Sunday, December 30, 2012

Exploitation by apple

NY Times Jan 25, 2012 "In China Human Costs Are Built Into an IpaD"

Idiots in eptx

What do these creatures think? Do they think at all? Are they drunk or stoned all of the time? Possible answers: Yes, I know that my dog makes squealing noises like a pig---- for three or four hours at a time........But, the kids love it. ...... Or, I love it. Yes my dog was squealing for literally hours, but, it is my dog and my yard, so fuck off!

Or, Yes, my dog barks intermittently throughout the entire day (and night), or even sometimes for hours non- stop, but I couldn't care less. I am inside watching the idiot box.

Or, I thought my neighbors were all deaf. It is my god damn yard, and I am frustrated with my life, so this is the one thing I can do that makes me feel important. I am deaf, and did not realize that my dog was barking for hours at a time.

 Yes, I saw his jaws moving, but I thought he was speaking, probably reciting poetry in a doggy style, but softly, too quitly to be heard. I have to have a barking dog for the same reason I have to own a pick up truck and a small house with a fence around it: that is the only way to live. Ownership of a barking dog proves I am human, and civilized. It shows that my life is successful. If I did not own a barking dog, I would feel bad, odd, a social outcast. My friends might say to me: What is wrong with you? Why dont you have a dog?

 Or, what is wrong with your dog? Why doesnt he bark? Dont you know a house is not really a home unless it has at least one dog out in the yard barking all the time?

But, the explanation is really much simpler: El Pasoans are assholes.

Recommended reading:
  http://jnls.cup.org/abstract.do?componentId=7950509&jid=THI

I have cut and pasted the abstract and publication information below; but, first, a brief comment:

  My take on it: even owning a pet has undesirable consequences--consequences which most people would prefer to ignore. (Cf. the continuing squandering of resources on advertising pushing the obsolete technology, the climate-destroying personally piloted vehicle.............as if there were no climate change.) A fundamental principle of morality and healthy peasant reason is: you've got to think about the consequences of your action. That fundamental idea is shit upon everyday by corporations and politicians---so, is it a surprise if ordinary people give in to the tendency to close their eyes?
I suppose stupidity can be the product of demoralization and "discipline" in the workplace.  (Your job can make you stupid!)

What follows below has been cut and pasted:

Think (2011), 10: 105-108 Copyright © The Royal Institute of Philosophy 2011 doi: 10.1017/S1477175610000448
Published online: Dec 2010 Research Article ARE DOGS THE NEW HUMMER?
by Margaret Betz:

Pet adoption from an animal rescue shelter would seem to be one of those indisputable things in life that only increases a person's positive karma. Kant spoke of morality residing in a good will and pure intention; saving a dog from being euthanized by providing it with a loving, secure home seems the living embodiment of that. Or so it would seem.

Margaret Betz is an adjunct philosophy professor at Rutgers University and West Chester University in America. She is the author of The Hidden Philosophy of Hannah Arendt and various articles on continental philosophy, feminist theory, and animal ethics. Diotima121@aol.com

Monday, December 24, 2012

untitled, unfinished

"Maximilian was born on 6 July 1832 in the Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna"
--Wikipedia

I.
When I visited the Palace Schoenbrunn,
as I have too many times,
I was not moved,
by the attempt to portray Sissi as a saint--Everywoman,
slimming, and exercising in obedience to the gods of beauty.

And I was baffled,
by the willingness,
of all assembled to believe,
that the childen of privilege,
were really only just like us.

II.
But I did not notice or understand,
that the Future Emperor of Mexico,
came into being,
within the walls of this many-roomed monstrosity.


III.
Nor was I moved by the sad tale,
of an emperor who spent countless hours,
slaving away at his desk,
managing the affairs of his empire:

If Empire came to be out of the slavish devotion of an Emperor,
then Profit might derive from the Abstinence of Capitalists!


IV.
But things began to look different,
on the day that a native of Mexico described,
his visit to the Palace Schoenbrunn,
Where he heard it said that Maximillian of royal blood,
was killed by "Juarez, the Indian".

---And he went on to explain,
smiling as he did,
that the tour guide had not noticed,
that some of the tourists were Mexican.



Noted, noticed, imagined

Monday, December 17, 2012

a poem

An Intensive course is Expensive; but we Guarantee Results!


Tired of being alone?

Learn to live with it! In twelve easy lessons.

---At An affordable price too!!




I am practicing the art of loneliness.
I remember people who I hardly know,
but have seen,
or spoken to,
and I imagine that they are better,
more lively,
more beautiful,
than anyone could be.


I envy people in pairs or groups,
and look down upon their frivolity;
I take refuge in the profundity,
of my stern alone-ness.


I am so serious about it all,
that I must be doing something important,
even if all I'm doing is hiding my loneliness.


I feel odd if I go outside,
but alone,
at home,
with my thoughts,
I go mad.

Re-tracing what I should have done,
but didn't do,
remembering moments of pain and anxiety,
false steps on the road to social isolation.

I remember all of it,
and can change none of it,
and travel in a pointless, painful circle,
Until, finally, I will run through the door,
burst onto the street,
and meet no one,
except a cold wind,
snow half-melted and half frozen,
and the whoosh of passing cars.

And, then,
I will stoutly,
bravely,
falsely,
pretend that I know where I am going,
why I am here,
and if I should meet someone,
anyone,
who knew me,
I would want to hug them,
and pull them close,
not let them leave,
because,
finally I can't stand it any more:
This being alone.


And so I am an easy target,
and almost a willing victim.


I am a very bad practitioner of the art of being alone.




Copyleft 2012 Mark J. Lovas
All rights reserved

You are not allowed to copy for commercial purposes.
You are not allowed to change anything.

Not allowed to splice and dice or embed my text in your something.

Copying for creative or educational purposes is encouraged so long as originál authorship is retained and no changes are made.

Poetry is not a commodity.
Human beings are not commodities.



Sunday, December 16, 2012

doubts

I've not revised the most recent entry, and I have doubts about it.  That word "communism" can only confuse.  There are dangers here, and I may well have not avoided them.....But, for now, I shall let the entry stand, unrevised, on the grounds that a blog is not ---or this blog is not----a scientific treatise, but, in part, a place where evolving and unfinished thinking goes on.  No one should think otherwise.  (Well, as a matter of fact, no scientific treatise can stand unrevised.  Possibly a better comparison is with the dogmatic literal-minded interpretation of religious texts......But I hope my point is clear;  while I try to be honest and respect the facts, it is inevitable that I stumble upon misunderstandings of my own from time to time...............and no one should imagine that I think otherwise.)

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

r'd off and p'd off..............

Warning Label:  This is not a finished, canonical version.  However, I hope by posting it that I shall inspire myself to correct, and, where necessary, expand upon the text.

Allow me to describe my present accomodation:  one longer room faces the street.  I've not got buildings close to me, so there's a bit of a view.  It's not claustrophobic.  The window is new, recently put in.  I can open it to get fresh air.  The curtains covering it are typical flimsy, and, I suspect dusty, Communist-dorm-era curtains.

The other windows, facing a different direction, are sealed permanently shut and  are rusty.

Together, all the windows produce enough light.  No complaints there.

Alas, since the kitchen windows are permanently sealed, and there is no fan or source of fresh air, the kitchen smells.  Or, it did when I first moved in.  By now I am used to it.

The radiators are unpainted and rusty, dirty.

