Modern Skepticism, Attempt At Reconciliation

Skepticism. No word has gained a worse reputation in a short amount of time. The expression started a long time ago, with good prospects, high hopes. Greece, I think. Yet there it is now, sinking like a stone...

What it truly means to feel skeptical as "in doubt" of people or ideas I think every person alive knows. It is an intrinsic part of being human to have the feeling, that something is wrong, "off", a certain fact, an idea, maybe even a generally considered truth. Similar to a sense of foreboding - when you think something bad is about to happen - it can be quite overwhelming. 

That's why I'd like to define skepticism as a state of feeling, not being, because unlike the philosophical movement, it is not a product of thorough thought or opinion formation - no, feeling skeptical is typically what happens before that process starts, maybe even the foundation for it. Theoretically, you could remain in skepticism mode for a longer time period, but people usually don't. Same as with feelings of premonition, it is a state of mind that passes once the occasion, the trigger for it is gone.

A world pandemic is a substantial occasion for skepticism, because not only does the virus target our lives, the safety measures to contain it challenge our ways of living. And the truly agonizing part is, that we can't escape the situation, and the complete control it exerts on all of us.

Some say these feelings of lacking control are justified, others say, they are excessive, and a small price to pay for all our physical health. Whatever your position on it may be, the fact is, that at the moment, many people feel confined, trapped, and that feeling is real and needs to be taken seriously. 

Confinement usually starts when someone's personal freedom is in some way limited, controlled, watched over, even a public topic of discussion. "How to sneeze" is a new etiquette, same as not showing one's nose and mouth in confined spaces. "Not be too many" is a hard rule to follow, maybe the hardest. I think, this may be the one linked to skepticism the most.

I have a suspicion, that at its core, skepticism is a direct result of feeling confined. Societal normalcies like being close to each other, hugging or talking to someone while seeing their face are tumbling right now. People are afraid to stand too close, thus, we as a people, feel separated from our own tribe. But the tribe is our history, our existence, our everything. It has always been the solution, not the problem. It has been the most basic human need ever since we stepped out of the mud and decided to live on dry land. So, feeling skeptical, when our world is turned upside down, is a completely understandable reaction.

Too symbolic? Oh, well.

It may take crazy turns once we decide to "side" with Covidtruthers, ProCovidmeasurists or anyone, who, motivated by a feeling of skepticism, is loud and opinionated. These are not tribes we can rely on, but a mere "signaled" affiliation to some people we feel close to in our shared anxiety. And we feel the need to attach to someone, something, during this crisis. So what can we do?

I don't know. We need to try and get through it, somehow, and let the feeling run its course. Usually, what happens after skepticism is opinion formation. Let it be based on facts not fear. Don't let fear overrun your thoughts. This may sound simplistic, but you just tell your fears to shut up for a minute. "Shut up fears, while I check these facts." These fears will be much quieter, once you've collected your information.

Let me just say this: we belong to one tribe, all of us, even the loud obnoxious ones, who seem to be on the opposite side of what you feel is right. Don't let anyone or anything drive a wedge between you and someone else. We all share the same anxieties, we are all afraid. We all want to survive this, and there are no two sides to beating this virus. Let's just agree that separation is not the answer, neither to the virus, nor to the feelings we have concerning this matter.

And speaking of an enemy image: this virus is more than enough, so we really don't need any fights amongst ourselves. Let's just try and kick its ass instead. 

Are We Judgmental Bitches?

I read a post on Facebook a little while ago, about a young woman who had made the conscious decision not to have any children. I think she used the word never with some exclamation points. She wrote that afterwards she got a lot of headwind for openly refusing a life with children, and a backlash was sparked amongst mothers who allegedly have a big problem with that. She continued to appeal to the rules of a civilized and equal society, to let her do what she wants and just leave her be.

A reasonable request. I found myself wondering however to what extent the societal pressure she was talking about is an issue, if though a perceived reality it may be. Is it really other people, who make her feel badly about this decision, and by extension, is it even possible for other people to make us feel anything along the lines of doubt and insecurity?

