Thursday, December 25, 2003
HAPPY HOLIDAYS: (crossposted from the Thread aPa forum) What I gave...mom got a National Geographic gift subscription, stepdad got Michael Jackson DVDs, brother got a vanity plate for the front bumper (he had only one thing on his list, and it was a bit steep), and sister-in-law got Friends Season 3 on DVD.
From the folks, I got the Fritz Lang Metropolis DVD and $25 bucks (because my list was a bit hard to pin down as late as I turned it in), and Simpsons Season 3 and Space Ghost: Coast to Coast Volume 1 from my brother and sister-in-law. I also ended up with a gift basket with ham, crackers, cheese and mustard from the dirty Santa game last night.
We ate and ate and ate last night with the aunts, uncles, cousins and other hangers-on, then we got up this morning and did it again at my brother's house. After that, we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas (which I missed on ABC AGAIN this year) and the Grinch movie, and that brings us to now.
And yes, smartasses, eventually I STOPPED EATING...
From the folks, I got the Fritz Lang Metropolis DVD and $25 bucks (because my list was a bit hard to pin down as late as I turned it in), and Simpsons Season 3 and Space Ghost: Coast to Coast Volume 1 from my brother and sister-in-law. I also ended up with a gift basket with ham, crackers, cheese and mustard from the dirty Santa game last night.
We ate and ate and ate last night with the aunts, uncles, cousins and other hangers-on, then we got up this morning and did it again at my brother's house. After that, we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas (which I missed on ABC AGAIN this year) and the Grinch movie, and that brings us to now.
And yes, smartasses, eventually I STOPPED EATING...
|| Eric 10:32 PM#
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
IT JUST GOES TO SHOW YOU: justice WILL come to you...after you've been dead for over 30 years. Oh well, Happy Holidays...
|| Eric 11:46 PM#
JUST FINISHED: Plato's Republic, translated and annotated by Desmond Lee. It's been said that the Western literary tradition is in essence a conversation that's over 2,000 years long. In the conversation of Western philosophy (the non-religious variety), Plato can be considered the man who set up the most attractive chatroom. Clifton Fadiman (who, if you'll remember, is the man from which I'm taking my initial cues in this exploration of greater things) said that there are so many key ideas of Western tradition in Plato that "knowing nothing of him is to know less about yourself." That, my friends, is a powerful hook, and I couldn't help but bite down.
This branch of study started a bit haphazardly earlier in the year, when I found a copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra at my favorite secondhand store. After I got about 20 pages deep, somebody got wind of this situation and was nice enough to point out that Nietzsche was a very dangerous thing to read as a starting point in philosophy. It was for my own protection that he recommended starting with Plato. It took way too long to finish, but that was my own fault. My pace dropped off the map in the homestretch, maybe because the last month of my job was an assault on my higher functions. If you haven't heard my story about that, you might not want to know. I have my doubts I'll be telling about it here.
Plato called what he did "dialectic", which to us means the systematic use of discussion for intellectual investigation, the so-called "Socratic dialogue". All of Plato's extant works are cast in this mold, using his teacher Socrates (who apparently was too busy teaching and discovering to write for himself) as the mouthpiece for his ideas of truth and rightness. There's quite a bit of Plato that's come down to us, including the longest and most ambitious work, The Republic, where he asks a basic question (what is justice?) and, among other explorations, builds his version of a model society to prove his point.
There's a lot I could cover here, and a lot I'm still sorting out, but let's get this out of the way first: there are going to be a lot of ideas accepted out of hand by the narrators of The Republic with which you won't agree at all. The "ideal government" itself, the core of the entire piece, is a prime example. I don't know anybody whose idea of "utopia" is a heavily-regimented, highly controlled state where marriage is abolished and sex is run only through mating festivals, and personal property is abolished in the higher hierarchical strata. There are also a lot of fascinating ideas about education, but then we get to the part that states since kids are going to end up in the army eventually (fair assumption in those days), they should be taken to the battlefield to see what it's like as soon as they're able to get on a horse. In other words, he's suggesting "Take Your Daughter To Work Day" with swords and entrails. The Greeks had a word for it, I'm sure, but I'm not convinced I want to know it.