The two overhead lights are not naked lightbulbs, but have fixtures, which are dirty and contain insects and other dirt.  They were not cleaned prior to my moving in.

There is an abundance of office furniture----two chairs,  two office chairs, bookcases, a regular chair, and other items such as a low table which might be used if I had guests.

Both of the  office chair are broken.  The back doesn't stay in position.  The wheels on the bottom are also non-functional. The wheels do not roll as they should.  The third chair has a sort of cloth or carpet back that is worn out and looks hideous. 

There are two simple beds, typical of commuist-era dorms.  The management is obsessed with the idea that I have TWO beds.  This is typical of the post-communist mentality which originated during communism.  They think everyone now has the opportunity to go into business----and somehow that scares them, as if they feared that I would suddenly start renting out my extra bed.

(Really!  What utter stupidity!  Do they really imagine that If I've complained about noise and a lack of privacy as much as I have that  I am suddenly going to give up my privacy to make a little bit of pocket change?)

Despite all that, I can work here. It's not a beautiful flat, but it is functional.  In fact, the kitchen doesn't even have a proper stove.  It's got a badly functioning hot plate.  And, what's more the wiring in the entire flat is, to say the least, sub-standard---fifty years out of date.  I have to be careful.  If I've got the hot plate on, I can't run the printer.  When I do that, the light go out.

But, it's quiet and I can work here.  And it's more than a hundred dollars cheaper than the last awful place I lived.

The other place was awful because it was noisy.

Today I paid rent for last month.  I paid for the privilege of living in that "expensive"  ("It's our best.") flat.  And, to be honest, it really pissed me off when the lady explained my bill by mentioning it was an "expensive" flat-----as if I had chosen to live there.  Well, no I actually didn't.  And I didn't know how much it would cost prior to moving in..........(But  don't want to blame the colleague who helped me.  It's really not her fault. There's something else going on here:  a mentality which must be at least thirty years old...........not a product of anything essentially communist, not a product of anti-capitalism or especially socialist thought, but a product of the narrowness of mind and meanness which was cultivated during the period called "communism"......a certain narrow bureaucratic mindset.......

Well, as I think of it, that flat didn't have a stove either---Only a hot plate, though one that was more functional than the one I am currently using.

And that flat was NOT luxurious.  Somebody made an attempt to make the flat comfortable.  And I appreciate that.  I appreciated it very much when I first moved in-----before I knew about the price.

In fact, the flat was pretentious and very bourgeoise, to the extent of being downright KITSCH.

There were bits of nice Czech folk art (pottery). Not bad.  In addition, the walls had some pictures.

But the furniture and furnishings!  Whiskey glasses with the university logo!  I don't need that.
And, then there was the stereotypical middleclass china cabinet---mostly empty, but containing variou logo'd whiskey glasses.....

The longer I stayed there, the more that particular piece of furniture seemed like an insult.  As if I were expected to leave a certain sort of kitsch and mindless lifestyle.  (No thank you.)
Invite my guests to my flat  (after my lecture as a visiting scholar) for a drink...

Err, no.  I don't live like that.   Never have.  And, I 'd rather join my students in a cheap pub for a beer.

But, to be fair, they attempted to create something comfortable----according to their (rather limited) imagination.

Nonetheless, while the walls were painted and it did not contain broken furniture (unlike the current place) and it didn't have rusty radiators (unlike the current place)  it was NOT luxurious.  It was average or normal,  Not something to be charged an "expensive" rate for.  Moreover, given that there was a hotplate and not a stove, it was sub-standard.

But, I am afraid I have a rather cynical attitude about Central Europeans who go in for "reconstruction".  They think because they put in a wood floor (and it seems to be always exactly the same floor) and a new sink or whatever, they can double the price of some small apartment.....(And I do mean "Central" Europeans:  I once had a landlord in Austria who had fixed up the "sub standard" flat by putting in a bathroom.  And it was not bad as bathrooms go.  However, I believe (though I have no conclusive evidence) that on that basis he doubled the rent.  The joke is that I once visited a similarly sub-standard flat (bathroom in the hall) where the rent was half of what I was paying.  Well, that un-renovated flat wasn't so bad---and, jeez, if the rent is half as much!  The bathroom was in the hall, but it was used only by the resident of the flat. And it was immediately next to the entry door for the flat.  --So doubling the price!!???  After all, teachers (which I am) are pretty uniformly poorly paid.  Don't get me wrong:  I understand that renovation costs money, but living costs money and I don't collect rent.  And I do work for a living---though my activities don't fit within the capitalist mentality.  (But that would require a lengthier and other blog entry.  I also hope to someday write about:  How Central Europeans love their families and joyously embrace free markets without realizing that free markets are intrinscially anti-family..............someday.............)

Well, today I paid the security deposit on my new flat.  What a joke.  It's full of broken furniture, rusty radiators, and it has out-of-date electrical wiring, and they think I might do some damage?
What planet are they living on?  They are just cheap and greedy.  That's what I think.





Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Capitalist Hell

The dystopic vision of the future which we have seen in sci-fi movies is rapidly approaching....
Today, for the first time--the first time in Pardubice, in the Czech Republic.....---- I saw a moving "billboard"----a noisy truck  with a screen mounted on the back.

This is true hell because it is so loud as to disturb a pedestrian's thoughts........ 

Welcome to capitalist hell.

Friday, November 30, 2012

yankee gringo in mean europe

Overheard:  "Of course prices are going up next year.  It's normal......."

Unspoken reply:  As long as we allow them to make us pay their gambling debts........

deletions

I have deleted a few recent posts.  Let's just say that my view of things has changed.
It is, of course, a great sin to jump to conclusions. However, it is also a great relief to express one's evovling view of a situation.  My views have changed, but I can't say more by way of details just now.

If I can stay in a quiet place and get some work done, then I shall have an altogether fresher, and more open outlook......and even time to notice things which would otherwise go unnoticed..............

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

notes for regular readers

I've moved to a new location.  Here I hear the hum of machines and the noise of traffic.  That is not disturbing.  The noise of voices coming through the wall, women shouting in the hall, heels striking an uncarpeted hall---all those noises are disturbing and strangely intimate.

In my classes I've been commenting upon the textbooks claim that enterprises move to places where labor is cheap and production is "efficient".  It would appear that Apple and other manufacturers do not merely employ Chinese labor because it is cheaper, but also because laws are weaker or not enforced---laws to do with workplace safety.  And I've told students of the famous USA tragedy---"tragedy"???, Shouldn't I say crime?----- , the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire.....

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triangle_Shirtwaist_Factory_fire


And, how odd that the recent fire in a Bangladesh factory is so similar.......the exit doors were locked....http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/nov/27/bangladesh-factory-fire-started-believe


Is it also a "law" of economics that factory owners must lock the exit doors? Or, is it a law of economics that companies which use aluminum cannot have proper ventilation?

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/26/business/ieconomy-apples-ipad-and-the-human-costs-for-workers-in-china.html?pagewanted=all

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Late November

There is a man below
approximately forty five degrees below
whether I am in bed or in the chair beside the bed,
his voice follows me,
bothers me,
destroys me.

His voice is stupidly confident, and arrogant,
demanding.
I suppose he thinks he knows who he is,
as there is little of hesitation in the noise,
the stream of sound pouring out of him.

I hate him.

