Entry 343 — Working, But Going Nowhere « POETICKS

Entry 343 — Working, But Going Nowhere

I’m still fooling with my “Mathemaku in Praise of Reading, No. 1.”  Haven’t quite gotten it right.  I also touched up one of the five mathemaku I did for Bill Di Michele’s blog–by putting quotations marks that I thought necessary around the dividend.

Meanwhile, annoyed with more irresponsible uses of the word, “poem,” specifically either employing it to mean too many things to make it any longer useful for intelligent communication, or characterizing it sometimes interestingly but always subjectively and excessively vaguely as when Frost calls it “what is lost in translation,” I produced the following coinage: “disfinition.”  I haven’t worked up a good definition of this.  For the time being, it is simply an antonym for “definition.”

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Dale Jensen « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Dale Jensen’ Category

Entry 385 — My Most-Used Coinage

Monday, February 21st, 2011

On 2/21/2011 3:21 AM, Jake Berry wrote:

Bob,    Hope this finds you well. I'm working on an essay and I'd like to  use your term 'otherstream', but I want to quote your definition  of the word directly. I haven't been able to find it on the internet  and I have no idea where it might be among all my books and papers.  So how would you define it?    Best,  Jake  

Terrific hearing from you, Jake–although it makes me feel guilty by reminding me of what a horrible correspondent I’ve been for going on ten years or more.  So many people I haven’t kept in touch with but should have!  Although I do keep up with you on the Internet.

Ah, the old days when I was one of the Kings of the  . . . Otherstream because I owned my own Xerox!  I’ve had some ungood years since then.  2010 was possibly the worst year I’ve had in thirty years.  But this year, so far, is going pretty well, although right now I’m in my null zone again.

Maybe not–your e.mail has me at least partway out of it.  Great to know someone still likes my coinage, and it was fun doing my own search for it on the Internet.  I found an article about Dale Jensen and his wife, Judy Wells, in which the term was used, followed by a comment by Jack Foley (good ol’ Jack) declaring that Andrew Joron had not coined “otherstream,” Bob Grumman had!

Somewhere else some guy took credit for coining it in 1996. My guess is that I first used it around 1985, so it has just has its 25th anniversary.  If I, indeed, was the first to use it.  Who knows if I did or not.  I don’t care.  I mean, it’d be nice to know for sure some word that more than a few people use was my word, but I’m really not that big about getting credit.  I want money, not credit!

Oh, I also found out there are various businesses calling themselves “otherstream” this or that, including, I think, a broadcast network.

So, a definition.  I’ve defined it in different although similar ways.  I think I would say that “otherstream” is my adjective for kinds works of art the great majority of arts academics, well-known critics, commercial publishers and commercial magazine editors know little more than the names of, if that.  A brief definition: art that’s now taught in college classes.  For me, it means approximately but only approximately the opposite of “mainstream.”  What it’s the exact opposite of is “knownstream.”  That’s because some art is knownstream, like certain kinds of very formal verse–the sestina, say, is well-known to most literature professors but is not what you’d call a kind of mainstream poetry.  I don’t think cowboy poems are considered mainstream, either, or though fairly popular.  I used it mainly for visual poetry, sound poetry and language poetry when I began using it, but some language poetry has become mainstream.

Hope this helps.  Thanks for wanting to use the word, which I think is a useful one.  And for inspiring me to write what I have here, which I can now use for today’s entry in my blog!  Make sure to link me to your essay when it’s online, or send it to me if it’s printed–with the hundred dollar royalty fee I charge for the use of any of my coinages.  (You can use “knownstream,” also mine, for half-price.)

all best, Bob

Jack Foley « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Jack Foley’ Category

Entry 385 — My Most-Used Coinage

Monday, February 21st, 2011

On 2/21/2011 3:21 AM, Jake Berry wrote:

Bob,    Hope this finds you well. I'm working on an essay and I'd like to  use your term 'otherstream', but I want to quote your definition  of the word directly. I haven't been able to find it on the internet  and I have no idea where it might be among all my books and papers.  So how would you define it?    Best,  Jake  

Terrific hearing from you, Jake–although it makes me feel guilty by reminding me of what a horrible correspondent I’ve been for going on ten years or more.  So many people I haven’t kept in touch with but should have!  Although I do keep up with you on the Internet.

Ah, the old days when I was one of the Kings of the  . . . Otherstream because I owned my own Xerox!  I’ve had some ungood years since then.  2010 was possibly the worst year I’ve had in thirty years.  But this year, so far, is going pretty well, although right now I’m in my null zone again.

