Slasher

I had my first slasher dream last night, technically the wee hours of this morning.

What I remember is now vague—culpability (a small group of friends and I witness or perpetrate an outrage) and comeuppance (a pale-faced stalker tracks us down one by one and kills us in increasingly gruesome ways). At the end of the dream, the spectral slasher is closing in on me and my girlfriend.

Yes, in the dream I’m decidedly heterosexual—and at the end of the dream my girlfriend and I are huddled, in stark terror, in a sleeping car of a train—yes, Freudian, too.

But, no, I don’t remember being genuinely frightened in the dream—or sexually aroused. It played out like a movie, a movie I’m in, and nobody in the dream corresponded to people I know or have known in real life.

It was entirely a narrative dream—and the slayings were hideous and gory.

But here’s what I think of it—or at least the associations I made upon first awaking from the dream (which, unlike the dream narrative, still remain in memory)—and, right or wrong, they have nothing to do with sex.

When I woke up, my first thoughts were about capitalism and the death of social systems, a concern I have often thought about lately. That is, systems (or ideologies) seldom end decisively and all at once, but slowly collapse through a series of cataclysms (slashings), till ultimately a new system rises on the corpses of the old. Consider how long (and agonizing) the decline of European aristocracy was—or the concomitant collapse of slavery (though “wage slavery” is still alive, though teetering on a ledge of high rates of joblessness).

It may be that the radio impinged on my dream and its interpretation. I awoke to NPR commentators discussing the “present economic crisis,” which I have long associated with the gradual collapse of capitalism. And no doubt falling asleep right after watching AMC’s Mad Men last night played a part as well—arguably a series about the collapse of capitalism disguised as sixties nostalgia—just pay attention to the opening credits, for instance.

Nobody in the media (conservative or liberal) is inclined to use the word “collapse” to describe the current “crisis.” Every commentator has been careful to emphasize his conviction (or hope) that the current situation is “temporary”—and while prosperity, he may say, is not exactly right around the corner, there is a sweet (I think “naïve”) but absolute faith that capitalism (wealth based on investment rather than labor) will be resurgent … just as characters in slasher films hold out that they and perhaps one or two of their comrades will survive the inevitable.

It’s only natural to view oneself as a sole survivor, perhaps.

On the other hand, I’m equally confident that capitalism is disappearing … slowly, but surely. Some indefinite (pale) specter has haunted it for the past 50 years or so—and increasingly, as an economic system, it has relied heavily on outpourings of government aid (“corporate welfare”), as phony as trickle-down economics and a Hollywood happy ending—inevitably (in actual slasher films) the survival of the plucky virgin with a strong work ethic.

Anxiety over this possibility can be seen on the political right in the panic over Obama’s supposed “socialism” and on the left in the dismay over the degeneration of social welfare, whose wagon has been hitched (in America and other Western democracies) on investment and insurance—private medicine, educational and charitable grants and funding, commercial mass media, the primacy of sellable technology over “pure” science, war profiteering, and marriage (weddings alone are an $86 billion industry, not even including the costs of honeymoons or new household items).

I seem to recall that castration was one of the torments my dream-slasher inflicted on his victims before he tore them utterly apart. Though seldom addressed forthrightly, much American political propaganda hinges on fears of emasculation—no doubt one reason (though probably not the only one) for irrational Hillary-hate. Perhaps it’s no accident, then, that the last great pharmaceutical “breakthroughs” have pertained not to polio, not typhoid, not cancer, not AIDS, but erectile dysfunction. (And, yes, I’m aware that the dream may have a more personal—“Freudian”—interpretation—fear of loss of my own virility as old age creeps on—an undeniable fact of my present stage of life—though, as I stated, my first associations, post dream, were socioeconomic, not psychosexual.)

So who’s to say that several decades now of doomed camp counselors, cheerleaders, vacationers, honeymooners, new homeowners, and even embezzlers (Psycho) have pertained (in highly abstruse codes—like dreams) to the post-WW2 changes in American capitalism—corresponding, perhaps, to the upsurge of distrust in corporations, also well documented in mainstream movies for the past 50 years?