First of all it seems to be pretty demure to not want something as a life choice. It's the opposite of needing stuff to exist. Some people think they need a Porsche to survive. In case of anything materialistic, usually people go for it or they don't, depending on the effort they are willing to put in. Either way in my experience, people generally don't really care about other people's harbored ambitions or even openly voiced desires.

We may take notice when you have something that we don't have, be jealous, or decide we want it too, but that's a different story. Most of the time, other people's aspirations don't even register - we're all much too concerned with what we want anyway.

Yes, sometimes mothers, parents, will appear judgmental, mostly in comparing their own parental style which they claim to find flawless, to other, allegedly inferior styles of parenting. This is what I think it's really about: being defensive about our own shit. Attacking not to be attacked.

I don't believe there's a single mother on planet Earth who thinks she's perfect. You may have days, moments, when you think, man, I'm great, I got this whole thing figured out, but the next minute you find your kid sitting in the corner, suckling on a beat-up cat toy and you think to yourself: damn, I'm raising a monkey. Stop licking the wall, Bingo.

Anyways, so what I think it comes down to is that parents are not in the business of judging anyone for refusing the whole child experience. We may think you're missing out on something big. Because we think it's pretty big. Parents don't know what they're missing out on by having children. Adventure, travel, the great escape? Just a wild guess. Childless people don't know what they're missing out on by not having them. There is no grounds for either of us to judge here.

Be that as it may, the declaration to adhere to a certain lifestyle, any lifestyle, for the rest of your life just isn't very reasonable. How often have you thought, OK, this is it, I'm settled, this is me. Life usually doesn't work on our terms. In case something completely surprising happens, and chances are that it will, our cores may be shaken, personalities will be disheveled and everything we thought we knew will be turned upside down.

So when it comes to life, there may be no other way than to stay flexible. It seems like a bad idea to close your mind to anything, even ideas that may seem bad or plain wrong at the time. They may appear more convenient a minute from now, or when things happen and you have to deal with the altered reality in front of you. Most of the time stuff happens despite our grand proclamations. And in a moment of crisis and change, we will find out we can deal with pretty much anything, and tackle things that are very different from our current agenda, our own prejudice, and yes, even those pesky children may add something to your life you never even imagined you'd love so much. Same goes for everything else of course. New doors open. It's out of our control when they do. And that's the terrifying and fantastic thing about life.

Activism Part IV

I now find it ridiculous, stupid, useless, even dangerous. Activism that is, --activism as in promote, impede, direct. As you may remember, I was quarreling with the whole concept of Activism through Parts ->I to ->III, trying to find the right angle to it, and dealing with people bustling around me. Now I don't anymore. This parental unit is proudly sitting on the couch, two cheeks fast asleep. Lazy. Still useful to some extent, but not in a world-changing manner, more in a "I'm watching you" kind of way. I'm eating while I write this. That's how useful I am. Sitting. Eating. Writing. Wow, that is some world-class multitasking, my friends!



Sometimes I think about what would happen if I weren't able to pay my bills - I imagine scenarios that result in me being in the gutter, and what I would do, that kind of thing. I consider that the everyday worries of human beings. DNA-wise, there's not much difference between a homeless person and Taylor Swift, besides varying degrees of busybodyness. I wouldn't call thinking about social decline as being stricken with sorrow, since those are concerns that move around aimlessly in (I'm guessing) everyone's head.

But now there's the extravagant stuff. Stuff, humans care about and put it in big letters on the magnet board next to the fridge, because those things presumably define them as a person, most of all a social media person of interest. Hah, and aren't those some wonderfully abstract things to worry about: climate change, pollution, sustainability, which by the way has quickly turned into my number one rage word. Things, world, possibly all that exists needs to endure. Because we want it to. Why does it always have to be so exotic?



I find that people are on a mission of self-denial. They're thinking big and I find that disturbing. Why can't you start small, damnit? It is quite arrogant to want to save a whole planet. What kind of a narcissistic ass starts with the big one? Don't you work your way up towards the big dreams anymore? Go clean up your room, do your taxes, whatever, and if you're still thinking big, why not try not to die of cancer next? That's pretty big, too. That should be a main concern on your way to saving everything. If the whole Lemmy-Bowie-Rickman incident has taught us anything, it is that our number one concern should be our immediate survival. Not on a large scale, but on a very small, singular scale. Don't die, you! Everyone's ass is on the line here, so please make yourself sustainable. The world may not need you, but you need you. What else is there to worry about?

