I'm so full of hate it's not even funny

I hope they never stop protesting in Ferguson...I hope the violence escalates.  I hope the body count rises and all this hate and murder bleeds into every surrounding state including this one.  I hope every single southern state wipes itself off the map and when I hightail it to the north west I'll look in my rear view and laugh like a maniac...Any part of the world OOZING with this much STUPID deserves to be destroyed completely.

Depressed? Maybe...A little...I don't know.

8/11/14

A comedian died tonight.  Just found out Robin Williams is dead.  63 years old.  My dad was a year older.  Both died within a week after my birthday.  There is no correlation between the two, I just wanted to point out that lately my birthday isn’t that great an event…who am I kidding, it never really was.  When I was a child I at least got a cake and a VERBAL happy birthday.  Can’t even say I got a card this year.  But I digress.

Williams’ death was reported as a suicide, as he had been grappling with depression.  Anyone that manic and funny in his performances, anyone who gives that much of themselves to their craft has to be fighting more than a few demons.  I’ve had the same suspicions about my mom.  Years and years and years spent trying to be happy, trying to make herself happy.  Hard to do when you have a boorish husband and spoiled, nerdy, self-absorbed son.  She’s been piling up losses for a while now, but that’s another story. 

I am now 32 years old, the exact same age as Bruce Lee when he died.  I thought to myself, ‘what a good age,’ still in your physical prime; handsome, strong, still able to something, anything, everything.  Robin Williams, twice my age, accomplished everything he set out for (and a lot of things he didn’t), and then some.  Bruce Lee, arguably the greatest pure fighter of his time, and one of the most revered martial artists of ALL time, at 32.  One died unexpectedly, his best years and work still ahead of him, the other a seasoned showman, possibly weary of life, weary of the world around him and didn’t see anything more he could do.  

Bet you can figure out where this one is going.  No?  I’ll spell it out for you.  Yesterday (August 10^th) was my birthday.  I wound up getting a fuck-ton of face book posts wishing me happy birthday. I thought it was convenient more than anything.  For the well-wishers I mean.  If not for the reminder on their timelines I doubt ANYONE would remember another human being’s birthday anymore (just how I feel).  I received a few unexpected and cheery phone calls.  Hearing from them did make me smile a bit.   Regardless of this, all that ran through my head was that I was 32, still not enough done, not enough to say that I am be wholly self sufficient. Not enough to say ‘this shit fucking matters in the long run’.  Life will always be a zero sum game, one that even at my relatively young age I am growing weary of participating in.  Another year…of what?  Worrying where my next meal is coming from? Worrying if my work is good enough to build a solid career?  Worrying if I’m going to have to break down and get some shitty nine-to-fiver, or worse actually LIKE IT like everybody else around me seems to do...

I was seriously contemplating taking ALL of my blood pressure medication along with my dinner yesterday, and wound up deciding against it.  Then I hear about Robin Williams…Along with that come thoughts of my dad on his deathbed, my mom in the hospital, this kid I knew in the 7^th grade that drowned and how my neighbor came to me and delivered the news in tears, Kurt Cobain Chris Benoit, and Yukio Mishima’s beautifully written short story Patriotism.  All you accomplish, all you give…All I can think is ‘I couldn’t go through with it, but someone did.’  They ran their race then decided not to run anymore, they’re decision and no one else’s, the conscious decision to no longer exist.  I spend days, DAYS on end wondering if it could ever get that bad for me.  Could I ever make that choice? It scares me.  

-Ryan Scales, 2014

Born Unplugged Pt. 6

(Click here for Part 5)

In the fall of 2001 I was a sophomore college.   America was attacked by group of religious fanatics and the face of the country had changed politically, economically, and perhaps worst of all, spiritually.  Lines were being drawn as the world’s attention turned to our country and its newly ‘elected’ president.  Spring semester would find me in an introductory philosophy class with the opportunity to study greats like Kant, Descartes, Socrates and so many others.

              

  At one point the instructor began a discussion involving the concept and nature of evil.  We talked about forms of evil, where it comes from (or potentially comes from), and how to truly define it.  With much of the class being of one Christian denomination or another, and mostly (if not all) black, a fair amount of the discussion consisted of either one-way communication (teacher to student) or one or two students professing the unfettered might of their god and his goodness; “All I know is god take care of everything”.  I didn’t know it then but statements like these were a solid indication of the inability to reason hypothetically, especially in the face of Epicurus’ legendary hypothesis.

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?

             

   I was quick to point out that none of us had a sufficient answer to this, nor could my fellow students articulate a reason for their belief (which isn’t to say I had it all figured out my damn self).  They just believed.  It was god.  That was it for them.  Throughout the discussion I maintained that evil in and of itself is intrinsic to whatever was viewed as good.  Each needs the other; if there’s a god and he was the standard for good and the devil was the embodiment of evil, then neither one could or would destroy the other.  They kept each other in business.  That was the gist of my argument anyway.  This earned me more than a few puzzled looks and grumbles.  It also led me to make the acquaintance of a couple of classmates, not necessarily freethinkers, but thinkers all the same.  One of whom was a devout Christian who tirelessly sought to bring me into the fold.

                For anonymity’s sake, we’ll call my friend “Jay”.  Jay was a pretty cool guy out of DC, a real low-key dude who loved golf and hip hop.  He made it abundantly clear that he was committed to his ‘great commission’ of bringing others to the ‘light of the cross.’  Strangely it was this eagerness that prevented me from slamming the door in his face flat out. That plus I don’t like being a dick.  And thus was the first of many days where we sat and studied the scripture. 

             

   Very interesting conversations ensued, enlightening debates that served us both well intellectually.  I even attended a few services just to see what all his excitement was about (that and the weekends could get pretty boring and it was good to have someone to hang with). That entire time I couldn’t help thinking I was something of a pet project. Perhaps I was to be his first actual convert.  With each session Jay and I would constantly come to a stalemate, with him professing his love for ‘the word’ and how he perceived it to work in his life, while I despite not having read the book nearly enough to point out it’s many atrocities, simply countered with sheer common sense.   The conversation that comes to mind most often is the one we had over the book of Job.  The story where god and satan make a wager to see how long an innocent man keep going after receiving one divine screwjob after another, including but not limited to his slaves, animals, and children being killed  (Job 1:13-19). 

                 At that time my knowledge of history, philosophy and science could have been measured as very little, but it turned out to be enough in defending my position.  I raised questions, offered counter arguments and didn’t hesitate to throw out a handful of zingers that were oozing with blasphemy.  “I can tell that you don’t respect this”, Jay once responded.  And why should I?  I loved the guy to death but did he really think I would give him a pass?  “This book has the answer to EVERYTHING."  What?  “We were made from the earth; he took a pile of dirt and made it something glorious” Huh?  ‘Do what I say or burn’… See where I’m going with this?

                Try as my dear friend might his efforts for conversion proved futile.  And it’s not like I didn’t approach this with an open mind or heart; I chewed on for weeks, came at it from almost every angle I could at the time, it was just wooden nickels to me.  All the same, I understand why he got such a kick out of it. If the salesman’s got the right rap, seems like a pretty sweet deal, and it’s “new and hip”, who wouldn’t snag a one way ticket out of reality.  

--Ryan Scales, August 2014