idiot: From Latin idiota, Greek idiotes, short spirited man, ignorant; double gendered adjective and common noun; lacks inteligence; stupid, imbecile; ignorant;



How it's not God's fault we're in this mess

0 comments

Some years ago, when I was more into New Age and believed a lot of things I'm not sure I believe in now, people spoke a lot about The Era of Aquarius. Simply put, mankind was leaving an age of darkness of thought and action, associated with the impulsive behaviour of a teenager (I don't think teenagers are stupid, though. But that's a thought for another post, one of these days...).
The beginning of the new millenium would mean the end of a cycle where we had the blind rationality of the Greeks, the cruelty of the Romans, the ignorance of the Dark Ages, the European despotism, the two World Wars and a number of other negative atittudes and reactions. In this sort of second chance, people would globally become aware of the self, and consequently, of the global consciousness, starting to make gradual positive changes. The Era of Aquarius symbolizes the growth of Humanity as a whole and, surprinsingly, as an adult civilization on its way to a better world.

Well, then it happened: the two towers fell (and this is a too serious a sentence for any associations with The Lord of The Rings) and hell broke loose. A group of badly influenced people hijacked a couple of commercial aeroplanes, with people inside, and thought it was an Allah-recognizable sacrifice to crash them against two legendary skyscrapers, also full of people, and kill them all in the name of God.
After this, I really can't say as a proper human being that I have much faith in the concept of The Era of Aquarius; I'm more inclined, unfortunately, to go for the Nostradamus predictions of chaos and destruction. Or perhaps, more inclined into the catastrophic scientific possibility that we, human beasts, are more likely to self-destruct than to do anything good on this Earth.

You can look at this from almost any point of view: social, economical, political, geographical, etc...
I think about all these changes in the past six-and-so years from a religious point of view, because what blind rationality, cruelty, ignorance, despotism, occupation, poverty, rage and aggressiveness all have in common is one simple concept: guilt.
Do you really think it was one nation's fault that led to a massacre? Or that religion is to blame?
Do you really think that Islam is wrong, and you are right?
I don't know, but in my humble opinion, maybe you should think again...

This simple word "religion" comes from the Latin re + ligare, which means "to connect" or "to bind". It can be interpreted as a set of beliefs that, connected, form a core of values and rules to worship the Divine; it can define a group of people who follow a specific core of values and rules, not only in terms of worship, but also in terms of the way those people choose to live their lives.
I like to think that "religion" is a reminder that, no matter what those values are, that we are connected to the Divine (regardless of that Divine) and, therefore, we are all connected.
In a more basic way, as I like to put it, we all have two legs, two arms, two eyes, brains and the ability to talk. In the absence of making a point, we all have souls. That should be more than enough to connect us all somehow, don't you think?

The big issue with world religions doesn't have a thing to do with the god people revere to, in any case. That's not even the point. The point is how the appointed people to guard and preserve the religion interpret their set of beliefs and the correspondent values and rules.

Take the Christian "Thou shall not kill". This is an order: you will not kill, because it's wrong to take another human life in an unnatural way. You can imagine it like this: "Thou shall not kill, because then you'll be punished. You'll be arrested, convicted, rot in jail, burn in hell, etc...". I guess that, at the very least, you'd get a very heavy conscience, and that suits you very well.
But... if I kill an animal, even if it is to eat it, will I be punished?
The general answer to this would be "no", for a series of reasons: because you need to eat animals to survive; because animals don't have souls (only people who never had, or don't like, pets would go for this...); because it was an accident, bla bla bla...

Most people don't think about this. They don't have time, they think it's a good enough interpretation, or they don't dare to question themselves too much with religion, because it might crack their brains... or they can't, because someone will kick their asses for questioning God.