Among Mad People

Humans are a mad species. Mad in the sense that they are crazy, like mad scientists, Mad Max and MAD magazine. Every one of those mads describes one aspect of being human. Insane, post-apocalyptically distraught and nuts. But in terms of "being angry" we are even madder than mad. We always did have the capacity to get really really furious at stuff. Broken TV - damn you!! - slow driving people holding up the lane - you idiot! Our "mad" is a blow out, a detonation, like a thunderstorm, quick and painless.

These days, everyone is able to witness everyone else's madity (don't be mad it's not a word) on social networks, and our angriness has become an everyday condition. The madder - the better. The madder - the more we care. Like mad magicians we're in the business of abstractly spreading unfocused anger bolts at the world. And if you're not sharing those sentiments and hop the anger train, you're accused of either being a placidly naive lamb, on their side or you just don't give a damn. So, it's easiest to follow the invitation to be outraged. There's something going on every day. Nestlé, Homophobia, Amnesty, Hunting, Religion, Health, TV shows, Summer. And that was just in one week.

The good thing: we're not bearing grudges it seems. Maybe we have evolved to be a more forgiving species. No more feuds? Giggles, no. More likely that with this large a variety of annoyances to pick from, we forget what we were mad about yesterday.

Why I care? The abundance of red flags everywhere made me lose the will to rant. And that makes me really really mad. But seriously, in all this time being spent angrily, the ability to be critical, to go look for information beyond the bias we seem to lack. We think we're more enlightened than we actually are. There is so much information. We just don't take the time to get it. All of it. Too busy being mad.

Go play with your kind, Kitty!

In life, most things we do are pretty much self-explanatory. We are born, we go to school, we work. Eventually we get married, have kids, and some time after that we die. Somewhat anticlimactic, I agree. Yes, but there are certain challenges to encounter and our bookstore's self-help section to deal with things that are slightly out of our reach. How to get that job (that we're not qualified for) or how to get a partner (we don't deserve). And those books contain more or less fishy techniques to justify our desire for social climbing. As primates, we always want the biggest piece of cake, and as humans we're convinced outwitting instinct must be the way to go. But all in all we'd probably be appalled if we knew how much of our decision-making in life is driven by pure instinct rather than calm consideration. I can hardly tell why I do certain things, and why I don't do certain others, but I get the distinct feeling the reason must be found somewhere on the opposite end of "free will". Is it "right" though to live like that? I don't know. It certainly feels right, but that doesn't have to mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

Well, I don't have any point of reference here, since I know no other way of existing than my very own. But I imagine, since we're all human those must be similar, with survival being the most elbowing instinct of them all. The fear for survival can take many different forms and sizes, mostly ugly ones. Actively killing our kin for food, luckily not so much a commonplace in the Western world anymore. But since we all own a lot of shit and feel like we've accomplished something, passively fearing for one's place in society is much more prevalent these days. Racism being the operative word to name that fear. Yet we always seem to be surprised by news of racism, riots, police brutality or the sad German trend to burn down refugee hostels. Well we shouldn't be. We shouldn't be surprised. It's the oldest fear there is. It may even predate spiders and heights. The fear of losing cultural identity, belongings or jobs is a natural part of existing within a community of diverse beings. Just because it's there doesn't mean we can't do anything to counteract that fear. We should and we do. The fear itself has to do with a lack of information (or wrong sources of information) rather than stupidity. Just so you know you're not immune, all you smartie pants! Information is a good way to work against that, most of all some form of political education, so we may understand the source and reality of such fears. How are those foreigners stealing our jobs again? Oh righto, they don't. Of course, the media are an untrustworthy companion in this endeavor, being deeply afraid for their own survival, they play into the hands of our fears like a horror movie plays into the pants of small children. But there's other ways of enlightenment.

We are afraid, and that's a fact. No point in complaining about it. And the country that came up with Nazis should know better than to ignore those tendencies or feel like we have means to control them. Fears can't be controlled by an intellectual elite. And what a horrifying concept that would be..
That being said, now what do we do about these fears?

