The Dirtbag

 

             

The Dirtbag

          One could suggest that the road to enlightenment begins as we step on to the road of the metaself, and upon this road, each step being a fresh invention, begins where language leaves off.

                         This linguistic tautology has long been recognized not the least in the recent century by Ludwig Wittgenstein who ended his Treatise (Tractatus ) into Language with the famous admonition that where words are inadequate one must remain silent. I've elaborated on this at times by suggesting that if all knowledge is language and in turn all language is a metaphor, you could place that into a circularity by saying that all metaphor relies upon some knowledge to give it form, and that knowledge is linguistic, and so on.Ultimately in this view language is a treadmill

At the very least however these common, axiomatic understandings leave us in a unknowable universe. Fortunately most of us are not philosophers and so we can disregard the fact of own possible non existence.

The great questions of humanity seem always somehow to be directed at God. Perhaps all our questions can be reduced to one. If you were so interested in creating us- why have you become to damnably indifferent to us after our births? Or in other words why is there no proof you exist? (Then again there's no proof of life on other planets yet some scientists insist the odds are there is.)

To this question I have no answer, so I shall pose another –

“Why do we have words and thoughts we are unable to think?“ One answer may surprise you. In actually these forbidden words can be spoken, but only by certain people in certain rarefied conditions.

Plus people can get used to things.

If you or I, were we to come home and find a dead body strewn over the living room table we would be, to say the least surprised, But a mortician seeing the same thing might just decide that he was in for some overtime - which is to say he or she would be immune to the queasy feeling that most of us have in the presence of the dead.

That in the case of a loved one of the mortician this would be a different story is certainly the case.

In the same way the so called forbidden words, or taboo words in any given society can be experienced without revulsion by almost anyone, given sufficient exposure. This then allows us to ask “What is it about the forbidden words or ideas that makes them so. The immediate suggestion is that they threaten the world view of the individual, which in turn is a creation of the world view of their society.

In a related instance the power of humor comes from it's ability to suggest that what we ordinarily take for granted is not. Sometimes these things revolve around ethnic stereotypes and commonly they have to do with notions of cleanliness . The laughter arises when we realize that what “everyone” takes for granted is nonsense.

And furthermore if you are “not in on the joke” then it is not uncommon for you to find the humor offensive, whether it be about Californians and light bulbs or Poles and wash clothes. The other face of laughter is not sorrow – it is anger and both laughter and anger are products of aggression temporarily placed on hold.

It's possible that given set circumstances one could easily suggest that said aggression was a good thing. In that case anything that siphoned off the aggression (or hatred), was not to be desired.

We have, after all, “the selfish gene” theory which argues persuasively that when all is said and done it is the actuality of our accomplishments that must be the criteria of judgment of a life s accomplishment.

It can be a bit cold – like suggesting that since the rapist tends to leave a greater impact on a gene pool that rape, while being socially ostracized is actually a positive thing. To my mind there are enough people arguing from this perspective of “nature red in tooth and jaw” and quite often the logic is flawed, either that or as in the case of Spencers social statics it assumes that what is at any given moment is a indicator of some unquestionable social hierarchy.

Or, to restate the last sentence “Wealth is given to good people and I am wealthy therefore I am good and therefore I deserve to be wealthy”

I am not interested in arguing the above the question. What I would like to inquire into is the question as to why certain things or words develop taboos. The answer I suggest is that the mind likes comfortable definitions. Descartes says something is true when it is clear and distinct. By distinct he means the borders, or boundaries between it and other things are well defined.

An interesting suggestion (and one that is not original with myself) is some of the taboo words in societies are so because they blur the boundaries. And specifically they blur the boundaries between life and death. These are the terms that go from mildly repulsive, such as cut hair and fingernails, through the products of excrement, such as sweat, feces and urine to blood and semen, which have the highest taboos..

