That does it. I'm certain that there is a pattern here; up and optimistic followed by lost and sure the walls will crash in at any second. Knowing it is all internally generated helps not take it too seriously, but it doesn't prevent the problem of getting nothing done or not knowing where to start.
This routine truly sucks, I tell you. Maybe massive doses of omega 3 in some form would help. No doubt it is due to too many blows to the head from an early age. Or maybe it is just what happens when one is not smart enough to know better.
What kind of idiot can turn Paradise into a prison? You are not allowed to answer "Janet Nepolitano", or similar thing. This is all speaking in terms of the personal small picture.
Another added note; Never ever get your hair cut by anyone in Alpine. I gave it another shot at another untried hair cut place. This one seemed like it might work out. It was run by women and I thought would at least be better than the biker who has never had a haircut himself. NO.
That makes maybe four attempts to find a decent haircutter in this small town. We are talking really bad. I could have given any of my friends a pair of scissors and come out better.
Vain, you may say. Possibly. But it is clear that the ony safe bet is to pay more money and go to Notorious for Hair in Point Loma. I don't care if hardly any men ever go there. I'd rather pay the money, have nice smart aleck chicks do the job, and come out not feeling like Moe in the Three Stooges.
I may let it grow this time for a year. Being grateful to still have plenty of hair at this age, why not?
It was my hope to help the failing businesses in Alpine. Apparently I am only enabling gross incompetence.
What's even more stupid is that I usually leave saying, "That's great, thanks a lot". In my defense it is partly because I can't tell what they've done at that point. I discovered so many stray strands of wrong length that I used my sharp kitchen knife to even it up slightly. (couldn't find my scissors)
Maybe I should wait until my mood chemistry is on the upswing before I make any decisions like get a haircut, fix the car, etc. When I'm down I make irrational and poor choices. That is why it is so hard to get the needed things done. I either forget what they are, mix up the priorities or get them done in an unacceptable fashion.
It is probably a more painful existence than it should be, and more of an agony than it sounds. I'll bet it is possible for it to be much better.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
No Wonder Half of America is Drunk and the Rest on Drugs
OK, that is a stretch. I think half plus the rest equals everyone. There should be some allowance for those who are not drunk or on drugs. That probably covers a good 2% of the population. Most likely they are the most frustrated group, and the group least likely to hold public office or do anything which requires a lot of reading of government documents or listening to those who create them those who shuffle them.
Believe it or not, I actually have an uncommonly high reading retention ability. I do very well when it comes to reading something and catching the details, and recalling the details. I believe the truth of this is recorded somewhere on my Permanent Record, or in the Library of Congress. However, when it comes to government documents my brain fries.
That is how it is. I cannot stand reading any government document, sign, letter, nothing. Almost always, I either can't make sense of it, or the tone irritates me to the point where I dive into an irrational frenzy. This results in a poor reading experience and one not characterized by good recall of the material.
Part of the jury summons siad you could do the deed two weeks ahead of time or after. However, another part says if you don't show on the exact day that you have to contact them and reschedule, and to reschedule you have to pick a day not less than six weeks in the future and not more than six months in the future. What is the 2 weeks thing about? I have no idea and am unwilling to continue my path into the bowels of government rules and language to figure it out.
I'm cutting my losses. I called and talked to the nice machine lady, since the office people are only there from 9:52 AM until 3:25 PM. I did not make that up--9:52. It is on the machine that talks to you when you call.
It is one of those systems which asks you to say "yes", "Jury duty", "postponement", among other things. Then she says, "Let me see if I have this right; you said 'yada yada yada..' Is that correct?". Then you say yes or no and she says, "Did you answer yes?"
It took me less than an hour and fewer than ten times to the main menu to reschedule. I was not home and had no calendar, so I had to guess at a day six weeks from now which fell on whatever weekdays she said were acceptable. After a few tries I ended up being rescheduled for March 29th. I see now, looking at my icalendar on my ilaptop that March 29th is a Tuesday.
As much as I wanted to get this out of the way, I think I will just hope I don't have some big important thing going in late March. That talk of the two week option still bugs me, but I could tell when I re-read the jury letter today that I have not outgrown my complete abhorrence for the way government offices communicate with those they (erroneously) allegedly serve.
