Jesus says it's your fault...

So I started writing this blog post last week, actually, and it turned into this massive thesis-type paper of 10+ pages that I figured was inappropriately long for a blog post, so here's the abridged version.  If you're interested in reading the more thought-out and detailed version, email me and I'll be happy to send it to you.

Victim-blaming has become an all-encompassing aspect of our culture here in the states. 

Whether it's slut-shaming girls for being so audacious as to get raped; claiming that if poor people simply worked harder they'd cease to be poor; or even throwing race into the mix and saying that "black culture" is inherently self-destructive and that they bring their own misfortunes upon themselves, it's very clear that a good portion of time and energy is being spent pointing the finger at victims of misfortune and telling them that "If only you..."

But why them?  Why does this happen?  How is this even a thing?  We're rounding the corner into the tail-end of 2014 -- shouldn't we, as a race of human beings, have grown beyond this imaginary blame-game and learned to actually address the real issues plaguing our society?

To figure out why it happens, it's important to realize where it started, so that we can get to the root of the problem and excise it.

And it's all the church's fault.

Christianity, actually, to be specific.

See, while we live in a modern age, we're still desperately clinging to outdated old rules and regulations, norms and mores, from old-timey days when the church basically ruled the Western world. 

Our calendar (which we've since forced the rest of the world to adhere to) was invented by a 400+ year dead pope.

Many of our superstitions (which still subconsciously pervade our daily lives) are Christ-centric.

Nearly every major holiday we celebrate was invented (or stolen and repurposed by) the Christian (Catholic) church.

So while more and more people are actively leaving the church it's gonna take some time to eradicate the cultural traditions imposed upon us by nearly a thousand years of forced compliance.

And a great way to start is to end victim-blaming.

Please understand that there are some people who really do bring woe upon themselves, and they definitely deserve to reap their just rewards.  This is not about them.  This is about people who did nothing to deserve their misery other than simply existing in the wrong place or the wrong time.

But wait!  I hear some of you saying (magically, through my computer screen, because it can do that now), isn't it their fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?  To which I would say:  Why do we even consider places and times "wrong?"  Why shouldn't we, in modern day, industrialized, civilized lands, have freedom to roam unmolested?  See?  You're already blaming the victim instead of addressing the cause.

One of the key tenets of Christianity is the reliance on Christ in order to achieve "salvation" (as they preach it).  If you don't give yourself over to Christ Jesus, then you're doomed to burn in hell for all eternity. 

See it forming already?

Everybody goes to different extremes on this point, but I've actually heard it said that if you'd never heard of Jesus by the time you die, then you're still condemned to hell...  Or, from the more lenient of believers, purgatory.  Some people are kinder about it and say that if you don't know anything about Jesus by the time you die, you can still be forgiven if you choose to go to him after death, but that still requires you to make that choice.

On top of that, there is quite a bit of persecution of non-Christians by Christians for learning about Jesus and then rejecting him and his teachings.  These people are considered worse than the ignorant because, to the view of Christians, they were offered "salvation" and then actively turned away from it.

Once this happens, everything that goes wrong in that person's life is their fault, because surely if they'd only accepted god (their god - the capital-G, father-of-Jesus, old-plus-new testament god) then their lives would be better off for it because then, and only then, could god (their god -- see above) intervene in their lives and solve all of their problems for them.

Or, barring that, he could at least lessen their suffering.

The problem with this (well, there are many, so I'll try to keep this concise) is that it makes everybody into victims, and it makes everything their fault.  The words "if only" (already found within this very blog post) spring to mind and are heard often whenever something outrageously enraging happens. 

"If only he'd complied with the officer'sorders..."

"If only she hadn't dressed so provocatively..."

"If only they'd work a little harder..."

All trace their roots back to the old line "If only they'd accept Jesus Christ as their personal lord and savior..."

