Whack-O's

Okay, I don't know what your political stand is concerning Xanga 2.0, but for me it's not so bad. I like the idea that comments are moderated. That takes care of so much garbage right off the bat and still leaves the site open to interested parties who aren't maliciously insane, mentally deranged or sexually depraved. No, I didn't cover all the possibilities. I wanted to leave something for you to share. We've all had our share of Whack-O's trolling, defecating, leaving twisted grafiti or otherwise spreading their disease and discontent about their own sorry excuses for a life. Quite a number of years ago I addressed the subject in a piece about Feeding the Monkeys. Since 2.0 all the titles are gone so I can't find it, but it is good.

And now for something completely different!

This font is too small. I don't like it and I can't find how to change it. Seems Xanga has locked up WordPress so they still get to hold you on the leash. I reckon that's what people do in this business. Oh, and what is pulse? We get two categories to start off with. Uncategorized and pulse. I still have a pulse, but it's not Xanga's fault. Okay. I surrender. The is me waving the white flag. Point me in the right direction and I'll try to figure it out.

What's your favorite Whack-O story? By favorite I think we know we didn't have to enjoy their insanity to appreciate their illness.

 Solitude

Recently I've been reading, No Man Is an Island, by Thomas Merton. He was a Trappist Monk, so he knew a little about solitude. I like the sound of the word so I looked up the definition to set it in my mind, making sure I meant what he meant when he used the word. I feel certain he knew what the word meant and didn't just think he did. He wrote somewhere around seventy books. That's not really a big deal since there are people who write that many books and say nothing worth the life of a tree. Merton, on the other hand, had something to say that I think a tree might have been willing to sacrifice itself to help convey to others. Pardon me for digressing a bit here, but I love trees. It pains me to see a tree cut down, especially an old tree. Trees are patient and harmless. I'd like to say kind but it may make it sound to some as if I'm anthropomorphizing trees. Trees are not human. That's probably what makes them naturally harmless. They provide so much to us and ask so little in return. Another nonhuman aspect of their nature. The quality of the air we breath is increased because of trees. They stand there and watch us scurry about like the little idiots we are. We cut them down while they remain mute and patient until the last bit of life is taken from them. It's spring here. The trees are beginning to clothe themselves in green. I like to look at them. I like to listen to them. They have gentle voices. We share 70% identical DNA with oak trees. I don't know. It's just wild to think about that.

Solitude comes from the Latin solitudo, from solus 'alone.'  The dictionary defines solitude as the state or situation of being alone. Through the years I've heard many people complain about being lonely. Being lonely is different from being alone. Even the dictionary knows the difference, but since people don't usually read a dictionary, especially when they think they know the meaning of a word, I'm going to share with you the definition. Lonely is sad because one has no friends or company. When I think of solitude I don't feel the least bit sad. I feel exhilarated, uplifted, at peace and oddly, secure. After reading that one might wonder what kind of friends or company I've had in the past. Same as you've had probably. Some good, some not so much. Merton wrote in one of his Journals:

A Preference for the Chant of Frogs

Warmer. Rain in the night. Frogs again. At first the waterhole (four feet long at most) had one frog or two. Now they are a small nation, loud in the night. The innocent nation, chanting blissfully in praise of the spring rain. Last evening I pruned a few little trees--including the beeches I had planted.

Today I have to go down to see Fr. Vernon Robertson, who evidently wants me to get involved in something--and I will try not to. He has been pestering me to come to Louisville to give a talk at Bellarmine College. And this is confirming me in my resolution to keep out of all that.

Almost every day I have to write a letter to someone refusing an invitation to attend a conference, or a workshop, or to give talks on the contemplative life, or poetry, etc. I can see more and more clearly how for me this would be a sheer waste, a Pascalian diversion, participation in a common delusion. (For others, no: they have the grace and mission to go around talking.) For me what matters is silence, meditation--and writing: but writing is secondary. To willingly and deliberately abandon this to go out and talk would be stupidity--for me. And for others, retirement into my kind of solitude would be equally stupid. They could not do it--and I could not do what they do.

No one bothers me with invitations anymore, especially since I've found this place of solitude. It's palpable. I was reading the above passage from Merton's Journal to a friend. He said, "It sounds like you." I live like a monk. It's a wonderful life for me because I do it easily, happily, peacefully and even eagerly. I must go out to buy a part to fix a leak under the sink in the laundry room. It would take me less time to do it than it does to prepare myself for the excursion. Solitude is sweet.

Twelve

Yup, twelve years. It's probably not fair to count them this way since I'm not really here anymore. Nevertheless, I do read from time to time. Be happy. I am.

