Sunday, September 11, 2011

On Censorship – Literary and Political

There are a number of things making me scratch my ears lately.  We’ll talk about fleas later.  But not Chili Peppers.  They make my tongue hurt.  Some of these things may not seem obviously related, but there’s not too much room in my little dog mind, I can’t seem to pry them apart.

The first is the trustee of Mark Twain’s estate trying to improve the readership of some of the best-loved American literature of all time by improving its relevancy for today’s children by removing some inconvenient words.  To be sure, coming from a long, storied Southern hunting breed, like I do, there are lots of words and phrasings used in the 1880’s that we wouldn’t use today, but that’s true of the 1980’s as well.  Let’s censor the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, and every Judge Reinhold movie, in retrospect, before Twain.  (more to say on this later unless I fall asleep)

The second is that all of the hateful, violent speech towards abstract tea party ideas recently reminded me of the admonition (from the same people!!) that vile acts in Arizona should lead us to “tone down the rhetoric.”  Most of the talking heads at the time said one of two things.  First, “of course, incendiary rhetoric could lead someone to the edge, just look at Bill Ayers, sorry, I mean that nut from Arizona.  Something must be done.”  The second are those retreating, saying “Hey, nobody I’d associate with would say anything irresponsible” with the subtext of “sure, speech can go be beyond the pale, but nobody respectable would say them.”

Both are feline (sorry for cursing) ways of saying “No, YOU shut up.”

The people saying the first thing should quote specific rhetoric, and refute it explicitly and logically, not by an emotional appeal or some ridiculous call for “civility.”  This, primarily, from the same crew who would allow the SEIU to ensure “civility” at a polling place.  No thanks, in either regard.  I’ll take my chances weeding through all the arguments looking for actual truth.  The people saying the second thing should say, “Yeah, but EVEN IF they were inciting or doing something else that makes me feel queasy personally, I hope you’re not seriously suggesting that we limit their rights to expression, which for political purposes, especially, should be pretty close to absolute, are you??”

Both are cowards, so you'll never hear either.

Democracy is messy.  Ideas are messy.  Truth is simple and universal in math (not even there, but close enough for anyone silly enough to be reading my rants...).  Everywhere else, its complex, local and context sensitive, which is why federalism was genius.  It’s messier than my yard.  Aristocracy (internally, and on the surface) and autocracy (externally) appear genteel.  Again, no thanks.

I love nothing more than a loud, ignorant supporter of someone I disagree with.  I’m best served, usually, by handing them a megaphone, or ½ hour on MSNBC.

Freedom of speech is explicitly for controversial or ideologically out of the mainstream thoughts.  It’s only response is a better counter-argument.  If a better counter-argument (like “cats are delicious with a demi-glace” or “lower tax rates factually increase revenues, we have a spending problem”) don’t convince your opponents, they’re not looking for the truth.  Take what enlightenment you can from them (even ignorant people have experience, learn from every available source), but don’t waste your breath trying to convert them.

Oceania is at war with Eurasia.  Always has been.  Control of language and speech = control of thought.  It’s probably too late for you, but teach that truth to your kids.

Yeah, I may be a dog, but I do read.  You should start with The Federalist Papers, or A Theory of Justice.  Or both.  Plus, what else I got to do all day.  The books are just sitting there – no humans to play with most of the time – it keeps me busy...

Arf.

I mean, Bark.  There.  Arf could be construed as shorthand for “Accost Remaining Felines”, or something else sinister.  Regardless of whether I actually mean that (I do, actually, want cats dead), but not typically  when saying “Arf”.  I’m a dog.  It’s about all I can actually say.

Intent is all a speaker has.  All words have meaning.  Precise usage is the only way to get an idea from my mind to yours.  If listeners are allowed to be offended outside of the intent and context of the user, no-one will be free to say anything, or more accurately, they’ll be too scared of saying anything meaningful - which is the real intent of political correctness.  

Arf.

There, I said it.  Bite me.  (if you're human, sue me...  see how context informs intent...)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

"Goop Melange" for the last 90 days or so

(It's an Odd Couple quote - look it up)  The first thing they did was set the network up, but they put the keyboard up high on the bar where I couldn't reach it...  Everything's more back to normal, but I have a lot to catch you up on - here we go...

