Tuesday, 19 October 2010

Confessions of a Romantic Misanthrope

Normally I despise getting introspective in blogs. I generally find blogs are more interesting when they're topical, so I try to avoid focusing on myself, or at least, focusing on me as a person. But if you've been following me around the web for a little while, you've probably noticed it too. I'm a misanthrope.

This does not come out of a specific hatred. Never really has. I've always contended that the opposite of hate is not love, but apathy. Hate and love are both passionate, energetic and draining emotions. I won't say I've never hated before. I just can't hate people. So I usually have a big steaming pile of meh for everyone. I figure they're mostly not worth the energy.

But in a recent discussion with a friend, I found myself agreeing that there are some people who deserve to be hated. Just not by me. I actually really love people.

I love their reactions. Their faults. Their "plight."

I love how someone can do something so incredibly fucked up and still be accepted as a human being by someone, somewhere.

So this misanthropy comes more out of disappointment than hostility. A reaction to humanity, rather than an assault on it.

What I found difficult to articulate to my fellow misanthrope is how I hate people. I've written...reams of it in the past. I usually imagine most of my audience misunderstands it as rage or hate. But it's not the people themselves that inspire me to launch into tirades. It's what they do.



I hate that people follow.
Not even necessarily direction. I just hate that people see someone doing something and adapt that same behavior. You are not cattle. You are not sheep. You need to stop doing what anyone tells you to do by direct order or example, and think about what you want to do, what you need to do. Even what I just told you to do, don't do it. Sit there and think about it, then do something else. Later, if you think I'm right, stand up, go to your window and shout "I'm mad as hell" and so on. I don't know exactly where I developed this specific taste for going against the grain but it's been with me for a very long time. I don't do it just to be contrary. There's something very deep seated that provokes a physical reaction whenever someone pushes me into doing something. I'll admit it's not always a negative reaction. Defiance I suppose, usually stems from other needs which I won't go into. But I am stubborn. If I'm forced to do something that I don't want to do, I get ill and angry.



I hate that people are irresponsible.
I'm a humanist. Which is why I'm finding all this hate ever so slightly ironic. I'm also an atheist. The distinction is important - I believe in no god/s, myths, fairies etc. but I have faith in humanity. And this is constantly being tested. I suppose that's science for you but it's exhausting. One only needs to sit down in front of a TV or browse the comments on youtube to become so enraged and filled with doubt for the future. But along with atheism, I've adopted a rather annoying sense of personal responsibility. It means that if I fuck up, I have to own up to it instead of placing the blame on god or satan. The only problem I've found so far is striking a healthy balance between responsibility and nihilism. I really have a hard time with this when I look at the rest of humanity.

We're idiots. I'm not the first to say this. People are fucking stupid, selfish, hateful, primitive, myopic, and all of these behavioral flaws make for one great big fucking catastrophe of a species. We fuck shit up for everything and everyone in our paths, both with purpose and without. Everyone does this to some degree. It's the butterfly effect. You can't do something and expect no ill consequences. It's unavoidable and I fucking hate it.



I hate that people get sick.
Sometimes shit just can't be blamed on anyone. This is actually the most important point I've got to make here. Most people who hate people, hate them for what they do. That which is inexplicable. Murder, genocide, rape, torture - all the colours of the depravity rainbow usually get lumped into a nice little box labled "DO NOT TOUCH." And we learn to hate the people who open that box. So the less...I don't want to say less intelligent. But conceptual hatred is a lot more difficult to grasp when you're looking at say, the difference between one man's suffering and an entire planet's suffering. The difference between god and ants. Depending upon where you're sitting, to paraphrase Stalin, it's a tragedy or a statistic. The questions "How?" and "Why?" are never satisfying enough. And trust me when I say this, as this is part of how I came to grips with my own misanthropy. One usually needs an object, a Goldstein, a Hitler, a Satan, an "axis of evil." It makes it easier to put all that negative energy into a goal or a "fix." Easier to manipulate masses like this too. From the people who are sat squarely at the back of the theater behind some fat lady with a bouffant to the frothing, writhing, shining balls of fury sitting front and center, barely able to contain themselves from jumping on the stage and screaming at the top of their lungs. You can feel it. You can see it. And you can be told how to deal with all this new found energy. This is where I veer way off the mainstream misanthropist path, so bear with me while I fumble around with the reasoning behind it for a bit.

