That's good, but you lose 4 points because this isn't in the book.
I get one of those every time I write on philosophy in a history essay, and since those 4 points will most likely be the wind that decides how I tilt on the fence in regards to going to college, I have resolved to instead publish this idea here where it won't cause damage.
Anyone who has watched the film The Dark Knight might recall the scene in which Batman apprehends well-meaning civilian vigilantes, leaving tied up them with criminals. In this scene, one vigilante questions Batman about his right to fight crime to which he coldly responds, "I'm not wearing hockey pads".* But really, what separates Batman from the rest of the vigilantes? To understand this question, one must first make certain assumptions that pertain to Gotham City alone, and not other large, corrupt cities like New York. Batman's Gotham City, in particular, is a cynic's paradise (or I guess a cynic's normal world). It is this cynical attitude that Frank Miller, the artist who created the modern Batman, forces his readers and, in effect, the viewers of the film, to come to terms with. In this most cynical sense, Batman makes a valid point. The only real difference is that he utilizes more advanced technology. He lacks any sort of higher purpose. Especially considering the nature of Batman compared to Superman, Batman's gimmick as a superhero is exactly his lack of higher purpose or morality. He just fights crime without trying to establish a higher society.
Ironically, Batman does end up forming a higher society by giving himself a right above the other vigilantes. This irony had many criticize the comic book Batman for promoting a dog-eat-dog fascist society. Interestingly, this same criticism has been thrown at another cynical moralist, the late 19th century philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. It might just be a coincidence that Nietzsche explicitly addresses such irony in The Will To Power, a compilation of his works made by his sister. Nietzsche argues that just by having power, in this case, technology, one earns the right to move up and define general morality. But the ultimate irony is that one who earned this right would become der Übermensch, the Superman.
*This is where I began to ponder:
http://phamilton.wordpress.com/2008/08/29/batman-as-vigilante/
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Six Euros/Love is just a word
I'm getting used to the place and the work I have to do. Actually, it's not much compared to work back home. 8 seems like he's doing better today. 6 has put us all to work and it's working. We've found food and water. Actually, I have to brag, but I found water. 8 told us to purify it first, but everyone kept drinking it until 6 told us to purify it. Honestly, I don't trust that kid. Maybe it's that I don't even know where his shelter is. He built a few of them for others, so I guess I know what it'd look like. I bet he's just jealous. He'll get over that. I'm kinda afraid he'll get harder to understand. I guess I'm kinda the psychologist here. I talked to 4 this morning; she's getting sick, but 2 and 42 are taking care of her. 5 came up to me. He's infatuated with some girl, but that's normal. 7's the same, but that's not normal for her. Actually, it's 6, so that's normal for everyone. I guess that makes sense; I can respect him, even if I see him as a human. What else? I guess I'm learning French from 7 since I have no idea how long we'll be here, but I bet 6 can take care of us.
It's night two. Pretty boring. 8 made another fire, but it's smaller. He's saying something, but he's so desperate for attention I doubt it matters. The rest agree.
It's night two. Pretty boring. 8 made another fire, but it's smaller. He's saying something, but he's so desperate for attention I doubt it matters. The rest agree.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Six Euros/Love is like fire
My name is 15. I am a worker among the 42 survivors of AFG Flight 337.
Let me give some context. 23, including me, are from a prep school in America. The rest are business people from like, France, and a bunch of tourists from central L.A. The business class part of the plane exploded, so that's all that's left.
Upon crashing, 8 was the first to take action, using wilderness emergency no one knew he had. He called someone to get the list of people aboard the flight. Strangely, 8 seemed utterly prepared for this disaster. All of our questions met a swift response from 8. Back at home, he was a kinda lonely kid. He wasn't too popular; he wasn't too attractive, and he was too smart.
6 was the second to take action. He also used first aid to help, but his help was more normal, like what you see in hospitals. He didn't save many people that way, but was more effective at dragging people out of the water. 6 was charismatic as usual. But when we crashed, I finally realized that he wasn't any better of a speaker than 8 or anything. He just looked better. Yeah, back at home, 6 was everything. Everyone liked him. He was the nicest kid anyone knew. He was super attractive and super smart.
