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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: freedom

The Bill of Obligations

06 Friday May 2022

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

America, Bill of Rights, Democracy, freedom, obligations, USA

The Constitution of the United States of America is a foundational document.The Constitution outlines a form of government and processes to ensure democracy. At the same time that the Constitution was ratified, so too were ten important Amendments collectively referred to as “The Bill of Rights.” The founders rightly thought that outlining the structures and processes of government was not enough to ensure democracy. It was also necessary, as they foresaw, to outline rights of the people that could not be abridged by those governmental structures and processes. They are often referred to as “unalienable rights.” 

To comprehend what the Constitution says and how it came to be, it’s useful to outline just a little of what the founders were reacting to and who they were. They were men. For the most part, they were financially successful men and relatively well-educated. They were “white” men. They were overwhelmingly of European descent. They were mainly English speaking. They had successfully executed a War of Independence against England. They were not a homogenous group, but compared with the world as a whole or the current population of the United States, it was a very homogeneous  group of people. They were still quite aware of the excesses of monarchies and the horrors of tyranny. That background is important to understanding why they wanted to make sure that people’s rights were protected from government over-reach. 

Their homogeneity as relatively rich, well-educated, white men meant that the envisioned “government” would be for their own kind. Blacks had no rights. Children had no rights. Women had no rights. The other species on the planet had no rights. When they talked about rights, they were talking about their rights. 

Their background and particularly, the homogeneity of their background, also meant that they presumed some degree of honor and rationality existed in the whole cohort. They didn’t agree with each other about everything. Far from it. There were many debates and compromises baked into the Constitution. 

I cannot read the minds of the founders, but I imagine that because of their recent experience with tyrants, they were quite aware of the necessity of protecting rights. It’s not clear to me that they thought much about the need to codify obligations. They had been brought up to assume obligations and so had the other founders they worked with. It’s not surprising that they did not to bother to enumerate obligations.  These were the days when a young woman or man of nobility would forgo someone they truly loved in order to fulfill family obligations. If men thought their “honor” had been besmirched they would duel to the death over it. Honor really mattered. I think that’s part of why they didn’t feel it necessary to even think about a “Bill of Obligations.”

I would like to engage in a little thought experiment based on the premise that now, centuries later, we do need to think carefully about obligations. You have the right to free speech. You do not have the right to go into a crowded theater and scream “FIRE!” In order to cause a panic and kill people. This didn’t occur to the founders because, none of them would have ever done such a thing; at least, because of honor. It isn’t that rich white men were morally or ethically superior to a multi-cultural society. Far from it. But it is another aspect of the historical reason, I think, why they might never have bothered to enumerate such obligations.

To start, let’s look at the very First Amendment to the Constitution. I hope everyone will have the patience to wade through this lengthy document.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.



 Oh, look. It’s really not that long after all. 

The government should not be in the business of establishing a religion.

The government should not restrict people from practicing their religion.

The government should not abridge freedom of speech.

The government should not abridge the freedom of the press.

The government should not abridge the freedom to peacefully assemble.

The government should not abridge the freedom of people to petition the government for a redress of grievances. 

Despite the simplicity of the concept, there have been various arguments, often in courts, about what these rights “really” mean. It is not legal to scream fire it a crowded theater. That seems reasonable. It is legal to use your wealth to ensure that your favorite candidate wins because the courts have recently held that spending money to buy politicians is just “freedom of speech.” Huh? 

But I don’t want to argue about how to interpret “The Right of Free Speech.” Rather, I want to examine what might be reasonable and commensurate clauses in “The Obligations of Free Speech.” 

Here are some candidates. 

People have an obligation to speak the truth. 

People have an obligation to listen respectfully. 

People have an obligation to consider that their own opinion is not the only one that matters.

People have an obligation to follow agreed upon rules of conduct for the speech they are engaged in. 

One major benefit of the right to free speech is that ideas can be discussed and debated, and people working together can come up with more intelligent decisions that those of any single individual. In order for that to work, we need to hear many ideas, not just one. The obligations of free speech are also necessary for that process to work in achieving its goals. If we hear many ideas but many people lie, or refuse to listen to each other, or are disrespectful or break the rules of debate, we will not have intelligent decisions. 

Consider an analogy to tennis, although you could generate one for any sport; indeed, for nearly any human endeavor, but let’s stick to tennis. In tennis, you have the right to hit whatever shot you want. You can hit it hard or soft, or anywhere in between. You can hit it flat or put a lot of topspin on the ball or slice it or put sidespin on. You can drive the ball or hit a lob or a drop shot. You can hit it down the line or cross-court. 

Over the years, people have tried all sorts of various strategies and tactics for tennis. People use different grips. Some hit a two-handed backhand and some hit a one-handed backhand. A few even hit with two hands on both forehand and backhand. People try different things out and play improves, not only for the individual, but for the sport. So it is in any sport. Performance improves over time because people try out different things and what works better tends to be repeated and what does not work tends to fade away. But none of that would happen unless all the players also follow the rules. Their right to hit the kind of shot that suits them works hand in hand with their obligation to follow the rules. If players did not fulfill their obligations to play by the rules, and instead began simply insisting that they had won every point, tennis as a whole would not improve nor would the individual players improve. Most would eventually quit and among those who were left “playing tennis,” without rules or obligations, it would soon degenerate into a fist fight, or, more likely, I suppose, it would escalate from shouting to shooting. 