Having said all that, the ideas I didn't agree with kept my attention, even if it was of the head-shaking variety, and as I pushed on I hit several passages that felt like a light switching on. The simile of the Cave put into words a lot of things I'd suspected about the nature of perceptions. The concept of the "philosopher king" becomes more and more appealing the more we see what happens when a leader doesn't seem to think much at all. Then there's the idea that being a ruler should be more like serving on a jury, a civic duty that you're compelled to do at some point, rather than something that can be manipulated to turn a nice profit and give you a control jones, since (in Plato's view) lust for power is a debasing lust like any other. It's such a startlingly sensible concept that it's no wonder nobody ever tried it.
It's really interesting that Plato doesn't think that people should be taught philosophy/dialectic until they're at least 30 years old. Desmond Lee very helpfully explains in the notes to my edition that one of the "corruption of youth" charges leading to the death of Socrates was teaching young guys the dialectic process, and the unfortunate result was that kids were picking up on the technique without actually using it for anything but sport. No wonder the old man drove them all nuts; I'd give him the hemlock, too. As I read this account, I couldn't help but think of the old Python line: "You didn't come here for a proper arguement, you came here for an arguement." Damn you, John Cleese, for messing with my mind yet again.
Unfortunately, the part of the 20th century we've lived through wasn't the best time for new deep thinkers, and we're still feeling the anti-intellectual backlash today. The very word "philosophy" has been diluted in the past century by people who fob off warmed-over homilies designed to make you feel better, and (even worse) self-help gurus. As I was writing this, VH1 was running a block of shows on "The Fabulous Life", where a sub-Robin Leach narrator rattles off a laundry list of pop star extravagances with huge price tags, as if purchasing power was all it took to make you a superior human being. Plato stated his view of this approach to life very plainly: blindly following your desires and impulses down every side road and alley they steer you through is the road to soul-deep decay. His approach to self-discipline was extreme to the point of impossibility, but our man in Athens believed that the quest for truth--the unchanging, eternal core truths--actually makes you a better person. It's something to think about, and making you think is really the whole point.
Although thanks to Project Gutenberg (among others), it's very easy to find a version of this text for free, I went with the Penguin Classics edition translated and annotated by Mr. Lee, which not only gives you valuable background of Plato and his times but also a section-by-section breakdown of of the major ideas and themes.
This branch of study started a bit haphazardly earlier in the year, when I found a copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra at my favorite secondhand store. After I got about 20 pages deep, somebody got wind of this situation and was nice enough to point out that Nietzsche was a very dangerous thing to read as a starting point in philosophy. It was for my own protection that he recommended starting with Plato. It took way too long to finish, but that was my own fault. My pace dropped off the map in the homestretch, maybe because the last month of my job was an assault on my higher functions. If you haven't heard my story about that, you might not want to know. I have my doubts I'll be telling about it here.
Plato called what he did "dialectic", which to us means the systematic use of discussion for intellectual investigation, the so-called "Socratic dialogue". All of Plato's extant works are cast in this mold, using his teacher Socrates (who apparently was too busy teaching and discovering to write for himself) as the mouthpiece for his ideas of truth and rightness. There's quite a bit of Plato that's come down to us, including the longest and most ambitious work, The Republic, where he asks a basic question (what is justice?) and, among other explorations, builds his version of a model society to prove his point.
There's a lot I could cover here, and a lot I'm still sorting out, but let's get this out of the way first: there are going to be a lot of ideas accepted out of hand by the narrators of The Republic with which you won't agree at all. The "ideal government" itself, the core of the entire piece, is a prime example. I don't know anybody whose idea of "utopia" is a heavily-regimented, highly controlled state where marriage is abolished and sex is run only through mating festivals, and personal property is abolished in the higher hierarchical strata. There are also a lot of fascinating ideas about education, but then we get to the part that states since kids are going to end up in the army eventually (fair assumption in those days), they should be taken to the battlefield to see what it's like as soon as they're able to get on a horse. In other words, he's suggesting "Take Your Daughter To Work Day" with swords and entrails. The Greeks had a word for it, I'm sure, but I'm not convinced I want to know it.