Maybe not–your e.mail has me at least partway out of it.  Great to know someone still likes my coinage, and it was fun doing my own search for it on the Internet.  I found an article about Dale Jensen and his wife, Judy Wells, in which the term was used, followed by a comment by Jack Foley (good ol’ Jack) declaring that Andrew Joron had not coined “otherstream,” Bob Grumman had!

Somewhere else some guy took credit for coining it in 1996. My guess is that I first used it around 1985, so it has just has its 25th anniversary.  If I, indeed, was the first to use it.  Who knows if I did or not.  I don’t care.  I mean, it’d be nice to know for sure some word that more than a few people use was my word, but I’m really not that big about getting credit.  I want money, not credit!

Oh, I also found out there are various businesses calling themselves “otherstream” this or that, including, I think, a broadcast network.

So, a definition.  I’ve defined it in different although similar ways.  I think I would say that “otherstream” is my adjective for kinds works of art the great majority of arts academics, well-known critics, commercial publishers and commercial magazine editors know little more than the names of, if that.  A brief definition: art that’s now taught in college classes.  For me, it means approximately but only approximately the opposite of “mainstream.”  What it’s the exact opposite of is “knownstream.”  That’s because some art is knownstream, like certain kinds of very formal verse–the sestina, say, is well-known to most literature professors but is not what you’d call a kind of mainstream poetry.  I don’t think cowboy poems are considered mainstream, either, or though fairly popular.  I used it mainly for visual poetry, sound poetry and language poetry when I began using it, but some language poetry has become mainstream.

Hope this helps.  Thanks for wanting to use the word, which I think is a useful one.  And for inspiring me to write what I have here, which I can now use for today’s entry in my blog!  Make sure to link me to your essay when it’s online, or send it to me if it’s printed–with the hundred dollar royalty fee I charge for the use of any of my coinages.  (You can use “knownstream,” also mine, for half-price.)

all best, Bob

Entry 88 — MATO2, Chapter 1.10

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

During the next two  days I got a copy in the mail of the introductory essay Richard Kostelanetz wanted me to critique, the manuscript of a poetry collection John Bennett my press was going to publish, and letters from Jake Berry and Jack Foley.  Richard’s essay was is fairly good but I saw a number of things I counted wrong with it;.  As for John’s manuscript, it seemed fine–one poem in particular, whose main image was a car wash, I especially liked.  I wrote a short letter of full acceptance to John and a card acknowledging receipt, and suggesting he delete much of one section of his essay, to Richard.

Jack’s letter was friendly but he quickly.got on me for under-representing females and blacks (and Asiatics) in of Manywhere.  In my reply I tried to skirt the issue.  I didn’t pugnaciously tell him that my purpose was accuracy, not making the world better for members of victim-groups.  Hence, I wrote about the four canonical poets, all male, whom I admired enough to put explicitly into the sonnet my book was partly about,  and the fifth, also male, to whom the sonnet strongly alluded.  Except for a few short passages about Shakespeare and a mention or two of contemporary linguexpressive poets like Wilbur, my book is about an area of literature few women have done anything of importance in, and no blacks that I knew of at the time I wrote it.  The late Bill Keith is still the only significant black American in visual poetry I know about,  Larry Tomoyasu the only Asian American.   I don’t know whether I knew him when I wrote the first volume of my series.  I don’t believe I mentioned him in it.

The ever-amiable Jake was fully positive about my book.

Entry 414 — A New Term « POETICKS

Entry 414 — A New Term

I have a new term to announce: “knowlecular mind-flow.”  I’m only announcing it because I have nothing else to write about here, and I’m trying again to do a daily entry.  Although that will probably stop for a week or more fairly soon as I am seeing my hip doctor tomorrow to schedule hip replacement surgery.  I figure if it doesn’t help me, I won’t be worse off than I now am (except if I become permanently, painfully crippled, which I deem highly unlikely).  I won’t be worse off since I feel I’m at the point where my bad hip just barely keeps me from enjoying walking, running and tennis, so if the operation puts me a mile further from enjoying those things, so what.  It’s like the difference between losing in the finals  at Wimbledon 6-7, 6-7, 7-6, 7-6, 100-98, and losing in the first round, 6-0, 6-0, 6-0.

By mind-flow, by the way, I mean everything one is conscious of at a given moment.  “Thinking” means too many different things, particularly (and mainly) unvoiced words.  “Mentation” is better but tends, I think, to exclude feelings.  The best thing about “mind-flow,” modified by “knowlecular,” is that I can define it.  I need it right now for my discussion of rigidnikry in my Shakespeare authorship book.

