world still, there is no "choice" of identity. One is born into a religion and tribe, and unconsciously defines oneself by those tribal and religious values. It is the liberation and isolation of Western civilization which has freed us from these confines for better and worse.

In the modern era, particularly after the French Revolution and the chronologically unmarked Death of God, age-old sources of identity began to be questioned. One of the first manifestations of this paradigm shift was the growth of nationalism. Nationalism is, although older, as much a relatively recent phenomenon as gay culture. This is not to say that nations didn't exist before nationalism, but that they were a latent part of one's identity. Certainly for the average European, religion and loyalty to monarch were far more important markers of identity than shared language and race. Yet after religion and the divine rule of kings were at least temporarily toppled in the French Revolution, the ground was cleared for a new conception of identity. In the French case, nationalism involved brutally suppressing the rival identities of regionalism, "purifying" the language and centralizing power. I find the growth of modern nationalism to be a fascinating topic, especially because I never used to realize the extent to which it's truly a modern phenomenon. After the prisms of religion and feudal status lost their supremacy, new prisms for seeing the world had to come about, and nationalism emerged waving a flag into this void.

I find the concept of a gay identity interesting because it shows the extent to which a variety of historically new prisms, ways of seeing the world, have arisen side by side in modern Western culture. Another relatively recent example of this is class. Of course classes existed before "class consciousness" developed, but it took Marx to turn this into a prism of identity. Personally I find both class and sexuality to be wholly unsatisfying as markers of identity. As far as sexuality goes, I think this is true with almost all heterosexuals. People sometimes facetiously ask why there isn't a heterosexual pride parade, but the fact is for most heterosexuals sexuality something far too basic to be paraded. Few people self-consciously designate themselves as heterosexuals: it is a latent part of their identity, like nationality was before the birth of nationalism. The same goes for gender. Most men, and most women too I believe, don't make gender their prime marker of identity. Of course the vocal minority of feminists do, but it is important to distinguish feminism from femininity just like it's important to distinguish nationalism from nationality. Feminism and nationalism stress the primacy of, respectively, gender and nation as prisms of identity; femininity and nationality in the broader sense are not creeds of totality.

To carry this comparison further, I think it's interesting that both extreme feminism and extreme nationalism rely on a broad scapegoat through which to close ranks. After all, resentment and mimetic rivalry are historically proven methods of sharpening a collective identity. For extreme feminism "patriarchy" is the effigy to rally against, while "International Jewry" has historically fulfilled a similar function for much extreme nationalism. Neither are entirely imaginary constructions. Patriarchy is the more empirically valid of the two--the "establishment" has historically been predominantly male--but the over-representation of Jews in the financial sectors among others also allows an element of truth for extreme nationalists to build on. What makes the assertions of both groups ideologically motivated is that they ignore any factors that don't fit their world-views. For instance, extreme feminists will deny any biological component to the historical place of women, while extreme nationalists will deny the sociological and historical factors for Jewish over-representation (as well as the Holocaust for that matter). Patriarchy and International Jewry are useful to their respective ideologues because both nationalism and gender as identities aim to be total, all-encompassing prisms. Since Patriarchy and International Jewry are such nebulous concepts, they can be seen wherever it is ideologically convenient to look for them. And for identities that aspire to totality, wherever turns into everywhere.

I find dispassionate studies of identity to be obnoxious, because they imply there is some objective, outside stance one can take on the matter. There isn't. We all have our own identities and world-views, and we merely see others through our own. But there are definite differences between total identities and fluid identities. A total identity like Marxism is not very conducive to an objective study of Soviet history because, as I've tried to show with the previous examples, total identities inevitably discard or distort evidence that doesn't fit their prisms. Someone who sees everything through the lens of class, gender, sexuality, nationality or religion will inevitably suffer myopia. The fact is every person has multiple identities, and to focus on one to the neglect of all the others is to seek a total identity, and a total identity can easily become totalitarian. Total identity advocates don't understand fluid identities. Marxists could never see that workers also defined themselves by nationality, and were therefore never going to unite in a utopian internationalist movement. Nazis and other advocates of national purity were simply unable to comprehend how one could be both Jewish and German, or liberal and German: thus the aberrations had to be purged.

Having said that everyone has multiple identities and that it is foolish to deny one's subjectivity, I'll reveal a few of my own. First of all, what got me started on this topic is the concept of sexuality as marker of identity. The guy in my class who apparently gets up every morning solely to further the status of his sexual lifestyle seemed strange to me because sexuality is such a latent part of my self-identity. It's not his differences of sexuality that seemed so strange to me, it was his entirely foreign conception of sexuality as a primary source of identity. I don't begrudge him this choice unless he engages in the sort of myopic fundamentalism I've outlined above, though I reserve the right to criticize aspects of his sexual culture without being labeled a bigot. Similarly, although the concept of building an identity around gender is entirely foreign to me, as long as I can criticize feminism as an ideology without being called sexist I have no inherent problem with it. If it gets people through the day then it at least serves a subjective function if not an objective one. I reserve the right to consider gender and sexuality as very flawed and limited prisms through which to see the world, but I wouldn't infringe on anyone's right to do so. Personally though, I find any ideological prism based on biological chance--race, gender, sexuality--to be facile and limiting.