I could také a machine gun and end his life,
without a moment's hesitation,
but not if I could see him.
If I could see him,
I might shout at him to shut up,
pointlessly,
because he would stare at me open-mouthed,
incapable of imagining that I need silence,
not chatter,
and not slamming doors,
squeaking doors,
or echoing voices.

But, what,then, would I do with the silly girls,
whose voices come late at night,
from above me?
they seem to live inside the walls,
and their voices also resonate,
growing stronger with the help
of the materials out of which this wretched building has been built,
laughing and breathing,
pausing to enjoy their lives,
or pausing to think,
they are all too audible and irritating.

Life is no joy,
and much pain;
It is full of everyday irritations
and the overwhelming presence of other people,
unwanted  and strange voices,
entering unwanted univinted into my consciousness.

And that's even before I've gone out the door.

Once I've opened the door,
and gone outside,
I am even less safe,
less free from penetrating wants:
I may be accosted by the apartment manager,
with her demands.
--But she only wants to help,
and save me from homelessness!

I don't care how polite she is;
I want to be left alone.

I have things to say,
and not to her!
things to read,
thoughts to think,
but I can't begin to think before I've been stopped:
everyone insists upon pushing, penetrating, poking me.

Thoughtlessly,
insistently,
callously.
Why can't they all just leave me alone?

Because this building is nothing more than a torture chamber?
Because our lives were designed by some cruel student of Guantanamo?



Late November

Pardubice




Sunday, November 25, 2012

The Cruelty of the USA DON"T care system

My mother is, once again, without her needed pain killer.

She has a degenerative condition which causes excessive pain. She can hardly walk.

She needs her pain killer merely to have a level of bearable pain. The pain does not go away when she has her medication.

Yet, the doctor, knowing that, has now jerked her around--changed her scheduled appointment in an arbitrary, and (I would say) arrogant way.

And the default position of my mother's health insurance company is to DENY a request for medication.

Note well:  My mother is eighty-six years old.  Her problems won't go away.  Today or tomorrow.  She will only need that pain-killer more, not less.

So, when the Health Insurance Company (a for-profit, capitalist firm) requires that the doctor approve her request every six months (or whenever it is) this is a pointless extra wheel added to an already not-smoothly-functioning machine.

This extra requirement makes it easier for it to happen, as it has now happened now, that my mother is without pain relief----and is, therefore, quite simply miserable.

Would that there were a hell in which such doctors and insurance companies (their Wall Street owners) could burn in agony.  I dare say those pampered assholes couldn't bare half the pain my mother has endured without whining and screaming out.  But, unlike her, they would deserve it...........

workplace mottoes

The motto of the cleaners in the "Hotel" located at Studentska 22, Blok D,
might well be:

WE DO THE JOB!!
and
WE MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE WHILE DOING SO!
WE MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE WHILE DOING SO!

I say this after being rudely woken up this morning.....again....

And, for what it's worth, once upon the time I lived in a similar facility,
a "hotel" in a student dormitory in the neighboring land of Slovakia,
and it was NOT so noisy, not at all...........

(So, I have some grounds for comparison, I think...............)

emotional truth

The Grouch Reads: about emotions.........

I've been reading Ronald deSousa's book, "Emotional Truth", and something occurs to me.

deSousa's Plato is a cardboard image derived from the work of Gregory Vlastos---or, so I surmise.  (If anyone really knows otherwise, feel free to tell me.)

(That is, if anyone has reason to think that deSousa's view is anything more than a reduplication of GV's, let me know.  I don't need someone to tell me the view is more than a cardboard image.  I recognize that is a provocative and controversial statement and I could not say it in a respectable professional context without extensive argument and textual analysis.  However, you see, this is a blog and not a refereed journal.  However, you find a brief gesture in the direction of more professional work below.)

So, for example, on this version of Plato, the weakness of the human intellect consists, more or less,
in our separation from a world of "perfect" objects.  (yccch)

However, a similar stress on the limits of our knowledge is itself present in deSousa's positive views.
deSousa thinks every individual has unique emotions and that emotions are infinitely multiple.

And deSousa (as I read him) likes or even enjoys the multiplicity of it all.  I want to comment: for me that is perfectly Platonic. 

On my reading of Plato, if deSousa thinks that our actual knowledge of emotions is dwarfed by the multiplicity of individual emotions, then that is much like  what Plato thought about our ability to understand reality---and there's no need to talk about "another world" (yccch).

(Quick pain of conscience:  how independent of human activities are deSousa's emotions?  To what extent are individual emotional histories constructed on deSousa's account? Doesn't he say that we can mistake our emotions? Is that enough?   Should I be satisfied?)

However, deSousa believes in a version of the multiplicity of values which allows that there are genuinely irreconcilable conflicts---no determinate answer to questions about what's good or bad.

(I might say 'right' or 'wrong'---but those are not my preferred terms.)

The question for me as I continue to read deSousa is this:  what sort of communication between individuals can exist if their emotional histories are so diverse as deSousa says.  And, a further subject of continual interest is how to reconcile a respectable sort of objectivity with facts about variation in culture and language.  (The latter a general question, here applied to this particular book.)

In conclusion,
The Grouch Must Read Further.............

NOTE
How is it that scientist put it?  Well, I've received no funding or any payment whatsoever to express my opinions.  Nonetheless, I feel I should confess up front that Terry Penner was my teacher, and he has argued at length for the inadequacy of the view of Plato's metaphysics which deSousa assumes.  (See, e.g. his "The Ascent from Nominalism".  A shorter (IMHO more accessible) essay about Plato's "Forms" appears in a recent volume of essays devoted to Plato's "Republic".)

Friday, November 23, 2012

ressentiment in Blok D

I had hoped that I would have a week of peace.  After all, I had agreed with the head cleaning lady that I would clean the room myself, and so they need not disturb me.

But this morning at 9:30, someone was pounding furiously on the door.  Note well: they were not knocking.  They were pounding.  And, as I ignored the pounding, the noise only got louder.

Now, generally speaking, that sounds like aggressive behavior.  Maybe you think it was the police?  Or a neighbor was going to complain about the noise I was making?

Well, no, it was the manager of the place where I live.  She wanted to know when I was moving out.

Of course, she did not put it so directly.  Moreover, she had a bureaucratic explanation:  This hotel (ha ha ha) is only for short term occupancy.

Well, as a matter of fact, I am planning to move out.  However, that's not good enough.  She wants to know when,

She did, however, offer another apartment for me in yet another "Blok". Well, I don't think I will be taking this generous offer.  (I may be a nuisance, but, at least my money is good.)

In fact, the bossy manager was accompanied by another woman. (Why she was there I cannot imagine as she remained quiet through the whole thing.)

But the other woman was a woman to whom I had complained that the bossy manager and I did not communicate well.  And, I also complained about the price I am paying.

Now, as a matter of fact, this second woman took my money when I paid this month's rent, and whilst she gave me a computer-generated document, it actually wasn't a proper bill.  It had the amount I paid, but it did not actually specify what I had paid for---how many nights, at what rate. 

So, that sort of un-professionalism is what I expect.  Just like banging on my door at nine-thirty in the morning didn't really surprise me.

I have no doubt in my mind what really happened.  The bossy manager is mad at me.  She resents my very presence.

Moreover, she's got permanent employees---the cleaning staff--who I have upset, and she'd like to tell them that she got rid of me.

