Ensure Your Indignation Is Justified

I’ve been focusing on not letting things bug me. So it really bugs me now when things bug me.

Here’s what’s bugging me: unsubstantiated cases of sexism, racism, and homophobia. Battling these ugly warts has always been the right thing to do but now it’s also become the in thing to do. That in itself, I suppose, is a good thing. But it leads to ridiculous levels of political correctness, so much so that the facts of the matters are often completely overlooked in our rush to condemn a perceived offender.

It looks to me that it often starts with an opportunist eager to lead a lynch mob for no more legitimate reason than they want to lead. They see a situation where there’s a possibility to misinterpret someone’s innocent intent and contort it into a malicious deed. Once that’s accomplished, the mob slowly builds, then snowballs all over Twitter, and probably Facebook and whatever as well.

People don’t review the situation with an open mind. They don’t want to. They willfully ignore the facts that show the perception is wholly inaccurate because joining the mob and showing how they, too, are deeply offended by the situation shows off their moral character. But really, they’d show a hell of a lot more character if they examined the evidence – easily found evidence, usually right within the initial link – and asked themselves: is this really the situation I was told it was?

I bring this up now because it seems to be popping up more and more lately. Or maybe I’m just noticing it more. I don’t think so, though. I believe it’s a trend that is made convenient by Twitter. I believe Twitter is much more than a simple micro-blogging tool; it’s the evolution of the hivemind in its infancy, and as an infant, it’s prone to some pretty infantile behaviour.

A couple of examples of the trend I’m referring to:

Yesterday, I caught a retweet of the condemnation via Twitter of David Gilmour, a (former?) CBC personality who discussed the arts on his tv show. He’s also a distinguished author in his own right, and now a literature teacher at U of T. Here’s the article: http://www.cbc.ca/newsblogs/yourcommunity/2013/10/alice-munro-fans-tear-into-david-gilmour-following-nobel-prize-win.html

There’s nothing wrong with this piece. It’s just a neutral account of the reaction to how an interview with Gilmour related to the announcement of Alice Munro winning a Nobel prize. You’ll notice the tone of the tweets right away: smug, almost giddy. It was so glorious that Munro won the award right after Gilmour so viciously condemned female writers for being inferior and not worth reading. Oh, the brilliant timing! The thing is, he did NOTHING OF THE SORT. Doesn’t matter. The smug Twits take it as a fact that he did. So either they didn’t bother reading the interview, or they chose to stumble over the truth, and then picked themselves up and carried on as if nothing had happened (thanks for that one, Churchill). Either way, their indignation is wholly unjustified.

Recently, a similar uproar arose because a woman is playing a romantic game with her boyfriend that has to do with making sandwiches. The real situation was ignored then, too, and I watched the story as it morphed into one about The Worst Boyfriend On Earth, which didn’t even bother stating the facts. Why should it? They’d just go unnoticed en masse anyway so might as well leave them out and save valuable keystrokes.

There’s a commercial on the tv where a couple are shopping for something and a guy who is apparently a famous football player and reality show fixture shows up. The husband knows him from football. The wife knows him from the tv show. Neither are aware of his other job. Because husbands watch football and wives watch the other show - that's the joke. It’s not funny. It’s just a dumb commercial. But the producers are assuming stereotypical habits of both genders. Is there an uproar? I’ve no idea but I doubt it – unless Twitter sets its sights on it.

Yet, when someone at a local radio station harmlessly tweeted a similar joke about women not caring about football, there was a local little microcosm of an uproar about how ignorant the guy (or girl) was. People swore they’d never tune in to the station again, others responded with curse words and vile insults at the person, in caps no less. You'd think s/he had said women shouldn't be allowed to watch football.

In none of these situations did anyone disparage women in any way, yet in all cases there was an assumption that they did, and then the assumption was contorted into 'fact' that that they did. If this was once, I probably wouldn’t notice but it’s showing up a lot, the very same pattern.

Someone made a joke that women are less inclined to be good at reading maps than men. A stereotype for sure, but wholly innocuous. I happen to know the guy who said it has the utmost respect for women, yet he was cautioned that he’d “hear about that.”

I mentioned that I don’t like South Asian-style music, and was branded a racist. The inference, I guess, being that in order to not be a racist, I must like all styles of music.