For his first birthday, someone gave my son a book about a cat looking for playmates. The cat asks dogs, ducks, pigs to play with her, and they all refuse due to the cat's lack of dog-like, duck-like and pig-like qualities. So in the end the cat finds other cats to play with. D'oh! The moral of this story? Happiness found with your own kind? I'd say the moral is being aware that the concept of racism is omnipresent, validated like that, through allegedly harmless story patterns.

"Go play with your kind."

There's Spiders on the Interwebs

I had a blog on the interwebs at the foot of the Ngong Hills...well, duh. I still have a blog, though deserted at daytime, I'm always close by at night, never far from putting down thoughts in writing. And I seriously realize I need to do some spring blog cleaning before spring turns into summer, and summer makes me want to do everything but clean, even on and between those dusty interwebs.

So, how have you been doing lately - she asks - casually. Are you OK? Have you been shaken by the various crises of this earth or did you just stop caring? I mean, seriously. Horrific news, every day. We are being sold, our private lives being spied upon, our data being inflationary goods for intelligence worker drones and the nations that employ them. They doodle on our love letters, and draw funny faces on our porn collection. The guy with the mustache got an even bigger mustache. Funny stuff. They rated our naked holiday pictures from 1 to 10. If there has ever been a moment to uprise, that moment is here, staring us in the face. Unfortunately, we let it pass. We just shake our heads in disagreement if we're not too busy having insignificant thoughts about nothing. We're all fresh out of disappointmental energy. And anger is that much harder to come by. We feel as though we're the smallest link in the celestial alignment of our existence. We're just too damn unimportant. I have to ask this of me, of everyone: are we? Are we the insignificant ant in this equation? Let's see: human - check. All limbs and brains intact - check. Human Rights being beaten with a stick - ding ding ding, jackpot! Hey there, you with the sad eyes, we do have some power. Confidence, please. We have all the power. It's not us and them. It's only us, and we control what we do. This idea of big nobs separate from us, it is an illusion.

You could hold the view that we had it coming. We got lazy, we let things run into the ground. But I'd like to think there is a slight ticking noise going on in the background, and it gets a little louder every day. At some point, there'll be an explosion. It's what happens when people are undermined, cornered. People and wolves. It's what needs to happen, so we can be free for a while. Until the next election, take-over takes place, coup, whatever you want to call it. Because wolves will remain wolves, and the balance between freedom and security will always be fragile and fleeting. And nature will catch up with itself eventually.

Sexism Rant *Explicitly Offensive Content*

(I have been wandering around this post for days. I almost didn't publish it. I almost called for male protection aka asking hubby to publish it on his blog. And my chicken-ness infinitely disgusted me, so I had to do it. I think it speaks volumes about how dicey this actually is. Here are my two cents - I may be wrong.)

I'm sure every woman has experienced being hit on in certain situations at least once in her life. What the people who do this usually want is quite obvious. OK, I'll just say men, because they mostly are the ones to do it, fully aware that it's utterly sexist to call the bull by its name. But since women initiating flirtation with men doesn't seem to be that big an issue I feel like I'm allowed to say it. Anyways, every woman instinctively knows how to react; what to do if someone shows interest in them. If the feeling's not mutual, she usually doesn't respond or she responds negatively by saying "No, thank you" to the guy. 99,9 % of all men accept that and don't automatically cross over to raping mode. I bet most of them didn't bank on shouting "hubba-hubba" as the woman walks by would get them anywhere closer to their pants.

There's degrees of subtlety when it comes to flirtation, some approaches are more socially accepted than others. Some men say stuff like "I think I know you from somewhere" and offer to buy drinks. Usually not a problem, because it involves a polite line and freebies. Others don't beat around the bush and tell women more directly what they want. And there are those minimalists who simply grab a butt in passing. These are basically all varying degrees of the same thing, except at least one of them qualifies as harassment. Sexual advances against one's will are, of course, at all times completely illicit. No discussion necessary. But since harassment is not only a legal term but also a matter of personal interpretation, the boundaries can be quite blurry.