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Old Age « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Old Age’ Category

Entry 1220 — Old Age, Part 3

Saturday, September 21st, 2013

Now to my thesis that we oldsters can no long fit knowleplexes larger than a certain not-very-large size into our brains—because of the size and complexity of the structures we’ve already erected in them.  I have a simple analogy to explain it: one’s understanding of existence as a little city in the cerebrum that one’s brain has spent its lifetime building.  Everything in it is basically as permanent as city buildings; repairs are made, unmendable damage occurs, but basically, little changes.  Eventually, there is no longer any place to erect anything new of significant size.  I suppose one could demolish some old building to make room, but I think that would be more difficult than destroying a city building is.

At some point, one starts to have trouble figuring out where to put new data.  A consideration is keeping track of important old understandings.  Result: a more and more great disinclination to read anything with new data in it.

I’ve scratched the surface of my ideas on this–without sating them too carefully.  Old age making me too tired to?  Old age making it hard for me to find the words and ideas I need?  Both?

One thing I particular delayed me: my wanting to use my terms for various kinds of data.  I was sure I had tree terms, but could not remember the third, and find any list tat had it.  The two that are, right now, second-nature enough for me not easily to forget (although I have always been able to forget just about anything) “knowlecule” or word-sized datum like “hoof” or “horse”; and “knowleplex” or complex specialty like zoology–the discipline, not the word for it.  Both knowlecules and knowleplexes come in various sizes.  In many cases, it’s not easy to say which a given datum is.  Many, too, are both: the game of baseball, for instance, is a knowlecule for a doctor specializing in sports injuries; but a knowleplex for a baseball manager.

I’d been wondering about my third conage for several days.  It finally occurred to me a little while ago (it’s a little after four as I write this, in case anyone cares–as a scholar in the next century plotting my creative cycles may): “knowlexpanse” or a significantly large field like biology.  I think somewhere I coined a word for world-view, too, and lost it.  Or maybe accepted “world-view” as good enough.

I’m stopping now–as I seldom would have with so little written forty, or even just twenty, years ago.

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Entry 1219 — Old Age, Part 2

Friday, September 20th, 2013

When I reached my intellectual prime is near-impossible to pin down, but my favorite guess—mainly, I suspect, because it’s a standardly Interesting Number, is the age of fifty.  One thing that makes the choice near-impossible is how to compare one’s breakthrough understanding of his subject (or, in my case, one of them) with his later, very gradual efforts to make that understanding full, coherent, and—perhaps most important, and definitely most difficult—accessible to others.

I came up with the basis, still unchanged except superficially, of my knowlecular psychology at the age of 26 and don’t feel I’ve yet made it full, coherent and accessible, although I’ve had many breakthroughs that (in my view, valuably) expanded it, and continuously simplified and clarified it—while simultaneously, alas, complicating and muddying it.

My peak as a poet is much easier to identify, although I’m uncertain of the exact dates involved.1

My major breakthrough into long division poetry (after a minor breakthrough into mathematical poetry twenty years or so previous that I didn’t go anywhere with for fifteen years or more) happened when I was around fifty-five; my much less consequential breakthrough into my Poem poems occurred at about the same time.  Two definite peaks that all that nothing that followed reached although I am sure some of the poems I later made were my best till then.  I contend that making one’s best poem does not require more or even as much, intelligence, talent, or whatever, as making one’s first successful poem that is significantly and valuably different from all the other poems one has composed.  In fact, coming up with a bad poem may require more skill than making a very good one if the bad one is new in a wonderfully exploitable way.2

In short, I think I peaked as a poet at the age of 55, then held my own pretty much until recently, when I’ve become substantially less productive than I’d been between 55 and 70.  I don’t think the level of my poems has dropped, just the number of them.  An interesting possibility is that I may still compose the visiopoetic epic I’ve wanted someday to.  What kind of peak would it be?  It would probably be my major work as a poet.  I’m pretty sure it would include several poems I already consider major—for me.  But the intelligence and/or related abilities I’d need to bring it off would not need to be at the high level they once were, or even all that close to it.

I realize that I’ve not done much work on my psychology since I turned 70 or 71, either.  I want to pull it together into a unified whole the same way I hope to pull together my poetry into a unified epic.  Again, it would not take what its discovery and later additions and improvements did.

I don’t know of any thinker or artist who did anything after turning 70 or so that greatly changed the over-all value of his work as a whole.  Picasso, for instance, turning out hundreds of works, some of them as fine as anything he’d previously done, but meaning he’d made 654 masterpieces instead of only 611: so what?  We don’t really need them, happy as we should be to have them.  (For one thing, others are carrying on from where he left off—something true of all the other great artists, and thinkers who went on to do valuable work after 70.)