As I've written before, this apartment is adequate.  (But, now that I look around, it does have some weird features----such as a cabinet with glasses and glass doors, evidently designed to allow me to entertain guests with hard liquour.  Which is a bit odd considering that such entertaining is not exactly encouraged by the stern ladies (well, one is considerably less stern, and another has shown signs of life) who guard the front door. (Protecting us from who exactly?  I'd like to ask....)

Moreover, while this small apartment is clean and freshly painted, it's not really adequate as a workplace----and I do work at home.  There is a small table in the kitchen, but it's not really a good place to work.  My books are all in the bedroom.

Well, as the bossy manager left, she seemed to nod with satisfaction to her assistant----as if to say, "\well, that took care of him".

Her demand is actually quite odd.  She wants me to tell her exactly when I am leaving.  But, then I did tell her that I was looking for an apartment.  Wouldn't that mean I shall leave as soon as I find an apartment?  And wouldn't that mean that I am unable to specify a definite date until I've found a place?

Well, at the very least I can assure her that I won't be here on 1 January 2013. And I have no doubt that she will share this information with the cleaning ladies, who will wag their tongues with delight at the thought that they can continue to shout up and down the hall and slam doors without having a naughty foreigner complain.

Odd how she demanded that I inform her.....Demanded......

Well, she did apologize for pounding madly on my door.  But, somehow, as I think about the force and aggression which seemed to be expressed by her pounding, I don't really believe that apology was anything more than a diplomatic ploy.

Oh, I shall be glad to move out of this place!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I don't believe it.


I DON'T BELIEVE IT

keywords for Czechs and Slovaks: upratovačka, uklízečka


I simply don't believe

that God or the laws of economics

(which is all just superstition anyway)

have decreed:

That someone should get down on her hands and knees,

and clean up after me.



I don't believe it;

I'd rather clean up after myself,

or not clean up at all.

Monday, November 19, 2012

On hating Blok D


ON HATING BLOK D


I resent and I hate:

the fact that if I want to wash my dirty clothes,

I have to go downstairs,

and face some woman,

sitting behind a glass booth,

and I must ask her permission,

and I must pay her,

before she will give me the key,

which will open the door,

on the fourth floor,

in the middle of a god-awful stinky corridor,

which has a room,

within which sits a nothing-special washing machine,

where I will be allowed,

finally,

to wash my clothes,

which will then take many days to dry.



And I hate the fact

that when I enter this building

I meet the face of some woman

who I don't know

staring at me from behind a glass partition

as if she were guarding the entrance

to Fort Knox,

wherein is stored the nation's gold,

or as if she were protecting the Vestal Virgins

from violation by barbarian intruders!

---and I want to say:

This isn't so very different from those dark days

that you like to call “communism”.

and they didn't even knock!

As I have written before, I pay a pretty penny to live in this so-called hotel, which is nothing but a Communist-era student dormitory----a noisy place due to the habits of the cleaning ladies, and the lack of carpet on the floor.

But, the cleaning ladies do not even knock before entering!

As I just noticed when I chased two of them away.

As I sat reading, I heard a scratching noise at my door.  I opened it to see two cleaning ladies outside, "May I help you?",  "Good day" , one said, as she started to enter my rented apartment.--enter?  She started to rush in like a dog desperate to go outside and pee......

I stopped her and shouted, telling her to go away.  "I need privacy. Do you know what privacy is?  We con't have communism any more."

They both stared at me with blank looks.

The problem in this country is not the official communist party.  It is the inner communism in the minds and souls of these poor women.

And, let me be clear.  They do a job that is poorly paid, and they receive little respect.  My behavior was nothing to be proud of.  They deserve more.

But I am perfectly well able to wipe down my own counter tops and throw away my own garbage.

I am not grateful merely to have a place protected from the weather.  I want a quiet place where I can work without interruptions. And I don't think that's too much to ask.  (Even if,as I know, many people in the world do not have that.)

To enter without knocking is simply disrespectful.  It means that nothing could be happening on the other side of the door which should be respected. 


Studentska 202, Blok D
Pardubice,
Czech Republic

Note:

In theory, if I don't teach until ten or eleven, I should be able to stay home and prepare.  But with the noise here, that's difficult.  And, today's upset is a perfect example of why this living accomodation is simply intolerable.

Nonetheless, it seems the regular cleaning lady is home with a heart problem.  (Shouldn't she be in the hospital?)  So, the two ladies who attempted to enter my apartment were, I assume, filling in for her.  And that means, they've got extra work today.

And, I, like a buffoon, have just shouted at them.  Why?

In truth, my place is a bit of a mess.  If I had known they were coming, I would have cleaned up first.

But here it is not yet ten o'clock and I've just been angry and upset.  This is no way to start a day, no way to start a week.................

after-thought  (20.11.2012)
Don't get me wrong.  I have seen these ladies down on their hands and knees washing the stairs where students walk.---and I don't think that anyone should have to do that---Or, at the very least, students should help with the cleaning up at least once a week.---after all, it's the mess that THEY have made......

Sunday, November 18, 2012

grotesque excuse making


Re-Packaging the Harmful Effects of Capitalism


Key words for Czechs and Slovaks: bagatelizovat, kapitalismus


A friend recently sent me a link to two professors who are in the business of justifying the consequences of capitalism.
They do not represent themselves in that way; however, I believe that is what they are doing.
Women today are choosing not to marry. They find that men lack the attributes needed in a committed relationship. At any rate, that is one way to describe it.

Another way is this: due to the demands of the workplace, and the psychic shocks of unemployment, men are increasingly unable to cope---not through any inner failure or inner incapacity, but due to the genuine stress of their real situation. This is not an individual failure, but a social failure. The structures which allow men to develop emotionally do not exist.

Brave new women who make such choices!

Well, not really. Both men and women are reacting to fundamental changes which have their source in the decisions of a small minority of (mostly) men who own the wealth of our society. This „new social trend“ is nothing but the consequence of decisions made by a small group of people; it's got nothing to do with a new „freedom“.


Nor is it anything new. In the past, the poor male could not afford to marry. We can see the fragile economic life of families in nineteenth century novels. My choice to make the point now would be George Elliot's „Mill on the Floss“. The father wants nothing but that his son should have the vocabulary and intelligence to do battle with lawyers, but the father cannot choose wisely. His choice of an education for his son is overly influenced by the opinions of a richer man, and the father's bankruptcy sets into motion a series of steps which destroy his children.

This is a tale about parents and children---parents who want their children to be happy. And it depicts a family which is destroyed by inequality, injustice which is at the heart of that society.

Nor are the new apologists for the social and emotional consequences of capitalism seeing through the appearance to the essence of things. The destruction of the 1950s style family is not merely the destruction of an artificial form of organization; it is also the destruction of the life-hopes of millions of people.

I have no wish to worship or justify the peculiar sort of family structure which Americans wrongly believed to be the essence of social relationships. However, the changes in capitalism which have forced a change in sexual relationships have also made it harder simply to have deep friendships. It is not merely the 1950's style family which is under attack. It is our very personal lives themselves---and there is no better example of this than „Facebook“--which makes your friendships and your free time” commodities whereby already existing class divisions are intensified.


18 November 2012

An after-thought: Communism and Social Relationships

Living in Central Europe, I have heard people say, and I have read that during the period called “communism”, there was more time for personal relationships and families. Today everyone is busier. They may be, in some sense, freer, but overall they have less time to enjoy friends and families.