It’s the same for every human endeavor involving more than one person. You not only have some freedom of action vis a vis the other(s); you also have obligations. Just because you feel like assaulting someone on the street and taking their money, doesn’t mean you can do it. People who assault people are meant to end up in jail. Most eventually do. 

A society with a high degree of freedom and no sense of obligations is like buying a Lambroghini and paying extra not to have any brakes. It isn’t just human institutions and inventions that have opposing systems in balance. Look at life itself. Inhibition/excitation; inhale/exhale; sympathetic nervous system/para-sympathetic nervous system; biceps/triceps; adductors/abductors; dilation/contraction; heartbeats; sleep cycles; ATP/ADP Cycle. 

By the way, a society that was all obligations and no freedom would be like buying a Lambroghini and paying extra not to have a steering wheel or gas pedal; having the tires replaced by railroad wheels; you get to ride your Lambroghini down the track and back up again. That’s it. Well, that sucks! Yes. It literally sucks most of the fun out of life! It makes your life more predictable, but that’s not a good tradeoff; at least, not to me. 

Compared with most people, I think I prefer a lot of freedom. That doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in obligation, however, or that my freedom is subject to limits when it infringes on the freedom of others. I strongly prefer freedom of speech. I’m very happy for the First Amendment. But I would not go into a crowded theater and scream “Fire!” Nor should you. 

How about someone using Big Data analytics on your on-line behavior being used to manipulate you into buying stuff from the company who’s paying for you data. Here’s the deal. You think you are communicating on GiantSocialMediumCompany with your friends. The GiantSocialMediumCompany hardly seems as though it’s even there.


“Sure, it pops up some annoying ad about Kepsi or Poke every so often, but it easy enough to scroll past it. Except, you know that most recent Kepsi ad was kind a cute. Anyway, of course, I didn’t click on it.” 

Uh-huh. But you see, the fact that you even slowed down as you scrolled down past the Kepsi ad, is interesting data to Kepsi (and Poke too for that matter). They aren’t the only two parties who will be interested in your data. Who else might benefit? Lots of people. From many examples of your on-line behavior over time, they can determine which “wedge issue” you are most likely to emotionally react to. They likely have a rough categorization of the type of approach you’d pay most attention to: visual, clever text, GIF, video, website, complex/simple, personal/impersonal, etc. Then, you can be targeted with arguments that are calculated — not to open your mind or to help you see the other side. No. These are arguments designed to move you a little further away from your neighbors and friends; anyone who has even a slightly different opinion about a topic you care about. That’s the purpose. Not to educate. To divide. And it’s working. 

And, that, to me, is a an absolutely egregious breach of what should be the First Article in the Bill of Obligations. 

What do you think? 


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The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Wednesday

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Mammoth and the Mouse

The Crows and Me

27 Wednesday Apr 2022

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, fiction, freedom, story, Ukraine, USA

You think your backpack is plenty large enough.

Sure you do. 

Just like I did. 

Of course it seems large enough when you think you’re headed to grandpa’s farm for the weekend. That’s what I was doing when the bombing started. Mom & Dad were going to drive me there after work. But they never made it home. Not yet.

The backpack seems large enough until you find yourself rushing all around the house, like I did, trying to decide what to stuff in it to get away from the bombs. Water? Food? Our pet cat, Lucy? Weapons? Extra clothes? Some of each? Radio? Batteries? Chargers? Electricity. Phone? The kitchen knives, unsheathed?  

Photo by Rodrigo Souza on Pexels.com

Meanwhile … the noise never stops. No word from folks. Think you’ll get used to the explosions and the inhuman screams of pain. But you don’t. Not really. You think you’ll find a place that’s better than the last place you were. But you don’t. 

No, you won’t get used to it. At least, I never did. You won’t find a better place, either. At, least I never did. 

Just death everywhere Stench. And noise which I never did get used to. 

The “sharpness” in the explosions evaporated though. I studied enough bio to know what happened. I lost some hair cells is all. They still make a huge THWOMP in my sternum and they still hurt my ears. Oh, yes. The nearby explosions are plenty loud. They are just dull. 

Like everything else now, I guess.

I don’t hear birds any more. Maybe there are a few left. What’s that thing about canaries and coal mines? Hard to believe the air here used to be clear enough to breathe without choking. It never used to stink thisbad either. Maybe the stench killed the robins and jays. 

Maybe the birds all flew away first. Smart. They have their own built in method of transportation. Anyway, whether the birds are all dead or all flown away, I don’t know. I just know I don’t hear them. Anyway, why would they be singing? I like to think they flew away. All I know for sure is that they’re gone.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com



Except for the crows*.

I remember in the “before times” being grossed out at the way the crows picked the meat off the bones of road kill. I remember wondering: “Do they get sick from rotting meat ? Or, do they just never realize that rotting meat makes them sick? Or do they do know it makes them sick but they’re so damned hungry, that they don’t care.” 

I was sure, back then, that I’d never be that hungry.

What did I know? 

Anyway, I thought the crows were gross, all right. But they were brave! They’d swoop out to their sickening feast of squashed squirrel or raccoon or unlucky dog and peck away at the rotting carcass while a car or truck would zoom right at them! Only at the last second, they would angrily flit out of the way. I never saw one get hit. 

I guess I kind of wanted one of them to get hit. It would serve them right for being so gross! 

“For being so gross.” 

As best I can understand it, that’s how all this started. Some folks were being gross. I guess I never really saw them being gross. My parents thought it was a good idea to kill all the gross people but others didn’t agree. I don’t know what the grossness even was. My folks — did I mention I haven’t seen them since all this started? — any way, my folks never explained it. 