In every other way, people over 70 are nothing like they were at 35 or even 55.  For most jobs, a businessman would be stupid to hire someone that old instead of a much younger person.  Affirmative action will no doubt soon force him to.  As a matter of fact, I think there have been several cases of elderly farts successfully suing businesses that fired them.

Odd, the idea I had that sparked this discussion I almost left the discussion without mentioning.  It concerns the inability of elderly farts to acquire data significantly new to them.  In simplest terms, it concerns how these people stop reading complex books.  I was thinking of myself, of how it’s been, what, twenty years, since I read the equivalent of an undergraduate textbook on anything?!  My thesis, which I hope to get to tomorrow, is that we oldsters can no long fit knowleplexes larger than a certain not-very-large size into our brains—because of the size and complexity of the structures we’ve already erected in them.

* * *

1 I believe my diary has the particulars, or most of them, but I’m certainly not going to research it right now

 2 As Gertrude Stein’s specimens of prose (evocature, a sub-category of prose, is what I call the kind of literature they are) in Tender Buttons have been for many, albeit not her (although I would call a few of them more successful than not).

Egalapsychosis: the insane belief that no one is inferior in any way to anyone else.  A mental dysfunctionality common to American liberals.

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Entry 1218 — My Ageism

Thursday, September 19th, 2013

About the only good thing about being as old as I am is that it gives me a group to be politically incorrect about because I’m in it.  The group, of course, is . . . senior citizens.  I contend that anyone who thinks senior citizens are not inferior to those younger than they is out of his mind.  I do believe that an elderly fart–someone over fifty-five (plus or minus anywhere from one to ten years)–should have one advantage over his juniors, including himself when younger: his experience.  He will exploit it more slowly than he once was able to, but possibly get more out of it–or at least something valuably new out of it.

* * *

I’m afraid that’s all for now.  I had a meeting of my local writers’ group to go to and when I got back, I was shot.

Note: I had this one done on time but forgot to make it pubic.

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Entry 1217 — Old Age

Wednesday, September 18th, 2013

After typing the beginning of a short essay on my ageism, I found out I had suddenly gotten a day behind here.  So I needed to do two entries.  I decided the one for yesterday would be brief, and about old age since I’d already put it in that category.  Ergo, my opinion about being old: it stinks.  More about it in my entry for today.

As for the 18th of September, I did get something done on it: my latest Scientific American blog entry, although it won’t posted until Saturday, or maybe late Friday night.  I also worked on multiplication poems for dogs, one for my dentist and one for a local writer-friend.  I had silly ideas for a while that I could make money selling personalized copies of the thing, but soon realized there was no chance of that–although I hope to try it.

Okay, now to try to get today’s entry done, in spite of being already all worn out.

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Entry 276 — The Irratioplex « POETICKS

Entry 276 — The Irratioplex

Another day in the null zone for me, perhaps because I’m going without the pain pills I’ve been on for my bad hip as an experiment.  I played tennis this morning without any more of the slight hip pain I’ve been having with the pain pills.  That was nice but since I got home from that and a little marketing (for socks and new sneakers), I I’ve been feeling blah.  A nap didn’t help.

Meanwhile, I’m been feeling bitter about my reputation as a defender of Shakespeare.  SHAKSPER, an Internet discussion group I’m in, has for several days been discussing the proper reaction to a movie coming out called Anonymous, in which the Earl of Oxford is depicted as Shakespeare–and as Queen Elizabeth’s son–and Southampton is depicted as Oxford and Elizabeth’s son.  I think it may destroy Oxfordianism the way the preposterous codes found in Shakespeare’s plays “proving” Bacon wrote them pretty much destroyed Baconism.

What irks me is that several who comment at SHAKSPER mentioned James Shapiro’s recent book on the authorship question, and books and articles on it by others, but not my book.  No doubt I’m biased, but I consider my book the best refutation of anti-Stratfordianism in print, and the only one that presents a serious theory of what makes people become anti-Stratfordianism–whether valid or not.  Yet the Shakespeare establishment, and their little followers at the two authorship sites I participate in don’t mention me, or respond to my posts to SHAKSPER.  Maybe they don’t want it known that our side has a crank like me on it.   A crank, morover, who calls anti-Stratfordians “psitchotics.”

Nonetheless, my attempt to understand what causes reasonably intelligent people to become psitchotics where Shakespeare is concerned, and–more important–find a way to express my finding entertainingly and coherently, continues, with a minor development today, the new term “irratioplex.”  This I pronounce ehr RAH shuh plehks.  Do I misspell it?  Possibly, but “irratiplex” doesn’t do it for me.