Having said all that, the ideas I didn't agree with kept my attention, even if it was of the head-shaking variety, and as I pushed on I hit several passages that felt like a light switching on. The simile of the Cave put into words a lot of things I'd suspected about the nature of perceptions. The concept of the "philosopher king" becomes more and more appealing the more we see what happens when a leader doesn't seem to think much at all. Then there's the idea that being a ruler should be more like serving on a jury, a civic duty that you're compelled to do at some point, rather than something that can be manipulated to turn a nice profit and give you a control jones, since (in Plato's view) lust for power is a debasing lust like any other. It's such a startlingly sensible concept that it's no wonder nobody ever tried it.
It's really interesting that Plato doesn't think that people should be taught philosophy/dialectic until they're at least 30 years old. Desmond Lee very helpfully explains in the notes to my edition that one of the "corruption of youth" charges leading to the death of Socrates was teaching young guys the dialectic process, and the unfortunate result was that kids were picking up on the technique without actually using it for anything but sport. No wonder the old man drove them all nuts; I'd give him the hemlock, too. As I read this account, I couldn't help but think of the old Python line: "You didn't come here for a proper arguement, you came here for an arguement." Damn you, John Cleese, for messing with my mind yet again.
Unfortunately, the part of the 20th century we've lived through wasn't the best time for new deep thinkers, and we're still feeling the anti-intellectual backlash today. The very word "philosophy" has been diluted in the past century by people who fob off warmed-over homilies designed to make you feel better, and (even worse) self-help gurus. As I was writing this, VH1 was running a block of shows on "The Fabulous Life", where a sub-Robin Leach narrator rattles off a laundry list of pop star extravagances with huge price tags, as if purchasing power was all it took to make you a superior human being. Plato stated his view of this approach to life very plainly: blindly following your desires and impulses down every side road and alley they steer you through is the road to soul-deep decay. His approach to self-discipline was extreme to the point of impossibility, but our man in Athens believed that the quest for truth--the unchanging, eternal core truths--actually makes you a better person. It's something to think about, and making you think is really the whole point.
Although thanks to Project Gutenberg (among others), it's very easy to find a version of this text for free, I went with the Penguin Classics edition translated and annotated by Mr. Lee, which not only gives you valuable background of Plato and his times but also a section-by-section breakdown of of the major ideas and themes.
|| Eric 7:14 AM#
Thursday, December 18, 2003
OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME: A book deal from blogging, eh? Not that I don't like what I've done here so far, but would you pay $24.95 for a copy of this in hardcover? I know I wouldn't mind taking your $24.95, but I believe in value for the money.
Of course, if you WOULD pay $24.95 for 200+ pages of this, you really should tell me. I can always figure out a way, especially if it means money changes hands.
Anyway, it's a good excuse to get back into the rhythm of semi-regular updates. I might even accidentally come up with something somebody would want to pay good money to see, but to make the actual blog pay, I'll have to have come up with some overriding obsession, since I'm too broke to move to a war-torn nation. Stay tuned.
Of course, if you WOULD pay $24.95 for 200+ pages of this, you really should tell me. I can always figure out a way, especially if it means money changes hands.
Anyway, it's a good excuse to get back into the rhythm of semi-regular updates. I might even accidentally come up with something somebody would want to pay good money to see, but to make the actual blog pay, I'll have to have come up with some overriding obsession, since I'm too broke to move to a war-torn nation. Stay tuned.
|| Eric 4:02 PM#
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
IT'S ONLY A GAME UNTIL SOMEBODY GETS HURT: When you watch as much daytime TV as I do, and make a conscious decision to dodge soap operas, sports and talk shows, you end up with lots and lots of cartoons. When you end up with cartoons, you end up with interminable ads for kids' crap, so every 15 minutes, you get assaulted by the embodiment of Shakespeare's "sound and fury, signifying nothing".
Such a racket greeted me in an ad for an obnoxious game called Gooey Louie. If you've dodged this gem, it's a typical plastic cartoon head with a huge honker on his face. The honker is so huge because long rubber boogers are stuffed into it, and the object of the game is to pick them out of the guy's nose. The fun part (besides the fact that this fella talks) is that if you pick the wrong bit of snot out of his nose, his brain pops out of the top of his head, with a sproingy sound effect playing. Delicious.
