It’s usually safe to assume that an atheist subscribes to the theory of evolution, but I’m different. Granted, I don’t happen to have much in the way of credentials where science is concerned. It’s my least favorite subject dating back to a project in the third grade during which time in my life I assumed I could invent anything I wanted to right up until the night before the deadline when I tried to create a functioning automobile out of a shoebox.
But here’s my argument just the same. It seems evolutionary theory is self-contradictory. On the one hand you have life evolving from a single organism and on the other you have the survival of the fittest. Fish incur mutations that make them superior to the other fish, right? A fish with feet gains access to a greater supply of food. He can swim like other fish… or if that’s not bringing home the bacon he can go waltzing up onto the beach to rummage around for any dinner that may have washed up on the shore. But we’re reminded how very gradual are these mutations. Mr. Joe Fish isn’t just suddenly born with feet out of nowhere. More likely his dad had the semblance of feet… maybe without so many toes… and his granddad had a couple of rather undedeveloped stubs whereby feet were apparently thinking about sprouting and his great granddad… definitely had a couple of bumps from whence appendages seemed at least tempted to emerge. But during these almost-feet generations it seems these fish would be seriously encumbered during the act of swimming while their less evolved relatives swam rudimentary circles around them. In this case, the fittest fish would be the ones not evolving.
I liken this to our species. I’m told I am on the cutting edge of evolution because I have only one pair of wisdom teeth instead of two. Humans used to need both pairs but now we require none and eventually we shall produce none. But another aspect of survival for our species is intelligence and inasmuch as I’m smart enough to realize that there are already too many humans inhabiting our planet and that there will not be enough resources to support them all, I have intelligently declined to procreate (this magnanimous sacrifice has been greatly assisted by dozens of equally intelligent ladies who have unanimously refused to have sexual relations with me). So here I am, a living evolutionary link between four wisdom teeth and none… but also too enlightened to pass down the less-teeth gene. What a Darwinian paradox! The humans most likely to reproduce are the ones with too many wisdom teeth and not enough wisdom… next thing we’ll have fish riding bicycles.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Cinementalic Disorder
I had been dating Carolyn for only a few months and we were looking forward to seeing the new WWII film, Windtalkers. I thought she would enjoy the experience more fully if she had a better understanding of the historical context and so I casually engaged her in conversation. Her questions revealed some disconcerting defects in her education; If there was a WWII why wasn't there a WWI? And was there a WWIII? For some reason I wanted her to share my passionate fascination with history, but realized that just telling her everything I know would be pointless. Too much information too quickly and without enough appeal. My idea was to rent a couple of videos that could make the two world wars come alive for her... maybe Legends of the Fall followed by Pearl Harbor, but then I remembered watching Winds of War the mini~series in the early 80's and I thought that would be perfectly informative while sufficiently dramatic and entertaining. Carolyn pointed out the one thing she did know about WWII was that General MacArthur was a key figure. This she was acquainted with from childhood inasmuch as she grew up in the Philippines where he is still considered a hero. So we agreed to watch the movie about his exploits starring Gregory Peck and then I felt our movie marathon wouldn't be complete without John Wayne's Sands of Iwo Jima. So much of what I had learned about the world around me I have learned from watching movies, I wanted Carolyn to have this same appreciation. The more you know about your world, I reasoned, the greater capacity you gain for loving it.
But it spun out of control. I became obsessed with my movie project. It wasn't enough to see a few films about two specific wars. I wanted her to see movies about my favorite, the American Civil War, but how helpful would that be if she didn't know anything about the American Revolution? And I began quizzing her; What is another name for The War Between the States? What is another name for The War of Independence? And on and on.
I had to include The Crucible because it depicts colonial America so well and also Last of the Mohicans because it's the only significant movie addressing the French and Indian War. These two boasted the advantage of being significant to literature as well! And what about European history? I added The Messenger to the project so she would know about Joan of Arc and Shakespeare in Love and then I began hunting for movies about Henry VIII and Elizabeth.