That was back in what I call the “before times” when we could just drive to the grocery and get fresh vegetables and fruits, butter, cheese, chips, cookies, bread. Olives. I especially liked olives. My folks thought that it was weird for an eight year old to love olives so much. In fact, they called it “gross.” 

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com

They were joking. I think they were joking. They may have been joking. I kind of miss them. I don’t think they thought I was gross back then. Lots of people eat olives. I don’t think I started the war. Olives?

I don’t know. I don’t think I was gross enough to deserve to die. Like I said, I’m not sure what the “grossness” was all about — not the grossness that they were killing each other about. 

No-one should eat road kill. Or bomb kill. 

And no-one does. 

Except for the crows.

And me.

*Author’s Note: At the exact moment I wrote the line “Except for the crows” (the first time), the crows outside cawed loudly! Now, all I hear are the wind chimes.

—————————-

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Karmic Architecture II

Sea, Ground, Water, Light, Love

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All for one; and none for most 

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How did I get here?

13 Monday Jul 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

#45, America, coronoavirus, COVID19, fiction, freedom, grief, love, pandemic, story, USA, ventilator

59146AB0-B3FE-4EBE-B528-DACBC40F6353

 

She thought:

“I’m drunk. Really drunk. No. Not drunk. What the hell’s wrong with me. I still smell alcohol. Car accident! A piece came through my throat! Oh, God! I’m dying! No. Wait. Where the hell is everybody? This can’t be heaven. I must have gone to the other place! Why? Why?  What’s that smell? Rotten eggs? I go to church every Sunday, Lord. Well, not every Sunday. What is that beeping? What is in my throat? OH MY GOD! It’s the ALIEN!”  

The next time consciousness returned, she heard someone call her name. She tried to answer, but nothing came out. Where am I?  What? I can’t talk! I’m in danger! I need to get out of here! Why do they call my name but no-one comes? I like my name. Kids and relatives had tried shortening it to something stupid, but she wouldn’t stand for that.

photography of clouds during dusk

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But now she was in a fog. America couldn’t think straight. She could only seem to make words in her head. They wouldn’t come out of her mouth. At least not properly. She thought, “Who are these strangers who are calling my name? One of them was talking. I should listen. Maybe there will be a clue about what happened to me.” 

But she drifted off before she heard a single word. 

When America awoke again, some damned foreigner was jabbering at her. Why the hell can’t these people learn proper English like everyone else? Like my daddy talks and I talk and all my friends talk? This man talks like a Chinaman. China? China flu! That’s what happened to me! I caught the stupid China flu! That’s what the President called it. It’s a hoax. Oh, crap! Roger! Roger! Oh, dear, dear Roger. (Now, she remembered). She and Roger had been cheering for the President. That was nice. Why can’t I just go back there? 

people sitting on gang chairs

Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

At the show — the Rally — everyone was on the President’s side! They were all cheering for him. We were cheering for him. Roger was cheering for him. It was fun. We had our hats. So what if they said ‘Made in China’? That was the whole point! We let China get away with too much. The President was fixing that! And he was keeping the China flu away from us! And we didn’t need masks. Who wants to wear a mask? Not me. Not Roger. Where the hell am I? Hospital? Oh, crap, Roger, Roger, Roger. Roger died. Damn it!” 

An image flashed into her mind. America and her best high school girlfriends had had cheerleading practice after school. After their practice was over, they had gotten into the habit of sitting in the bleachers and watching the boys do the second half of their football practice. Their team, the Leesville Rebels, had been having a good season. Most of the girls were head over heels in love — or at least in social envy — with the handsome All-State quarterback, Matthew Jackson. Everyone called him ‘Threw Jackson’ — he was a senior and already had scholarship offers from Michigan and MSU. He would be a catch, all right, but he was too cocky and brash for my taste America had thought. She liked Roger — more of a mountain of a man, and a sophomore like her. She didn’t think her parents would approve her dating a Senior, but Threw never asked her. Not exactly. 

Nor did anyone else. Not until that fall day when the first hint of scarlet and gold adorned the maples that surrounded the south end of Rebel Field. At the end of practice, the pounding herd of football-spiked boys trotted off to the showers, but Roger veered off, zig-zagging as though he were running an overly elaborate pass pattern, tossed his arms up, faked a catch and came running over to the railing where she stood with her friends. He smiled and his mouthguard made his teeth sparkle in a funny, plastic sort of way. And then, he pointed those giant penetrating eyes right at her.

“Hey there! I’m Roger Williams. From English class. Wanna go to Homecoming with me?” 

Even now, she could clearly remember that she had flushed carmine from head to foot. She had swallowed hard, bitten her lip and said, “Yes. Thanks.” 

“Great! I gotta go shower now. See ya’ in class!” He had spun on his heel and sprinted off, tossing a bit of cinder behind him. At about ten yards away, he threw his right arm up, jumped in the air and shouted “Touchdown!” And, she admitted to herself for the first time that she actually had loved him from that moment on. Whenever that thought had crossed her mind before, she had dismissed it as the nonsense of a teenage girl. Now, she realized that no — it wasn’t just the fancy of a naive girl. It was literally true. Of course, it doesn’t always happen like that for everyone. She understood that, but it had happened that way for her. She had never told Roger that because it had seemed so stupid. But now — she should tell him but — could no longer. But let’s think of something more pleasant, she thought to herself.

