Category: Social Media

The End of the Argument

When I was a kid, there seemed to be an inordinate number of ancient people kicking around who always insisted on telling me what it was like in the old days.  They were a constant pain in the ass because they never got around to any of the good stories and wouldn’t change the subject.  They’d ramble on for two eternities while I sat making noises in the right places and dreaming about Emma Peel and Samantha Stevens – inappropriately.  To be honest, I still don’t care how deep the snow was in 19-ought-nothin’ or how far it was to school.  Call me shallow!  But, life goes on, and now that the orthopedic shoe is on the other foot, so to speak, occasionally, I find myself also droning on about the Good Old Days, as if they mattered.  I suppose it’s the circle of life, Grasshopper, but sometimes I wish I would just learn to shut up.  But not on this day.

Believe it or not, one of the things people used to do in the good old days was argue.  It’s true; I’m not making this up.  Young people would gather in groups and verbally fight with each other over all kinds of things – politics, religion, fashion, books – it didn’t matter.  They’d get drunk on coffee and cigarettes or wine and weed and attack each other in spoken gunfights that lasted whole evenings.

The object of these oral engagements was to change the other person’s mind while simultaneously defending your own point of view.  This took skill, knowledge and a certain logical train of thought.  Arguments had to be framed on the fly and adapted to the chaos of the conversation.  They had to be concise and witty and able to withstand strong scrutiny.  Lame arguments were destroyed outright, while more substantial ones were modified to incorporate new ideas, as they ran the gauntlet of these wars of words.  You realized very quickly that you were responsible for what you said, and you’d better know what you’re talking about before you open your mouth.   However, it was a great way to battle-test your theories of life and discover the multitude of other concepts available.  As a student, I myself argued on many occasions, as did many of my friends.  We considered it part of our education.   We may have been taught economics in Dr. Bolton’s (not his real name) class, but we learned it fighting it out in a local tavern, appropriately called The Pit.  I still remember those days fondly.

This Golden Age came to a complete halt somewhere around the time of the first Star Wars movie (There’s no connection, by the way.)  I’m almost certain that what happened was some utter coward, faced with a verbal ass kickin’, reached back into Philosophy 101 and said, “Can’t we all just agree to disagree?”  (I hope they bludgeoned him to death on the spot.)  It might sound clever and profound, but what the hell does it even mean?  We have two conflicting points of view that are equally acceptable?  No, it doesn’t mean that; that’s impossible.  It means either “I’ve said a bunch of stupid stuff that’s indefensible, and I want a way out,” or “I’m such a total ignoramus that, despite overwhelming evidence, I’m not going to change my mind.”  That’s it!  “Let’s agree to disagree” is one of those witty phrases that’s supposed to convey an air of sophistication.  In actual fact, however, it’s just a sneaky way to get out of an argument — without looking like a complete fool.   With the introduction of “Let’s agree to disagree,” losers all over the world could mouth off in the most outrageous manner possible and then get off the hook by simply suggesting that we all agree to disagree.

Unfortunately, there are more of them than there are of us, and the idea spread like chicken pox.  This was the end of the argument – literally.  From there it was an easy slide to “Let’s agree not to disagree,” because when all points of view are equal, it doesn’t make any sense to fight about them.  Now, arguments no longer have a place in our society.  We don’t actually discourage disagreement so much as encourage silence.  We have abandoned logical trains of thought for the chimera of the consensus.  We need to all agree (even when we don’t) because it’s socially unacceptable to argue.  It’s better to shut up and get on with it.  This is why we have such enormous gaps between different groups in our society.  We think there must be something wrong with people who are outside our particular consensus.  It’s the only explanation we can come up with for disagreement.  And rather than framing a logical argument to change people’s point of view, we call them names.

Back in the old days, we did not go softly and we did not tread lightly.  Feelings were hurt and tears were shed, but in the end, we were better off because we selected our ideas after exhaustive arguments — verbal give-and-take – where concepts would stand or fall on their merit.  We did not tiptoe around difficult questions because we were afraid of being called bad names.  We gathered together and fought it out because all of us are smarter than each of us.  Today, the Age of Reason is over, and Aristotle’s system of Deductive Reasoning has been casually tossed aside in favour of some horrid Mutual Admiration Dystopia.

Wow!  And I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like those cranky old buggers I used to have to listen to when I was a kid.  Plus ca change…..