I was just warming up. By God, why not go all the way back to the beginning? I had her watch John Huston's epic film, The Bible which starts with Adam and Eve and ends with George C. Scott playing an almost demented Abraham. Augmenting the biblical aspects of the project, I began searching online for good movies about Joseph and Samson and David and Jesus.
At first I was happy to rent these movies but soon it occurred to me we might have kids one day and this project would benefit them as well, so I began to collect the films and VHS wouldn't be around forever so I converted to DVD's. I was so focused on this project that my eagerness became problematic. I was virtually begging Carolyn to watch whatever the next film in the project might be and sometimes it got on her nerves. I resorted occasionally to bargaining with her. I would go to the mall with her only if she would agree to watch a movie with me when we got home. I would always have the next one cued up in the DVD player and and I wouldn't tell her which one it was either. My opinion being that the best way to enjoy a movie is for all its suspense to be fanatically protected and that included not knowing what the movie was about beforehand. Sometimes she would tease me that I couldn't ever break up with her because then there would be no more film project. And what's interesting is that this really was a concern for me. But we did break up and I went right on compiling this list of movies and researching them and arranging them in just the right order even though there was no longer anyone for me to edify and enlighten.
And I'm still working on it today with a list 14 pages long and a DVD collection in the neighborhood of 900 movies beginning with One Million Years B.C. and ending with the Star Trek films. Currently I'm perfecting the Westerns which are particularly tricky to place so while I'm watching them I'm on a vigilant lookout for newspaper headlines or telegraphs which might allow a glimpse of a date. Otherwise I must resort to analyzing what kinds of pistols they're using or researching what year such and such a western town first gained railroad accessibility. Recently I watched Jubal in which a cowboy is worried about his Sears and Roebuck fiddle and because Sears didn't add Roebuck until 1893 I felt this was a good clue, but the characters kept referring to Wyoming as a territory which puzzled me because they became a state in 1890. Now, I ask you, who else in this world do you think has ever struggled with this contradiction? Clearly this cowboy could not have guessed in 1889 that four years later Sears would be come Sears and Roebuck, but why in 1893 would people still be referring to Wyoming as a territory?
So this is my Cinementalic Disorder. Just as a dentist cannot look at a smile without analyzing how it could be orthodontically corrected, likewise I cannot watch a movie without deconstructing it for a chronological setting. Avatar, for example, takes place in August of 2154. See what I mean?
But it spun out of control. I became obsessed with my movie project. It wasn't enough to see a few films about two specific wars. I wanted her to see movies about my favorite, the American Civil War, but how helpful would that be if she didn't know anything about the American Revolution? And I began quizzing her; What is another name for The War Between the States? What is another name for The War of Independence? And on and on.
I had to include The Crucible because it depicts colonial America so well and also Last of the Mohicans because it's the only significant movie addressing the French and Indian War. These two boasted the advantage of being significant to literature as well! And what about European history? I added The Messenger to the project so she would know about Joan of Arc and Shakespeare in Love and then I began hunting for movies about Henry VIII and Elizabeth.
I was just warming up. By God, why not go all the way back to the beginning? I had her watch John Huston's epic film, The Bible which starts with Adam and Eve and ends with George C. Scott playing an almost demented Abraham. Augmenting the biblical aspects of the project, I began searching online for good movies about Joseph and Samson and David and Jesus.