And, I have to add immediately that I am in no way desirous that that old form of society should return. What is called “communism” was not democratic and it meant great suffering for many people.

Nonetheless, our current social and economic system also has its victims, and they are uncounted and countless.
However, my point now is to speak about, write about, think about the character of “Tomas”in Kundera's novel, “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”
Tomas loses his job as a surgeon because he was outspoken about the hypocrisy of communists.

He agrees with his wife to move to a small village to save her from the intrusions of the secret police.

And, in the end, he has a sort of life in a small village, a life which provides him a degree of happiness or contentment. As he says at the book's end, when asked by Tereza, his wife, whether he regrets the fact that he gave up his career: a career is bullshit.

But, the same terrible system which prevented him from realizing his skills as a surgeon also allowed him to escape to a village. He didn't have to worry about whether he would earn enough money to pay his bills and pay for health insurance. A certain minimum standard was maintained. Nothing of that sort is available today for men who lose their jobs.

And I simply don't believe that the choices are: either the repressive system called “communism”or a totally insecure life within capitalism. I can't see why people cannot be guaranteed a decent life. However, I do not see that we are heading in that direction today. Rather, things are getting worse. The only sign of hope is the willingness of people to go into the streets to express their dissatisfaction with the status quo.

Appendix
“If dating and mating is in fact a market place---and of course it is......”

----added emphasis, Kate Bolick, “All the Single Ladies”, Atlantic Monthly 2011, accessed on line 18.11.2012;

Of course, dating and mating are not a market place...........

Homework assignment for Professor Bolick:
Read and study Chapter Four of Robin Hahnel's The ABC's of Political Economy; A Modern Approach; Pluto Books, London and Sterling VA, 2002.

In brief, the argument I would make is that dating and mating simply are not markets because the conceptual apparatus of markets does not allow for justice, or fairness or anything that a civilized human being cares about. You can conceive of your relationships with human beings in that manner, but you will thereby narrowly reduce (distort/over-simplify) yourself and your friends—and what you are really feeling, thinking.

Recommended Reading

I continue to believe that the most enlightened account of this trend is provided by the therapist, Harriet Fraad. 
http://rdwolff.com/content/letters-and-politics-economist-richard-wolff-and-psychotherapist-harriet-fraad

Friday, November 16, 2012

A Nurse Supervisor who Abuses the Elderly

I've just hung up the phone. And my eighty-six year old mother was very, very upset.
She had a very unpleasant experience with the Nurse Supervisor who has a habit of showing up, giving nonsense orders, and then leaving.

I, too, was abused by this terrible woman--not just once.  And, I have blogged about it.  The worst incident was when she sternly ordered me to buy some pill containers---this day!----and then later, it turned out they were totally unnecessary. But I had to make a special trip to buy them.  (And then a couple of days later I returned them to get my money back---since they were completely unnecessary.)

And the bitch never even apologized or admitted her mistake.

Now, the same awful so-called nurse has been verbally abusing my mother. And my mother is very upset.

I've told my mother that she has the right to refuse to allow the woman to enter her home.  It's part of the bill of rights of those who receive in-home care.

But what this particular nurse deserves....well, to start with, she should be banned from working with any elderly people whatsoever....She should have her license or professional qualification taken away........  She consistently and frequently abuses her position.  There is no excuse for this.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

My BLOK D nightmare continues..............

rumble rumble rumble
I hear the wheels and the rumbling of the cleaning lady's cart.......


|My Blok D Nightmare


Last month I paid 7,700 Czech Crowns for what is, in effect, a modest (but noisy) apartment.  (Not a luxury apartment---a small, recently painted, clean, but very noisy apartment, where I have no privacy and am inspected when I come or go---inspected by a woman sitting at the front door behind a glass booth.....)

It is clean, but it does not actually have a stove---only a hotplate.
But it is a two-room apartment.

For the price, I could easily rent a decent private flat. (If I had the time to look.....)
But, to add insult to injury (to add Capitalist greed/austerity to a communist lack of privacy plus communist austerity) I've just learned that I can't even have an overnight guest---unless I pay more!
That minimum level of privacy is not available to me----even though I paid 7,700 Crowns.

They figure that two students could live in this room--after all, it's got two (primitive) beds---and they are (therefore) losing money when I'm here all by myself!

Two students because it's got two beds!---two primitve communist beds accompanied by TOO SHORT inadequate bed clothes---I often wake up at six am with cold feet because the periny do not cover my feet---- not to mention the TINY COMMUNIST AUSTERITY bath towels!

The worst possible combination: Capitalist austerity/greed plus never-dying communist habits!

Heaven forbid the University should miss a chance to make a couple of extra crowns from a student or teacher! Now that would be a crime!
 
What a bunch of *****!!!!!**** cheapskates!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

let's distinguish

Recently I was reassured by a nurse.  She made it clear to me that she was willing to help my mother, whenever my mother needs help.

I must distinguish between her sincerity and the behavior of supervising nurses, or nurses who come on a brief visit with a chiefly bureaucratic purpose.

There is a clear difference between those with more (so-called) responsibility and those who really do the job.

It's no different than teaching.  Administrators live in a world of their own........

I was genuinely grateful to this caring nurse.  And, I am genuinely disgusted and angry, fed up with the other sort...................

orgies of cheerfulness/descriptions of an illness

Noted in passing:
Capitalism seems to produce momentary (and lengthier) orgies of joyful cynicism, based upon no real thought or reflection.  --Surely not based upon logic or "empirical" research---resulting in joyful outbursts, exclamations of the obvious truth that it's "all" about money, or that someone's behavior---and the individual is never anyone we know or have even met----is surely based upon the most selfish or profit-seeking of motives.......

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Blok D on a Saturday evening

I've just finished an exhausting stint of Saturday teaching, and can only gaze in wonder at the energy displayed, e.g., at a blog like Robert Paul Wolff's.

I am exhausted, and will be happy to do a little reading.

In the meantime, true to form, doors have slammed, people have shouted up and down the doors of the uncarpeted corridor---their voices echoing sharply--and number plates have clinked mercilessly against keys.

Best of all, someone in the kitchen down the hall cooked some sort of stinking greasy mess that I could smell very well in the nearby apartment.

I miss the Italians who stayed her very briefly.  They never cooked anything that stank.

I've gained some appreciation of why Czechs long for (what they call) 'real capitalism'. They've gullibly swallowed a dogmatic form of economics called "neo classical", but, more than that,
what they long for (I now think) is to be given a fair chance.  (I say that neo-classical is a dogmatic form of economics in large measure because I am convinced by arguments offered by the likes of Robin Hahnel, to the effect that externalities make it impossible for markets to produce anything like happiness or justice for all, or even most of us.)

Czechs are right to want to be give a fair chance; but that sincere desire has got nothing to do with tying one's self to a dogmatic form of failed economic theorizing.

I was told today that no less an authority than Vaclav Klaus denies global warming.  If that's true, then it's evidence of the diminished mental powers which come from habitually thinking according to the dogmatic form of economics, the "zombie" variety..... Klaus is evidently no sort of scientist.  Sad the nation that looks to him for wisdom.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Blok D

Blok |D

The students have gone home, dragging their wheeled suitcases up and down halls.

But one sturdy fellow remains here.

Above or below me, maybe to the side of me, his voice has been talking for two or three hours now. Is it a monotone?  Is that what you call it?  He seems to hover about one tone, which is just suited for making a pipe or some piece of metal in the wall vibrate.