The Art of the Insult

One of the problems with being politically or socially active these days is all the name calling.  You can’t say five words in a reasonable discussion anymore without somebody calling somebody else a dirt bag or worse.  I’m as guilty as everybody else.  In my defence, I don’t go in for some of the juicy items, but I’m absolutely addicted to “dumb-ass.”   The result is, of course, people just get angry and reply in kind.  Gone are the days when rational debate carried an intelligent component that elevated the subject; instead, we have the current climate of trash talk that diminishes it.  Personally, I’m not going to speculate about how we got here, but if it walks like a fox, talks like a fox and looks like a fox, chances are good it’s FOX.  However, as we continue to holler, kick and spit our way through the 21st century, sometimes there is a brief, shining moment when civility returns to the art of the insult.

Let me start this discussion by saying I’m not Obama bashing.  I kinda like the guy.  I don’t agree with his politics (because I think he’s a dumb-ass) but for the most part, I think he’s doing the best he can, given the circumstances.  Okay, now that’s out of the way, it’s the president’s prerogative to make foreign policy.  He sets the tone of the administration.  Historically, there’s been the Monroe Doctrine, the Truman Doctrine, the Nixon Agenda and many others.  When Obama was elected president, he wanted to cut a clear path away from the Bush administration.  He wanted to get rid of the “them or us” world philosophy, wipe the slate clean and open the discussion – to everybody — equally.

Unfortunately, that meant distancing himself from the old Blair-Bush Project which had been set up after 9/11 to coordinate the War on Terror.  This wasn’t a big stretch for Obama, because, like most American, he thinks Britain is a bit of a has-been power, sitting at the head table because of its glorious history.  Besides, Obama isn’t a huge fan of Britain anyway or its colonial past (with good reason.)  However, in his zeal to symbolically demonstrate that nobody was getting special treatment on Pennsylvania Avenue anymore, he has damaged — if not destroyed — the “special relationship” America has had with Britain for about 100 years now.

Barack Obama learned his trade in Chicago, where subtle hasn’t been in vogue since before Al Capone was running the city from the Lexington Hotel.  Remember, this is the town where taxi drivers once showed their displeasure with Mayor Jane Byrne by plastering their cabs with bumper stickers that read “Jane, you ignorant slut!”  Politics is practiced with a heavy hand in Illinois, and Obama learned it that way.  He’s the master of the sweeping gesture, the grand vision, but he hasn’t really caught on to nuance yet.  But in international circles nuance is all there is.

I’m not going to get into the sordid details of Obama’s mishandling of British sensibilities because it all just sounds bitchy.  Besides, if you want to you can read all about it in any Fleet Street tabloid.  However, a few choice items do stand out.  To begin with, Obama hadn’t even reset the burglar alarm at the White House when he told the British to come and get the bust of Winston Churchill they’d given George Bush after 9/11.  This is no big deal, by the way: every president redecorates his office.  The problem is the guy did it publicly.  He could have just as easily put it in the basement and forgotten about it, but he didn’t.  In fact, he made a show of making the Brits take it back.  Then, of course, there’s the notorious exchange of gifts during Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s state visit to Washington.  One of the gifts Brown gave Obama — on behalf of the British people — was a pen holder, made from the timbers of the anti-slave ship HMS Gannett.  There’s huge symbolic significance to this.  In response Obama gave Prime Minister Brown a 25 DVD boxed set of classic American movies.  (No, I’m not kidding!)  The head of state of the most powerful nation in the history of the world cruised over to Walmart and went $49.95 to get something special for America’s oldest ally.  And I don’t care how many times the apologists deny it: I am absolutely certain the most of folks at Team Obama knew damn well American DVDs don’t work in Britain.

Diplomatically, the Obama White House has made a fetish out of pulling the British lion’s tail.  In Argentina, Hillary Clinton assured the government there that America would support a negotiated settlement to the question of who owns the Falkland Islands, a piece of real estate that Britain fought a war over.  Then, during the oil spill disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, the White House repeatedly talked about putting a “boot to the throat” of “British Petroleum.”  (Incidentally, the company changed its name to BP over a decade ago) This was an environmental catastrophe, but these are pretty harsh words for a country addicted to fossil fuel.  Obama’s people didn’t even use that kind of language when I’m a Dinner Jacket – oops — Ahmadinejad threatened to get some atomic bombs and kill all the Jews.  And the hits just keep on coming, and the Brits have to take it ‘cause they’re the junior partner. 

So here we are in February, 2011, and in a couple of months, the man who will be King is getting married.  Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s grandson William is going to walk down the aisle with Kate Middleton in front of 1900 people and a worldwide audience of about a billion.  Now take a wild guess who’s not going to be there?  Mr. and Mrs. Obama.   Barack and Michelle will have to wander on over to the Elephant and Castle Genuine British Pub in Georgetown and watch it on the big screen.  To all those people who say this isn’t a snub?  Crap!  Here’s the deal: that little lady at Windsor Castle represents the British people, and it’s her government the Obama boys have been pushing around.  BP is a British company that employs thousands of her subjects.  Her son fought in the Falkland Islands, and her grandson was in Afghanistan.  She and her people are just as proud of their country and their heritage as anybody else.