At first I was happy to rent these movies but soon it occurred to me we might have kids one day and this project would benefit them as well, so I began to collect the films and VHS wouldn't be around forever so I converted to DVD's. I was so focused on this project that my eagerness became problematic. I was virtually begging Carolyn to watch whatever the next film in the project might be and sometimes it got on her nerves. I resorted occasionally to bargaining with her. I would go to the mall with her only if she would agree to watch a movie with me when we got home. I would always have the next one cued up in the DVD player and and I wouldn't tell her which one it was either. My opinion being that the best way to enjoy a movie is for all its suspense to be fanatically protected and that included not knowing what the movie was about beforehand. Sometimes she would tease me that I couldn't ever break up with her because then there would be no more film project. And what's interesting is that this really was a concern for me. But we did break up and I went right on compiling this list of movies and researching them and arranging them in just the right order even though there was no longer anyone for me to edify and enlighten.
And I'm still working on it today with a list 14 pages long and a DVD collection in the neighborhood of 900 movies beginning with One Million Years B.C. and ending with the Star Trek films. Currently I'm perfecting the Westerns which are particularly tricky to place so while I'm watching them I'm on a vigilant lookout for newspaper headlines or telegraphs which might allow a glimpse of a date. Otherwise I must resort to analyzing what kinds of pistols they're using or researching what year such and such a western town first gained railroad accessibility. Recently I watched Jubal in which a cowboy is worried about his Sears and Roebuck fiddle and because Sears didn't add Roebuck until 1893 I felt this was a good clue, but the characters kept referring to Wyoming as a territory which puzzled me because they became a state in 1890. Now, I ask you, who else in this world do you think has ever struggled with this contradiction? Clearly this cowboy could not have guessed in 1889 that four years later Sears would be come Sears and Roebuck, but why in 1893 would people still be referring to Wyoming as a territory?
So this is my Cinementalic Disorder. Just as a dentist cannot look at a smile without analyzing how it could be orthodontically corrected, likewise I cannot watch a movie without deconstructing it for a chronological setting. Avatar, for example, takes place in August of 2154. See what I mean?
Friday, April 9, 2010
Solar Powered Theism
It's the chicken egg thing with a decidedly blasphemous twist: Did God create man or did man create God? One reason I cannot believe in the God formerly inculcated upon me is that I have discovered the conspicuously unmagical wizard behind the curtain. Which is to say once you understand the origin of God, you can pretty much eliminate him from your candidates for Godness.
And here's where God came from.
Long ago when mankind was in its earliest stages and was embarrassingly dumb by modern standards, there was such a thing as ignorance. He didn't know why summer turned gradually to winter, but when it did... warmth vaporized into horrific cold. Freezing temperatures not only reduced his comfort, but also brought a recess to the growth of crops... winter chased away whatever meat he might have hunted whether lost to migration or hybernation. And he didn't know why day turned to night, but when it did his vision was debilitated until dawn. The sun meant warmth and light and growth and food and health. The absence of the sun meant shivering and darkness and weakness and hunger and sickness and death.
I submit that the first worship in the history of our species was the worship of the sun. It was our irresistible inclination to anthropomorphize that gradually decorated our sun with attributes and traits such as ominscience and omnipotence and omnipresence and justice and wisdom and love and forbearance or in more austere capacities... the not-so-warm-and-fuzzy characteristics of vengeance and wrath and jealousy and damnation.
So while a number of skeptics dismiss any challenge to disprove God by blithely insisting it is up to the believer to provide evidence to support a positive claim, I have no such scruples. I don't have proof there is no God, but I have what I think is a reasonable theory of how belief in God developed. He is the very important orb at the center of our solar system around which our planet and several of her siblings revolve on a consistent basis. Take away several thousand years of imaginative embellishment and he has no more personality than... let's say... a mustard seed.
And here's where God came from.
Long ago when mankind was in its earliest stages and was embarrassingly dumb by modern standards, there was such a thing as ignorance. He didn't know why summer turned gradually to winter, but when it did... warmth vaporized into horrific cold. Freezing temperatures not only reduced his comfort, but also brought a recess to the growth of crops... winter chased away whatever meat he might have hunted whether lost to migration or hybernation. And he didn't know why day turned to night, but when it did his vision was debilitated until dawn. The sun meant warmth and light and growth and food and health. The absence of the sun meant shivering and darkness and weakness and hunger and sickness and death.