The same problem with interpretation arises from Islam, from Judaism, from Buddhism and neo-pagan and modern religious movements.
The Divine doesn't interpret anything: humans do. And being the interpreter doesn't automatically make him/her a good person. Actually, the world is filled with terrible interpreters, who forget that the Divine is inside us all, and that it would never lead people into disgrace, on the contrary.
Communicating with the Divine, on our own, without interpreters, is an extraordinary and easy experience.
When you are walking by the sea, and you listen to the waves and feel good about that moment, you are communicating with the Divine.
When you are helping someone in need, selflessly, like listening to a friend talking, you are communicating with the Divine.
When you are with your friends, and you feel happy having drinks, that's also communicating with the Divine.
When you are committed to becoming a better person, on your own, and for yourself, you are connecting with the Divine and coming closer to that form of consciousness.
And all of this, with or without a religion, it doesn't matter.

Now, do you really think the enemy is the muslim dude sitting next to you, or that nation full of them? Or those people who call themselves witches?
Do you really think that the bad-guy-whose-name-I'm-not-writing-who-says-we're-on-a-holy-war did it and influenced others to do it in the name of religion and of Allah?

We should be fighting to become better people; we should be fighting guilt and ignorance; we should be fighting for fairness and unity; we should be fighting for our planet and for a positive future, for knowledge and for peace.
Instead, I guess the Era of Aquarius is becoming the Era of the Dumb Roaches, because that's what we are, running around and hitting our heads against each other.
And God is not to blame for this mess we're in. None of the Gods, by the way.


No Fear

0 comments

I’ve got voices in my head. Thankfully, these voices don’t prompt me to behead my mother or do other things which are archetypes of schizophrenia. Nevertheless, these voices are not really friendly voices, and tend do make me feel sad and destroyed.

One voice is the rational one: it’s the voice of my parents, of former teacher, of years of acculturation and education, the voice that impels me to do the right thing. It’s the distorted voice you can hear in the song “Fitter Happier”. This is the voice that tells me it’s perfectly okay to give away eight hours of my day, 5 days a week, under a contract and for a wage, even if the individual(s) I’m giving them to are people who are constantly reminding me that they are doing me a favor for having me work for them.

It’s the “shut up and swallow it whole now” voice.

The other voice is, obviously, the irrational one: it’s the inner voice that screams something’s wrong, that this is not the way things are supposed to be, and that I better move my behind and change, because I’ll be shackled to everything before I notice it, and way before I can do anything about it.

It’s the “politically incorrect” voice.

If you read any newspaper, or take a walk around your neighborhood, you’ll see and agree that we’re living in awful times. Sure everything seems normal, but we’re living for the past years in war, constantly fearful for prices which keep on rising, being reminded that we are guests in this planet (and rude guests, may I add), and in a deep religious, social and cultural crisis.

And this fear that we are immersed in is the perfect environment for those rational voices to take over. Don’t go out after 11 p.m.; don’t buy a house; envy thy neighbor because he doesn’t deserve to be happy or to enjoy life if you can’t; hate the difference unless it’s politically correct difference; don’t quit your job because if you do you’re a bloody slob and you don’t want to work; and I could just go on with the negative vibe all afternoon…

Of course, there are those moments when it’s just too much. You are under the spell of that rational voice, and then suddenly you look around you and that vein in your forehead just pops. POP

Now what?

The rational voice is out there, walking and screaming at you, naked; it’s a naked old bearded man with no teeth, who scares you shitless. But it’s a naked voice, with the things dangling while screaming and you realize: how much longer can you fear the madman inside you if he’s a walking joke?

I’m not listening to that bearded old man anymore.


The guy with the mother’s head under his arm

0 comments

This week, a very gory event took place in a pueblo on the outskirts of Murcia: a man chopped off his mother’s head with a kitchen knife, and then decided to walk around the main square, with his mother’s head wrapped in a sheet under his arm, informing passers by of the “load” he was transporting. This happened around 22.00 or 23.00 in the night, which is basically pedestrian rush hour in Spain, in the village of Santomera.

Well, of course the police came, took the man into custody, and returned the head to the body – as much as possible – in order to give the poor woman a proper burial.
All over the press and other media, it is said that this man suffered from schizophrenia, that he was known around Santomera as the “village madman”, and that the motive for this tragedy was the refusal from mum to give him his daily 100 €, from a sort of salary she paid him for running a café. Yeap, these were well-known people in the pueblo: the lady ran a cigarette shop and, next door, a small café-restaurant that she gave her son, so he would have a proper occupation.
So, as if it was not shocking enough that this violent murder took place, it involved people with faces; at least, for the inhabitants of Santomera.