I was thinking, it is far easier to handle that world drunk or on drugs. It certainly was easier for me back when I was in circumstances run by nearby bureaucrats and things governmental. Another of life's little tricks. If I'd kept up my habits, I could accept these things with a more numb emotional aspect, but I'd have ended up under their care in some sort of institution, providing I survived. Then I'd have been stuck in the belly of the beast full time.
Yea. I think cutting my losses and leaving it the way Machine Lady negotiated things is the best move. She's probably as close to the A team as I'll find.
Believe it or not, I actually have an uncommonly high reading retention ability. I do very well when it comes to reading something and catching the details, and recalling the details. I believe the truth of this is recorded somewhere on my Permanent Record, or in the Library of Congress. However, when it comes to government documents my brain fries.
That is how it is. I cannot stand reading any government document, sign, letter, nothing. Almost always, I either can't make sense of it, or the tone irritates me to the point where I dive into an irrational frenzy. This results in a poor reading experience and one not characterized by good recall of the material.
Part of the jury summons siad you could do the deed two weeks ahead of time or after. However, another part says if you don't show on the exact day that you have to contact them and reschedule, and to reschedule you have to pick a day not less than six weeks in the future and not more than six months in the future. What is the 2 weeks thing about? I have no idea and am unwilling to continue my path into the bowels of government rules and language to figure it out.
I'm cutting my losses. I called and talked to the nice machine lady, since the office people are only there from 9:52 AM until 3:25 PM. I did not make that up--9:52. It is on the machine that talks to you when you call.
It is one of those systems which asks you to say "yes", "Jury duty", "postponement", among other things. Then she says, "Let me see if I have this right; you said 'yada yada yada..' Is that correct?". Then you say yes or no and she says, "Did you answer yes?"
It took me less than an hour and fewer than ten times to the main menu to reschedule. I was not home and had no calendar, so I had to guess at a day six weeks from now which fell on whatever weekdays she said were acceptable. After a few tries I ended up being rescheduled for March 29th. I see now, looking at my icalendar on my ilaptop that March 29th is a Tuesday.
As much as I wanted to get this out of the way, I think I will just hope I don't have some big important thing going in late March. That talk of the two week option still bugs me, but I could tell when I re-read the jury letter today that I have not outgrown my complete abhorrence for the way government offices communicate with those they (erroneously) allegedly serve.
I was thinking, it is far easier to handle that world drunk or on drugs. It certainly was easier for me back when I was in circumstances run by nearby bureaucrats and things governmental. Another of life's little tricks. If I'd kept up my habits, I could accept these things with a more numb emotional aspect, but I'd have ended up under their care in some sort of institution, providing I survived. Then I'd have been stuck in the belly of the beast full time.
Yea. I think cutting my losses and leaving it the way Machine Lady negotiated things is the best move. She's probably as close to the A team as I'll find.
Disorderly Sleep
It has been a thing of concern ever since I was in my early twenties. They even confined me to a sleep lab for a night one time. I gave up on testing soon after, so never went back.
Neurological things often don't fit into neat categories. You be surprised how little they know in many respects regarding brain function. Even the drugs prescribed are often not understood. They theorize regarding the mechanics of how they work, but half the stuff was designed for one thing then it was discovered they work well for some other symptom.
In my case they concluded it was some form of narcolepsy but not the classic type which makes you fall asleep in the middle of a game of pool or standing there talking to someone. It just sometimes happens so that I'd hit a strange kind of sleep at last minute and blow through alarm clocks by two to four hours, regardless of how long I'd been asleep already.
We went the ritalin deal on and off for years. The off part was because I got tired of it and felt almost like I developed and immunity to it. So, I'd lay off for maybe a year. I eventually lost contact with any doctor who knew the story so I had no source of it. It would be good once in awhile, but overall I'd rather just compensate some other way. Nothing is with some side effect.
When I was working a job that often required being there at 5 AM, sometimes earlier, I spent all night drinking water. A big glass before going to sleep so every couple of hours it was up to pee, then drink more. That has been the only really reliable method I found. No combination of alarm clocks and bright lights on timers ever proved dependable. You just never know.
Lately it hasn't been critical most of the time, and I have gone long stretches waking up with the sun. But more recently that has changed around a bit and the sleep thing is all over the map. I must not have drank enough water because I overshot the time I needed to be up to make jury duty. I'll try again tomorrow.
It gets old--trying to fit. The trick is to avoid letting the things that are tough to change or unchangeable, induce a reaction which becomes spiraling depression. Much of life is a series of subtle and not so subtle compensations. People tend to move away from their weaknesses whether they think about it or not. If you have a sore knee, you tend to take up the slack by letting the other one carry the load. It works in all kinds of ways. You can't add well in your head, yu do math on a calculater, your phone, whatever. That is compensating.
