Kick a thinker

I am still troubled by the whole spin-out of the "kick a ginger" debacle.  Perhaps the most troubling is that quite a few people actually did it.  What a horrible irony it is!

The problem with satire, or with any subtle form of humor, is that many, perhaps most, people just don't get it.  So South Park's satire on stereotyping and bullying was take by some to be a suggestion.  "Go out and kick a red haired person." So, they did. 

The corrective purpose of the satire was lost, overwhelmed by an unimagined (I should think) response from the lumpen. 

Surely any sensible mind would recognize that it is just dumb to single out people on the basis of hair color. Then that small recognition could apply to other equally silly stereotypes so that social interaction would improve.  It didn't work out that way.  On a whole other level of irony, people are muttering about suing South Park.  Well, there you go; someone is always wanting to play whack-a-mole.   Maybe it serves the creators right for raising up their heads against cruelty and rudeness. Perhaps trying to correct human folly is just a futile effort.  

I should like to think not.  Pessimism is so dreary. Today is the beginning of Advent, that time marked by the four Sundays before the 25th of December.  It is a time of preparation for the Christmas celebration.  Today, we lit the candle of hope, the first of the four in the Advent wreath.

Today was joyful at church.  The music for the season is profoundly beautiful; we shared Communion.  In such a place, hope for a better world seems a sustainable dream.  Still, most people don't get it.  They believe that faithful people are deluded folk, inhibited in their lives by a bunch of unnecessarily restrictive rules.

The point of the law--religious law--is to provide sensible principles for having a successful life.  That is what the ten commandments are about, especially the last six.  Acting contrary to these simple rules will break the social contract among people and lead to chaos.  The same holds true for the seven deadly sins.  Indulging in those forbidden activities cannot but lead to personal disasters; gluttony--obesity, lust--degredation, pride--egocentrism, avarice--materialism, and so forth. 

The treat of eternal damnation belongs, perhaps to the Church which could use it to ensure faithful filling of collection plates.  To be sure, lots of religionists have used these laws as dogma, a way to cancel thought and understanding.  Small wonder they have fallen into disrepute.  Still, life would be significantly happier is everyone agreed to live according to those basic principles.

Viewed through the lens of Jesus' life, the law is all about living a successful life, seeking heaven on earth, right now.  It is all about care and love for self and others.  "Love one another as I have loved you."  Love one another.  It is a question of moving "I" from the center and putting "you" in its place.  The hardest thing in the world is putting others first; everything in our experience tells us to take care of number one.

The problem with that way of life is that it is desperately lonely, and nobody wants to be alone. Perhaps it is in that pride inspired loneliness that we find the root of meanness and bullying.  We group together with those who look and think like us, and we push away those who are different, who are thereby less.  So then with our friends, we can kick a ginger; with our friends,  we can put on white hoods and torture and murder blacks; with our friends, we can put on the uniform of righteousness and attack a country full of brown Muslims.  No matter what we try, we are still alone.

Perhaps we could get the South Park satire and choose a different way.  Perhaps reaching out the hand of friendship and support will make us feel good.  What a hope.  Today is Advent. 

Guilty Pleasures.
This by way of confession—I have been told that it is good for the soul. Shirl and I watch “Dancing with the Stars” together on Monday nights. Right, no shame. Students tell me that it is lame and that “So you think you can dance” is so much better. But here is the truth of it. Shirl and I like to ballroom dance: waltz, foxtrot, jive, quick-step, a little (darn little) tango and rumba. These dances have form and elegance (well, I try); they have actual steps that a couple can do together. And if I can waltz, I can waltz with most other partners too. It is social dance; it doesn’t need choreography, just a shared knowledge of the form.
Urban dance is freeform, all individual and very athletic. It really has no social component; much of it is pure aggression. Krump?? I suppose it is just another grumpy old mannerism, but I haven’t got past the silent c in rap music. I am bemused by all these middle-class white kids fancying themselves gangstas. All the rappers must laugh and laugh as they roll about in their gold jewelry.
This summer, out of a sense of duty to those students who praised the show, I did watch some “So you think you can dance” shows. Indeed, some of them could. But for the most part, it really was not very interesting. The mc and the judges were the most fun. I have caught a few minutes of the Canadian version. I have the impression that these kids are better dancers than the Americans of the summer-time show. They certainly are a whole lot more, um, smokin’. Maybe the reason I haven’t watched a whole show is fear. A big jump in blood pressure could cause an aneurism.
But I don’t like DWTS any more. They have done something unpleasant this year. Cloris Leachman just made me cringe; she is a caricature of an elderly woman. I have friends in their 80s who are lively, lovely, elegant women who are beautiful on a dance floor. But Cloris made me cringe. I abhor people who patronize others, and there was a lot of that going on while she was still on the show. It was a relief when she left.
But the patronizing still goes on. There is huge Warren Sapp, shuffling and bobbing, ducking his head and rolling his eyes as if to say,” It’s only me, bit ol’ cuddly Warren.” The studio audience stands and cheers, and the judges praise. Neither they nor the man have a shred of dignity left. Now, I know that it may be dangerous to say such things because Warren Sapp is a mighty mighty man. Still, he is pretty bulky, so I think I can run faster scared than he can mad. The only thing I have to watch for is a hit from the blind side after the play is over. Or maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up??
Anyhow, I don’t much like to watch that show anymore. I sit there mostly to be companionable, and I try (usuccessfully, you can guess) to keep my gums from flapping. Maybe I just need to take Shirl out dancing, formally, elegantly, and with class. No booty shaking, I can promise.