And now my point!

There are so many actual cases of racism and sexism and homophobia out there that we need to contend with. It’s up to all of us to stand up and fight against it when we see it - and none of the three are hard to see at all. Sadly, they're all over the place. But when we become so politically correct that we shout sexist! racist! over every stupid little thing where they don’t even exist, then the genuine, ugly instances are just thrown in with the lot – and that only serves to lessen our capacity to fight them.

The next time you see an indignant tweet about a perceived slight to a race or gender or whatever, take the time to find out exactly what the truth of the matter is, then decide for yourself if it’s really worth condemning someone for. 

If we can eliminate the nonsense, the real assholes will be easier to find.

Peaks and Valleys

Many of us, clear on the fact that tomorrow will be a miserable experience due to our actions tonight, are choosing to indulge in alcohol because it contributes to pleasure at the moment. We’re willing to be devoid of happiness later for the benefits of feeling happy now.

Others, will not. They will choose to forgo present happiness to avoid unhappiness later. They will choose to not be happy now, knowing their friends are laughing and enjoying themselves, because the future unhappiness wouldn’t be worth it to them.

One married man will choose to spend an amazing night with a beautiful woman even while being fully cognizant that the later guilt will be torturous for him. Another will go home.

Morals, ids, and addictions aside, we all make decisions constantly on when and how much happiness we will trade for misery. We each have our own general range that we won’t usually surpass, within the grander scale, on which we differ widely from one another.

Some of us would consider a broken leg a reasonable price for experiencing the extraordinary high of skydiving.  Would you? Or is it not worth it?

I constantly hear that YOLO and if you don’t carpe that diem then your existence is being tragically wasted. This philosophy doesn’t seem to have any detractors and I’m not sure why. Why should it just be a ‘given’ that those who have the most exhilarating experiences are living “properly”, while those who forgo them are subjected to our pity and, often, our scorn? “To each his own” is another popular personal philosophy but if you believe that, then you can’t believe it’s a mistake for someone to not wish for exhilaration in their life.

‘Carpe diem’ reaches many us so profoundly, I believe, because we live lives of quiet desperation and fear going to the grave with the song still in us. But there are those of us who see our human lives as a shockingly brief and trivial micro-moment and harbour no particular anxieties about not accomplishing and experiencing things that will be soon forgotten in any case. Those who ensure their names survive the longest are likely the ones most horrified by the nature of life. And what does it matter? How is a king we remember a thousand later any better off than a nameless peasant who lived under his rule. One's as dead as the other. Was the negative stress of achieving such 'greatness' worth it for the king? Was the constant anxiety from which he likely suffered worth it? Or would he have been better off doing without it?

That lack of anxiety is the point of this piece.

Avoiding it, often means having less interesting outer experiences than others, but greatly reduced anxiety is worth that to some. So why should some people insist that the high anxiety they endure by working 75 hours every week in stressful jobs to supply the means of exciting adventures and really cool stuff, is something everyone should experience to consider their lives well-lived? Why, instead, is a well-lived life not one that had endured the least negative stress along the way?

Our aggressive approach to living, caused, I imagine, by our disappointment at not being immortal within this skin, is the Original Anxiety and all that stems from it is a sad comedy of perpetual little anxieties that never cease until - yep, death; the death that arrives whether you were anxious or not, whether or not you experienced adventures or had all the trendiest toys.

If this is all there is - if it turns out there's nothing but nothing after death - then basking in how wonderful it feels to be without negative stress just might be the best damn thing in all existence. Yet so many consciously choose to sacrifice that feeling in pursuit of worldly thrills and gains. To say they have 'lived.' How certain are they that they aren't making the error of the ages?

Take a moment to consider the possibility that long-lasting earthly contentedness is an experience not duplicated any where or when in whatever reality is. And then consider that you have a ridiculously short time to experience that treasure. And more often than not, you sacrifice it for something much less precious.

Is it really so “wrong” to limit your peaks in order to limit your valleys?

Consider chilling. Or don't. I'm cool either way.

Drunken Anthropology Lesson

A friend recently tossed this out into the twittersphere:

“Trying to put my finger on why progressives back off the pressure when the other guy is on the ropes but conservatives go for the kill.”

Well, loosen yer boots and set a spell and I’ll tell ya how that came about...