And irratioplex is an irrational knowleplex.  There are several.  Two of them are the rigidniplex and the enthusiaplex.  I now maintain that all anti-Stratfordians are afflicted with one or the other of these two irratioplexes.  The new term allows me to couple them as victims of irratioplexes, then show how they differ from one another by virtue of their (slightly) different irratioplexes.  The rigidniks’ irratioplex is forced on them by their innate psychology; the enthusiasts’ (who are frrewenders) acquire their irratioplexes during fits of enthiuiasm, making them quickly too strong thereafter to resist.  Both irratioplexes act the same once active. both nearly impossible for their victims’ to resist.

My new strategy for the description of wacks is to concentrate on irratioplexes in general, proceed to  rigidniplexes and enthusiaplexes in general, then to how the latter two specifically enslave their victims to anti-Stratfordianism.

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Wackagandism « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Wackagandism’ Category

Entry 1304 — Wow, Two More Coinages!

Thursday, December 19th, 2013

“Propagandfication” and “Othereststream Poetry.”

The first is from the following post I just sent off to a site where I’m arguing against wacks who believe Shakespeare was an imposter and had called a post by one of them full of sludge, whereupon he questioned the appropriateness of my use of the term:

As a verosopher, I consider sludge by authorship wacks to be groundless assertions and badly-supported arguments that have been refuted hundreds of times by the sane.  Among them are such assertions as one you favor: “No one wrote a eulogy to Shakespeare after he died until 1623.”  The Water poet did.  Basse almost certainly did.  Maybe one or two others.  Read David Kathman’s essay on this at his and Terry Ross’s site.  I quote much of what he says in it in my book.

But even if we did not have the Water poet’s poem, or any other poem to Shakespeare until 1623, the assertion would be what I call a propagandification, which is a statement which some propagandist presents as true although we lack sufficient data to determine whether it is genuinely true or not.  If we had no poems dedicated to Shakespeare until 1623, a scholar of integrity would NOT say, “No one wrote a eulogy to Shakespeare after he died until 1623,” he would say, “No poem dedicated to Shakespeare after he died until 1623 has survived.”  If not an authorship wack, he would add that there is no reason to expect that any would, or even that any would necessarily have been written, although he would guess that some were but were withheld for publication in the First Folio.  He would certainly not consider the lack of poems to mean much beside all the evidence there IS for Shakespeare.  Absence of evidence can be useful when the identity of an author is obscure due to scarcity of data, but a monument, a collection of plays with the author’s name and picture in it, and known associates of his confirming his identity, forty or so books from when he was alive with his name on the title-page, mentions of him as a writer by a number of writers of his time, and much else is not scarcity of evidence.

The second occurred to me this morning when I was contemplating how “otherstream poetry” has lost the meaning I gave it–because so many use it for poetry I consider standard, like simple neo-Ashberianism.
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Entry 1199 — Wackagandism

Saturday, August 31st, 2013

My latest coinage means “the propagandistic techniques of cranks, kooks and others advancing totally insane theories of verosophy such as the idea that someone other than William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon wrote the works attributed to him.”  It came to me while thinking about the contributions of Oxfordian Steve Steinberg to the thread here about the Oxfordian movie, Anonymous.  In reply to a post of mine trying for the third or fourth time to explain an argument against a contention of his, he told me that in order to explain something, I had to know something.  Here’s what I wrote back:

* * *

Good one, Steve, but somewhat off the mark.  Nonetheless, it’s gotten me to try to explain something to you again.  What I’m going to try to explain to you is how bad your tendency almost always to dodge problems with your position makes you look.  No, I realize that first I must explain to you that you DO this, for I fear I believe you don’t realize you do.  I will use this short back&forth of ours to do so.

First off, I describe a problem I have with your position: your contention that Shakespeare of Stratford would not have been exposed to a more or less standard curriculum is wrong.  You called the presumption that English schools of the time had any kind of standard curriculum a “myth” (debasing one of the world’s most precious terms by misusing it as a synonym for “error,” and implied synonym for “lie” the way so many propagandists moronically do).

At this point, you derided me for claiming that Latin, a single scholastic subject, could mean “curriculum,” or collection of subjects.  Or so I interpreted you to be doing.  You ignored the full context of my post which, I feel, should have made my point clear.  In any case, you made no attempt to figure out what my point was, if you truly failed to understand it, nor ask me what it was.  You EVADED the problem I had tried to bring to your attention.

2. Still, maybe I WAS (Italics intended) unclear.   If I was, my next post should have helped you, although it was sarcastically put.  Here is where your nature as a propagandistic evader of problems to your case came fully to the fore: as I probably not fully accurately recall, you continued not to understand my point; more important, you spread the conversation all over the place, a standardly propagandistic ploy of anti-Stratfordians (and probably unconscious) to draw one’s opponents into irrelevancies, and away from whatever point they are advancing, which you can’t deal effectively with.