The trap is when you think you should be able to do a thing, or ought to do it a certain way that is not natural to you and you force yourself to do it the hard way. I have done a bunch of that. That's the kind of thing that makes you crazy. It is not so easy to sort out because life naturally demands doing a lot of things you don't want to do, but you have to. And most of the time you are glad you did whatever it is. Separating that from the directions which are simply not a fit is what separates the happy and successful from the riffraff like me.
At least I no longer wake up cursing and screaming at myself when I miss the mark. I spent many years letting the frustration turn into intense self hatred and rage. That is where the testing helped. Finally someone convinced me they could document the fact that it wasn't because I am stupid and weak. The tests covered a lot territory beyond a sleep lab because some other things going on were interrelated.
Fortunately the jury duty allows turning up any day within a two week window. Otherwise I would have to throw myself on the mercy of the court. Not the sort of mercy I would want to depend on.
Welcome to the fog where I dwell.
Neurological things often don't fit into neat categories. You be surprised how little they know in many respects regarding brain function. Even the drugs prescribed are often not understood. They theorize regarding the mechanics of how they work, but half the stuff was designed for one thing then it was discovered they work well for some other symptom.
In my case they concluded it was some form of narcolepsy but not the classic type which makes you fall asleep in the middle of a game of pool or standing there talking to someone. It just sometimes happens so that I'd hit a strange kind of sleep at last minute and blow through alarm clocks by two to four hours, regardless of how long I'd been asleep already.
We went the ritalin deal on and off for years. The off part was because I got tired of it and felt almost like I developed and immunity to it. So, I'd lay off for maybe a year. I eventually lost contact with any doctor who knew the story so I had no source of it. It would be good once in awhile, but overall I'd rather just compensate some other way. Nothing is with some side effect.
When I was working a job that often required being there at 5 AM, sometimes earlier, I spent all night drinking water. A big glass before going to sleep so every couple of hours it was up to pee, then drink more. That has been the only really reliable method I found. No combination of alarm clocks and bright lights on timers ever proved dependable. You just never know.
Lately it hasn't been critical most of the time, and I have gone long stretches waking up with the sun. But more recently that has changed around a bit and the sleep thing is all over the map. I must not have drank enough water because I overshot the time I needed to be up to make jury duty. I'll try again tomorrow.
It gets old--trying to fit. The trick is to avoid letting the things that are tough to change or unchangeable, induce a reaction which becomes spiraling depression. Much of life is a series of subtle and not so subtle compensations. People tend to move away from their weaknesses whether they think about it or not. If you have a sore knee, you tend to take up the slack by letting the other one carry the load. It works in all kinds of ways. You can't add well in your head, yu do math on a calculater, your phone, whatever. That is compensating.
The trap is when you think you should be able to do a thing, or ought to do it a certain way that is not natural to you and you force yourself to do it the hard way. I have done a bunch of that. That's the kind of thing that makes you crazy. It is not so easy to sort out because life naturally demands doing a lot of things you don't want to do, but you have to. And most of the time you are glad you did whatever it is. Separating that from the directions which are simply not a fit is what separates the happy and successful from the riffraff like me.
At least I no longer wake up cursing and screaming at myself when I miss the mark. I spent many years letting the frustration turn into intense self hatred and rage. That is where the testing helped. Finally someone convinced me they could document the fact that it wasn't because I am stupid and weak. The tests covered a lot territory beyond a sleep lab because some other things going on were interrelated.
Fortunately the jury duty allows turning up any day within a two week window. Otherwise I would have to throw myself on the mercy of the court. Not the sort of mercy I would want to depend on.
Welcome to the fog where I dwell.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Mysteries from Somewhere Other
After seeing Interstate 60, the movie, I am wondering what this I-59 situation is. As far as I know there is no I-60.
Maybe no I-59
It would have to be a north-south thoroughfare.
Also, I am not sure who sent this. I have an idea, but I could be wrong.
So, this could mean I am being drawn to a mystic highway by a ghost or other force from another dimension.
When you live as I do, you seek drama wherever there is a drop or two to be squeezed out.
Cool card, don't you think? I thought so.
I guess it doesn't matter where it comes from, as long as it isn't like getting a horse's head. Don't they do that when the mob is going to waste you?