In the beginning, we got fed up with falling out of trees when sleeping, so we hopped down and started chasing antelope around and similar creatures like that. The extra thought processes required to capture swift running herds led to huge changes in the brain; we needed to get smarter. Not just to catch food, but to catch it before the other clans, and keep those other clans away, and to steal their food when convenient.

So we sat down around the campfire one day and pondered how we might go about achieving all that. After some long, hard discussion, we finally decided the best thing to do for ourselves and the survival of our species was to become Conservatives. Being mistrustful of other clans ensured they couldn’t dominate us, and helped with our survival. Hording all for ourselves and to hell with them was likewise a fruitful endeavour.

Those of us who held these conservative values flourished and started begatting all over the place and laughed as other clans faded out. If you didn’t think like a conservative, that was your fate and you were just plain stupid and deserved to die.

So a few hundred generations later, we’re all hardwired that way – it’s simply part of the human instinct to behave conservatively for the survival of the species.

Then one sunny afternoon we discovered agriculture. That was like, the sweetest thing ever and we kicked ourselves for not coming up the idea sooner. It sure saved a lot of running around and ending up in places like Norway. But a curious thing happened when we began to stay put and operate farms and build communities: all that hardwired conservativism suddenly became less of a strategic advantage and somewhat of a counterproductive one. Collecting and sharing proved more useful in this new environment, and considering future generations rather than just the immediate one. this was a whole new ballgame.

As communities became larger, we started to realize that even if we didn’t know a fellow human, it was a good idea to help feed him if he was hungry and house him if he was without a roof and nurse him if he was sick. This was obviously contrary to our general nature but doing so worked to save the community, and when the community was saved, it flourished.

The inhabitants of the most socially caring communities fared better than those who still lived by the archaic conservative standards that were a good idea at the time. So these new liberal-minded folks did a lot more begetting and their ‘values’, which were nothing more than best survival techniques just as the others had been previously,  started to become hardwired and replacing the old ways.

The problem is, that was a mere ten thousand years ago. It’s the sensible way to go, and the way to future survival as cities continue to grow larger, but it has nowhere near the seniority of the deeply-entrenched conservative mind which refuses to die out. If we survive long enough, socially-caring minds will eventually completely take over the selfish every-ape-for-himself mentality that’s so stubbornly persistent.

So – between actual physical attributes and environmental factors, our brains possess both the old and the new survival techniques and we live our lives, and “think”, generally, one way or the other. We just happen to be at a point in history where the old and the new must exist together. The good news is, once we get through it, we’ll be flying. The bad news is, that could take many more hundreds, if not thousands, of years, and the old conservative mindset in the age of the cloud will be a damn dangerous thing indeed.

But that’s another story.

Thanks for the inspiration for this, Shawn!

Disclaimer: this was written late at night while inebriated and may or may not contain any sense.

My Exceedingly Unpopular Take On Weddingate Because The Clearly Outlined Point Will Be Ignored

Disclaimer: This is entirely based on how the situation appears to me on Twitter.

Well, I wasn’t going to weigh in on this blog-wise, but I’m tired of seeing the few who are speaking up for reason and a thoughtful approach being lambasted, and even subtly threatened with diminished future opportunities if they don’t start agreeing with the popular opinion. I sincerely wish people at the heart of the mob mind could step back and witness their own behaviour. Slowly, the “end justifies the means” is creeping in to their philosophy and will only escalate down the road as “ends” with even greater stakes will be justified with even greater “means”.

No one seems to like Joe Fontana. I’m sure someone must, but I’ve yet to hear anyone recently make such a bold claim.  Most of the people I know and associate with, respect and consider friends, share my concerns about his selfish, short-sighted “zero tax increase no matter the cost” stance, and his position at the head of the “Fontana 8” council voting bloc that consistently respects political allegiance above citizen concerns. Those are two solid reasons to wish the man away into oblivion.

Unfortunately, in the rush to make that wish come true, otherwise thoughtful and fair citizens are failing to see some glaring problems in their own position – not the least of which is because such circles of support with each other go round and round, bolstering each other’s confidence in their righteousness until any opposing viewpoint is simply incomprehensible and certainly not worthy of actual consideration.