3. I restated my point.  Your response to this was simply to tell me I don’t know anything–which, by the way, is another standardly propagandistic ploy of anti-Stratfordians: insulting one’s opponent maximally, consciously or unconsciously aware that making someone angry is a good way to distract him from his central intention.

Okay, now to give you an easy chance to show that you can respond to a description of something that may be wrong with your case without doing what I have claimed you do habitually: I will re-state as clearly as I can what’s wrong with your idea about what Shakespeare would have learned at his grammar school.  All you have to do is say what you disagree with in my statement and why–AND avoid telling me what a jerk Baldwin was (and I am), et cetera.  You must avoid the temptation otherwise to tackle about my characterization of you above, too.  In other words, I want you to demonstrate that you can argue unevasively, not just say you can.  But if you actually attend focusedly to my point, I will be glad to discuss my characterization of the way you operate in a different thread.

Good one, Steve, but somewhat off the mark.  Nonetheless, it’s gotten me to try to explain something to you again.  What I’m going to try to explain to you is how bad your tendency almost always to dodge problems with your position makes you look.  No, I realize that first I must explain to you that you DO this, for I fear I believe you don’t realize you do.  I will use this short back&forth of ours to do so.

First off, I describe a problem I have with your position: your contention that Shakespeare of Stratford would not have been exposed to a more or less standard curriculum is wrong.  You called the presumption that English schools of the time had any kind of standard curriculum a “myth” (debasing one of the world’s most precious terms by misusing it as a synonym for “error,” and implied synonym for “lie” the way so many propagandists moronically do).

At this point, you derided me for claiming that Latin, a single scholastic subject, could mean “curriculum,” or collection of subjects.  Or so I interpreted you to be doing.  You ignored the full context of my post which, I feel, should have made my point clear.  In any case, you made no attempt to figure out what my point was, if you truly failed to understand it, nor ask me what it was.  You EVADED the problem I had tried to bring to your attention.

2. Still, maybe I WAS (Italics intended) unclear.   If I was, my next post should have helped you, although it was sarcastically put.  Here is where your nature as a propagandistic evader of problems to your case came fully to the fore: as I probably not fully accurately recall, you continued not to understand my point; more important, you spread the conversation all over the place, a standardly propagandistic ploy of anti-Stratfordians (and probably unconscious) to draw one’s opponents into irrelevancies, and away from whatever point they are advancing, which you can’t deal effectively with.

3. I restated my point.  Your response to this was simply to tell me I don’t know anything–which, by the way, is another standardly propagandistic ploy of anti-Stratfordians: insulting one’s opponent maximally, consciously or unconsciously aware that making someone angry is a good way to distract him from his central intention.

Okay, now to give you an easy chance to show that you can respond to a description of something that may be wrong with your case without doing what I have claimed you do habitually: I will re-state as clearly as I can what’s wrong with your idea about what Shakespeare would have learned at his grammar school.  All you have to do is say what you disagree with in my statement and why–AND avoid telling me what a jerk Baldwin was (and I am), et cetera.  You must avoid the temptation otherwise to tackle about my characterization of you above, too.  In other words, I want you to demonstrate that you can argue unevasively, not just say you can.  But if you actually attend focusedly to my point, I will be glad to discuss my characterization of the way you operate in a different thread.

* * *

I then added a second post in which I warned that “I now have a new plan: using quotations from this enormous thread as the basis of a monograph on what I’m tentatively calling ‘Wackagandistic Techniques.’ So be careful what you type. If I actually go through with this, and I only get seriously involved in about two percent of the projects I tell people I’m going to, and finish less than one percent of those, I will post it and make changes to misquotations–or accurate quotations of passages their authors didn’t mean. In other words, I’ll try to be fair, though never not nasty.”

I chose to quote my first post because I think it pretty good–although way off-topic for this blog.  Beware: I will no doubt be using this blog for more matter concerned with wackagandism.  I find that there’s nothing I enjoy more than writing about mental dysfunctionality.  What I write has to be valuable: either because it’s insightful or because it epitomizes mental dysfunctionality.

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Entry 445 — Vaudevillic Poetry « POETICKS

Entry 445 — Vaudevillic Poetry

I’ve coined another term, “Vaudevillic Poetry,” for what I’ve been calling “Jump-Cut Poetry.”  This is a somewhat derogatory term inspired by my bias against short-attention span art, the kind of art that presents discontinuous acts.  It reminds me of why I never much liked television variety shows like Ed Sullivan’s when young, and have rarely looked forward to visits to museums.  Lots of fun stuff but within an hour I start getting a headache.  I’m too much of a convergent thinker, I guess.