Eleven

It's been eleven years since Bianca invited my wife to come over and sign up for a Free Xanga Weblog. Connie wasn't interested and since I was writing on Yahoo then, back then it was called GeoCities, she passed the invitation along to me. I signed up for a Weblog, not really knowing what a Weblog was or into what it might transform. There weren't many of us back then. We were The Knights of the Old Xanga and the adventure had begun. It got off to a slow start by today's standards but began picking up speed and participants. The Old Internet was nothing like it is now. Everything was slower and smaller. There was no such thing as YouTube and videos were rare. Going viral was still far into the future and unimaginable to most. As with every electronic community we gathered together into ever expanding groups. The Knights of the Old Xanga enjoyed a time of peace and prosperity in an atmosphere that seemed to us like Camelot. For a while it was the best of what people can have as they gather and interact socially. It took a while for human nature to rear its ugly head. It was the gold for which Dragons are greedy that started the first ripples of the fall. The Gold came in the form of eProps. Before The gods ofXangadu realized what they'd created they used to post how many eProps each Weblog had received. The competition wasn't especially fierce in the beginning, but soon the seeds of discontent began to germinate in the hearts of The Knights of the Old Xanga. At first there wasn't a great deal of bloodshed over the coveted eProps. A nick or two here and there with commiserating bandaids quickly applied stanched the flow for a time. Soon The Two Great Dragons, Greed and Self-Love flew into the idyllic kingdom of Xangadu. They were satisfied carrying off a few scattered sheep while The Knights of the Old Xanga slowly formed protective circles brandishing their shields to ward off the insidious assaults against the once peaceful and lovely Xangadu. As the Gold increased so did The Two Great Dragons' Lust for it. Entwined in a heated embrace The Two Great Dragons produced two more Dragons in Xangadu. Pride and Vanity were hatched and grew at an alarming rate. The Knights of the Old Xanga began to turn on one another as the battle grew hotter and more fierce with each new posting of the top eProp scores. The light in hearts grew dim as the Dragons' Darkness spread across Xangadu.

The old banners and standards began to fall one after another as Greed and Self-Love drove The Knights of the Old Xanga lower and lower in search of the golden eProps. Pride and Vanity stirred ever more powerfully in the hearts of The Knights of the Old Xanga and their former camaraderie transformed into a greedy competition that seemed insatiable. Banners once held high were replaced with swords turned against one another. Harsh words flew from camp to camp like poison arrows. Much damage had been done before The gods of Xangadu realized that the imagination of man's heart is subject to Greed. They wisely stopped posting the coveted eProp totals on the front page every day. By this time Xangadu had become like a bustling city where it was hard to know your neighbor personally. The city was divided into different camps as the spirit of adventure waned and the need for walls became clear. The dogs of war had found their way in and were feeding on the scraps The Two Great Dragons had left in their terrible wake. This tale is told in short but in truth it took years for The gods of Xangadu to build the walls. Many of The Knights of the Old Xanga fell on their own swords while others fell prey to the Dragons' Darkness that spread across the land turning brother against brother and sister against sister in their lust for Gold. There yet remain some of The Knights of the Old Xanga, but they are mostly quiet, scarred and worn from a battle that lasted far too long. A battle that was never won and has now taken on a different visage. The Two Great Dragons, now morphed like the legendary Phoenix, still rule the sky over once lovely Xangadu. Their offspring hide away in the caves of men's hearts guarding their treasure and waiting for the cover of darkness.

Thanks

The new header and color scheme are from my friend, @moniet. The fact is she has designed all of the headers I've used for the past . . . Sheesh! I can't even remember how many years. It's been a long time. It's one of those things we ordinarily take for granted. I don't ever want to fall into that trap of taking my friends for granted. No doubt it happens to each of us at one time or another, but it's really a good idea to work on staying awake in that area. We take so much for granted. Hot showers, electricity, flush toilets, running water, grocery stores where we can go pick up food. When you think about it there are so many things we can easily take for granted. When life isn't as nice as we'd like it to be, when things don't appear to be going in a way that's in harmony with our ideas of how it should be, it's productive to simply stop ourselves and remember how good life is and why. It's because of our ability to communicate with one another. Our ability to love one another, to whatever degree we find it in our hearts to do. Love is what you do. It's not what you say. You can say anything. The world is full of words that float around in space and cyberspace. They're attached to nothing. No responsibility, no foundation, nothing. Just words and pixels waiting for us to fill them with meaning. Sure, there are people who pump out words with meaning behind them. Some good and some not so good, but few, very few with awareness, compassion, empathy, mercy and love.

Thank you, @moniet for always being there for me. I do appreciate you, your talents, your eye for beauty and your willingness to pitch in and help make James' World a bright spot.