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So — indeed, they had gone to the Homecoming Dance, and she relived much of it now in her imagination where the colors splashed brighter and the music sang clearer than she had experienced in many years. And, the kiss. Her first real kiss. That had sealed the deal for the young lady.  

She had never really dated anyone else. She had never really been with anyone else either. You couldn’t count…that didn’t count. That never happened! she screamed in her mind. She chanted one of her cheers from all those many years ago: 

“PUSH ‘EM BACK, PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!” 

She still remembered the moves. The girls had had all pushed their butts back and their hands forward for the first two lines and then, done a back walkover for the last cheer, ending by dropping down to a split. Those cheers had seemed hard enough. She couldn’t believe what some of the cheerleaders were doing today. Amazing stuff! But many of those teams had both boy and girl cheerleaders. She never understood that. Cheerleading was for girls. And football was for guys! Didn’t need a stable genius to see that. And, now we can say “Merry Christmas!” again. 

group of cheerleader on green field

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

After they had been married for decades and long after their kids had gone off on their own, sometimes, when Roger had fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, she would stare at him and wonder how he would react if she had told him that Threw had raped her all those years earlier. Things were good though. Why take a chance. They still loved each other. Why chance it?

“PUSH ‘EM BACK, PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!” 

Then the darkness closed in and she fell asleep again. 

When she awoke, someone was talking to her. A woman this time. It must be a nurse. But she’s calling herself a doctor. They do have woman doctors. I’d prefer a man, she thought to herself.

“Mrs. Williams. I’m Doctor Khoury. I’ll be your new Doctor now.” 

America tried to speak, but it seemed impossible. She could only manage an inarticulate moan. Even the moan didn’t sound as though it had come from her. A small writing pad appeared before her. It was blurry. “Where are my glasses?” she wondered. 

Doctor Khoury placed a pen in her hand. “Don’t try to talk. Write if you have any questions. You’re on a ventilator. It is hard to talk. And, really, there is no need. Just try to relax and we’ll take care of you. You’re at McClaren. You just relax and we’ll get you over this.” 

medical equipment on an operation room

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

America tried to write with the pen but her hand shook. It felt heavy. Very, very heavy. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. She looked at the shaky scrawl and shuddered. It was like an old lady’s writing. Well, she supposed that’s what she was now. An old lady. Without Roger. She kept scrawling: “Dr Wong?” 

“Oh, yes. Well Dr. Wong was your doctor, but I am your doctor now. Doctor Khoury.” 

Such a pain to write. But she wrote a bit more. “Quit?” 

She could hear a bit of exasperation in Doctor Khoury’s sigh. “No, he didn’t quit. He can’t be your doctor any more, so I am. Your insurance is fine. Don’t worry about a thing?” 

She knew the answer, but her mind was so befuddled, maybe it wasn’t really true. She wrote again, “Roger?” 

“Ah, your husband, Mrs. Williams? I’m — I’m afraid — I’m afraid he didn’t make it. You — I recognize you — you were there — when your husband passed. Do you remember? You came right up to the window and put your hand on the glass. In fact, here it is Monday. If I’m not mistaken he died just a week ago. We’re going to get you through this however. You’ll see. I just wanted to intro myself. I’ve got to go. Someone will be checking on you every few minutes. Nice meeting you, Mrs. Williams.” 

“So,” thought America, “it’s really true. I didn’t just imagine it. Poor Roger. I couldn’t even hold his hand. Not really. It’s not the same through glass. We always promised each other we’d be there for each other. But no sign of Andy or Marcel. Maybe they’ll come. At least Andy. 

Marcel had been very angry. They had fought about the stupid virus! Marcel had believed all that malarkey that the main stream media was pumping out about … it was terrible the way everyone was piling on the President. He was doing his best. It wasn’t his fault the virus hadn’t gone away in March or April or May. He said it was okay to re-open. And, when Roger had just mentioned that they were going to a rally, Marcel had blown up.

coronavirus

Photo by CDC on Pexels.com

“Are you guys crazy?! Don’t go to a rally and breathe all that infected air!” 

It was too bad the liberals were using the pandemic to attack the poor President. He had done everything in his power, hadn’t he? Andy though, he sided with his mom and dad. He had voted for Trump. After all, he was going to fix things. He promised to make America great again. We sure liked his speeches. Well, Roger and I did. What did he say? Mexico! He had pointed out all the things wrong with America. All the people trying to be politically correct. Too many colored people. Too many immigrants had stolen all the American jobs. Where had they put them? China? 

When it came to jobs, Roger had been lucky. But it wasn’t just luck! He had worked hard in engineering school and had gotten a damned good job at GM right down the road. But then, just like Trump said, foreigners had eventually stolen his job. And … the union … he unions had struck for higher wages so what did the company do? Of course, they moved the plant to … somewhere … Pontiac. But then, I need to sleep. 

island during golden hour and upcoming storm

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

God, I need to sleep. Why does everyone hate Trump so much? Why do all these women come and accuse him of rape and groping and stuff? Just let it go. Just let it go. Don’t ruin these men’s lives. What would have happened to Threw? Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten the scholarships. Well, it would have been a scandal. Mostly on me. And Roger? He wouldn’t have liked me any more. Maybe he wouldn’t have exactly blamed me, but … 

“PUSH ‘EM BACK! PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!” 

It usually worked. But this time, I’m too damned tired, she thought. How the hell am I supposed to sleep? Where was Roger anyway? Oh, that’s right. Damn him! Why did he have to die? Why? Smoking? We both tried to quit more than once. Don’t we get credit for that? Anyway, non-smokers die of this too. 