The reason for this, of course, is that it's easy.  We're too lazy in our quest for the truth, or quite often we don't like it so we look elsewhere for answers.  It's easy to point the finger at a single individual and blame them for their lot in life than it is to look at society as a whole and try to effect real change.  It's easier to simply look down our noses at the downtrodden and already-suffering than it is to look at the powerful or wealthy or truly unjust systems in place and try to actually stop it from happening. 

But it has to start somewhere.

So how about this:  Instead of saying "If only he'd complied with the officer's orders" we start saying something like "If only cops didn't turn to lethal force as a default response?"

Instead of saying "If only she hadn't dressed so provocatively" we said "If only we stopped teaching boys that women are their lessors, put on this Earth to service and please them?"

Or how about we stop saying "If only they'd work a little harder" we start saying "If only the wealthiest assholes on the planet didn't fuck over the working class and literally steal billions of dollars from us all?"

Alternatively we could say things like "If only we stopped dumping billions of dollars into bullshit anti-crime initiatives and privatized, for-profit prisons?"  Or "If only we actually prosecuted rapists instead of desperately trying to sweep it all under the rug as if it wasn't happening."  Or even "If only we could get a SINGLE JUDGE SOMEWHERE IN THIS FUCKING COUNTRY to say 'affluenza' isn't actually a thing and made all laws apply equally to everybody, unilaterally, regardless of the level of wealth of the defendant."  You get the idea (and I've got a whole post on-deck addressing rich crime vs. poor crime).

But on top of all of these, we should also be moving back to the source...  When someone says "If only they'd accepted Jesus into their lives" we should call it the bullshit it is.  All it does is separate people into an "us vs. them" mentality -- and then make members feel better about themselves by convincing them that those poor, poor souls brought it upon themselves by not joining their magical little club. 

And that's what it's all about, really.  Feeling superior to other people.  After all, if we're not doing better than other people, how do we measure our own success? 

But again, that's the lazy answer.

So step one:  Stop relying on the failures of others in order to measure your own successes. 

Step two:  Stop defaulting to the victim for what happened to them -- look at the situation, not the people, for what's REALLY going on and start there.

Step three:  Stop being afraid of fighting the big fight.  Don't be lazy and pick on the individuals -- suck it up and don't be afraid to blame the system, or society as a whole.

I know it can be scary -- after all, YOU'RE a part of society.  If society's to blame, then surely you're part of the problem, right?

Well, yes.  But step one to improvement is realizing that there's improvement to be made.  Start with yourself, and move up from there.

And yes, this goes for me, too.  I've got a lot of work of my own to do, but at least I'm trying.  Are you?

O Captain, My Captain...

I'm stunned.

Typically celebrity deaths don't faze me a whole lot.  Stars burn bright, and then they fade away.  There are some who shine so bright they burn themselves out, and while it is a tragedy, it is not altogether shocking.

So when I got confirmation that Robin Williams had, in fact, passed away today, I was blown away.

Robin Williams had been an example of overcoming your demons.  He had been to rehab multiple times, and his self-awareness and responsibility of taking care of his problems was inspiring, in many ways.  It gave me hope that if this guy got it, then more people would get it.  If one of the best and brightest of us all was human, and could recognize it in himself and seek the help he needed, then the rest of us could, too.

But this...  This was a surprising one.

I have always known of Robin Williams, I think, as I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't.  Like most of the rest of the world, it started with Mork and Mindy and just grew from there.  His comedy was genius, and flashing forward to his appearance on Inside the Actor's Studio I could see that it all came to him naturally.  The drugs weren't what created his art, if anything the drugs slowed him down and allowed his body to keep up with his brain. 

You see, we all have a million ideas floating around us at all times -- just out there, in the ether.  The more brilliant ones are able to catch and hold onto a few.  The truly gifted could spot and catch more.  But watching Robin Williams perform, it became evident that he saw them all...  And he caught every last one of them.

As his career went on he regained control of himself, and learned to channel it all into more powerful ideas -- and more powerful performances.  The fact that he didn't win the Oscar for Dead Poets Society was a sting that lasted until Good WillHunting, when the Academy finally realized that they couldn't ignore him any longer.  He was simply too smart, too funny, too strong, too poignant...  simply too good to ignore, and when he won, the rest of the world's reaction was a nonplussed mixture of "Duh," and "It's about fucking time."