After the 42 survivors were assembled, we definitely had to choose between them. Yeah, most of the business people were pretty impressed and our chaperones were in some gruesome position in the wreckage. 6 wanted a vote. Immediately, the girls of our 23-member tour joined him. 8's alternative was to do the same, but first explain the skills that they could provide. The screams of 6's cheerleaders drowned out 8's idea and a vote proceeded. 6 won, obviously. Most of the people out of the 23 voted based on the craze the girls had created. 8 became a worker; they found some real doctor from the rest.
Tonight is night one. We are huddled around a dwindling fire that 8 made. When I look at him now, I can tell he's not satisfied. But more than ever this time. He's used to being overshadowed by 6, but he seems really bothered.
Let me give some context. 23, including me, are from a prep school in America. The rest are business people from like, France, and a bunch of tourists from central L.A. The business class part of the plane exploded, so that's all that's left.
Upon crashing, 8 was the first to take action, using wilderness emergency no one knew he had. He called someone to get the list of people aboard the flight. Strangely, 8 seemed utterly prepared for this disaster. All of our questions met a swift response from 8. Back at home, he was a kinda lonely kid. He wasn't too popular; he wasn't too attractive, and he was too smart.
6 was the second to take action. He also used first aid to help, but his help was more normal, like what you see in hospitals. He didn't save many people that way, but was more effective at dragging people out of the water. 6 was charismatic as usual. But when we crashed, I finally realized that he wasn't any better of a speaker than 8 or anything. He just looked better. Yeah, back at home, 6 was everything. Everyone liked him. He was the nicest kid anyone knew. He was super attractive and super smart.
After the 42 survivors were assembled, we definitely had to choose between them. Yeah, most of the business people were pretty impressed and our chaperones were in some gruesome position in the wreckage. 6 wanted a vote. Immediately, the girls of our 23-member tour joined him. 8's alternative was to do the same, but first explain the skills that they could provide. The screams of 6's cheerleaders drowned out 8's idea and a vote proceeded. 6 won, obviously. Most of the people out of the 23 voted based on the craze the girls had created. 8 became a worker; they found some real doctor from the rest.
Tonight is night one. We are huddled around a dwindling fire that 8 made. When I look at him now, I can tell he's not satisfied. But more than ever this time. He's used to being overshadowed by 6, but he seems really bothered.
Friday, February 12, 2010
A preliminary theory on male social power
Let me begin by stating that I am a feminist who is quite afraid of gender equality. Such a world would bring me lifelong loneliness (If men lost the majority on mate selection, I'd be fucked). Fortunately, loneliness is not my greatest fear; my greatest fear is a total loss of power.
First, I shall define the key phrases:
Grierklem.
Grierklem is like chi. It is the metaphysical currency for social power. Each person has an amount of social power. Unlike chi, one can earn or lose it. It is the degree to which others care about what you want and their willingness to act on its behalf. It does not tell the difference whether the person would act similarly isolated from manipulation or if they really care.
Social power.
Social power, contrary to the contemporary bullshit, is not the degree to which other people care about what you want. What an idyllic and idealized world that would be! No, social power means being able to steal grierklem or control the grierklem economy.
Woman.
Store. In today's world, women are not considered human beings. They are the stores at which men spend grierklem to buy things like food or sex.
We all have an amount of grierklem. We are not equal. The first thing that defines the base amount of grierklem owned depends on age. I can guarantee that, during my age, grierklem is first determined by physical beauty. It's like an occupation, and I am working at that stereotypical fast-food joint. As I would want to gain social power (well feminists have to work in this system, too), I have to get grierklem to spend. So I must steal.
I gain grierklem by oratory action. Simple. I make friends. They care about what I want. Some might even act for it. So I decide it's time to go to the store (notice that I say "the store", not "a store"). Oh, but it's an auction... with one of my best friends? I quickly find myself out of grierklem and out of hope.