Most aspects of my own identity are fluid or latent. By latent I mean, for instance, that although I'm solidly male and heterosexual, these are not primary markers of active identity for me. I don't automatically identify with the interests of other males and heterosexuals, though naturally I relate to them more than their opposites. As far as other markers of identity, like most Canadians my nationality is fluid. Because Canada is a nation of immigrants, there cannot even be the pretense of something like a monolithic Canadian nationalism. I'm a third-generation Canadian so obviously Canada is part of my identity, but Canada itself is a fluid notion: it overlaps with other identities like North American, Anglo-Saxon (culturally speaking; I'm not ethnically Anglo-Saxon), democratic and Western. I have no connection to the places my ancestors were from, but only their fundamental identity, which is Jewishness. This is a far more fluid identity for me than it could have been for them, being that I live in a pluralistic society. I don't associate exclusively or even primarily with other Jews, and my own personal conception of what Jewishness means is different from most others. But the point is that for me, although nationality, gender, sexuality, religion and ethnicity are relevant, they aren't primary to how I identify myself or see the world.

My main identity, or at least the way I conceive of myself, is far more personal than communal. I consider my values and philosophies to be my primary prism. Although these are definitely "mine," I'm conscious of the fact that no man is an island. What I mean is that I don't primarily see myself or the world through a community or collective. The people I primarily consider my compatriots are isolated thinkers and historical figures, as well as friends who think in similar ways with similar concerns. If I could use a term to describe this commonality it would be the biblical phrase "strangers in a strange land." A sense of secret outsiderdom. Secret in the sense that it is not based on visible markers like race or dress but on inner values. Values like a rejection of faith in abstractions, an ever constant but shifting search for meaning and a sense that life is a matter of becoming rather than being. These are not values I would say I've chosen but rather discovered outside myself only to feel that they've always been inside me. Fortunately or unfortunately there is no church or flag or parades for people like me. Yet it's a definite identity because I feel it in my blood and bones, because it's a prism through which I see the world and not something I can separate from myself. This entire tract has been a manifestation of it, and whether people read it or agree with it will not change how integral I feel it to be. It's why I get up in the morning, and that subjective need is not something I will deny.

Rhyming Couplet Of The Day

Black ships eat skies
And pumpkin pies
- Then Kill Cæsar, Current 93

The Brief Bright Flame Of Fiume

"The illuminated piazza, the banners, the great written proclamations, the boats with their beflowered lanterns (even the sea had its role in the festival) and the dances. . . . They danced everywhere: in the piazza, in the streets, on the dock; by day, by night, they danced and sang, not with the voluptuous softness of the Venetian barcaroles, but rather it was an unrestrained bacchanale. To the rhythm of martial fanfares one saw soldiers, sailors, women, citizens in bohemian embraces, recapturing the triple diversity of the primitive couples hailed by Aristophanes. One's gaze, wherever it fixed, saw a dance: of lanterns, of sparks, of stars; starving, in ruin, in anguish, perhaps on the verge of death in the flames or under a hail of grenades, Fiume, brandishing a torch, danced before the sea. In the impoverished homes of the old city, the women had removed the sacred images. The tiny lights glowed in front of the figure of Gabriele D'Annunzio. Others may call this hysteria. It is the Bal des Ardents. Under the gaze of the hostile and cowardly world. . . . Fiume dances before death."
- Léon Kochnitzsky

Unlikely Alliance Of The Day: The Judeo-Spartan Pact

The common enemy: Persian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad by night.

"Some Jews tried to connect their own mythological heroes with those of foreign nations, as we learn from the Judeo-Spartan pact, wherein Abraham is presented as an ancestor of both Jews and Spartans. Such attempts were unsuccessful because the Greeks and Romans were not familiar with Abraham or Isaac."
- Doron Mendels, The Rise and Fall of Jewish Nationalism

The Confraternity Of Drunken Revellers

I like drinking. I like a lot of other things too, but drinking is the one interest that brings me closer to the mass of humanity. When I think of the other things I like, they're all pretty solitary if not alienating. Reading, writing, listening to music: they tend to bring me away from rather than closer to the mass of humanity. They bring me closer to certain subsets of humanity, but those subsets are all distant: distant authors, distant readers, distant artists. Often times they're dead (authors, artists) or imaginary (readers), further increasing the distance in space and time. Of course I can relate to other people who relate to what I relate to, but they're hard to come by and besides, most people are too cynical to actually form friendships based on common interests. Common circumstances determine most friendships, not interests.

Being back in my hometown for the summer, I got drunk and saw a lot of people I knew from high school. I have and had very little in common with them, but the common denominator of being drunk made that minor factor irrelevant. I usually find it depressing or u