See, the drama thing again. Oh good my life is getting interesting; they've put a contract out on me. You know you need to step up the game when you find yourself thinking like that.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Hulu.com Movie Review; volume 60 and 61
Interstate 60 is a movie I liked.
They did not call it The Sixty. Nope, it was "interstate sixty".
That was not the only reason I liked it.
It was funny, surreal, silly, and kind of magical. Overall, enjoyable and uplifting.
That's it.
Also the surfing documentary "Bustin' Down the Door" is very good. And it is the real deal.
This tells the tale of how surfing became a professional sport with some money attached.
The Aussies and South Africans hit Hawaii and surfing would never be the same. They tended to rub the locals the wrong way, but their realization that they had to be brash to get noticed, and crazy good surfers to back it up eventually paid off.
It is the sort of documentary that holds my interest.
Bitchin flick
They did not call it The Sixty. Nope, it was "interstate sixty".
That was not the only reason I liked it.
It was funny, surreal, silly, and kind of magical. Overall, enjoyable and uplifting.
That's it.
Also the surfing documentary "Bustin' Down the Door" is very good. And it is the real deal.
This tells the tale of how surfing became a professional sport with some money attached.
The Aussies and South Africans hit Hawaii and surfing would never be the same. They tended to rub the locals the wrong way, but their realization that they had to be brash to get noticed, and crazy good surfers to back it up eventually paid off.
It is the sort of documentary that holds my interest.
Bitchin flick
Time Flies
So, I had a birthday.
Usually I try to keep it low key and am fine with it if no one notices or says a word. This year I was not sure I was prepared to face my reality. Old and not famous or rich or even a minor patriarch. Boo hoo.
Then it dawned on me: it is simply not in my organic being to grow up. I can be responsible and not childish as far as petty jealousy and such, but the air of the grown up and the restrictions that carries are foreign to my being. Most of my difficulties in life have come from trying to fight that truth.
Maybe now I will no longer attempt to fit a mold that will never work.
We had practice last night and the band surprised me with cake, decorations, a 2 disc set of Bob Marley's last concert, recorded live, parrot coffee, and a toy guitar that looks like it ought to be from the Barbi collection.
A pink guitar with that wang bar or whatever it is called. It has buttons on the neck that play notes, and it plays some prerecorded songs. When you hit the bar a valley girl says things like, "Rock on!" and "Whatever!".
My favorite is when she says "whatever".
So I am now a guitar god with my mini Barbi Strat.
When friends go to such trouble for you and manage to make you laugh like that, it is hard not to feel pretty good and forget the complaints about how you could have been a contender. Maybe I am where I ought to be, and not so far off of who I am supposed to be.
Considering that I expected a sudden death many many years ago from the consequences of driving cars upside down, and hanging in areas where people like to shoot guns, this is all gravy.
Last night was a great time and I thoroughly enjoyed feeling special. I marvel at the trouble people sometimes go to in order to let others know they are OK and mean something. Despite anything else that goes on, there is a lot of good in the human race.
Usually I try to keep it low key and am fine with it if no one notices or says a word. This year I was not sure I was prepared to face my reality. Old and not famous or rich or even a minor patriarch. Boo hoo.
Then it dawned on me: it is simply not in my organic being to grow up. I can be responsible and not childish as far as petty jealousy and such, but the air of the grown up and the restrictions that carries are foreign to my being. Most of my difficulties in life have come from trying to fight that truth.
Maybe now I will no longer attempt to fit a mold that will never work.
We had practice last night and the band surprised me with cake, decorations, a 2 disc set of Bob Marley's last concert, recorded live, parrot coffee, and a toy guitar that looks like it ought to be from the Barbi collection.
A pink guitar with that wang bar or whatever it is called. It has buttons on the neck that play notes, and it plays some prerecorded songs. When you hit the bar a valley girl says things like, "Rock on!" and "Whatever!".
My favorite is when she says "whatever".
So I am now a guitar god with my mini Barbi Strat.
When friends go to such trouble for you and manage to make you laugh like that, it is hard not to feel pretty good and forget the complaints about how you could have been a contender. Maybe I am where I ought to be, and not so far off of who I am supposed to be.
Considering that I expected a sudden death many many years ago from the consequences of driving cars upside down, and hanging in areas where people like to shoot guns, this is all gravy.