Royal displeasure doesn’t come with the whack of an axe anymore, but it’s still there, and it is real.  There’s only one reason Michelle Obama is not representing the United States of America at this royal wedding.  (After all, First Lady Nancy Reagan did it – twice!)  The Queen doesn’t want her there.  You and I and everybody else on the planet knows it.  I don’t care what kind of excuses everybody’s making.  Remember: Queen Elizabeth II was doing star power before Barack and Michelle were even born.  She understands what international celebrity means. 

We live in a world that’s gone loud with people shouting abuse at each other.   Opinion is considered carte blanche to be rude.  Fortunately, however, there are still people around who have the good manners to deliver a deliberate insult without ever uttering a word.

Fat Kids and the Lost World

About a month ago, StatsCan released a study that stated categorically only 20% of Canadians were getting enough exercise.  I don’t know how they came up with this figure since I didn’t see anybody peeking in my window or counting the Doritos bags in my garbage, but I’m going to assume it’s true.  It sounds about right.  In the same vein, a couple of days ago, the Society for Exercise Physiology (whoever they are) came out with a study which shows Canadian kids spend about 60% of their time lying around.  Once again, I have no idea how they came up with this figure.  I assume they either asked the kids or watched them, but I suppose it, too, is true.   After all, we’ve been picking on the fat kids since before the time of Moses.  Either way, I doubt if more than 18 people have actually seen these studies, but I’m sure every media outlet between here and Halifax has got the gist of them from the press releases.  At this point, then, it’s only a matter of time before the Society for the Prevention of Ignoring the Obvious issues a statement that says we have got to do something – literally.  The problem is what are we going to do?

The prevailing wisdom is that 20, 30, (100?) years ago, we never had this problem.  Canadian children weren’t tubby because they actually bestirred themselves, once in a while.  Back in the day, kids played games that featured kicking and throwing and running and such.  They walked to school and to other places.  The 4 channel universe was controlled by a dial and a parent.   Hamburgers and soda pop were confined to backyard barbeques, and hanging out with friends involved a lot more than just twitching your thumb. These are all considered good things.  In fact, just about every expert on the subject of childhood chubby agrees that if Canadians just kicked their kids off the sofa, it would be a simple solution to our problem.  Unfortunately, this would involve time travel, and ScienceCanada hasn’t perfected that yet.

Invariably, when we adults do glance over our bulging bellies and take a look at our fat kids, we start reciting from the Book of Nostalgia.  “Why, when I was a child….”  Yeah, yeah, when we were children we didn’t spend all our time, sitting around playing video games.  But here’s a newsflash: Space Invaders was lame.  If you remember, however, we still played it.  Have you seen the video games kids are playing now?  Wow!  It’s the same with Facebook.  When we were kids, we went to the playground (in my case, it was actually a vacant lot.)  We didn’t go there to run around; we went there because that’s where the other kids were.  Games started because we were bored.  (You can only torture insects for so long.)  Today, kids go to Facebook because that’s where the other kids are, and the friendships, jokes, gossip and games are built in.  Like it or don’t, that’s where they play — just like we did.  And there is a 1,000 channel universe out there.  It exists; there’s no sense moaning about it.  Besides, ask anybody over 30 who He-Man was, (or the Care Bears or Danger Mouse) and you’ll get an answer.  People watch TV.  They always have.  Get used to it.  It’s easy for us to casually tell our kids to just unplug their entire world and go out and have some fun, but just exactly where are they supposed to do that, and why?  That place doesn’t exist anymore.  It hasn’t since before they were born.

Yes, we’re getting lardy.  It’s a fact, and our kids don’t stand a chance because our only solution — “turn-back-the-clock” — is stupid.  When we were kids, the world was different.  We can’t expect our children to return to those thrilling days of yesteryear and play Run, Sheep, Run! and Frozen Tag.  First of all, Tag is illegal in half the schoolyards in Canada.  Secondly, they aren’t allowed to go outside by themselves, anyway.  This, of course, is the other problem: our watchdog society demands 24/7 adult supervision – with good reason.  In reality, this means that when our kids actually do want to go outside and play, they have to drag mom or dad with them.  If you recall, one of the reasons we went to the playground in the first place was to get away from the parents and their weirdo rules.  No wonder kids hide themselves behind usernames and passwords, these days;  it’s the only place they can be by themselves.  That’s got to be a major attraction.

We are a sedentary society, and it’s not good for us.  However, if we don’t start looking beyond the Good Old Days as a solution we’re doomed.  We either have to get creative, or just suck in our gut and buy a bigger size.  There is no third choice.