He has been talking for two or three hours.

I would like to strangle him.

His voice accompanied me as I fell asleep two hours ago.

His voice was there when I woke with sandpaper eyes.

When will he stop?

The students have gone home, but the students are not noisy.

The cleaning ladies are noisy when they do teamwork. One shouts loudly from the end of the hall to her sister three or four doors away.  Doors slam loudly.

All noises are amplified by the empty walls and empty halls free from carpets or unneeded niceties.

Then someone slams down a bucket

The student is still talking.

There is, as well, the four-wheeled cart of one cleaning lady, our local queen.  The wheels resonate loudly and rattle a tiny bit on the uncarpeted floor.  Most days there are no lights in the halls and it is dark.  There is a light switch but we practice a form of austerity here.  I like to think of it as ancient austerity, dating from the dark days of Communism.

Our local queen of the cleaning ladies might shout too.  And, she has the trick of slamming doors down to an art.

Best of all, though is her cart.  You hear it rattling, coming towards you from far away.

On a good day you can even hear a cart moving on the floor above.  The wheels spin as the body rattles and the sounds on top of the non-smooth motion forward make for an echoing sound in the naked halls.

Not to be surpassed.  Those staying in the halls bring their own wheeled contraptions which hum and rattle and create an unlovely cacaphony no less painful than the cleaner's machines.

And then there are the ladies whose heels strike and echo up and down the empty halls:  CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK

With luck the lady drags as suitcase behind her so that her wheels can roll and scream too.

But then there are the keys with their metal number plates.  They too click, but it is a metallic click all their own--echoing on their own before they resonate in the empty, dark, halls......You cannot open a door or even begin to think about opening or lock a door without setting them in motion, and creating the awful sound of the key being hit by the number plate.  No mad genius could have better invented a device of aural torture which was easier to use and more effective in reducing an audience to idiocy.  (Thus the origin of my current mental state.)

The mad cleaning lady riding her skateboard could not be noisier.  If only the wheels are metal or
hard, but not in any way covered by rubber--that, too, a kind of Communist style austerity.....

The student is still talking?  Perhaps he is mad and he has no audience.  I don't care.  I'd still like to strangle him.

Studentska 22
Blok D
Pardubice,
The Czech Republic

"But we gave you our nicest flat!."

Addendum:

I neglected to mention (as a sound now reminds me) of another beauty of BLOKD
Scraping, dragging furniture:

Itself a chapter in torture
We can drag chairs, briefly,
or drag larger items,
and doors can squeak as well.

Some days, the doors squeak at five or six,
accompanied by the sound of empty boots marching,
-must be ghosts---
And then the chairs scrape above my bed
at five am
at six am
at ten pm
or even at ten or eleven pm

there's a girl too who I can hear talking
and laughing
at all hours

It seems that this new mad male has replaced her

All in all
it
is
driving
me
MAD!

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Emotional Diary


Emotional Diary; Emotional Confession

Slightly revised, but not perfected, of a Friday

Today I saw a middle-aged--certainly not young woman--lady, bending over to wipe the stairs with a wet cloth. She was cleaning in the dorm where I currently live.  That is her life, her job. 

My mother, no longer young, or even middle-aged, today cares for my father.  She has never retired.  My father retired long ago..................

My grumbling can seem insignificant in comparison to their difficult lives, but nothing comes from nothing:  heedlessness happens at every level in an unjust society (such as ours).  Heedlessness means indifference to noise as well as indifference to human suffering on a more destructive scale.
And capitalism is nothing if not heedless and indifferent to my discomfort,my mother's sacrifice, and the hard lives of Czech cleaning ladies working in a student dormitory...................

 

I am acutely aware of the fact that we all deserve respect and consideration.
I am also willing to grant that a woman who works as a cleaner in a student dormitory, or its hotel portion, deserves at least as much respect as I do—possibly more, in virtue of the physically demanding nature of the work, and the low status accorded it.
Moreover, I am vividly aware of the fact that Capitalist society produces such monstrosities as bullet-proof glass in banks which makes it hard to speak to a teller on the other side of the glass, and that this is very unfriendly.
But it is also unfriendly when I enter my accomodation to view a woman peering at me (friendly or not) behind a pane of glass in a booth set up as a sort of observation post, immediately opposite the front door

That structure all by itself creates an atmosphere.
 
Now I have wrongly called it (in an email) „communist“, but (I hope) I've just now made some amends by admitting my inaccuracy.

I am, however, still upset and angry—with a mixture of confusion and pure upset. What triggered it? Something trivial, of course. Yesterday, as I rushed home--between classes, after being on my feet for several hours--and hoping to get off my feet, and possibly take a short nap, I found that things had been moved in my kitchen---the kitchen of a flat which I rent.


Of course, no damage was done. Bottles and containers had been pushed to one side, evidently to make it possible to wipe down the counter. But this upset me. I felt as though my privacy had been taken away.
 
And, even worse, I imagined that a plastic bag had been thrown away---a useful bag if I go swimming. It had not been thrown away. I'd only put it away in an unusual place—which, in fact, had done hoping to ward off any potential problems with a cleaning lady?

Problems with a cleaning lady? Well, they come at irregular intervals, and I would not like to leave a total mess for them.

On the other hand, I had not expected any cleaning ladies on Thursday the regular cleaner had informed me that she would be off on Wednesday.--And she had just cleaned my bathroom and kitchen.

So, with my imagination inflated and full of anger, I wrote a complaining letter and sent it to the manager. Worst of all I remarked that this all reeks of Communism. And that can only be misunderstood.

I do not think that the USA is a model of anything. I do not think that formerly Socialist countries (so-called) have got to improve and work their way up to freedom and democracy. I don't think that because I don't think that the USA is especially democratic or free.....So, I wouldn't think that Central Europeans have much to learn from the USA.

However, I fear that my hasty use of the C-word might suggest such a false theory.

And I am still upset, even as I write......

unfinished

Thought two days later:
'communist' is right insofar as it reminds one of a certain period; wrong in suggesting that leftist politics inevitably degenerate.  But it is right to protest the following: If someone comes to visit me, then he or she must sign their name into a book, and (I presume, since I've not yet had a visitor) produce some form of ID.  Thus they are keeping a record of who comes and goes.

They are keeping records of my private life!

They do not merely observe my comings and goings; they also record my visitors!

That is communistic~! (In the vulgar sense.........)

And it is a hangover from the days of the former "regime".............

what do they imagine? Are they protecting business secrets?  Not likely.

Are they preventing me from bringing in thiefs or ruffians?  The mere suggestion is an insult.

What a pity I cannot write all of this in Czech!

The University of Pardubice
D Block
Studentska 22
The Czech Republic

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Obama

"Obama will repay those who turned out to vote for him by carrying out measures that will devastate their jobs, living standards and social conditions. The “grand bargain” that he has pledged to negotiate with the Republicans will come at the expense of the working class, through trillions in cuts to Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid and other social programs."

--from the website "World Socialism", www.wsws.org

Friday, November 2, 2012

Capitalism Abhors Simple Solutions

draft--to be updated (hopefully)

I've just screamed at the cleaning lady in the communist-style hotel in which I currently find myself; the cleaning ladies shout at one another up and down the empty, uncarpeted corridors, imagining no one is here.
But I abhor noise just as much as capitalism abhors simple solutions.  I've listened to doors slam, heels click, muttering, mumbling, shouting for a month now, and I'm fed up. I've been woken at five or six in the morning by the sound of boots marching, doors squeaking and a thousand mundane manddening noises (such as the wheels of suitcases rolling as an army of visitors arrive at ten or eleven in the evening).....