But that’s a rather abstract notion. More concrete is that many of these people tilt to the left and would normally scrutinize the claims of the London Free Press, being a Sun Media publication. If Fontana was a mayor these people approved of, they would certainly be questioning every media allegation along the way.

Yet I see no one concerned that a Sun paper received anonymous information that led to the Conservative government pressing for charges against a former Liberal. Quite possibly there’s nothing to that, but surely some journalists would want to look into it (I'm sure Free Press journalists would agree), and some concerned citizens would be appreciative if they did. And if there was something to it, then it’s possible the Free Press was simply a pawn in the game and had no part in a Tory scheme. Not that I have any reason to believe that's the case. The point is, those who would otherwise wonder about such things, voice these concerns and put them front and centre, simply aren’t discussing it whatsoever. Why? Because it’s contrary to their great wish of seeing Fontana gone at any price -a worthwhile end justifying less than noble means.

As for the well known petition (created by someone I consider a friend) that’s been signed by, I think, less than one third of one percent of Londoners, no one says “consider all the facts and decide if you agree this is something you would like to sign”. No, it’s constant, urgent pleas to sign, sign, sign! Don’t think. We’ve already thought for you. Don’t question, just sign. Now. Here’s the convenient link.

Scores of people have expressed their deep disgust with Fontana for using public money to fund his son’s wedding. These people have undoubtedly signed, even though the most rational among the anti-Fontana mob occasionally remind them that he’s yet to be found guilty of anything. But there are a lot of those people who post how horrible he is for committing such a crime. I wonder how many have signed.

As well as those who believe the man is guilty until proven innocent, there are those with strictly political motives. They have no doubt all signed and done their best to coax others into signing as well. Then there are those with their own career goals who wish to show that they’re team players and have signed because it’s the prudent thing to do personally. I’m sure there is no shortage of that type. And, of course, as with any mob, there are those who are caught up in the enthusiasm and want to jump on the bandwagon simply because mobs have that exciting, contagious effect - simple human nature.

Of all those people in all those different groups, none of them are the ones the genuine petition supporters claim they want signing – they say they want people to sign it who believe the mayor should temporarily step aside due to the distracting nature of his situation (although the petition was created 3 or 4 weeks ago when the only distraction was by the ones claiming it was distracting).

My concern here is that those publicly exclaiming what the correct purpose for the petition is, are quite content to have its numbers bolstered by the uneducated and the self-serving, and to use those bloated, artificial numbers to help prove their argument, while retaining the innocent stance that it’s simply about avoiding distraction. That is entirely misleading and deceptive, and disillusioning - as these are the people who profess they want to end the political games. I don’t think most of them even realize they’re falling into the same devious routine as those they wish to replace. Shades of George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’. That's the nature of the beast, and I implore my friends to progress very carefully indeed.

The masses also claim that if Fontana’s innocent then he should have said so earlier, despite what his lawyer advised him, and what every lawyer would advise a client. They would all, apparently, tell their own lawyers that they’re wrong and would refuse to follow the sound legal advice they’re paying for. Why are these normally rational people making such preposterous statements as this? To suggest that a person under investigation who doesn’t proclaim his innocence publicly is likely guilty of something, is a huge slap in the face to the most sacred aspect of our legal system.

If they could step back, though I think most are too far down the hole for that now, they might ask themselves why they’re so deeply entrenched with many whom they are usually at odds with. I've witnessed some strange bedfellows in London, but this situation has created the strangest by far.

And also ask themselves why they let a newspaper that is, or should be, a major part of the story, set the framework for how the story should be told, and how it should unfold, and use that paper’s articles to support their stance. In any other case, they would find that ludicrous. But not this one time. Why?

Ask why, when after a month of the source of outrage for so many being that Fontana paid for a wedding with their money, they barely even noticed that the police are claiming no such thing. Yet that had no effect; the outrage continues unabated, along with the cries that the criminal must pay. Also ask why they’re willing to let those who have decided he’s guilty without conviction or due process help improve their numbers if they truly want to change the way the game is played.

Ask themselves, as well, if there’s just the most remote possibility they might be becoming the people they’re so terribly discontent with. If they screw themselves when they’re sleeping, will they be able to respect themselves in the morning? I like and respect some of them enough that I believe it’s still possible for them to ask themselves those questions. Some of them have been completely inspiring to me and I know they have the best of intentions, but if a personal equivalent of 'mission creep' began to effect me without my noticing, he who points it out to me in time is my true friend.