Last night was a great time and I thoroughly enjoyed feeling special. I marvel at the trouble people sometimes go to in order to let others know they are OK and mean something. Despite anything else that goes on, there is a lot of good in the human race.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
100 pages + and holding
No question about it--I have to get back to work on my story. I haven't lost interest by any means. There was one minor thing I needed to decide and it wasn't even part of the main course of the thing. But it is a part I want in there, and want it to be right because it matters to me.
Can't just leave you thinking a certain set of characters are no count slackers. The main characters don't mind because they are like me. But the other people I'm concerned with need to be shown some dignity.
Have to work and have other obligations but at night I could get to it. Besides, night is when I always find it easiest to do most things. And my deadline is not as distant as it was. Time just whistles by when you aren't paying attention. But when you get in the zone, whether it is playing music, writing, or running with a football, time ceases to have the same measure. It can stand still, or slow down or disappear until you return to normalcy.
Sometimes time stands still for me but when I get back to regular awareness I realize a big chunk of it went by for everyone else. Then there are times when it seemed I was gone for hours in some zone, only to find maybe a minute or less went by in the world as we know it.
Can't just leave you thinking a certain set of characters are no count slackers. The main characters don't mind because they are like me. But the other people I'm concerned with need to be shown some dignity.
Have to work and have other obligations but at night I could get to it. Besides, night is when I always find it easiest to do most things. And my deadline is not as distant as it was. Time just whistles by when you aren't paying attention. But when you get in the zone, whether it is playing music, writing, or running with a football, time ceases to have the same measure. It can stand still, or slow down or disappear until you return to normalcy.
Sometimes time stands still for me but when I get back to regular awareness I realize a big chunk of it went by for everyone else. Then there are times when it seemed I was gone for hours in some zone, only to find maybe a minute or less went by in the world as we know it.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Santa Ana?
If this wind keeps up, this cabin could be blown clear to Hawaii. I'll keep the windows shut tight so it is less likely to sink along the way.
If the wind were blowing the opposite direction I could visit friends and relatives. All I'd need is a little steering wheel. Whatever the case, I'm impressed the thing has stayed put this long.
I hope it waits until I get back from a minor work mission before it lets loose and heads to Oz.
If the wind were blowing the opposite direction I could visit friends and relatives. All I'd need is a little steering wheel. Whatever the case, I'm impressed the thing has stayed put this long.
I hope it waits until I get back from a minor work mission before it lets loose and heads to Oz.
Free Floating Rage, or less
Not less than free. Less than rage, maybe. I don't know. I do know I am better off not interacting a lot because my usual gentle gracious self has become rather acerbic and irritable. Must be a reason.
I do have sense enough to see it so I almost managed to keep my mouth shut during practice tonight. Of course I did have to give an opinion or two but then I sincerely tried to say nothing. It was even noticed because one of the guitars caught that a string was out and wondered that I hadn't beat him to it. I usually notice before any one else. It wasn't one of the strings that bugs me the most and it wasn't bad. Besides it had just gone out and not by much. He has a good ear and stays pretty much on. These guys stay in tune better than any I've played with for a long long time.
It struck me that I wanted to be annoyed or feel like I was fighting something. That is when things come out which have nothing to do with what is at hand or the person in front of you. So, I kept cool enough.
Maybe it is just the state of life and I feel it. Probably not. I bet I am in a rage at myself. Maybe at reality in general.
I've lived long enough for things to come to pass so that I can say, "I told you so, you short sighted, smarmy m-----fu----!!".
The trouble is, the short sighted, smarmy MFs don't acknowledge their words and views from days past when I said, wait and see.
So now I have to live a little longer so that that the next crop of SSSMFs can be told of their foolishness.
I suppose the turtle in the cold water which was ever so slowly warmed to boiling still doesn't know he's been cooked. He just can't figure out what happened and saying, "I told you that was a kettle and not a friendly aquarium!" means nothing to him. You know nothing and he is sure what he needs now is good cheap healthcare.
It could be, in certain instances, that I am the SSSMF to whom I speak. Dang, it's hot in here. How'd that happen?
I do have sense enough to see it so I almost managed to keep my mouth shut during practice tonight. Of course I did have to give an opinion or two but then I sincerely tried to say nothing. It was even noticed because one of the guitars caught that a string was out and wondered that I hadn't beat him to it. I usually notice before any one else. It wasn't one of the strings that bugs me the most and it wasn't bad. Besides it had just gone out and not by much. He has a good ear and stays pretty much on. These guys stay in tune better than any I've played with for a long long time.