I submit that the first worship in the history of our species was the worship of the sun. It was our irresistible inclination to anthropomorphize that gradually decorated our sun with attributes and traits such as ominscience and omnipotence and omnipresence and justice and wisdom and love and forbearance or in more austere capacities... the not-so-warm-and-fuzzy characteristics of vengeance and wrath and jealousy and damnation.
So while a number of skeptics dismiss any challenge to disprove God by blithely insisting it is up to the believer to provide evidence to support a positive claim, I have no such scruples. I don't have proof there is no God, but I have what I think is a reasonable theory of how belief in God developed. He is the very important orb at the center of our solar system around which our planet and several of her siblings revolve on a consistent basis. Take away several thousand years of imaginative embellishment and he has no more personality than... let's say... a mustard seed.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Don't Believe it's Hype
A couple years ago while enjoying one of the Harry Potter novels at Bertonlino's Espresso Bar, a lady condescended to submit her opinion to me that I was only reading the book because of all the hype. And then again this week a coworker incredulously expressed, "Not you too" when she saw me going to break with the first volume of the Twilight series, and when I asked her to clarify her objection to my reading selection it boiled down to all the accompanying hype. In neither case had either lady read the books they were denigrating.
So here's my point and it will only take a moment as I'm not feeling particularly diatribal or haranguish. Hype may cause everyone to listen to the same music or to watch the same TV show, but when it comes to everyone reading the same books... hype can't do that so easily and I'll tell you why. It takes five minutes to listen to a song. It takes less than an hour to watch a TV episode. But when it comes to reading a book it takes about twenty hours. If you break that up into 45 minutes sessions with three sessions every two days... well it would take roughly three weeks to read a book unless you were engrossed in a "page-turner" in which case you could finish it off much sooner. But still the far greater investment of time should be obvious. Add to that the disinclination of many people to read anything at all. Maybe they're too busy or maybe too distracted or maybe too lazy, but whatever the reason, you don't have to look far before you find someone who will admit unequivocally they do not read.
In order for a book to be widely circulated and widely read, the author has to produce something irresistible. It may not be on par with Faulkner or Joyce for literary genius (thank God), but they can tell a story in such a way that the overwhelming majority of readers will be undeniably riveted. Otherwise all the marketing and hoopla and gushing critical reviews in the world will provoke about as much attention as you pay to your neighborhood philharmonic that you didn't even know exists. When it comes to successful fiction, hype is not enough.
So here's my point and it will only take a moment as I'm not feeling particularly diatribal or haranguish. Hype may cause everyone to listen to the same music or to watch the same TV show, but when it comes to everyone reading the same books... hype can't do that so easily and I'll tell you why. It takes five minutes to listen to a song. It takes less than an hour to watch a TV episode. But when it comes to reading a book it takes about twenty hours. If you break that up into 45 minutes sessions with three sessions every two days... well it would take roughly three weeks to read a book unless you were engrossed in a "page-turner" in which case you could finish it off much sooner. But still the far greater investment of time should be obvious. Add to that the disinclination of many people to read anything at all. Maybe they're too busy or maybe too distracted or maybe too lazy, but whatever the reason, you don't have to look far before you find someone who will admit unequivocally they do not read.