And I really cannot stand it any more.

but last night.....

My mother cannot get her pain-killers.  Her GP wants her to visit him before he renews the prescription.  My mother is eighty-six, and suffers from chronic arthritis pain which has entered the lower regions of her spine.  The pain which she now suffers is totally predictable and imaginable by a competent GP.

Ergo, he doesn't really care. It is noteworthy that he is something of a businessman, as he owns the building in which he practices---and, like all doctors, employs a staff who is much less well payed than himself.

The simple solution is that the doctor might visit my mother at home and examine her.

In Capitalist America, in Capitalst USA, that solution would never occur to anyone.

Hence, to repeat myself, I describe the USA system of medical care as a "don't care" system.

I've just shouted at the cleaning ladies.  I shall have to apologize to them.  Perhaps they cannot imagine why I was so upset, but I must try to explain.

And later today I shall start looking for a place to live, off campus, in a quiet street.

This flat is perfectly acceptable, as a flat, but it is located within a tall apartment building (a dormitory) in which every sound travels.....and right now the hum of voices (a normal conversation) from somehwere----up or down, I can't tell---is a genuine distraction, but merely one of a thousand that I endure every day as I try to have a coherent thought....

Thursday, November 1, 2012

the visiting Supervising Nurse-Bitch

She just wants my Medicare dollars!, said my mother.  And I agreed...

But this Nurse-Bitch has no heart.  She doesn't mind if she upsets the whole family.

She doesn't mind if she gives orders to a woman of eighty-six years. She doesn't mind being cold and cruel.

But she will be sure that her company gets those Medicare dollars.

I teach nurses, young nurses, and they are not like that.  Of course, they live in a country which has not yet converted to the USA system of medical don't-care.

And, I suppose that next week I shall tell them a little bit of this tale.....as a cautionary tale.

It is a tale which I have told before on the pages of this very blog, and it is a sad, cruel one.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

a curious reversal

Often I've heard astonishment, "Why would you, an American, come to live amongst us?"
But yesterday, I heard something new, "Oh, you're from New Jersey?  You're escaping the storm!"

For outright bold-faced arrogance Mayor Bloomberg deserves an award.  This morning I read how he blamed residents of NYC for not following his orders.  You could almost paraphrase his remarks:  "If they had only done what I told them to and evacuated...."

Yeah, right.

Elderly people can just sprout wings and fly away.

Odd how a poor little country like Cuba does a better job of evacuating people than the Masters of the Universe.......  (At any rate, this was the case several years ago, and I have no reason to believe that the situation has changed.)

Man the lifeboats.
And woman them too.
But as for you,
You're in my way.......

Tuesday am

in addition to
the many, oh so many, things i know not at all,
there are the many things (a heap of things)
i know half-way,
or one-third,
or one-quarter,
and it's the half and quarter knowings,
the hemi, demi, semi, slices of knowing,
that,
in the end,
kill you.


Saturday, October 27, 2012

Nurses

Last year I complained a lot about "visiting nurses". As I now teach nurses, I may have to revise my thinking.  Would that I could revise the physical condition of my mother and father.

apology

I was slow to approve a comment made a while back. I apologize.  I now live elsewhere, and moving has been disruptive.

The commentator was agreeing with me about certain specific unfriendly aspects of life in El Paso, Texas.

I shall simply note now:  Where I currently live, walking is the most natural thing.  There are people in the streets, and it's no big deal. The police certainly don't care about that---though, they do pay attention to the behavior of fans at sporting events.

And my ability to walk is great!  Walk without fear!  What a concept!

Moreover, colleagues have openly recommended that I could walk, say, thirty minutes to attend a gathering.

But, let's spin this another way.  I recall the energetic movement of people around the small confines of one of El Paso's few parks---as the sun was setting.  --There was something sad about it, something almost desperate. And I think that the behavior implied a recognition of something important, a need to move, but, I fear, when the context, the culture, the surrounding physical culture, is lacking in encouragements, that act is overwhelmed by the need to travel in a climate-destroying vehicle, the need to eat quickly, and so on, and so on, that it is a desperate attempt, which, ultimately cannot succeed.  And the problem is social, political---not individual.

And, so I think:  People who live in El Paso do not have what they deserve.  Certain basic elements are lacking in the city.  There are things a city government can do to make a place nicer, and the city of El Paso is not doing them.  --at a minimum, public parks........----Of course, El Paso is in a desert, so that's a basic problem.  Nonetheless, the basic conditions of life, what's available to everyone is at a very low level.

That is actually a very sad fact.  And it stands in sharp contrast to the nonsense I heard in El Paso's airport!! Public announcements from the chief of UTEP the chief of Police and the mayor---an unholy trio that~!

Oh yes, El Paso is safe!  But people die from heart attacks, in greater numbers than most of the USA!!  So, what does that safety come to? 

El Paso is safe!  And are you really responsible for that fact?  Do you really think that your aggressive policing tactics have made the wild citizens tame? Do you really deserve to puff up your chest and boast for something that you've not created?---Something which you do not even understand?

And how can you ignore the lives of people just across the border?  --As if they did not matter?  Or, is it that you want to separate yourself from them?  You want to counteract the knowledge that Juarez is a murder capital....But, here again, your words betray your lack of understanding.

As if Juarez were in another galaxy!  As if the economy of El Paso Texas were not dependent upon the work done every day by Mexican citizens!---for low wages! How many homes are cleaned by the citizens of Juarez?  How many lawns watered and cared for by Mexicans who cross the border every day?  (If anyone reading this knows, please add a comment. I would like to know.)

El Paso would come to a standstill without the work done by Mexicans living in Juarez.

But El Paso is one of the safest cities in the USA!  (And let's not talk about Juarez.)

Such claims about public safety and its causes are no more plausible in the case of EPTX than they are in the case of NYC or LA. (Anyway, it's a narrow definition of safety, since it's not safe, or even comfortable, to walk in El Paso, Texas.  Cars and trucks resent you, and the police regard you with suspicion.)

The big cheeses are everywhere absurd and arrogant.  If there were truly free speech, as opposed to domination of public spaces by a small number of powerful and wealthy people-----and their servants, their flatterers-----,such absurd claims would be quickly overwhelmed by dissenting voices.

Alas, the world is insane, but I was glad to read the comment by someone who could understand (in their own skin) what I had said.

In light of that comment, and the substance of our agreement, I should have titled this post:  "Adding Insult to Injury; in the El Paso airport....."



Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Sports

I see there is a comment awaiting "moderation".  I shall look at it later today...

sport?

GLADIATORS

they become more skilled every day, while the rest of us must work at staying healthy....

What is wrong with that picture?

Oh yes, and we should add that sports (ticket purchases, stadium building, and sale of associated items like t-shirts) makes the rich richer.....

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Aesthetic-Moral Blindness

Note--I apologize in advance to my readers.  I am not able to choose every punctuation mark I would like to choose on the computer I am currently using...

I would like to suggest a sort of equivalence between:

"that film is no good because it hasnt got enough --any?---action...."

and

"I can listen to any music.......except opera."

The first person is expressing a preference for movies which feature violence.  It is not actually action at all which they are favoring.