The ad has a stereotypical mom screaming "DON'T DOOOOO THAT! IT'S GROOOOSS!", which is a typical strategy of pitching to kids. "You parents will HATE IT, so you HAVE TO HAVE IT!" The thing is that if their parents came of age in the 1980s, they're probably getting as big a kick out of it as the kids are. The kids will demand a refund when they don't get the right effect. The big parental protest is probably closer to "I can't believe I paid $20 for this..."
ANYWAY, I started thinking (a dangerous thing for me to do) about what message this game was planting on kids. The really anal types will think it'll teach kids how to pick their noses, but that's downright silly, since they do that anyway. I say it's a philosophy tool, and I tend to say that about a lot of otherwise useless games for little kids.
Think about the typical game along the lines of Gooey Louie. You load up the game, do exactly what it says in the instructions, and a totally random event takes you right out anyway. See, it's a preparation for the disappointments of adulthood, and if that doesn't describe your life at some point, you're obliged to tell the rest of us how you do it.
All this made me think of that other game that helps teach the hard life lessons, Monopoly. I'm not talking about strategy, economics, and land development. I'm talking about the point in each game where it becomes really, really fun for one person, and an excruciating torment for everybody else. They kick the chair legs, dread moving that little tin dog another space, and pray for the end to come soon. If they get really sour, they say, "You know what? This game is OVER!" and flip the board over in a fit of spite. (REVOLUTION! UP WITH THE PROLETARIAT! DOWN WITH THE BOURGEOISIE!) Well, maybe there is an economics lesson, but not the one the Parker Brothers were thinking of.
(I realize I missed the part about how it takes an excruciatingly long time to play, but you probably don't need to be reminded of that. Even though you just were.)
(Edit @4:00pm: There's now a lousy forum topic to go with this lousy post...)
Such a racket greeted me in an ad for an obnoxious game called Gooey Louie. If you've dodged this gem, it's a typical plastic cartoon head with a huge honker on his face. The honker is so huge because long rubber boogers are stuffed into it, and the object of the game is to pick them out of the guy's nose. The fun part (besides the fact that this fella talks) is that if you pick the wrong bit of snot out of his nose, his brain pops out of the top of his head, with a sproingy sound effect playing. Delicious.
The ad has a stereotypical mom screaming "DON'T DOOOOO THAT! IT'S GROOOOSS!", which is a typical strategy of pitching to kids. "You parents will HATE IT, so you HAVE TO HAVE IT!" The thing is that if their parents came of age in the 1980s, they're probably getting as big a kick out of it as the kids are. The kids will demand a refund when they don't get the right effect. The big parental protest is probably closer to "I can't believe I paid $20 for this..."
ANYWAY, I started thinking (a dangerous thing for me to do) about what message this game was planting on kids. The really anal types will think it'll teach kids how to pick their noses, but that's downright silly, since they do that anyway. I say it's a philosophy tool, and I tend to say that about a lot of otherwise useless games for little kids.
Think about the typical game along the lines of Gooey Louie. You load up the game, do exactly what it says in the instructions, and a totally random event takes you right out anyway. See, it's a preparation for the disappointments of adulthood, and if that doesn't describe your life at some point, you're obliged to tell the rest of us how you do it.
All this made me think of that other game that helps teach the hard life lessons, Monopoly. I'm not talking about strategy, economics, and land development. I'm talking about the point in each game where it becomes really, really fun for one person, and an excruciating torment for everybody else. They kick the chair legs, dread moving that little tin dog another space, and pray for the end to come soon. If they get really sour, they say, "You know what? This game is OVER!" and flip the board over in a fit of spite. (REVOLUTION! UP WITH THE PROLETARIAT! DOWN WITH THE BOURGEOISIE!) Well, maybe there is an economics lesson, but not the one the Parker Brothers were thinking of.
(I realize I missed the part about how it takes an excruciatingly long time to play, but you probably don't need to be reminded of that. Even though you just were.)
(Edit @4:00pm: There's now a lousy forum topic to go with this lousy post...)
|| Eric 3:49 PM#