Credit

No, not Visa, Master Card, American Express, Discover, etc. This is the other kind of credit. This credit is public acknowledgment or praise, typically that given or received when a person's responsibility for an action or idea becomes or is made apparent. It's only fair if you consider we're pretty quick on the trigger to bash Xanga when they don't deliver. Seems like a good idea to be just as quick on the trigger when they deserve credit. Remember how I said that Xanga couldn't keep the dogs out? Well, they still can't keep them from coming around leaving nasty little deposits on your lawn, sidewalk, yes sometimes even your porch or living room if you leave the door open. When it's hot like this in the summer we like to leave doors open for our friends to come by and have some iced tea or lemonade and some conversation. Sadly, other things come in those open doors too. Mosquitos, bees, hornets, dogs, and yes, even pigs wander in sometimes while we're out. They never wipe their feet until they get inside though. Then they wipe their feet on your oriental rugs, sofas curtains. They just don't care. Why should they? Their brute beasts, like a bull in a china cabinet or a pig in a poke. One of them got into my Xanga home and ripped around snorting, pawing, rooting and leaving a load of stink in nearly every room. Not wanting my friends to have to step in that crap I cleaned it out. Well, it didn't take long before that herd ran back through depositing their filth everywhere again and again. So, I did what anyone who cares about what his friends step in would do. I closed all the doors and windows to keep the beasts out. That meant my friends had to knock or ring the bell or wonder what had become of me.

Not having just fallen off the turnip truck, I had enough presence of mind to go have a look at the Xanga Terms of Use. You know, the ones we all agreed to when we started our sites? It's updated from time to time, but it hardly matters anyway because most of us didn't read them when we signed up. We were too anxious to start blogging. Anyway, lo and behold, there was this part in their where we agreed not to be nasty, smelly brute beasts who crapped all over other people and their homes. So, I reported the offender and his/her three sites started within hours of each other with no posts, just comments and only in once place. At my house. Comments is a misnomer. It was pure hate spam. To make a long story longer, Xanga took a couple of days after I reported the sites but they shut them down and thanked me for letting them know. Not what I expected, not what I'd come to expect from Xanga so I was surprised. It was like I actually had someone on the home team who cared and was willing to check it out and enforce the Terms of Use.

In a perfect world there wouldn't be a need for such things as Terms of Use agreements. Sadly, though this world may be perfect, what populates it often has wires crossed or in one way or another is wrongly connected. Or as my friend, Wil Carter would say, They were not properly socialized to humans when they were young hedgehogs. Whatever the reason may be, they are full of unpleasant manifestations, lack social graces, feel entitled and fail to understand a certain sense of decorum that the more civilized amongst us try to develop and display. Yes, they have many justifications for their rude, crude and socially unacceptable behavior. What do you suppose tops the list? Right, they don't like someone. Someone didn't treat them the way they think they should be treated. Or, that old stand by, my dog ate their homework. Xanga may not be able to keep the dogs out, but they have proved to me that they are willing to take out the trash and for that I am grateful. Thank you, Xanga! I'm actually going to open the doors and air the place out now that I know you've got my back.

Protected

It kind of sucks that I'm not gay, African American, or one of the other groups that are protected by law. Seems the only people worthy of protection from harassment, hate, slander and death threats are minority groups. Sorry I've had to lock down the site but xanga left me no choice. They still can't keep the dogs out. After all these years you'd think they'd get it.

Bitchin'

There are sites dedicated to bitchin', and by bitchin' I mean, express displeasure; grumble. Some of the sites are free. You can just sign up and bitch. Any bitchin' session has to be governed by rules though, so the sites are categorized. Let's be real about this. Who wants to read someone's bitchin' on something about which we do not want to bitch? That's just annoying. Bitchin' is only annoying when people are bitchin' about something we don't want to bitch about. There's just no interest and no interest makes things boring, tedious or downright annoying. What to do? Start bitchin' about it. There's a certain finesse that goes along with bitch sites. You have to have a bitchin' moderator to make sure the bitchin' stays on track, the flame wars stay directed at the bitchin' target and no one comes in who has thought about it too much. Thinking ruins bitchin'. Oh, I don't mean the kind of thinking bitches do. I'm talking about real thinking. The kind that takes effort and weighs pros and cons. The kind of thinking that looks at something from every possible angle. What? You've never heard of such a thing? Sure you have. You've just not seen much of it in our world today. There was a time when people did that kind of thinking, at least some people did. I'll bet there are still people who do that kind of thinking. The problem is they're not welcome on bitchin' sites. Those people are truly annoying. The bastards! They take apart our flimsy, negative bitchin' line by line and ask embarrassing questions about it. Questions that make us look like the foolish bitches we are when we go around foolishly bitchin' about something because we didn't understand it or it didn't make us look good or feel good.