Sure they do. Vice-President Pence had said there was no evidence cigarettes caused health problems. He wouldn’t lie. He’s a good Christian. He won’t even go in a room alone with a woman. Why would Trump pick him to drain the swamp if he was a liar? That made no sense. Did he say to drink bleach? He didn’t say that — not really — but I thought that’s what he meant. I thought about trying it. Imagine. Maybe it would have worked. I wish I had some now.

crop person cleaning toilet with brush

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But all those people out to get Trump. The Deep State. Mueller. Even though he was a Republican. And the FBI and the CIA. Jeff Sessions. The military. And the NSA. They are all out to get him. And then — first there wasn’t really a pandemic. It was just a couple of cases. Trump told everybody not to take it seriously. But then the China people lied to him. And, WHO. And, the CDC. He had to fix that. And if — and Europe — and New York City. And all the liberals and homosexuals are out to get him. And the Federal prosecutors. Everyone is in this vast conspiracy. And they even make fun of him for being fat and loving his daughter. And so what if he had his dad pay someone to lie so he could get out of the army? So what? Obama didn’t serve in the military either. Nor Clinton. Nor Bush. 

Everybody lies sometimes. Everybody cheats on their taxes. Or on their spouse. What’s the big deal? He can’t really have borrowed money from Russia. That would be stupid. He says he’s a genius. I know I’m not. He said he would sue any school who released his test records. He won’t release his taxes. So? Who cares? I need to sleep. I’ll make myself go to sleep. I’ll make my mind blank. 

And she succeeded. For a moment or two. Then, she heard two voices whispering. 

“What’s wrong, Dr. Khoury?” 

“What’s wrong? Do you know why this woman, Mrs. Williams is in here? Do you know?” 

“COVID19, Doctor.” 

“I know that! I mean why did she get it? She and her husband went to a Trump rally. No masks. No social distancing. Her husband died last week. And now…” 

surgeons performing surgery

Photo by Павел Сорокин on Pexels.com

“She might hear you.” 

“I doubt it. I don’t even care. I’m sick of these people not wearing masks. And now Dr. Wong is dead. Dead! He worked the whole damned month of May and then the whole damned month of June and now he’s dead! What the hell is wrong with this country? People don’t believe doctors. They don’t believe experts. They only believe Trump! And people are dying. Just because he says he has things under control doesn’t mean he does. He knew about this for months and did nothing and even now, in mid July, he still doesn’t have a national plan for PPE, testing, masks, or contact tracing. It’s been … oh, never mind. I’m just mad about Wong. But he’s the fourth one we’ve lost from this hospital. Who’s next? You? Me? Anyway, who’s next on our list?” 

“We are due to take a look at Jonathan Edwards. 35. High BP. Obese. Baptist minister….”

America heard the voices fade away into the distance. She couldn’t even be sure she had heard those voices. They weren’t loud. Not like Trump. Is it possible, she wondered, whether soft voices might speak truth just as well as loud ones? Hadn’t she led cheers and tried to get the Leesville Rebels to scream louder and louder? Why? 

She thought, “So many people out to get Trump. Add the doctors and nurses and … who was speaking now? America felt sure she had someone say ‘What if…?’ But who? What if what? Where’s Roger now? Dead. Doctor Khoury thinks we got it at the Trump rally? Why would he tell us not to bother with masks if it was dangerous? That made no sense. Everyone’s lying! Everyone.” 

“Or maybe” her heart skipped a beat. “Maybe, it’s just Trump. Trump’s lying!” America felt an electric thrill in her spine. “Who said that?” 

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America’s eyes flew open. She thought: “That was Roger! That was Roger’s voice!  Roger told me! I heard him. But he’s dead. Crap. This lying on my stomach and all these drugs. I want to talk! I want to scream! Roger? Roger? What do you mean? It could be Trump lying? What? Instead of the … instead of everyone else? Trump himself? Well. That’s a horrible thought.” 

“PUSH ‘EM BACK! PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!” 

“That would mean … that would mean … all those people he fired … all those people he hired and then fired … and all the ones … but he wouldn’t have raped a 13 year old girl. Who does that? I was fifteen. That was bad enough! It was horrible. Too horrible to happen! 

But it never happened! Never! Why would Trump do that? And why would he lie about the pandemic? All that slander against him! Why would he do Putin favors? And why would Putin care who’s President of America? What possible difference would it make to Putin? He must just like Trump. Just because he was on officer in the KGB doesn’t mean he’s a bad human being. And poisoned his rivals. 

Who’s out there staring at me? They’re waving! It’s Andy! Oh, God. He shouldn’t see me like this. He’ll get all worried. What’s that smell!? I can hardly breathe! Why do they have this thing stuck down my throat? It makes no sense! How can it make me breathe better! Hi Andy. I wish I could talk to you. I don’t feel good, Andy. 

I never stopped saying ‘Merry Christmas!’ I never stopped saying that. It was a lie. Andy, I don’t feel good.” 

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That was also a lie. She didn’t just not feel good. She felt terrible. She had never in her life felt so … desperate. So dead. She had to let others know. She had to talk to Andy. Why don’t he come in? Of course, COVID. That’s why. Damn.

“Andy, Andy. I wish I could say ‘goodbye’ in person. I love you. Thanks for the grandkids. Andy, maybe Marcel was right. Maybe — just maybe — it’s Trump himself lying and not the whole rest of the world. I think … I think maybe he’s under foreign influence and killing us on purpose. Wake up, Andy. Wake up! Wake up before it’s too late!”