Call me oldfashioned - but when did the mere act of making contact become a cause for alarm? I'm talking about that infamous video with the woman walking through Manhattan. Why is it considered sexist to tell anyone that you're sexually interested in them? To my understanding it's not discriminatory to declare your interest, except if there's a disadvantage for the other person in case she does not reciprocate the feelings, like in a situation of subordination eg. But is it disadvantageous to be any random person's object of desire? Even if this person just thinks about you in a certain way, no real world consequences? I say, flirtation itself is not discriminatory, well, except, of course, to those trolls men have a preference over by choosing you. But since they're not the target, they will never file a complaint.

The way I see it is that legally we're either heading towards a unified gender - because pointing out the differences between them is considered an act of sexism - or that we're approaching an age where every remark, every lecherous glance, even every perceived un-materialized intent will be cause for legal action. I clearly woke up in the wrong century.

And these so-called modern feminists do nothing to further the cause for gender equality. And I mean true equality, not tiptoeing-around-alleged-offense equality or - yes I have to say it - professional victimhood. Equality means that certain things are either allowed or not allowed - regardless of gender. Like me, walking down the street, randomly wolf-whistling men. Allowed, and so far, none of my victims ever screamed rape. Or could it be this newfound need for awareness in truth is all about the prejudice in regards to a woman's lack of physical and or mental strength compared to the alleged male "dominance"? I have this nagging feeling some women may think that. And if that's the case, it's at the core of the deepest and darkest sexism there is, women seeing themselves as helpless victims of the much-cited patriarchy. Ladies, you seem unaware that we as a species have evolved. We have acquired laws. In fact, why do you feel the need to diminish our foremothers achievements by pretending we still live in the stone age? Thanks to legislature it is not common practice to hit women with clubs and drag them away to some remote cave. I fear that since you ordered that Victorian, we'll all be going to pay for it at some point. No freebies. Holy shitballs!

A list of all sexisms listed in this rant according to modern feminist standards

Naively calling the abuse of women "hitting on".

Degrading canine behavior to the level of male humans through the use of "hubba-hubba".

"Getting into pants" as an expression of sexual advances when clearly every woman is allowed to wear a skirt.

Calling women cheap, because they like freebies.

Using the vulgar expression "beating around the bush".

Discriminating against unattractive people by calling them trolls.

Using the term Victorian as a cocktail. A Victorian is not a drink, but a dark age of oppression which no one should ever be allowed to make fun of.

"Holy shitballs" - Accusing men of being such pigs, fecally soiling their babymakers is a natural occurrence. Blasphemy also. My guess is most women wouldn't have a problem with either of that.

So...happy!

Remember good old me; me whining, me complaining? In fact - I'm known for that - with whiny rant being my street name and all that. That's a big part of this blog, ranting, finding some kind of fault in many of the things regarding..well, all things. It's as vague as that. I guess you could call it "judgmental". So what happened? In short: I don't find fault in things anymore. I have been walking around in a haze of awwww! Pretty scary. Could it be as simple as squeezing out life, giving birth to another human being?

Yes, I guess it could. I must have shed some of the bad stuff as well as baby and baby juice. Awwww! (Ok, I at least manage to make fun of me.) So, dear audience, what is more annoying - someone who complains or a happy, mildly besotted person who smiles a little more often and lets go some of the stuff that would have bothered her before. Please don't answer - rhetorical question!

There is an undeniable creativity in being mildly angry at the world. Finding quirk to all things is an original activity, like you wouldn't believe the calories being burnt that way and the satisfactory feeling you get by being able to do this without having to do squat thrusts. Well, for now, goodbye soul-eating quirk. Not sure that I liked you all that much to begin with. Say hello to silly momma, your bundle of joy. Still some kind of edge, but more fuzzy and covered in chocolate.

This change must be a residue, caused by some of the hormones, right? It must wear off at some point. Because I didn't just have brain surgery. And I can't remember having suffered any other kind of other head trauma. I'm not eating differently. I'm not even doing anything differently except for the additional baby routine. Sleeping less, well, yes, there's stupid in that. Other than that, nothing. Nothing but contentment and not a single cloud in sight.

I guess the demons of the world must be assembling rrrrright now..