Lately I’ve decided that the “language poetry” now gaining Official Recognition is really not much different from Ashbery’s vaudevillic poetry, so really is not extending what the academy recognizes as poetry of value.  Ergo, Wilshberia remains the only part of the contemporary American poetry continuum the Poetry Establishment has any really knowledge of.

Additional note: I’m renaming “Sprungrammatical Poetry” “Grammar-Centered Poetry.”  Accessibility and all that.  So: in my taxonomy, there are two kinds of Language poetry: grammar-centered and infraverbal.  I’m thinking, too, that there are two kinds of vaudevillic poetry: phrase-length and sentence-length.  “Jumbled-Text” may be a third–one beyond Wilshberia.  But possibly beyond what I conceive as poetry, as well–i.e., hyperhermetic or Steinian, if you consider her short texts poems (although I feel I get some of them).

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Ethics « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Ethics’ Category

Entry 1639 — Choice of Ethotactic, Part 4

Saturday, November 22nd, 2014

What I’ve said so far suggests a question to me: can something a person does with no ethical intentions be ethotactical?  For instance, say I am with a friend I know to be much more poor than I and we  come upon an apple tree in a public forest with one apple on it, and I pick it and eat it, not thinking of my friend.  Or, for a more colorful example, say I have been taught that Irishmen are subhuman creatures without the ability to feel pain, and that hunting them will be good practice in the use of firearms that one may one day need to fight off aliens from outer space.  So I shoot a few Irishmen between the eyes, inflicting pain on them without realizing it, and even perhaps killing one or two of them.  Have I behaved immorally?

According to my theory of knowlecular psychology, no.  That’s because an ethotactic, or the choice of a moral or immoral action, can only be the result of some anthroceptual decision based on living in harmony with a known social code.

I think I would go so far as to say that my killing an Irishmen or two in such a case is not immoral even according to most people’s standards.  Many would protest, but because it would seem that I would be excusing a Nazi taught to consider Jews sub-human for gassing them.  I would excuse the Nazi, but only morally.  For me, he would be not immoral, but homicidally stupid—and therefore deserving to be reprimanded!  Sorry.  I have a weakness for black humor.  What I believe is that such a person should be prevented from continuing to gas Jews by being executed—unless one truly believes some kind of re-education can make him accept Jews as human, and he is compelled to repay society for his social stupidity by spending the rest of his life shining the shoes of Jews for free or something.

Ultimately, I believe all reprehensible acts are acts of stupidity, and that what kind of stupidity is involved—moral stupidity or some other kind of stupidity—is irrelevant.  Society should be maximally protected from the person acting reprehensibly (and protected from his genes, for I believe criminals [real criminals], and that’s who I’m talking about, should not be allowed to breed).  Of course, I realize I’m making a complex subject seem much more cut&dry than it is.  Just ideas to counteract simple-minded bad/good anti-continuumism and the insensitivity of certain sentimentalists to Evil.

About evil I will say that all definitions of it are necessarily subjective, but that it does exist, and can be defined sociobjectively.  Sociobjectivity is a view of an idea that is held by such a large majority of the members of a society and which has an objective neurophysiological basis as to be close enough to true objectivity as to be taken as such.  Take the evil of killing an innocent child.  Almost everyone would disapprove of that, and (I believe) almost all of us are instinctively repelled by the deed, and—in fact—would instinctively try to prevent a child, innocent or not, from being killed.

Not that our instinct to use reason would necessarily not be involved.  If effective, it might tell us that our standing in society will go up if we stop someone from murdering a child.  Although our instinct to advance statoosnikally would be part of that.  Actually, I think in most cases, protecting the child would be reflexive whereas our explanation would be taken care of mostly by our reasoning.

To be honest, if I were dominated by reason, I would never risk my life, even as the old man I now am, for some child, because what I believe I may contribute to World Culture is almost sure to be more than what the child will, however long he lives.  The problem with that, of course, is that my ability to reason may be defective, in which case, my not saving a child at the risk of losing my own life would be stupid integrity–that is, acting according to my code that I should protect my own life at all costs because of its great value to the world.  I claim that following that code would be absolutely valid if I were another . . . Nietzsche, without his breakdown.

Needless to say, the idea that Evil is what some deity has said it to be is absurd; various deities have universally defined certain acts as evil because the men who invented them were instinctively against those acts.  Other non-universal acts, like saying something contemptuous about some deity, have also been said to have been ordained Evil by a deity invented by men not because their inventors were instinctively against such acts but because the definition of Evil helped them gain power or destroy other tribes, or simply because of some personal dislike—of a priest once clawed by a cat that made him claim his main god had defined cats as evil, for example.