Bitchin' used to be done in people's homes more often than not. When I was a child I remember my mother going over to a neighbor's house for coffee with a number of other women. They'd all get together and bitch about their husbands or some other woman in the neighborhood that wasn't there. She was out doing something the others could bitch about. They didn't really know the woman but they knew all about how she should behave and live and talk and think and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Written out, that string of blah, blah, blahs doesn't look like much, but I sing it in my head while I'm writing it and it's quite melodic and pleasing. Bitchin' is discordant and grating because it lacks harmony. Life is better with harmony but we don't really understand harmony so much. We think it's something they used to have in music before all there was in music was big bitchin' bass and bitchin' beat. Sure, it's about music, but it's about so much more than music. Harmony is the quality of forming a pleasing and consistent whole. There's not a lot of harmony in our world today, but there's a lot of bitchin'. We've become bitches bitchin' about everything from the President and his bitch to the guy next door and his bitch that keeps us up all night with her barking. We bitch about the government, the economy, the world, people, animals, the rain forest, global warming. You name it! We'll bitch about it. We've become a bitchin' culture.

Blame it on the internet! That's the bitchin' thing to do. People can bitch on the internet with impunity. Impunity means exemption from punishment or freedom from the injurious consequences of an action. Now that's bitchin'. The internet is anonymous. Anonymous means not identified by name; of unknown name. It's cool. You can bitch every which way but loose and never have to think about injurious consequences. There are no internet police or courts. It's like the Wild West without the Earps, Bat Masterson or Marshall Dillon. There doesn't have to be a shred of truth in your bitchin'. It just has to be interesting. Remember what makes something interesting? Someone has to be interested in it. That's all. With the negative social mood on the planet today it's easy peasy lemon squeezy to find someone interested in bitchin' about some thing, some one or some cause. You may have figured out by now that today's bitchin' is about the same thing as yesterday's gossip. The rules are still pretty much the same. It's as effective as it's ever been because we're as ignorant as we've always been. Ouch. Sorry. We only think we're getting smarter. We're really getting dumber. There's a difference between being informed and being intelligent. Intelligence is the ability to adapt. Being informed is the ability to collect information. You don't have to understand the information you collect. You do have to be intelligent to adapt new information into new knowledge that can be used in a productive way. I don't blame the internet or the bitch sites. I take responsibility for it. How I do that is I don't read it, listen to it or believe it. Okay, my bitches, class dismissed.

Ha!

Is this really happening? Can I actually post with Safari now and not with Firefox? My, how the xanga world has changed. I can't even sign in with Firefox. Screw it! Okay, the xanga world hasn't really changed, but we like to think it has. We like to think everything is getting better all the time. It gives us hope. False hope in most cases, but that's something to which we can cling in a world that seems to be spinning out of control. It makes us feel like we're evolving, getting better, smarter, more advanced. Or at least that we could. What are we getting--really? More complex. Complexity is not a sign of intelligence. Sadly, in most cases, complexity is a sign of obfuscation. Like a cuttlefish that hides itself in its own ink. A friend of mine is a programmer. He spends most of his time sorting out bugs that come from building programs on buggy programs rather than fixing the buggy programs. Why? We're stupid. By stupid I mean, dazed and unable to think clearly. We get so much invested in the program that we can't afford to start fresh, or so we think. Many years ago he worked for a company that had a monster program that kept getting bigger and bigger. They kept adding code on top of complex ill functioning code because they couldn't just write a new, fresh program. Their poor customers kept dropping off the grid as the program became less stable and more unusable with each improvement. Finally they had to bite the bullet and start fresh with a new program. Only when it became financially impossible to keep adding to the monster did they see that it was time to retreat, regroup and reinvent. The company is still in existence though I can't imagine why.

What the hell am I talking about? Look, cut me some slack. It's been a long time since I've posted much of anything here. I'm rambling. Why are you reading this? Maybe that's a better question. It's almost always ourselves that we look at because we're so busy fixing everyone else. I can't be fixed. I'm broken. Too broken to even throw myself out or give myself to AmVets or the Salvation Army. Why do we do that? Why do we take things that we know are broken beyond repair and give them to some organization that can't use them? Never mind. Who cares why? We're not going to stop doing it regardless of the answer. Answers aren't all they're cracked up to be. What's true today isn't necessarily true tomorrow. Like our favorite shoes when we were kids. We outgrew them and had to give them up. Okay, let's see if this posts. Yeah, that's right. You've been reading a test.