Decomposing Buttocks Rant

The older I get the more I think of my body as a letdown. I'm astonished at what a rotting, quickly festering meat bag it is! The process of aging is like moving into a relatively new building, where, once you sit down to unpack the crates, cold gusts of wind blow through holes in the walls and start tearing them down. And while I tend to care less and less about such trivial things as appearance, it's still not a very good feeling to lose confidence in one's vitality with teeth, rotting; organs, asleep or failing and hair, falling out in some areas, springing like bamboo in others.

How could anyone say that the human body is a well-designed masterpiece? This thing?! Only if it had been done by a drunk four-year-old would I be mildly impressed. We're basically walking compost piles, and we have no control over which parts grow and which ones fall off; yes, it may be ecofriendly to be living in a world of compost, but it's not pretty. And it smells.

Just because our bodies work for a limited period of time doesn't mean that either they or the system that created them are flawless entities. By the way, bio-degradable is not the stamp I want to proudly wear on one of my flapping butt cheeks, I'd rather be totally non-degradable.
I don't care for half-life, I want doubling time!

Me Whining, Part V

Hi, my name is Dana and I live in fear. Fear is my constant companion, you might even say she's one of my close personal friends, and many of the things I do are driven by the dark nagging hunch that there might just be something going terribly wrong with this world. Unfortunately, deep down I know that everything is wrong. How can things be right anyhow, in a place, where life is the most impossible and random event ever, the most arbitrary of all things to occur. I know the pains of trying to conceive. It can be difficult for some people, including myself. So on the one side, there is not-life, the hindrance towards something, the positive gatekeeper. And then also, we have Death, the eternal party pooper, to the other end of the spectrum. I almost wrote rainbow instead of spectrum, but I'm much too bitter to even think rainbow right now. What is there to say about horrible, selfish, gut-twisting Death, the sad end to a concept that wasn't exactly cheerful to begin with? I know. I'm turning into this depressed wailing creature and I can't blame it on anyone but myself. As far as I know, this year I'm giving good old crybaby Nietzsche a run for his money! Sorry about that. The issue has been dealt with before, whined about a lot, by poets, scientists, and walking, thinking, conscious beings all through the ages, and still, I feel as though it hasn't been said quite enough.


You suck, Death. Go away.

Me, Whining Part IV

What to do in a crisis - who to turn to for guidance. The self-help isle offers a lot of things, books with promising titles, such as "Twitter your way to a better life." If only...

There is lots of stuff out there, on how to deal with your loved ones' illness. You know, the basic world asunder kind of manuals.
I don't think any of them can help me. For these last few weeks, David has been quite unwell. Ever since this year the medical issues have changed for the worse, a vertiginous downwards spiral of life-threatening instigators and residue from it. We can't seem to clean up the debris fast enough.


Having one problem area opened the floodgates for other stuff, problems on top of problems.
I have lost some things in the fire. Body weight, first of all. That's not too bad actually. The second thing is worse. My spark. Although things are looking up now, I'm still missing it. For whatever reason, I've always gone through life assuming I was born under a lucky star. Yes, I always kept my eye on that rainbow. Well, not anymore. Now I'm thinking I may just be the anode of tragedy. Someone or something is punishing me, and I don't understand why.


I used to be convinced of another thing, that is to say that "everything happens for no reason." Not to eliminate physical cause and effect from the equation, but in the sense that there is no moral incitement in what we do here on earth, other than the one society provides (like jail-time for bad behavior). All my life, I've felt neither punished nor rewarded for the things I do, least of all by some cosmic force. Lately, however, I can't shake off the thought that there just may be someone out there to get me..

Who and what is it this entity wants? Me to live in fear? Done. Me to realize that all is mortal? Done. Me to expect the worst rather than the best? Also done. Yes, it could always be worse. But it could also be better. That's how chickens talk.

If it's all a scheme to make me a worshiper, forget it. I won't be bullied into making curtsies. If you can hear me, great spirit of cosmic sanctioning, then state your claim. Post a comment. Let's negotiate.

No, not at all

Do I need a reason to blog? No, not at all. Congrats me, this is a completely nonsensical piece of writing. Wise men say that sometimes, great ideas spring from mindless ramblings. I have yet to witness something like that, but it can't hurt to just babble on and let it happen whenever it happens. Whatever "it" is. And I writes it the way I sees it. Capiche?