Andy was no doctor, but he had seen enough Hospital shows on TV to know what flat-lining was. A gang of doctors flew into his mom’s room but an orderly stayed behind to keep Andy away. He said, “YOU stay HERE! We don’t need another one here next month! Geez! What’s wrong with you, man? You don’t even have your mask on right. Look. I’m sorry about your Mom and all that, but Jesus man, what are you thinking? Don’t you know we’re in the middle of a pandemic when your own mother is lying there with it? What’s wrong with you?” 

Andy turned and shouted at the thick, nearly soundproof glass: “Mom! Mom! Wake up! Come on America! Wake up!”  

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———————————————-

Trumpism is a new religion. 

ANTIFA?

What about the Butter Dish? 

Tommy being Tommy.

The Truth Train.

The Pandemic Anti-Academic. 

The Watershed Virus. 

Unmasked. 

A Profound and Utter Failure. 

My Cousin Bobby.

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie? 

 

Unmasked

30 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

America, coronavirus, COVID19, freedom, masks, pandemic, responsibility, Trumpism, USA

Unmasked

A mask.

father putting on face mask on son

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

It’s uncomfortable.

It’s sweaty.

It makes you realize how bad your own breath smells.

Not wearing a mask may set you apart from your master, Vladimir Putin and his puppy, Donald J. Trump. After all, they don’t wear masks.

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A mask reminds you of the outlaws in the Old West. A mask marks you as someone who reads. A mask marks you as someone who listens to science.

And science is hard. You maybe didn’t do too well in science. Or, maybe you’re just fed up with science because it tells you that Cheetos and beer is not a well-balanced and healthy diet. Or, maybe you’re fed up with science because it tells you that if we keep paying no attention to our carbon footprint, we will end up destroying a lot of the ecosystem we rely on to survive. We are melting the polar ice caps. We are killing the forests. We are killing the bees. We are killing all the fish. We are destroying the Coral Reefs. We will have more and more pandemics in the future. People living on seacoasts will be under water. Salt water. Meanwhile, potable drinking water supplies are shrinking.

air air pollution climate change dawn

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Why? It’s the fault of science, damn it! If we didn’t have science, we wouldn’t know those things! If we didn’t test people for COVID19, we wouldn’t have any cases! If we didn’t do X-rays, we wouldn’t have any broken bones! If it weren’t for science, you couldn’t be electrocuted! If it weren’t for science, which says we need to breathe air, people wouldn’t drown! If it weren’t for science, people could jump off cliffs and fall 500 feet onto hard rocks and they wouldn’t even get scratched!

Bullshit. 

And you know it’s bullshit.

If Trump tells you that “his gut tells him” it’s okay for you to jump off a cliff because gravity is a liberal hoax, are you going to jump?

faceless barefoot man sitting on high cliff

Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

Science doesn’t cause gravity. Science doesn’t cause human ills like Global Climate Change. It allows us to understand things at a deeper level so that we can take appropriate action. Science isn’t the reason you need to wear a mask to help prevent the spread of the deadly pandemic. The reason has to do with the nature of the novel coronavirus and the nature of human life. We breathe. We must breathe to live. We breathe air in — and as we do so, germs come in with the air. We breathe out. As we do so, germs come out. 

That has been true since life forms climbed out of the ocean onto the land 500 million years ago. It didn’t start being true once we developed science. 

But there’s some good news! Properly wearing a mask will work to protect you — even if you don’t like science. A mask will work to protect your family, even if you don’t like science. Properly wearing a mask will work to protect your friends — even if you don’t like science. Wearing a mask will help prevent the spread of the virus and allow us to minimize the economic impact — even if you don’t believe in science. Conversely, not wearing a mask will help the pandemic spread costing more American lives and losing more American jobs even if you believe the pandemic is a liberal hoax. The virus doesn’t give a damn about your politics.

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Are you the sort of person who yells and screams and insists that you have a right to defecate in public? To walk naked? To have intercourse in public? To throw rocks at people who walk by you, provided you’re throwing the rocks from your own property or on public property? How about a flame thrower? That might be fun! Stand in your front yard and toast people who walk by. You should be allowed to do that! Right? So long as you and the flame thrower are on your own property. Do you have the right to try to build a nuclear reactor so long as it’s on your own property? Do you have the right to burn poison ivy vines in your own back yard and let the toxic smoke drift into your neighbor’s yard?

If you’re wearing a mask when you’re close to others, you are sending a message.

The message is not: “I hate Trump.”

The message is not: “I am a democrat.”

The message is simply this: “I care about my health and the health of my family, friends, and fellow Americans.” That’s it. That’s the message.

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Of course, you can add more messages if you like. You can wear a mask that says something additional. You can put hearts on it or pictures of cute kittens or put photos of the coronavirus on it. But the main message is the same: “I care about human life.”

And, if you don’t wear a mask in situations where it’s appropriate, it also sends a message.

The message says, “I care more about my momentary comfort than I care about your life.” Just remember, if you want to walk around in public wearing that message, you can expect people to respond accordingly.

person s hands covered with blood

Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on Pexels.com

Let’s suppose someone has been very careful for months. They rarely go out. They go to the grocery store once every two weeks, wear a mask, wash their hands frequently. So far as they know, they have come in contact with no-one who’s sick. One day they go the grocery store and meet YOU. And YOU decide that YOUR comfort is more important than anyone else’s life so you don’t wear a mask. The shopper goes home and two weeks later, his parents both get COVID19. Two weeks after that, they both die. One of the shopper’s kids had just finished chemotherapy for leukemia. That child got sick with COVID19 and died as well. The shopper could not be with any of his or her loved ones in their last moments.