It is by this that I must remind you that women cannot be equal. Why? It would mean every person on the face of the planet with the same amount of grierklem while having a population that is exactly 50% male and 50% female. Gender equality. Can you possibly imagine the day when women can get paid the same wages? When they can have the same responsibility in government? When they can have the same confident conviction in saying, "no"? I cannot. If some sort of grierklem stasis were maintained, I'd be alone forever. My 50% would never be able to overcome the resisting 50% of anyone I'd fall in love with. Yet I still justify my feminist attitude with my desire, not for total equality (women could be more powerful, but not the same), but for increased respect for women. Just to the point of destroying the grierklem economy. I want to see those who have monopolized on it for so long to fall and suffer. In this sense, I am very much a communist. But even the Socialist Republic of Grierklem wouldn't give me her. And I know that. In this economy, I have nothing to gain but the satisfaction in the suffering of the former heads of the oppressive capitalism that cut and burned me. Oh but in real life, I'm very much a capitalist because I CAN move up.
Look over this again and see its application on general power (So I looked it over and decided I hate my writing. Somebody just stab off a finger so it'll stop). Power is determined in relative "ability" within "arenas". We must be careful in understanding the concept of power as being relative in different contexts.
First, I shall define the key phrases:
Grierklem.
Grierklem is like chi. It is the metaphysical currency for social power. Each person has an amount of social power. Unlike chi, one can earn or lose it. It is the degree to which others care about what you want and their willingness to act on its behalf. It does not tell the difference whether the person would act similarly isolated from manipulation or if they really care.
Social power.
Social power, contrary to the contemporary bullshit, is not the degree to which other people care about what you want. What an idyllic and idealized world that would be! No, social power means being able to steal grierklem or control the grierklem economy.
Woman.
Store. In today's world, women are not considered human beings. They are the stores at which men spend grierklem to buy things like food or sex.
We all have an amount of grierklem. We are not equal. The first thing that defines the base amount of grierklem owned depends on age. I can guarantee that, during my age, grierklem is first determined by physical beauty. It's like an occupation, and I am working at that stereotypical fast-food joint. As I would want to gain social power (well feminists have to work in this system, too), I have to get grierklem to spend. So I must steal.
I gain grierklem by oratory action. Simple. I make friends. They care about what I want. Some might even act for it. So I decide it's time to go to the store (notice that I say "the store", not "a store"). Oh, but it's an auction... with one of my best friends? I quickly find myself out of grierklem and out of hope.
It is by this that I must remind you that women cannot be equal. Why? It would mean every person on the face of the planet with the same amount of grierklem while having a population that is exactly 50% male and 50% female. Gender equality. Can you possibly imagine the day when women can get paid the same wages? When they can have the same responsibility in government? When they can have the same confident conviction in saying, "no"? I cannot. If some sort of grierklem stasis were maintained, I'd be alone forever. My 50% would never be able to overcome the resisting 50% of anyone I'd fall in love with. Yet I still justify my feminist attitude with my desire, not for total equality (women could be more powerful, but not the same), but for increased respect for women. Just to the point of destroying the grierklem economy. I want to see those who have monopolized on it for so long to fall and suffer. In this sense, I am very much a communist. But even the Socialist Republic of Grierklem wouldn't give me her. And I know that. In this economy, I have nothing to gain but the satisfaction in the suffering of the former heads of the oppressive capitalism that cut and burned me. Oh but in real life, I'm very much a capitalist because I CAN move up.
Look over this again and see its application on general power (So I looked it over and decided I hate my writing. Somebody just stab off a finger so it'll stop). Power is determined in relative "ability" within "arenas". We must be careful in understanding the concept of power as being relative in different contexts.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Choose a flavor
Here's a random question that I hope isn't clichéd... everything I think of tends to be owned:
If given the choice, would you prefer to have a ring that renders you invisible or a ring that lets you see the intentions of others?
Think of the advantages of each and do something with the poll if you want...
It is needless to say that I would be happy to have found either one. Yet given a choice between the two, the first thing I would do would be analyze the heck out of both options. In the end, I see it as a choice between augmenting my social defense or offense, much like raising stats in an RPG or trading players on a sports team. On one end, invisibility is escape. On the other, seeing into people's intentions would let me, with greater efficiency, pinpoint desires and fears. Then I would think, what would I want?