Sunday Beefcake: Caleb Halstead

I Believe

Some of the things I believe I know better than to believe. I know, I’m a big self-contradiction. I am well past the point of believing something just because that was the way I was brought up. At my age I have brought up myself for decades. Still, in the long haul, there are beliefs that I am still attached to, and even though they fail the test of logic, clear observation, or the scientific method, they still seem right to me. I can’t help it … not yet.

I do not believe in God or gods anymore. I do not believe in an afterlife. I do not believe that capitalism is the sanest approach to assigning value to life’s necessities or luxuries, human life, and work. I do not despise these beliefs. I have simply found that I have no use for them. Besides, nothing in my heart misses them now that they are gone.

I believe that things are pretty much as they appear to be, not necessarily at first or second glance, but as they appear under careful observation, over time, with attention to often overlooked details.

I believe that things will work themselves out until they no longer work out, with little regard to planning or effort. Not to say that planning and effort are altogether useless, but let’s say rather that their powers to effect desired results have been overestimated. I tend to “consider the lilies, how they grow,” and believe that worrying never added an inch to anyone’s height or a day to anyone’s life. I believe that last week’s desired results all too often become this week’s heartaches … or pain in the ass.

I believe that many things are more important than being right. I would rather be dead wrong every day of my life than to live without joy, adventure, lust, freedom, or courage. These things have everything to do with each other and nothing to do with righteousness.

I believe that the great lesson of life is to learn to help and to receive help with a modicum of grace, humility, and good humor. I believe in generosity. I believe in exuberance. I believe when we give we should give prodigiously—not letting the left hand know what the right hand is doing. I do not believe in calculated charity, and I do not believe that charity is just good business. I believe we should not keep tabs on such things at all—we should forgive those who owe us, as we would hope to be forgiven by those we owe. (As I have said elsewhere, the Sermon on the Mount is, on the whole, the one vestige of Christianity I still cling to, especially since Christianity today has so little use for it.)

I believe in friendship. I believe in beauty. I believe in the senses. I believe in the ways that animals and artists keep a constant eye out on the world … while the gods apparently sleep. I believe in basic human decency, too.

What you believe has little to do with what you can know or prove. A belief is something you need to get along. Not everything that you can believe ought to be believed, of course. I’m all for abandoning washed-up beliefs. I believe there is a time to throw out every belief that no longer props you up.

Ted, 1932-2009

This morning a colleague asked me, jokingly, whether I thought Ted Kennedy was in Purgatory now, negotiating his way into Heaven.

“Probably,” I replied. “And no doubt he’s moving across the aisle to gain some bipartisan support in Hell.”

Kennedy was the last of the great old liberals from the sixties—men of influence who combined New England staunchness and moral authority with a rascal’s love of booze and pussy. Clinton adopted some of the style, but braked on the content. Obama has dry-cleaned and polished the style and taken it to a whole new level—and, in the process, achieved politically what Kennedy never even got close to (the Presidency, namely), but it remains to be seen whether Obama can or has the will to make comparable strides on the content of Kennedy’s classic American liberal ideals.

Kennedy was an eloquent and reliable ally in the fight for civil rights for all—blacks, women, disabled, gays, immigrants—whose great mission, universal health care, is once again on the table up in Washington—and once again being hammered by special interests with bottomless pockets, and by fearmongers and their all-too-willing herd who seem to need fear and histrionics the way junkies need smack.

He was the center of cruel personal speculations—many of them justified—and he became a reliable punchline on late-night TV. His political savvy could look downright oily from a distance—but colleagues spoke of his humility and character even while he was still alive—and that’s something, at least. He certainly was able to “nudge” along improvements in the American healthcare system, such as funding for AIDS research and care, even while failing to make the sweeping reforms that he promised … and that are needed still.

He could work with Republicans and conservative Democrats without losing his liberal credentials—or, depending on your point of view, the stench of socialism. Many a Republican won elections by relying, at least in part, on the herd’s intense conniptions at the mere mention of Ted Kennedy’s name. And he was the Kennedy even fellow liberals felt safe in publicly disrespecting.

