The clock is tick-tick-ticking off its judgments. Tick – stupid. Tick – Hey, stupid. It’s new. I bought it for six bucks at the local five-and-dime. La Virgen de Guadalupe smiles serenely from its face, held aloft by angels.

Black Swan, White Swan... Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

Formal logic might be the blackest of magics (and it makes for the most excruciating of reads). Just try figuring out the Black Swan Problem. Read a ton of obnoxious articles by formal logicians – who I imagine wear capes and brood in towers while they go about their dark art of turning language into math – without pushing your thumbs into your eyeballs until they pop.

Donald Duck: High Priest of the Illuminati

Conspiracy theorists are dreadfully thorough, but I guess most of them missed this one: Donald in Mathmagic Land, the 1959 Disney featurette starring Donald Duck which teaches us about the Pythagorean cult, the pentagram, the Fibonacci Sequence, and the Golden Ratio.

Jack Kirby And Comic Book Mysticism

You may not recognize the name Jack Kirby, but if you’ve ever argued with your friends over who gets to be Cyclops when you were playing X-Men in your backyard, then you’ve been touched by his creations.

Eye of the Skeptic

Those “I’m always right” types absolutely need faith, or else those vicious doubts start creeping in. Not only will you find faith in the religious mind, calling God a fact, you’ll also find it lurking in the atheist, saying He isn’t. Come to think of it, anyone who uses the word “fact” so easily must be pretty faithful, at least when it comes to their own nonsense.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Surviving Social Justice -Sitting Now

Originally published February 13, 2015 via sittingnow.co.uk

The amygdala itches. Catecholamines dump into the brain. Heart rate increases. Hyperventilation occurs. Digestion stops. Pupils dilate. Eyes focus on the target. Muscles tense and the body trembles. Epinephrine dances with norepinephrine.

It gets you higher than heroin. It’s cheaper than speed. More abundant than aspirin. The“fight or flight reaction.”

Anger feels so damn good. But you can’t say that out loud. No one likes a Pissy Pete, after all.
The Anger Junkie examines his surroundings, looking for any source of stress. With a shrill and victorious growl, he pounces upon his prey and vomits bile onto its torso, the digestive process beginning before he even takes his first bite. His mouth dribbles corrosive spittle as he gobbles up his victim feet-first. His prey screams. He humps the dusty earth, giving himself over to the hate. But the high only lasts about twenty minutes before the maddening itch begins anew. He will drop his plaything, broken and already forgotten in the dirt, scanning the horizon once more.
You’ve known some of these people. They yell and rage about the traffic on the beltway so much that when the spittle starts flying and the veins start pumping, you just roll your eyes with irritation and try your best to be invisible while blocking them out.

They are the boy who cried, “Bullshit! I hate everything!”

And yes, that angry jerk at the office can really drop a crap in your Cheerios and ruin your whole day with his bad attitude, but he is only a minor annoyance, easily deflected. He can rant and sputter about traffic all he likes, but when he leaves the room everyone else gets to sigh and talk smack about him. Someone says, “Christ on a crutch, who took a crap in his Cheerios?” and the tension is broken with community disapproval.

But what if the Office Jerk figured out how to get his anger fix in a way that was not only justified, but praised? Getting pissed at traffic every day might make his peers call him a jerk, but getting pissed at a racist cop for beating a young black kid will make them call him a hero.