Is Fontana guilty? I don’t know. Should he step down? I don’t know. These very large questions are beside the point here.

Does the public mentality surrounding these matters concern and disturb me? Yes. Greatly so. 

That is the point of this post.

A Heart-felt Thanks

 Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May

I had just completed a fairly vigorous cardiovascular workout last Wednesday morning, and began to cook up some breakfast when my chest and arms began to feel achy. Then my jaw and shoulders joined in, resulting in an overall feeling of discomfort, which gradually became intensely painful. After some ibuprofen, a  rest, and a little time, the symptoms subsided completely. I decided I would lessen the intensity of my exercise from then on, and slowly work my way back up to the level I had performed that morning.

Later, however, lying in bed, the symptoms came back. All of them, more intense than ever, despite having encouraged them in no way. I tried to sleep it off but the increasing pain made that impossible. Stubbornly, I tried to ignore it all till my dog began to act strangely. He crept up to me slowly on the bed, ears lowered, and positioned himself on my torso. His head nestled into my chest, he began to whine softly and stared at me intently until I could ignore him, or the reality of the situation, no longer.

  “Okay, Brando, I guess you’re right,” I said, probably, and gave him a scratch behind the ear. I knew I had to get to the hospital. After taking care of some business. I got dressed and headed downtown for an early morning meeting. I parked two blocks away, walked to the meeting, was told I was an idiot there, when they saw my condition, and was subsequently ordered to the hospital immediately. That had been my plan; I just didn't wish to reneg on the appointment with such short notice.

Struggling considerably by this point, I made it back to my car, and eventually to Victoria Hospital’s Emergency department where I explained my systems to the (rather gorgeous) girl at the desk.  She immediately had me through the doors and undergoing a wide array of tests, performed by an army of highly professional and friendly technicians.

They hooked me up to IV, oxygen, and seventeen other machines I’m unfamiliar with, and a cardiologist came to ask me a few questions and to inform me that I had suffered a heart attack. He said an angiogram was necessary to decide if angioplasty or other measures would be necessary.  I consented and asked him what time the next day would he like me to return to have these tests performed.

After staring at me a moment or three, apparently speechless, he repeated that I had had a heart attack, and carefully inquired if I understood what that meant. I said “Sure, but that was hours ago and I'm feeling better now, so I’ll just come back whenever for the tests”. I was half-joking, but I seriously dislike hospitals and would have been quite happy to avoid spending the night.

I spent the night.

Then I spent four more days and nights as a vast array of doctors, nurses, and technicians fought around the clock to prevent any further immediate attacks, then, once on stable ground, worked to help lower my risk for the long run.

This included an angiogram which showed severe plaque build-up in one artery, and another that was clotted completely closed. They hurried me at that point up to Western University Hospital where a whole new medical team fixed me up with a stent and managed to remove the clot in the other artery.

This was all within 24 hours of my emergency room visit. Then they kept me for a few more days to monitor my progress and allow my strength to build up before releasing me.

I’m not only amazed that these teams at Victoria and Western were able to perform the apparent miracles that they did, but that everyone, from those performing the most intricate specialized medical procedures inside my body, to those conducting the most routine scans and tests, treated me with so much kindness, compassion, and a genuine desire to help me. They all knew it was my own doing - too much tobacco, fat, etc. - but they didn't care. They only cared about helping me. It was an incredibly humbling experience.

What’s more astounding, is that all these professionals not only rallied around me with so much care and dedication, but that I’m someone who doesn’t even pay income taxes. I couldn’t have afforded to pay the guy collecting the trash from my (large, private) room, never mind the cardiologists and everyone else.

I’m not only grateful to be still living, thanks to these remarkable men and women at Victoria and Western, but so terribly grateful to be living in such an amazing country as Canada where what happened to me is considered standard. No one cared about my financial or social status. No one ever thought to ask anything about any of that. All anyone cared about was helping me, and they – every one of them – worked like hell to do so.

What a country. Thank you Victoria and Western, and thank you, Canada. I greatly look forward to eventually becoming a tax payer rather than a burden, to help ensure this level of medical care continues for the next generations.