I never knew him personally, so I can't comment too much on his life out of the spotlight.  I've heard stories from friends, and friends of friends who had run into him on the streets of New York or had met him somewhere or other, that he was genuinely kind, polite, and appreciative of his fame.  He worked, and worked hard at what he did...  But thinking about it now, it seems that he had to work hard, lest he fall victim to his own brilliant insanity.  As Charles Baudelaire said, "Genius is nothing more, nor less, than childhood recaptured at will."

And that was Robin Williams.

A man who could play and dance and sing and show and live so powerfully, yet so childlike, WAS genius...

But all genius comes at a price.

I've never heard or even thought about Walt Whitman without thinking of Robin Williams, and now I know I never will.  Sure, he didn't write the script, but those words were his.  In that moment, every single person watching was a student, his student, and we were all enriched by his lessons. 

It's almost funny that I so recently wrote of The Wonder Years, and just yesterday watched the episode "Good-Bye" in which we see the powerful student-teacher relationship between Kevin and his math teacher, Mr. Collins.  I'd have to check the dates, but I'm fairly certain that that episode was produced riding the coattails of Dead Poets Society, but ended with the teacher's death.

And here we are today.

We have lost a great and powerful force in this world with the passing of Robin Williams.  He was a force for good.  After all, the laughter he generated never came at anybody's expense but his own.  He wasn't mean or cruel in his jokes - sure, he pointed out the foibles of the world around him, but he saw his own faults as well.  He was as quick to laugh - at himself as he was at others, and he was so quick with it that he could run circles around anybody in the room, or audience, or wherever.

And so he will live on through all of us.  For every life he touched, for every laugh he generated, for every pause he gave us, he will forever be remembered.  We are lucky to have shared in his genius and insanity.  But like so many other people, for me, I will always remember the inspiration.

It is with tears in my eyes, that I close this post with what is now particularly poignant:

O Captain!  My Captain!  Our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But o heart!  Heart!  Heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

Rest now, my teacher.  Your lesson is well imparted.

TV Helped Ruin My Life

Okay, that's a rather extreme statement, but it makes sense in relation to the rest of the post, so keep reading and you'll see what I mean.

Also, for the purposes of this post, please read the following in Daniel Stern's voice.  If you don't know who Daniel Stern is, click here.

Ruth and I binge-watched Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared a while ago, and since then, they've both remained in my Netflix queue as go-to shows to watch whenever I want something on in the background.  They're great shows - evocative of nostalgia yet hilarious for the outrageous situations the characters find themselves in.  Never wholly unreasonable; they're shows that demonstrate realistic situations and a mix of both extreme and realistic reactions to said situations.

But for me, the best of these shows has and always will be The Wonder Years.

It's a strange choice, I'll grant you, as I didn't live in that era (1968 to 1973), but it was more that the characters in the show were living the same years I was when it was on.  When the show premiered in 1988 I was ending 5th grade and going into 6th...  Making the leap from grade-school to middle-school, and all the insanity that is involved with that time of life.  Kevin (you know the show, you know who I'm talking about, don't pretend you don't) was starting 7th grade and entering middle school as well.  Sure, his character was a year older than me, but for some reason this big-haired, nerdy kid was one that I could identify with in more ways than I could count, and thus the show resonated with me.

Kevin had his Paul, the more-geeky best friend, and I had John, my similarly geeky best friend.  Kevin was the youngest of three children, with one brother and one sister, and I, too, was the youngest child with an older brother and sister.  Kevin had Winnie, and I had my own version.  Kevin wasn't ever one of the popular kids, despite all his efforts to try to be, and I was hopelessly relegated to a hanger-on, also.

It was like the producers had made a show about me and set it in the late 60's...  And it was awesome.