How do you think they will react when they go back to the store and see you again — and once again, you’re without a mask?

How would you react if your loved ones were killed by COVID19 and you could trace it back to someone not wearing a mask in a place where it was required?

Would you say, “Oh, well. Everyone should be free to do what they want. After all, everyone dies eventually anyway. At least, people can go to the beauty parlor and go bar-hopping. Who cares if kids fighting cancer or grandparents die?”

Character is revealed by choices under pressure.

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What choices are you making? What messages are you sending to your fellow Americans? You can choose to do whatever “Der Fooler” tells you to do. You can choose to believe whatever “Der Fooler” tells you to believe. If you do, then, you may as well buy a Trumputin mask and wear it 24×7. Because your face, your individuality, your identify no longer means anything. To you, your life means nothing, because it means nothing to Trump and Putin. To you, the lives of your loved ones mean nothing, because you are going along with actions dictated by Putin and Trump — and those actions are predicated on the lives of Americans meaning nothing.

Trump is unmasked as a puppy of Putin.

You are unmasked as a puppy of Trump. 

You are not a “freedom fighter” because you refuse to wear a mask any more than a tramp who defecates in the path on a public park is a “freedom fighter.”

You will have zero freedom under a Trumputin dictatorship. 

You will have zero freedom when you’re lying face down in a semi-coma with a ventilator stuck down your throat.  

woman s head on plate

Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

—————————-

Trumpism is a New Religion

You bet your life!

It’s just Tommy being Tommy

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Truth Train

The Anti-Academic Pandemic

The Watershed Virus

The Happy Talk Lies
                            

Essays on America: Labelism

11 Thursday Jul 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

advertising, corporations, Democracy, essay, freedom, lying, media, politics

Essays on America: Labelism

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This is a post about racism. But, it’s also a post about misogyny. It’s a post about homophobia. But it’s also a post about Trumpism and the “base.” (BTW, if any of these terms makes you not want to read the article, then you definitely should read it). 

Because all of the ideas associated with these terms are in some way linked to one particular term: labelism. What is labelism? It is treating the label of a thing as if that label equaled the thing labeled. Let’s take an example. Call me Ishmael. (My real name’s “John” but you can call me “Ishmael”). But I’m guessing that that really bothers some of you. Why? Because my name is “John.” Let’s come back to that. 

When I was a very young kid, I recall my mother telling me that we were going to visit one of her friends, Mrs. Fox. Immediately the image of a woman who was also a fox sprang into my imagination. She had a human hairdo popular back then with straight hair at the top and many curls below ear level. But her snout was distinctly vulpine. Her eyes were also fox-like, but it was made up and she was wearing lipstick! I must have had a wide-eyed and glazed look when I said back to my mom, “We’re going to see … Mrs…..FOX?!” 

fox on brown wooden plank

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

Mom giggled and said, “That’s just her name. She’s not a four-legged fox with a tail!” I think that my mother must have imagined something similar to my image because she then burst out laughing. I don’t think I was totally convinced by Mom’s reassurance, but I was at least willing to go see for myself what this “Mrs. Fox” really looked like. 

Now, in fairness to my younger self, there were many examples of cartoon animals and books that equated the name with animal. The Three Little Pigs. Donald Duck. Mickey Mouse. And they all exhibited the same hopes and fears that I did.

It seems to me that people differ quite a bit in terms of how much “reality” they attribute to a label. I’ve mentioned before that I’ve seen microwave popcorn on the shelves with the word “Butter” prominently displayed, but when you read the ingredients, there is no butter in it whatsoever. Similarly, some marketing genius came up the idea of naming a perfume “Unscented.” So, if I go to the store and buy cat litter that says, “Unscented” it is actually perfumed with a perfume whose name is “Unscented.” (Get “Fragrance Free” instead, although I suppose eventually that will also be a lie). 

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How did I discover that the popcorn had no butter? I read the fine print. I looked at the ingredients. Right now, we are lucky because Americans earlier put the pressure on until it was legally required to list ingredients. (For what it’s worth, the popcorn’s good; besides that, it probably wouldn’t work to put butter in microwave popcorn. But why lie?). 

As I argue elsewhere, listing every ingredient wasn’t necessary hundreds of years ago. People would buy their bread at a local baker and if they put crappy ingredients in it, everyone in town would know. But now? Most of us buy stuff from people we don’t know and are never going to meet. And, the trail of responsibility is very complex indeed. Today’s supply chains lower costs but make quality hard to pin down and very hard to pin down responsibility for bad behavior. 

How did I discover that “Unscented” is a scent? Initially, I think someone told me and I think it was my daughter-in-law or my daughter.  And then, I confirmed it with my own sense of smell. By the way, the manufacturers of cat litter are masters of perfumery because they make one brand that actually manages to smell much worse that cat poo or cat urine or both combined. It is vile. Now, that takes genius. 

If you think facebook gets a bit nasty on occasion, you should really try twitter. Anyway, I ran across a tweet today that got me thinking along these lines of labelism. The tweeter basically said that she “wasn’t a racist but” (a phrase highly correlated with the very next thing being a racist comment). She wasn’t a racist, so she claimed, but it didn’t make sense to pick a black actor for Ariel because they don’t look anything alike.  