It struck me that I wanted to be annoyed or feel like I was fighting something. That is when things come out which have nothing to do with what is at hand or the person in front of you. So, I kept cool enough.
Maybe it is just the state of life and I feel it. Probably not. I bet I am in a rage at myself. Maybe at reality in general.
I've lived long enough for things to come to pass so that I can say, "I told you so, you short sighted, smarmy m-----fu----!!".
The trouble is, the short sighted, smarmy MFs don't acknowledge their words and views from days past when I said, wait and see.
So now I have to live a little longer so that that the next crop of SSSMFs can be told of their foolishness.
I suppose the turtle in the cold water which was ever so slowly warmed to boiling still doesn't know he's been cooked. He just can't figure out what happened and saying, "I told you that was a kettle and not a friendly aquarium!" means nothing to him. You know nothing and he is sure what he needs now is good cheap healthcare.
It could be, in certain instances, that I am the SSSMF to whom I speak. Dang, it's hot in here. How'd that happen?
Monday, January 31, 2011
One Thought For Life:part 60
Beware a noisy mob; it is rare that truth and beauty result from their riots.
I found the most violently hateful people were in the thick of mob actions, even back when it made sense to be disturbed about the draft and the war in VietNam. There were many angles for discontent. One undersung view was that the war was not being waged in any way directed at a conclusion such as "winning", and it cost a lot of lives just from that perspective. Never mind that the real objective was a little blurry, and that forcing people to go may be a little heavy handed.
But contrary to what we've since been told, a very large number of those who organized and waged demonstrations were not in any way full of peace and love. Just ask an innocent question. Try getting where you needed to go while they blocked your path shouting insults if your hair was too short or your attire did not fit the mold. I saw it.
That is how mobs work, and are worked. There can be legitimate stated objectives, which is great, but in any huge mob, there are those who want power and do not care who gets hurt. The noisier and more chaotic, the more you can bet less than pure ends will be served. The bulk of most big mobs could not even articulate their reasons for chanting in the streets. They do it because everyone else is and they have no faith in their own ability to think.
Dealing with a group is not like dealing one on one with an individual. A person in a group will do things he/she would not do normally. A group takes on a mind of its own, and can easily become a creature of no conscience. And there are usually those who want to scream in the megaphone and have the crowd repeat everything they say. That type of scene has always disgusted and saddened me almost as much as the drafting of young people to fight non-defensive wars.
People participate as much because of the feeling of power being with the crowd brings as because they are firmly against or for some policy, practice or condition. There are definitely times to rebel, but even then beware the angry mob.
The best rebellion is to make collecting the money to fund the evil doers very difficult. But that actually takes more guts than running with a pack breaking windows and setting fires.
I found the most violently hateful people were in the thick of mob actions, even back when it made sense to be disturbed about the draft and the war in VietNam. There were many angles for discontent. One undersung view was that the war was not being waged in any way directed at a conclusion such as "winning", and it cost a lot of lives just from that perspective. Never mind that the real objective was a little blurry, and that forcing people to go may be a little heavy handed.
But contrary to what we've since been told, a very large number of those who organized and waged demonstrations were not in any way full of peace and love. Just ask an innocent question. Try getting where you needed to go while they blocked your path shouting insults if your hair was too short or your attire did not fit the mold. I saw it.
That is how mobs work, and are worked. There can be legitimate stated objectives, which is great, but in any huge mob, there are those who want power and do not care who gets hurt. The noisier and more chaotic, the more you can bet less than pure ends will be served. The bulk of most big mobs could not even articulate their reasons for chanting in the streets. They do it because everyone else is and they have no faith in their own ability to think.
Dealing with a group is not like dealing one on one with an individual. A person in a group will do things he/she would not do normally. A group takes on a mind of its own, and can easily become a creature of no conscience. And there are usually those who want to scream in the megaphone and have the crowd repeat everything they say. That type of scene has always disgusted and saddened me almost as much as the drafting of young people to fight non-defensive wars.
People participate as much because of the feeling of power being with the crowd brings as because they are firmly against or for some policy, practice or condition. There are definitely times to rebel, but even then beware the angry mob.
The best rebellion is to make collecting the money to fund the evil doers very difficult. But that actually takes more guts than running with a pack breaking windows and setting fires.
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About Me
- John0 Juanderlust
- Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
- Like spring on a summer's day