People react in a mix to this story: they condone and feel appalled by this tragedy, but at the same time, crack jokes and laugh about the ridicule of the image of a chest-bare man, with a Rambo-like stripe on his forehead, walking around a typical Spanish village with his mum’s head under his arm, saying “Yeap, it’s my mum, and I love her, now that she’s shut up”. It’s horrific, but funny in a dark humour kind of way…

Nevertheless, it’s very sad.
Turns out that, in 2001, the mother appeared on television claiming that she feared for her life, as her son was mentally ill, and threatened her constantly. She asked for help from the Government, and she did eventually ask for a restraining order. However, neither she nor he ever respected it. In fact, she voluntarily broke the restraining order, allowing her son to work with her, allegedly because he was “doing better”.
That night, he went into the café and asked her for his 100 €. She refused for some reason, and they had an argument. Possibly running out of arguments, he took a kitchen knife, stabbed her and then chopped her head off. (which, by the way, must take a long time, since it’s not a guillotine…). And then…well, you know.

That night, a colleague of mine from work was driving home to Santomera, when he saw a huge commotion on the streets. He stopped and asked what was going on, and someone said: “This guy chopped off his mother’s head and was walking around with it under his arm.”
He didn’t believe it could be true.


Wonderful tales of my simple life #1

0 comments

Two days ago, a rash appeared in my face. It made me feel uncomfortable and made me also to scratch myself a lot – like all rashes usually do.
During the work day, this rash expanded to my neck, chest, and appeared as well in my arms. I thought it might be some sort of allergy, although I’m not allergic to anything, as far as I know. Perhaps some Spring pollen attacked me, or whatever.

Anyway, around 21.00, I decided to go to the ER to check if it might be something serious, like food poisoning or a chemical allergy of some sort.
There, the doctor quickly prescribed me a shot of cortisone, to be administered immediately; you know, the nurse comes, you show her your bare you-know-what, and she pinches you with a syringe in the you-know-what, and you’re good to go.
I can’t stand needles. I’m that kind of person who, while watching that scene in Pulp Fiction where John Travolta is injecting himself with heroin, had to look away. When I have to do blood tests, I have to be lying down so that the nurse can take blood.
It’s not about looking at blood and fainting; it’s about the needles through my body. To summarize, I couldn’t go for an acupuncture appointment, because I’d die in the process of a heart attack due to incredible stress; which is stupid, because I have several piercings and a tattoo, and I didn’t faint when I did any of them…

Well, I went in, bared my you-know-what, while the nurse explained that the fluid she was going to inject would perhaps hurt a little bit. She also said she was to give me two shots of medicine. So, I grabbed the counter as hard as I could and prepared myself.
When she pinched me and I started feeling the fluid into my body, I complained that it was hurting: “Aw, aw, aw…”. Then, all I said was: “I’m not feeling so good…”. Then, the party began…

I went from black to seeing F. and the nurse, each holding one of my legs up, while I was lying down, calling my name nervously. For a few seconds, I had no idea where I was or what had happened; it was as if they were waking me up from a dream at 7.00 in the morning. And when I realised what happened, I started laughing, which must have made F. and the nurse feel stupid, and at the same time, relieved. I was back with the living.
I had to stay put for half an hour before I could move again. My tongue was stuck, and I couldn’t speak; when I tried to move my fingers, I was frozen. My blood pressure was something like 9/6, and I even had a machine plugged on me to measure my heart rate, just like in TV.
It wasn’t an allergic reaction to a medicine for an allergic reaction: it was the stupid needle.

From their perspective, this is what happened: I said “I’m not feeling so good…” and I swooned. I didn’t faint; I swooned down. Mu pupils went black, my body temperature froze, and I became rigid as a corpse. The nurse couldn’t hold me – I’m big, I know – so F. had to run and help her put me in a stretcher. My eyes were wide open, so they never realised I was out. For them, I was there and they didn’t know what was happening.