No one ever told me that it is so exhausting to think. I feel less worn out after the inferno workout, after seven days of heat stroke and having eaten nothing but rice cakes - than one hour of brain sweats. To be honest with you, there is absolutely no need to ever think, deep thoughts, earth-shattering thoughts. You can go through life happy as a clam, possibly happier when you shut off the noisemaker upstairs.

I know I know, I make a big fuzz over how important it is not be stupid all-the-time. Believe me, I am annoyed by it myself. And although deep thoughts can be entertaining, we don't need them for anything. We know how to drive a car, how to do the taxes and we find our way to the fridge without asking for a theory of everything. Most of the everyday life problems aren't rocket science.

Granted, you may have a challenging job, and be, in fact, a rocket scientist. If so, then of course you are excused to go on thinking. Or if you absolutely want to, then, by all means, don't let me stop you.

I have decided though that I have thought enough this month, and actually I will spend the rest of August on think strike. I want to hang out, play, and look vacant, in the sun.

"A Story For The Smart and Beautiful"

In the olden days a book would have been recommended to you by your friends with words such as "hey, this is a good book, you'll like it.." or "it's from the author so-and-so, known for this and that.."

Now, there are all these referential blurbs on book backs, which, especially in the fantasy genre, largely consist of stupid, can't-stop-hitting-myself endorsements. Apparently it's not enough to have it thrown in my face that I am a fan and member of a very earthy genre, one that is frowned upon by pipe smokers, and sneered at by the friends of high literature. I should also be grateful that in recent years, fantasy has risen to the ranks of "somewhat accepted, if you're into this kinda thing."

I may make a mountain out of a molehill here, but damned, I feel insulted. This time, I'm not letting it go, and all because of the little tiny thing that is printed on the back of A Feast For Crows, book four of the epic fantasy series by George R. R. Martin, a blurb contributed by the Detroit Free Press.

And I quote...

"A fantasy series for hip, smart people, even those who don't read fantasy."

I feel as though I have been slapped in the face. Twice. For one, this little quote takes an unloading dump on the genre. It implies that hip, smart people normally don't read stupid shit like fantasy. Pardon my French. Oh yes, the hip and & smart are renowned for reading smart books by authors whose names they memorized to pronounce them correctly. In case someone asks. Fine, let them feel superior: cunt and Kant - it sounds the same to me..

By the way, the smartsters and/or hipsters also take last year's winner copy of the Pulitzer with them to their beach summer vacation - where they hope to be seen reading it...pretend to read it..don't read it.






Ok, first slap about that blurb! The second one, "(...) even those who don't read fantasy." 
I know what they meant: it's so good you'll actually want to read it despite the genre.

Yet I feel like I'm on a backhanded sales pitch against the genre, not for a book.

"Fantasy - why it is not as crappy as you thought, smart people!"

Excuse me, but what is so third-rate about that particular genre? Do we call it childish, because it doesn't portray the real world? Is Scifi childish? You know, it has also thingies in it that don't exist in the "real" world.

Let's say, a fairy, a magician and a winged horse make you want to vomit (or in Scifi's case: a spaceship, an alien and a cyborg), and it's just not your cup of tea to have these things in a story. You'd be inclined to move on to something else. But would you go as far as to deem it beneath you because it has some disconcerting elements? Let me tell you something, outraged snot-nosed pretense-readers: you, the ones who are most disconcerted are the ones who would get the most out of reading those stories. Because you seem so easily distracted by all those elements. A common trick of the abstracting genre is to create a distance (future or middle age settings, doesn't matter) that allows you to actually see where there are things similar rather than different. I'm not saying that every fantasy writer puts the same amount of effort into it, but the great ones do. The point is that in a book, you don't need the real world copied one-to-on to decide if a story is meaningful or relevant to you. It's the story that does that.

So, since I gave vent to my anger, let's move on to the second blurb on the book.

"A once-in-a-generation work of fiction that manages to entertain readers while elevating an entire genre to fine literature." 

Thank you, I feel even worse now, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.



Care to share some bad blurbs from the book you read right now?