Because I use the acceptable terms for these things they probably won't offend as much as otherwise. The point ought to be clear though that pejoratives, obscenities, curse words and the like are directed at others as a means of focusing harm on them, The late George Carlin, a stand up comic, and needless to say a lapsed catholic made a consistent part of his act the words forbidden by law being understood to provoke hostility.

I jest that both Manfred Sakel and Sigmund Freud began in the respective fields of neurology. Freud invented psychotherapy and the lesser know Sakel invented insulin shock therapy. As neurologists they were safe from harm because they could cloak themselves in academic verbiage. It was only later that they were run out of town.

          In any case I seem to have inverted the experimental process by suggesting that verbal usage in these cases is accompanied by neuronal changes. The key to my suggestion is that what cause the pain or frisson of the concepts is not so much the concepts themselves as it is the lack of relation ship to the context.

Dante places some sinners in a ocean of shit, unpleasant yes but worse it would be if were one to be given the task of removing the remnants of an ice cream cone deposited in such an ocean. That after all would require work. Just a reminder; In real life not every, lets say Hula Girl is a vision of loveliness and were to seek such a vision one would go through some effort - where as for the cliche ridden schlock songwriter all hula girls are lovely svelt and sway softly neath tropical moons.

To further elaborate this idea I will use two expressions of limited groups but first a word about the grotesque. Briefly late Roman Empire households were often confined to the house, or villa, because of violence, disease and crime in the street. A form of painting grew up in this hidden zones, dogs with the head of cabbages, fish with fruit growing out their anus, ten legged cows and such. The empire fell, the dark ages came and these paintings where lost for a thousand years until the Renaissance when they were rediscovered in the grottoes neath Rome – Hence the term grotesque.

The important thing to consider is that the elements of the paintings were acceptable – it was the way they were put together that repelled us, much like Thalidomide babies with their heads in the chest and a arms growing out of legs.

Part of our aversion is conditioning. The acceptance or rejection of sexual mores is one classic case, like slavery and monarchy, homosexuality varies from society to society.

Also terms like conservative or liberal are not of much use in some societies the madman is tolerated or even worshiped - in others he is put to death.

The Rastafarian tribe are transplanted Africans on The Caribbean island of Jamaica. Like some other captive populations the descendents of the original diaspora adopt a unique form of religion so as to avoid contact with the people who are their oppressors.

It is not specific to Rastafarian s but can be seen in other cultures that where the means of economic control are wanting the social strictures are not, Many a young woman , hearing the songs of liberation against the white male dominated society discovers that upon actual contact the Rasta man is as close minded as his nothern brethren.

Homosexuality in particular is not acceptable in this culture. Beastiality in the rural areas is regarded as unfortunate fact of life. To get to the real heavy taboos though, across the world it is menstruation. Since the institution of marriage there is little more important the the subjugation of women and the neccesary lies needed to enforce it.

In an understandable irony women are of value as breeders and the presence of menstrual fluid is the solitary indicator butw danger remains. In the old Jewish tale when a menstruating woman walks between two men, one of the men will die, in other cultures contact with menstrual fluid means death.

As an aside I'd like to comment on the various degrees of tolerance we afford to other cultures. From the point of view of the content provider one is between a rock and a hard place - the audience in effect, wants to be scared - they have perhaps legitimate concerns about racial religious, and subcultural groups yet the message they are fed is that we are all one . What is for the wealthy healthy competition is for the poor class warfare.

The reason why this is is easy to find. What the dominant social cadre wants is obediance and docility . Hence individuals are criminals where as social groups are invariably "Misunderstood."

Getting back to our story then the term "bumba clot" means nothing to most people but it is the most offensive thing that a person can be called in the Rastafarian sub culture. It referes to dried menstrual fluid on a vagina.

In fact it is fascination to witness the concepts of clean and dirty in the development of taboos. People will insist they can smell the presence of a person of another race. Travel to Pakistan and you cannot eat Pork, travel fifty miles east to India and is is Beef that is sacred.