The move down

So, the bigger guy comes back for a few days, and the next Monday - early - I get shuffled into the back of the big truck and off we go.  Now, generally, I don't mind riding in the car, usually it means we're seeing some of their friends, or, even better, I'm going to the kennel to see some of MY friends :)  But this was a looong ride…

They mashed something into a treat, and it got a little better – I slept a little, and when I woke up I was in Tennessee (yes, Tennessee!!) McDonalds, walking around trying to clear my head (and other things, too).  Then back into the car, another treat, and off to dreamland again…

The quick change

So, it’s the middle of the night, and we finally get to this teeny little apartment.  I settle in for a night’s sleep when everyone starts grabbing and moving things back into the car…apparently we have to get out of this apartment and into some other house TODAY – wait, I just got here, there’s plenty of corners to still check out.  I didn’t even get time to secure the perimeter…and off we go…

The new place isn’t so bad – I like things pretty empty, but the boys don’t seem to have anything to do…  The only things in the house are a couple of computers (the network seems to be up and running), an Xbox, and a guitar.  Everything else is gone…

I’m eating food out of a plastic Ziplock dish.  Not good.  The girl usually takes care of me (and them, too).  I’m actually pretty worried that without her we’ll all be dead in a week…

The barbecue is pretty tasty, however, and dad always overfeeds me – the jury’s still out…

Oh, yeah, forgot the two most important things.  It’s hot.  No.  Hotter than that.  Really !@&*#^*@!^$% hot.  Also, there’s a pool in the backyard.  It’s deep and scary, and I don’t remember ever learning how to swim.

So there you have it.  I can’t go outside because I’ll either broil to death or drown, and I can’t stay inside because I’ll have an “accident” (quotes because it’s not really all that unpredictable…I’m a dog and I know it’s going to happen…

The new place

For a few days, it was like we were camping – beans out of a can, walking around the yard, sleeping wherever you drop – it was pretty nice, actually.  Then, out of nowhere the other day, the girl shows up, and a few days later a huge truck shows up with 42,000 giant cardboard boxes.

I don’t like cardboard boxes.

It’s a rescue thing, you wouldn’t understand.  Suffice to say, there’s a euphemism among the twilight bark set called “going out to the farm.”  It usually starts off well, with Fluffy, the happy, barky pet.  Maybe she barks a little too much, but the family gets the great idea that she’ll be happier “on the farm”   Next thing you know, she’s scooped into a cardboard box and packed into the car (sound familiar???).

Noone ever sees Fluffy again.

I don’t know if there’s a farm or not, but I’m happy with my family, no matter what the heck is going on lately.  I am very wary about these boxes, though…

Settling in

Boy was I happy that they started opening boxes, and ALL OUR STUFF WAS IN THERE!!!!  My toys and everything.  Man did I breathe a sigh of relief.

I’m still not going anywhere near the pool, but the kids found some amazing trails near the house that I can lead them through.

It’s still hot, but little by little, this is starting to feel more like home.

Kids in school

The last week or two (or ten?? – time is a little abstract for me), the kids have been back in school – the older one has football practice, in the morning so the heat doesn’t kill them all -  suboptimal – and the younger one is settling in as well, but you know what that means:

Me and the girl staring at each other for 8 hours a day.

In Chicago, she had 14 million friends, so she was hardly ever in the house, so I was free to do my rounds or whatever without interference.  Not here…  “Hey, Chauncey, you wanna go outside?” or my favorite: “Who’s a good boy, yes?”  I don’t know what it means, either…  Anyway – I can’t wait for her to get some friends, already, so I can get into some kind of routine.  Oh, no…what if she never gets any friends, and it’s just her and me ALL DAY, EVERY DAY!!!   Owwwwooooooooooo…..

Wildfires

My nose picked something up last weekend, and I heard from them talking that there have been some pretty bad fires around here lately.  I think that may be why we left Chicago – I heard something about a cow burning down the whole place, but I didn’t see anything like that when we left.  Stupid cows, even more than stupid humans…

I hope everyone near the fire is OK, our prayers go out to them - don’t forget that as long as we have our family with us and safe, it doesn’t really matter that much where home is after all…


Arf.