When I ignore social impacts, invisibility would basically mean thievery. But perception, outside of a social context, provides what I try so hard to achieve: a perfect connection. It would mean the ability to control other human beings around me. It would also mean finally being able to organize the female mind, something I've failed so many times at doing. So I guess, the ultimate criterion for this decision must be power: the power to love and destroy.
To finally infiltrate the Schutzstaffel. That's what I wanted. To know why they wanted to do what they did so badly.
If given the choice, would you prefer to have a ring that renders you invisible or a ring that lets you see the intentions of others?
Think of the advantages of each and do something with the poll if you want...
It is needless to say that I would be happy to have found either one. Yet given a choice between the two, the first thing I would do would be analyze the heck out of both options. In the end, I see it as a choice between augmenting my social defense or offense, much like raising stats in an RPG or trading players on a sports team. On one end, invisibility is escape. On the other, seeing into people's intentions would let me, with greater efficiency, pinpoint desires and fears. Then I would think, what would I want?
When I ignore social impacts, invisibility would basically mean thievery. But perception, outside of a social context, provides what I try so hard to achieve: a perfect connection. It would mean the ability to control other human beings around me. It would also mean finally being able to organize the female mind, something I've failed so many times at doing. So I guess, the ultimate criterion for this decision must be power: the power to love and destroy.
To finally infiltrate the Schutzstaffel. That's what I wanted. To know why they wanted to do what they did so badly.
Friday, February 5, 2010
On Innocence
I'm going through my iTunes library and all the songs I listened a year ago. Among them are many trance songs that feel soft, round, and warm. They speak of free time and free will. For some reason, the palate of my ears reject them. I still listen to electronic music, but only the bitter, scratchy puke of the synth finds its way into my mind. I suppose this must be what the transition from white to red wine must feel like.
I cannot begin to describe what has happened to me within the last twelve months, mostly because I don't know. I only know that sometime between last February and now, a series of tragedies erupted in my life. I call these events tragedies only because I had nightmares of them for years before. I have seen the shallowness of humans and have seen the effectiveness of shallowness. I have come to question most of what I believed in. I don't think I can pinpoint a time where my innocence just died, but I can say that my reserve of it was drained. Innocence, like an arm or a leg, cannot be recovered. I'm sorry for being so dramatic, but something happened today that told me that I'm not innocent anymore. I can only believe in my own hopes and I can never sell them out again.
Cameron, if you're reading this, I hate my writing. I honestly hate my own ink. And it is my writing, not any ridiculous thing the English department has manufactured. No, I hate my writing.
Katie, if you're reading this, I think that some part of you, perhaps a tiny subconscious flicker, knows as well as I that there are people among us we cannot trust.
I cannot begin to describe what has happened to me within the last twelve months, mostly because I don't know. I only know that sometime between last February and now, a series of tragedies erupted in my life. I call these events tragedies only because I had nightmares of them for years before. I have seen the shallowness of humans and have seen the effectiveness of shallowness. I have come to question most of what I believed in. I don't think I can pinpoint a time where my innocence just died, but I can say that my reserve of it was drained. Innocence, like an arm or a leg, cannot be recovered. I'm sorry for being so dramatic, but something happened today that told me that I'm not innocent anymore. I can only believe in my own hopes and I can never sell them out again.
Cameron, if you're reading this, I hate my writing. I honestly hate my own ink. And it is my writing, not any ridiculous thing the English department has manufactured. No, I hate my writing.
Katie, if you're reading this, I think that some part of you, perhaps a tiny subconscious flicker, knows as well as I that there are people among us we cannot trust.
I have a totally valid excuse...
English Speech.
Seriously, why am I such a terrible writer? I'm tired of holding on to the tiniest strands of optimism that tethered me to the society around me. You are all so superficial, so mindless, and so pathetic. But I'm weak, so I guess I'm worse right now.
Seriously, why am I such a terrible writer? I'm tired of holding on to the tiniest strands of optimism that tethered me to the society around me. You are all so superficial, so mindless, and so pathetic. But I'm weak, so I guess I'm worse right now.
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