What is going on? Actually nothing happens in this world that nature does not approve of. Things we cannot understand such as suicide or dietary laws n at one time had advantage or they would not be. Suffice to say today the prejudice may be obsolete but one recalls the sad joke of the gambler who bets on a crooked game.

When told that game is crooked they reply - yes I know, but it's the onlygame in town

Those of us who have lived for years in Post Reagan America know well the sting of this joke.

The second term is one used quite often by my former comrades in the PD. It is dirt bag.To be described as such you have to be more then a criminal. After all it you adopt an attitude that doesn't tolerate the presence of crime and you won't last long. You'll burn out. There are varying degrees of decency in the criminal world and one thing about crime it tends to benefit the very few.

Probably we could play some sort of game to describe dirtbags- betrayal ranks high in such categories, but I'll end this divertissement with a person definition, arbitrary as it may be.

I was in University, working wherever and when ever I could, sharing a house with some locals.It really was more of an Animal house then a haven of study, but that's how rock and roll goes.

One time I come home from class. It's dinner time and one of the partners in the house is sitting on the couch with a towel, drenched in blood. Sitting in an overstuffed chair is someone I had not seen before. He's holding a knife with a five inch blade, playing with it.

It was not an auspicious begining.

"Smokey" the guy who had been cut us says "This is so and so. He's going to be staying with us for awhile."

Things went downhill from there. The guy was a drug dealer from Portland Oregon who had had to make a quick exit subsequent to an argument which had led to murder.

I say nothing. After all, everyone's got to do their thing. For all I know the alledged murder was fabricated for some street cred. Live and let live I say.

But it wasn't that simple. Possibly smokey and his pal wanted to take the house to, as we say on the street, "another dimension."

I'd go out in the morning and my car would have a flat. In subsequent days the rear view mirror was ripped off, the windshield wipers were trashed , the front headlights were smashed. I began to believe there a pattern here.

Actually I gave the guy a ride one time. In those days I was mega wired. On the cassette deck was a Brandenburg concerto. It's didn't bother him too much.

I come home another day and the living room rug was in the back yard. Apparently, as an expression of contempt the bad buy had taken a dump on the rug and the smell was unpleasent.

I said nothing. One of the other people renting the house curled up in his bed, weeping. Dear reader I shall be remiss were I not to inform you that I was at a loss of viable strategic options.

Then the next day I chanced to look under the hedge by the side wall. There was bicycle, known locally as a "sting ray." This is a fairly small bike with a deep V handlebar. In my day it was considered cool to built one's own from scratch. I had done so myself and mine was florescent green and had a slick on it. That is a tire with a wide flat surface.

The story had now transcended the ordinary. To steal a bicycle was just too low. Murder, assault robbery and everyday vandalism could be tolerated by woe unto he who could break the code.

That night I got very drunk. Very very drunk. The moton was getting on full and I spoke to smokey about his beginning to bother me. I have no idea of what I said. I few items were thrown about and about 2:30 I decide I'm going to take a walk to the local police department, which was about three blocks down on Dutch Broadway there in No Valley Stream.

Entering the premises I consulted with the desk cop. There was nothing happened and once again I have no idea of what I said, only that the man behind the desk was polite and after a while I asked

"Where can I get a gun?"

He said he wouldn't know and maybe I'd know better then him. I said "I'm a college boy don't know nothing about guns"

Maybe, he said it would be a good idea if I spoke to the landlord and perhaps someone might drive by the next day.

It was getting on daylight and I reluctantly agreed to let the matter rest, but I could not resist one last exclamation.

"I mean what kind of a dirtbag would steal a bicycle from a kid?"

The next day I yanked the bicycle out from the hedgerow and left it in plain sight in the back yard. The day after it was gone. I didn't see the landlord, I didn't see the cop and I never saw the dope dealer from Oregon again.

This proves the point of Wittgenstein's theorem that no definition can be relied upon further then the singular and immediate example  since this is the case then no definition can be relied upon.