Hate is a sickness. I empathized firstly with misanthropists who specifically hate a person or a group of people for what they do. But I can also empathize with people who hate for no reason. It's something they simply cannot help. Almost a disease. And it can't be fixed with a band aid. You can't diagnose all criminals, all the depraved, twisted hate mongers as sick and execute, jail, "rehabilitate," censor, - there's no miracle cure and there's no permanent fix. It's something we as a species have to come to terms with. People hate many different things, for many different reasons. And this is why I'm also a romantic.




I love that people hate.

It's part of what makes us. It's part of what drives us to do some really fucking awesome things. It's the catalyst for change. If the entire spectrum of human interaction was positive, the world would be a bland cloud of dust. I love that Nazis...existed. I can't say I'm too happy with their continual existence in the present. It's easier to tolerate these people when you're not their Goldstein. It's the same for religious fundamentalists, misogynists and authoritarians though. Even the ones born to be mild. The closet haters. When they finally let it slip out, it makes it so much easier to own up to misanthropy. Easier to rage against something that could not previously be defined. But it almost always comes back to humanity and my love/hate relationship with it.

I feel much better for sharing this and you will too. Now, you may go to your windows.

I Wish I Was A Cold War Spy With Curlers In My Hair

Yet another re-post, kids!





As most of you know, since I no longer sleep I've been reading a lot of stupid blogs. The one that caught my eye last night was about how much this woman wanted to be a teenager in the 50s, mostly due to the fact that she was vacuous housewife who thought that teenagers had actually been respectful of their elders at some point before the baby boomers came along. Unfortunately for the troll in me, comments were disabled to all but those on her friends list. However, as disparaging as I am towards such banal reasoning, I am inclined to agree that the post-war era does seem to have a certain charm that this modern world lacks.

Yep, looks like we got ourselves a picture blog, boys and girls.

Back then things appeared to be at the very least more simple. You got your music from a record shop, your liquor from a liquor store and your pants from a tailor. Girls spent all day at either beauty salons or shopping for white goods that weren't white and their men actually paid for it.


People had dinner parties and got all excited about fondue. What's even better is they'd dress up for the occasion.

I call it whored up like a whorey whore for whore lovers.

And all you had to fear was the commies. Oh, and the nigger down the road.


Don't get me wrong. I am appalled by what was accepted as civilised by 1950s standards. And I also think that the woman who wrote that particular blog (and the stepford wives that all commented it) had not thought this through to the point we're at right now. Either that or I inadvertently stumbled upon a covert myspace klan meeting/klan party blog where every klansman was disguised as a disgruntled mom and the words "good old days" were code for "white power"...

But the division bell seemed, for the most part at least, to ring the loudest between East and West.

On one side, workers struggled to keep the ideals of socialism alive. The USSR was a fucking machine. The people knew it. And they had the world's freshly deputised policeman filling his boots at the prospect of going to war with them.


And what Mao pulled from his people is practically a production miracle. Its no wonder that sweat shop mentality is still alive and kicking in China. Obviously the commies could not maintain the charade. But the movies made it all seem so...glamorous.


And what nostalgic trip to the 50s would be complete without a look in on the space race?


It was one of those times when people could look up at the sky and dream of a future there.

Hey, that don't sound like American to me, boy!

Yes, the 50s signified the beginning of the atomic era.


People were happier, healthier and more pleasant.


Suburbs were clean. Mass-consumerism was non existent

This is just another corporate illusion. We all know that Coke didn't weigh into the cola wars until after Dr. Pepper had been assassinated.

And teenagers didn't do drugs and respected their elder folk. What a wonderful world!


What I got is one word: Whatever.