As soon as I could move, I ran away from the ER as fast as I could, went to a Burger King and had the biggest super size menu they had, so I could stuff myself with enough sugar to prevent this to happen ever again in the next 40 years.
Moral of the tale: other than lay down when being administered shots at the hospital, I have to say I must rethink the whole concept of the tunnel and the light, and your loved ones coming to take you to eternal life. Nothing like that happened.
I was just like sleeping, and it felt good. But no mystical experience…


Portishead - Third

0 comments

I've been waiting for years for this, and now what I have to say is:

Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.


And, by the way, Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.
Love it. Love it. Love it.Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. Love it.


Nobody likes them

0 comments

I was reading an article on Publico.es yesterday about the socio-cultural situation of EMO’s, punks and other subcultures in Mexico City. Seems it’s not very good to dress in black and dye your hair green there, because chances are you’ll get beaten up, just like that. Also, if you are gay, you may be also beaten up, or worse.
These groups have all united and held a demonstration in Mexico DF, criticising the government, the police, and the general population about this discriminatory attitude.
They never made it to their destination; a club in the city where these people are free to meet and listen to alternative music. There were confrontations between their popular opposers and the police, which was supposed to hold a protection chord between them and the angry mob. However, the police was obviously pro-angry mob and didn’t avoid the street battle that ensued.

One can argue about the general socio-cultural situation in Mexico, and in other Latin American countries, not to mention other nations not in South America where free expression is a serious issue. In Spain, legislation has been passed recently which allows gay and lesbians to live in quite a safe country: the proof is there, if you take a walk through the streets of Madrid, or any other city in the country. I suppose that in Europe, in general, these are not extraordinarily hot issues. Discrimination exists, but I guess that the likelihood of someone being beaten up and left to die on the streets of – say, Paris – because he/she is an EMO, or a goth, is not significant. I mean, everybody will stare at something that seems to be out of the norm, but there is a big distance to insulting and assaulting…

And here comes the cliché: people should dress how they feel, and be whomever they choose to be. And, obviously, they should be prepared to handle the consequences of such a responsible choice, be it a stare or a laugh, or even an insult. I mean, women going by a construction site shouldn’t wear skirts, because then they will be harassed?! Believe me; it takes less than a skirt to be harassed by construction workers…
However, when an angry mob chases you with the intent of skinning you out of you jeans and violet hair, then something is very, very wrong. That’s messing with your free will and your civil freedom. You won’t see the same angry mob lynching someone who has no taste in clothing (I’m thinking Posh Spice now…).

Subcultures such as EMOs, punks, hippies, rockabillies, etc..., emerge as a reaction to the status quo of a specific society, usually supported by music and other forms of art. These subcultures end up becoming the backbone of the social upbringing of teenagers, something which is sometimes good, and sometimes bad. I mean, when you add political and religious factors that incite to violence and hatred, and you expose teenagers to it, I can imagine what kind of adults they will become. But, these subcultures also end up being the motor of evolution for societies, and these “impressionable” teenagers also have the power to separate what is good and what is bad for them and their society, either by themselves, or with the help of the proper guidance – parents and, if necessary, the Police (ugh!).


Nobody liked the Goths, because they dressed in black and looked like dead people walking. Nobody liked the punks because they incited anarchy and pushed forward an anti-system culture; well, most of them probably didn’t even know what anarchy was, but thanks to them, the arts in general gained a new breath, until today.
Nobody liked grunge, because people looked like ragdolls and they adore a “false idol”, everybody knows who he is (poor guy.). Well, grunge put the fashion industry in everybody’s lives. And gave an impulse to MTV!
People tolerate the freaks – grandchildren of the beatnicks and the hippies – because they are childish and seem innocent, and inoffensive.
And the rockabillies, people think, should just go home and wash all that grease away…
Poor EMOs…


The Black Sheep

Recent idiot stuff

Archives

Links


ATOM 0.3