Does Personal Morality Make a Difference? 11/25/2018

I have taken a number of days off to celebrate our American holiday of Thanksgiving (there has been very little to be thankful for this past year, so everything must remain personal), which is more about spending time with my family, and sulking over the fact that I am still currently suspended from Twitter, my chief marketing venue for this site.  I will be reinstated Tuesday evening and on Wednesday I will vent my rage.


But this site by itself means something to me, and it often works as a method of self-therapy.  I am a rather angry person, usually, with a cutting sense of humor and an often unrestrained instinct for viciousness and cruelty.  I have never much cared what people think of me, and this sort of self-confidence (call it arrogance) has caused me to have many temporary very close friends, and a whole lot more people who do not like me at all.


It is a strange thing to be so isolated from the world, and yet to have this shrieking ambition to tell as many people as possible about it.  Oh, sure, I usually have at least enough awareness (and maybe a little talent) to pick on controversial issues, and to brand the thing with a provocative title that I am able to convince more people to read than might otherwise be interested.  But sometimes we sit alone by ourselves and wonder, considering all your mistakes, thinking about how many people you have hurt, and when you are confronted with these dilemmas you come to the realization of just what sort of person you truly are.


Here’s what I’ve discovered in this brief reverie–and there really isn’t any reason that anyone other than myself and my immediate family should care; this will be barely read without my twitter feed and so I can do this scourging autobiographic bullshit just to clear my head:


I am somehow a moralist.  I have very strong beliefs on right and wrong, yet avoid such mystic terms such as ‘good’ or ‘evil.’  Of course it is easy to declare some things one or the other, and sometimes this is difficult to dispute.  But I have a small germ of hope in the back of my brain, clouded by apocalyptic fantasies.  I am profoundly non-religious, so much so that you might declare my non-belief a religion in its own right.  But I also have a fascination in religious history (among other types of history), which, taken as a single long narrative, can easily define the rises and falls of every dominant civilization.


I live in the present, reflecting what has happened, and predicting how will likely go in the future.  That germ of hope permeates everything negative that I write (and virtually everything is an attack on something or other).  It is a desperate cry not so much for change, but for an awareness of our many hypocrisies.  I do not want people to reform and become born again to make the world a better place (if so, what would I have to write about?)  All I seek is an awareness of the different perspectives, an acknowledgment that absolute truth does not exist in the editorial world.  We have come to mistake our opinions, and those of the people we agree with, as indisputable facts.  But philosophy is another false god, simply ideologies that sometimes get such a cult following that they conquer islands and nations and all of the people.  We are so frightened of the world (and, frankly, with pretty good reason).  As a result we bury ourselves inside the offers of any strong man or woman who declares a solution to terror, and a world without fear.


That’s all I want to add for this one.  I look forward to Wednesday, where I will go after some very dangerous things, and then Thursday, where I will offer a tribute and heavy promotion (once more) to a very good friend.

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