It is not hard to imagine that in a country where an enormous amount of the social surplus is devoted to killing foreigners, or threatening them with death, and where an enormous amount of money is devoted to propaganda, the preference for violent films is fully in harmony with the preferences of the rulers.

But, of course, actions may include mental actions, and violence itself can be psychological.  However, all of those psychological skills that can be developed by engaging psychologically with others are not developed in the course of viewing violent films. 

I am reminded of an interview that Catherine Deneuve gave when Belle de Jour was re-released.  A USA commentator suggested that French movies were boring because they laced "action".

--parenthetical remark:  At the time, I seem to recall, he also seemed rather smug about it.  And that smugness itself is part of the confidence which comes from knowing that one is on the side of the rulers......

back to the main point:

Deneuve said that in this respect the French differed from Americans.  They like not merely to act, but also to talk about what they are doing.  --or words to that effect.

opera?

This morning I briefly enjoyed listening to a few arias from Dido and Aeneas.  I cannot imagine a life without that sort of beauty....

After-thought
Of course, the depiction of violence itself in so-called 'action' films is not at all realistic......

Monday, September 17, 2012

Amazing things.......

An amazing thing I heard...

Recounting recent incidents where Afro-Americans had been murdered by the police,
I met with astonishment from one educated European.  Therefore, I offer the following links below:

http://www.democracynow.org/2012/4/11/grand_jury_probes_killing_of_kenneth

http://www.democracynow.org/2012/7/19/headlines/report_110_african_americans_killed_by_police_security_guards_and_vigilantes_in_2012


Comment:  I neglected to explain to my sceptical audience that the police do not deny that shootings have occurred, but they try to find reasons to justify them.  I myself find the police explanations implausible.  Also it seems to me that the depth of racism in the USA is not recognized by Europeans with whom I have spoken.  Of course, by racism I do not have in mind explicit attitudes --although they do exist--but largely implicit structures, institutional factors, as well as attitudes which need not lead to overtly racist language.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

What strange ideas you have!

El Pasoans have strange ideas!

E.g., Today I spoke briefly to a lady who remarked that some parts of the Czech Republic
were "still poor".

Of course, what they call "Communism" never did mean poverty.   It did mean a certain
dull grayness, but not exactly poverty.

On the other hand, I regard El Paso, Texas as a very poor community.  Moreover, I believe the average household earning is well below the USA average...

But I think El Paso is poor because the over-abundance of vehicles and businesses selling unhealthy food, not to mention an over-abundance of churches together create a certain atmosphere...

And then there is the absence, let's say, of bookstores.......

So, I really don't know what someone who lives in El Paso might possibly mean when they describe parts of the Czech Republic as poor.  (I assume they did not visit a Roma settlement.)

Perhaps they mean there is an absence of the technology that USA-ans seem to regard as essential.
I don't know.  But I shall be glad to leave El Paso, and live in the Czech Republic instead......

Saturday, September 8, 2012

The Arrogance of Privileged Classes in USA Society

The arrogance of the Privileged in USA capitalism; chapter 2043:  Doctors


Recently an arrogant doctor kept my mother, my father, and myself waiting for two hours.
We arrived on time for our appointment.  And, that, in itself required a lot of effort.  I've got to arrange two walkers in the ungenerous space of my parents' car, and I've got to help my father arrange himself into the not overly generous space of the front seat, after helping him get dressed, etc.

Now, we've often had to wait at this particular doctor's office.  So, my mother became annoyed and expressed her anger to a woman who happens to be this particular man's wife.

The woman's response was to SHAME my mother!  To speak to her as if she were a child, telling her that she should not feel anger.


Well, excuse me!  ***!!##!!  If someone keeps three people waiting for TWO HOURS, and makes no excuse, no apology, that is a reason to be angry.

And, it is insulting to be told otherwise.

Now, the fact is that I suspect that Herr Doktor has the manana-syndrome.  Being born in Mexico, he prefers a certain way of dealing with time.  However, even to say he "prefers" it would be to credit him with more self-consciousness than is accurate.

Let me say that I can't deny there is a certain attractiveness to the thought that punching a time clock and being always a hurry is not the only way to be.

However, waiting in a doctor's office (even one, thankfully, without a TV) is not a pleasant activity.  It tends to slow down the motion of the grey matter.  It makes one sleepy and lethargic.  It is like taking a tranquilizer.   And, then the rapid change to a situation of tension and difficulty ---which is what happens every time we meet with this doctor----is stressful.

So, yes, I am angry.  I think this doctor and his wife enjoy undeserved privileges  They are no better than kings, queens, and factory owners as depicted in Darwin.  Of course, this particular doctor wants to shroud it all in his generosity----his imaginary generosity, as he lets his patients say any nonsense that pops into their heads.......

No, when I leave EPTX, I will not think fondly of this man or his wife.  Nor shall I utter a good word about the USA system of medical non-care......

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Capitalism: Obscene and Annoying Pretensions of Plenitude

As promised, but, regrettably, still in rough draft form....

dissecting the ugliness which is capitalism....

describing the ugliness which is capitalism-in-the-USA...





Draft:  The False Fecundity of Capitalism

Recently I wanted to take a Yoga class.  I was faced with the following choices:  Hatha Yoga, Rocket Power Yoga, and Rehabilitation Yoga.




 Sports and the military are connected.  Both teach men and women to be “tough”, and both make me want to reach for a barf bag.

As I understand Yoga, it’s precisely not to be done with the acceleration of a rocket; if it is, then it’s not yoga. And ‘power” and “yoga’ don’t mix because power is too aggressive, whereas there is nothing of aggression in yoga.

How is it that a licensed physical therapist could tell me, with a straight face, that “power yoga” is “more aggressive”?  That’s indicative of the true level of culture in this country; advertising and or marketing categories have replaced reality in the minds of the citizens.  (I understand that you can have, e.g., "aggressive" cancer therapy; but again I can't see aggression (even a relative increase thereof) in any way connected to yoga....)

Sorry, but, I must repeat myself: aggression is no part of yoga.  But aggression and militarism are unspeakable omnipresent aspects of daily life in the USA.....As in, we don't speak about the murders committed by Obama with remote controlled air-gunships, the killing of women and children at funerals and wedding parties, the presumption that any man of a certain age must be a potential or actual enemy--itself a war crime, a criminal policy........

Behind all of this is a disgusting capitalist disease:  the proliferation of phony categories, an attempt to puff things up and create the illusion of abundance and choice were there is none.

Yoga?  It would be enough if we had three categories:  beginning, intermediate, and advanced.  Further complications are unnecessary.

So, too with “Kumquat”, the designer of technology products.  If Kumquat did not exist, some other designer would take there place---and the world would not be a worse place.
“ Oh I love my Kumquat phone!”---Excuse me while I look for my barf bag.....


Americans (citizens of the USA) are unaware.  Like fish who swim in an ocean of pollution, they can't see what's in front of them........It is very disheartening.

NO, That's not quite it either.  There's an additional factor.  There is a way  that USA people talk about "work outs" that turns my stomach.  I can't explain.  They get into this "good mood" voice, and they seem very phony.
And the actual content of their words strikes me as very mechanistic, and, ultimately unclear.

As if deep breathing could be converted into a competitive sport........

There's something wrong about the whole approach, something I can't put my finger on.  But it turns me off, and makes me want to board the next jet heading out of here......

Maybe this is it:  neither physical health nor mental health are commodities.