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.