But that same connection to the show also caused me more than a little trouble when my own life didn't mimic the happy endings that came at the end of every 22 minute episode.  Granted, the show had its poignant moments of loss and tragedy, confusion and misery; it was a show about growing up, after all.  But whereas everything was neatly reset by the following episode, I was falling behind in my own personal resolutions to similar problems.

I think it's interesting that in debates about what's causing the destruction of youth and why kids today are falling apart (a concept I don't actually agree with), some groups point to violent video games, John Cusack points to pop music (go watch High Fidelity), some groups point to violent movies and TV shows...  But nobody looks at the "wholesome" stuff and points the finger that way.

When I watched the show, I had the benefit of hearing the narrator's voiceovers and thinking, "Yeah, that's right."  But I also made the mistake of thinking that everybody I interacted with could hear the narrator's voice, too, and just knew what the subtext was in any given situation.  I took a lot of things for granted and my own communication skills suffered because while I knew what I meant, and the show knew what I meant, the rest of the world couldn't hear the grown-up voice explaining everything going on beneath the surface.

Arguments and misunderstandings went unresolved, and honest expression wasn't my strong suit.  Thus, it took a while for me to figure out that maybe things weren't as clear to the rest of the world as it was in my own head.

Also, The Wonder Years (and I blame Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared for this as well), provided an unrealistic expectation for justice and, for lack of a better phrase (because I'm too lazy to look one up right now), Social Darwinism.

To this day I don't know how I got so lucky as to end up with Ruth -- I'm certain it's through no fault of my own -- and I'm (I would say) unreasonably fortunate to have the friendships I currently enjoy, but it's taken me the better part of my life to get here.

On TV, however, nerdy and geeky kids pretty much always get the girl they're going for.  Eventually.  Typically within one season, if not just a few episodes.  And while it doesn't always end up well on TV, the fallout from such breakups is relegated to background noise and occasional inconveniences for the character.

Everybody alive can attest that it's never quite so easy.

(Pay attention robots, you'll need to know this if you ever hope to fit in with the human world before your eventual takeover)

So when I broke up with my own personal Winnie to ask out my own personal Madeline - while Kevin actually succeeded in the show (if only temporarily) I failed miserably.  And rightfully so -- it was a dick move and I've regretted it forever, but while the show rolled on with Kevin living his life and experiencing new problems every week, I was stuck dealing with the fallout from my own fuck-up for far too long.  Worse yet, while the show relegated Madeline to a background character role before eventually phasing her out completely, I had to watch as my "Madeline" ended up dating a friend of mine and my "Winnie" shut me out and wouldn't have anything to do with me for years to come.

(To be fair, Matt was a great guy and totally deserved to be with "Madeline," but it didn't make me feel any better to see them going out together while I was single and lonely)

(And no, I'm not going to reveal the girls' real names, so don't ask)

I'm grown up now (sorta), and I still love the show (it's on right now as I type this, of course), but coming back to it after all these years has brought up a lot of feelings for me.  In many ways I suffered right there with the characters through it all, and even though I stopped watching it in the later seasons, whenever I did catch an episode it was all too true.  I think part of the reason I stopped watching it was because it was too true, and I didn't want to keep making the same mistakes.  Ultimately I'd have to say the show did more good than harm, though, as suffering through it helped teach the valuable lesson that real life and TV are not the same thing.  Reality is never resolved in healthy, 22-minute segments.  And while new characters only stuck around for a few episodes, in real life they were there for the long haul.  Bullies don't go away after an episode or two, and broken hearts aren't mended by the following season.

Still, watching it now allows me to look back on things through rose-colored nostalgia glasses and enjoy it.  Because while, when you're young, EVERY problem is an "end of the world" type problem that you're certain you'll never recover from, I know now that in the grand scheme of things it will all pass, and that life goes on.  I know how to be honest and communicate with people now, to avoid the very drama I created and lived through back then.

So did TV really help ruin my life?  Only as a kid.  And if your life doesn't suck as a kid, at least a little, you typically grow up to be a shitty adult.   So yeah, in a roundabout way that was probably unintentional, I did learn a lot about life from that show, and ultimately, in the long run (y'know, real life) I came out better for it.