Rest in peace, old man. We may never see you or your brothers’ likes again. Still we can find a little comfort in the hopes stirred by your chosen successor, President Obama, and in the fortitude and quick wit of your fellow Massachusetts statesman, Barney Frank—quite obviously, the heirs apparent now to the right wing’s ineluctable and bottomless hatred, if perhaps not to your fortitude and political longevity.

Sunday Beefcake

These Books Made Me an Atheist!

The Holy Bible—read attentively, this one will do the trick all by itself …

The Devils of Loudon (Aldous Huxley)—on religious hysteria, which, by all the symptoms, I suffered from to age 20

Satan in Goray (Isaac Bashevis Singer)—puts a nice big question mark next to the concept of messianism and end-times prophesies

The Gnostic Gospels (Elaine Pagels)—offers much valuable and impartial information on the early years of the Christian religions (before orthodoxy)

The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)—despite being a work of immense if idiosyncratic faith, “The Grand Inquisitor” segment offers the finest critique of faith (and its manipulators) I have ever read

On the Nature of Things (Lucretius)—a long poem, older than the New Testament, about atomism and the Epicurean world view, exploring the nature of passions and desires (including religious ones)

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Lewis Carroll)—a primer on nonsense, and it’s always a very good idea to recognize nonsense for what it is

The End of Faith (Sam Harris)—the best thing I’ve read lately that directly tackles the ideas of theism (especially monotheism) … especially effective because Harris is a concise and cheerful arguer ... if I had not already lost my religion, this book would have helped me do it

Eros and Civilization (Herbert Marcuse)—love and life are the answer! only not when they are mere masks for repression, fear, and viciousness

Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners (John Bunyan)—a sincere testament of faith and atonement that, in spite of itself, naively expresses, in convincing detail, the sickness and madness that underlie them both

How Fascist Are You?

Today “fascism” is a catchall form of political insult. The word has lost nearly all its meaning since World War Two—simply a term the political left flings at the political right, and, more recently, vice versa.

However, the word once meant and, for many, still does mean something specific—a nationalistic confidence in the rightness of purity and power, a disdain for the impure and weak, and a raging sense that the way things are now is a personal affront—and, more broadly, an affront to one’s whole identity group, whatever it is—often “true” or “real” Americans (or whatever nationality we’re talking about)

Still, the term has acquired enough ambiguity that the label is now iffy at best. But I’m reasonably certain that an answer of “yes” to ALL the following questions pretty much means you really are a fascist. Sorry.

What a high percentage of “yes” responses means, I’m not as certain—but the more yeses, I suspect, the more likely you are inching your way towards a fascist mindset.

***
1. Are continuous growth and expansion key aspects of your concept of success?
2. Are unity and team loyalty more important than self-criticism and open debate?
3. Are you inspired by slogans that reiterate and reinforce your worldview?
4. Can violence and revenge serve the interests of true justice?
5. Does the most effective political course lie somewhere outside the traditional political divisions of “left” and “right”?
6. Does war strengthen a society?
7. Has the idea of freedom and liberty for all been carried too far?
8. Has whatever identity group you belong to suffered irreparable insult and injury?
9. Have communities and the idea of “community” become hopelessly corrupted by foreign and otherwise unsavory influences?
10. Is passionate nationalism better than international cooperation?
11. Is it better to have one strong leader than a strong representative body of legislators?
12. Is it inappropriate to criticize those who have authority over you?
13. Is it more important to take quick, decisive action than to conduct thorough research and follow jointly agreed-upon procedures?
14. Should strong and moral nations overpower weak or flawed nations for their own good?
15. Is pacifism a threat to the strength of a nation and its people?
16. Is patriotism a spiritual quality?
17. Is purity more important than diversity?
18. Is the truest form of national identity based on common ancestry and traditions?
19. Should citizens arm themselves in preparation to fight the encroachment of foreign and otherwise unsavory influences?
20. Should leaders be more charismatic and inspirational than rational and pragmatic?