Okay, then. Let’s first just get one thing out of the way. Ariel is a cartoon character. The Actor is a real person. People are quite different from cartoon characters. And, they look noticeably different, regardless of color. But much more importantly, the person would not be anything like Ariel either. The person would have lungs, a heart, a brain, 720 different muscles, have weight, be real, could move on her own, etc. 

On the other hand, characters in novels, plays, movies and cartoons — if they are well done — are like real people in terms of their internal lives. It is all a fiction, of course, as well as magic. (It’s no accident that Disney called his extravaganza theme park “The Magic Kingdom.”) Fiction is magic in that it allows you to vicariously experience another person’s choices, actions, sensory inputs, relationships, self-talk, and even internal conflicts. The words are used as cues or clues and you yourself imagine the actions, sights, sounds, and smells. You generate the feelings with your brain. The book doesn’t have a brain. The movie doesn’t have a brain. 

photography of disneyland

Photo by Makenzie Kublin on Pexels.com

When you watch a movie, you see a person and hear a voice. The most important thing is what is going on in the actor and whether they can hint at what is happening internally through their motions, expressions, and voice. That is what is important about good fiction: what goes on inside. 

What could possibly be more racist than to think a POC could not feel inside what a white person was thinking? Or, what could be more racist than to think a POC could not show that set of feelings through their actions and voice in a highly competent, artistic, & inspired fashion? 

Now, let us set aside the really important part of the story process and just focus on the external factors. Two complete human forms typically share a myriad of surface characteristics. Most people have bilateral symmetry, ten toes, ten fingers, one head, the same set of 720 muscles and so on. Our fingers share the same joints, fingernails, etc. And yet — out of that sea of similarity, the “I’m not a racist but” tweeter claims that because the actor is black, she “doesn’t look anything like [emphasis added]” the form of the cartoon character. So, the “I’m not a racist but” tweeter thinks skin color counts — but none of the other 1000 physical characteristics that nearly all of us share count at all. Hmmm. So, for the “I’m not a racist, but” tweeter, skin color is the only marker of a person’s physique that makes any difference. 

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Human beings are vastly complex. Our life — the very life we feel right now — goes back in unbroken lineage 4.5 billion years. Our bodies contain 70 trillion cells. By contrast, the (already considerable) population of earth is only 7 billion. To pick out one characteristic as being the only one that counts? 

The tendency to confuse label with substance persists into adulthood for all of us. For instance, in Dan Ariely’s book, Predictably Irrational, he cites studies in which adults, e.g., prefer dentists, whose name starts with “D” and will give preference to someone with the same name they have, even though the name sharing is coincidence.  We also have the option to be on the look out for labelism. Watching out for it and then looking into things more deeply is the first step to minimizing it in your thinking. 

Because there are others who are well aware of this tendency to confuse the thing with the label and all too happy to use that confusion to make a profit at your expense. In the examples above, consumer products companies are following the letter of the law (all the while lobbying to rescind even those protections) but at the same time, spending millions to mislabel their products and mislead you. “All Natural Juice Drink”! Doesn’t that sound wonderful? The one I looked at had less than 5% juice. There’s nothing about it that’s “natural.” It’s basically water and corn syrup. And, indeed, at this point, the actual ingredients are listed. So, if and only if, you take the time to look at that government-mandated information, you will see what’s really going on. Large corporations are not satisfied with only misleading the people who won’t bother to read the ingredients. They want to right to fool everyone. 

actor adult business cards

Photo by Nikolay Ivanov on Pexels.com

Sadly, this manipulation of labels to confuse the unwary to do things in the interests of the very rich rather than their own interests is not limited to their consumer products. The very wealthy who essentially own and/or run the corporations want to be able to control elections. So, they brought a law-suit under the label “Citizens United” all the way to the Supreme Court. (This was hardly “citizens united”!! It was brought on behalf of some of the richest and most powerful people in American). 

Applying nice-sound labels to things that are “bad” is just one type of trick. Another common trick is to label something negatively in order to get you to dislike it. Why do people want to manipulate you into disliking somebody? Basically, they do it to get you to put your anger on them for your troubles rather than the people truly responsible. 

The word “label” implies a word. But let’s look more deeply (or at least more pragmatically) at the basic concept of playing on your labelism so that you act against your interest. Corporations use music and pictures to impact your psyche in the same way. When they tell you (as currently required) about the deadly side-effects of a drug, they play calm, idyllic music. Nice music. Music that makes you feel there is nothing to worry about. And sweet pictures. Pictures of flowers, and rainbows, and family fun, and romance. How could anything possibly go wrong? But those pictures do not logically flow from taking the drug. Nor does joyful music start playing in your life. 

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You may or may not experience this after taking that new drug. After all, it’s just a picture, not a promise. But your brain treats it as a promise. And they know that.

We just accept it now. After all, it’s just “business as usual.” But why is it “business as usual”? Who benefits from the rules that now exist? And what if, someday in the future, Americans become so accepting of this manipulation of feeling through labels, images, & sounds that they did not even notice that this was going on in politics? What if we were not just being manipulated by big moneyed interests into buying cat litter, popcorn, and drugs? What if corporations were also spending their billions to buy elections in order to make the rules of the game even more favorable to them? 

We can only imagine. 

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—————————————————

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citizens_United_v._FEC

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/07/how-supreme-court-turned-corporations-people-200-year-saga/

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