In order for a book to be widely circulated and widely read, the author has to produce something irresistible. It may not be on par with Faulkner or Joyce for literary genius (thank God), but they can tell a story in such a way that the overwhelming majority of readers will be undeniably riveted. Otherwise all the marketing and hoopla and gushing critical reviews in the world will provoke about as much attention as you pay to your neighborhood philharmonic that you didn't even know exists. When it comes to successful fiction, hype is not enough.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Martyrdom in the Garden of Eden
My scars have the prettiest names
The softest smiles
The sweetest lilting laughter
The loveliest dreams
Though broken and shattered
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Abomination of Nonconformity
I'm tired of the presupposition that I must be unhappy because I'm not in a relationship. I was talking to a female friend who's excited about her wedding coming up next year and I told her she's lucky to have someone with whom she can be happy because in general I don't think people really belong in relationships. Is that a crazy thing to say? Humor me for a moment and see how many couples you can think of off the top of your head whose relationships you can actually admire. I can think of about four. On the other hand I notice dozens of people cheating on each other, lying to each other, and otherwise attempting to project an impression upon the world of contentedness that I find tragically dubious. I've spent most of my life being single and yes I am always keeping an eye out for a lady that would make a good companion for me, but I seriously appreciate that I'm probably happier alone than most people who have someone. Today I spent about 19 minutes on the phone with a friend, but other than that I was completely free by which I mean that no one who knows me had any idea where I was or what I was doing... and very likely tomorrow will be the same. It may sound terrifying to be so isolated, but sometimes it's preferrable to checking in with a significant other hundreds of times each week especially the two constituents of the couple are no longer mutually fascinated.
And then I think, okay... but if two people really love each other... they would enjoy that constant link between each other of knowing what the other is doing at any given moment even with miles between them. But again... I'm not so sure I can suspend my skepticism in this matter. Of course infatuated lovers can't get enough of each other, but that stage doesn't last forever. Except for a very few lucky star-crossed sweethearts that love each other effortlessly for their whole lives. Those are so rare. I'd sure love to follow their example, but I just don't believe wishing for that kind of magic makes it come to fruition.
First how am I going to find a girl that I find irresistible when my standards are so insanely unrealistic. Briefly, she needs to be gorgeous and genius and creative and hilarious and kind and passionate about me. So how often do I run into someone like that? Okay, honestly? Never. I mean I'm probably always going to be in love with about four girls from past. I'll always be enchanted with them, but aside from them having almost completely forgotten about ever having known me... they really didn't have the first idea of what true love is about.
And secondly... even if I found her... that doesn't automatically transform me into the kind of person that can handle a relationship. I'm morose and lazy and jaded and goofy and exhausting. And I have an utterly dismal history when it comes to not being single.
But that's kind of my point. I'm probably not relationship material, but that's okay because I'm not in a relationship. I only wish more people would experiment with being single so that it could be perceived as a more acceptable approach to life instead of an unfortunate destiny to be avoideed at any expense. Why should miserable victims of societal conformity feel sorry for me because I'm alone?
And then I think, okay... but if two people really love each other... they would enjoy that constant link between each other of knowing what the other is doing at any given moment even with miles between them. But again... I'm not so sure I can suspend my skepticism in this matter. Of course infatuated lovers can't get enough of each other, but that stage doesn't last forever. Except for a very few lucky star-crossed sweethearts that love each other effortlessly for their whole lives. Those are so rare. I'd sure love to follow their example, but I just don't believe wishing for that kind of magic makes it come to fruition.
First how am I going to find a girl that I find irresistible when my standards are so insanely unrealistic. Briefly, she needs to be gorgeous and genius and creative and hilarious and kind and passionate about me. So how often do I run into someone like that? Okay, honestly? Never. I mean I'm probably always going to be in love with about four girls from past. I'll always be enchanted with them, but aside from them having almost completely forgotten about ever having known me... they really didn't have the first idea of what true love is about.
And secondly... even if I found her... that doesn't automatically transform me into the kind of person that can handle a relationship. I'm morose and lazy and jaded and goofy and exhausting. And I have an utterly dismal history when it comes to not being single.
But that's kind of my point. I'm probably not relationship material, but that's okay because I'm not in a relationship. I only wish more people would experiment with being single so that it could be perceived as a more acceptable approach to life instead of an unfortunate destiny to be avoideed at any expense. Why should miserable victims of societal conformity feel sorry for me because I'm alone?
Saturday, August 22, 2009
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