I do think that reasoning should dominate every moral choice one makes, but it can’t overcome one’s instincts, all of which are ultimately moral, for a given person.  We can only argue about whose individual morals would work best for the society we want to live in, and perhaps use reason to show that giving in to a society’s chosen code will be better for each individual in the long run, the long run excluding some never-seen Heaven or anything like it.

Which brings to mind the question of whether or not it is moral to lie to the masses and tell them some God will do horrible things to them if they don’t accept a society’s code.  I realize that there are those who don’t believe that our species naturally, due to our genes, divides into different social classes–three of them, roughly speaking:  masters, slaves, and . . . cerebreans.  They’re nuts.

I divide ethics into the study of socioethotactics and the study of egoethotactics . . . I think.  There are two major problems: formulation of a maximally fair and biologically advantageous set of socioethotactics by a society, and an individuals’ reconciling his inevitably conflicting set of egoethotactics with his society’s socioethotactics.

More on this eventually, if I think I can say anything at all interesting about it.

* * *

Note: on the day I made my first entry here about ethotactics, 36 people checked up on me at my Wikipedia entry; rarely do more than 4 people visit it on a day, and none since the first month it was up have anywhere near that many done so.  Were they fans of Jonah Goldberg, whose article I was commenting on?  The visits after that have been few, for or five in a day at most.

Last, and definitely least, here’s this SURVEY again:

Please, Dear Reader, I implore thee: when you have read as much of this entry as you feel like reading, let me know whether you have found it worth reading in full or not by clicking “YES” or “NO” below. You would help me a great deal, and might even get me to make my entries more reader-friendly. (And for the love of Jayzuz, please don’t try to spare my feelings by politely declining to click the NO although you think the entry Vile Beyond Imagination. Oh, some of you may need to know that I am not asking you whether you agree with me or not!)

YES

NO

Note: I will be repeating this request in some of my entries to come. Feel free to click one of my buttons each time I do, but please don’t click either more than once a day.

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Entry 1638 — Choice of Ethotactic, Part 3

Friday, November 21st, 2014

A Note to the Fore:

Please, Dear Reader, I implore thee: when you have read as much of this entry as you feel like reading, let me know whether you have found it worth reading in full or not by clicking “YES” or “NO” below.  You would help me a great deal, and might even get me to make my entries more reader-friendly.  (And for the love of Jayzuz, please don’t try to spare my feelings by politely declining to click the NO although you think the entry Vile Beyond Imagination.  Oh, some of you may need to know that I am not asking you whether you agree with me or not!)

YES

NO

Note: I will be repeating this request in some of my entries to come.  Feel free to click one of my buttons each time I do, but please don’t click either more than once a day.

* * *

A new start.  What I think I think now is that an ethotactic is any choice of action that is made fully or to a great extent on the basis of anthreval- uceptual input.  Do I need to say more?  Surely that clarifies the subject satisfactorily?  (I’m exercising my wit here because I’m scared that if I go on, I’ll horribly bungle the amplification what I’ve just said requires.  But my verboceptual awareness—along perhaps with some part of my scienceptual awareness—has convinced my socioceptual awareness, that I have a verosophical moral duty to expose my full thinking on this in spite of how bad my egoceptual awareness, trying to stop me, will feel about my exposing the lameness of my brain.  More exactly, my evaluceptual awareness, which right now I think has offices in each of the rest of the cerebrum’s awarenesses as well as a brain area all to itself where it collects the votes pro and con about all the choices available to the behavraceptual awareness, where a final choice of action will generate the action the person involved takes.

You know, I truly do not know whether I’m making sense at all.  I’m fairly sure that I have a good idea what I’m saying, but am also certain that I am over-simplifying what I think is occurring.  Which may not be.  Not that it matters, since I don’t think I can make any headway toward a reasonably intelligent rough description doing anything other than taking a series of very simple steps of description.

Note: it is at this point that I thought of constructing the YES/NO buttons above.

Okay, what happens in slightly more detail is that (1) a person experiences instacon A (i.e., “instant of consciousness A”), or the contents thereof, which I probably have a name for but can’t now recall.  (2) Instacon A activates a number of possible actions out of the awarenesses participating in it.  Let us say, for instance, that it contains data depicting an ant on his kitchen counter that activate cells in his visioceptual awareness (a sub-awareness of his protoceptual or fundaceptual awareness [whose name I haven’t permanently chosen], data activating cells representing “me, innocently going about my daily business, in the egoceptual sub-awareness of my anthroceptual awareness (I’m going into detail to try to keep things straight for myself), data activating cells in the socioceptual sub-awareness of my anthroceptual awareness representing “enemy deleteriously approaching my food,” data activating cells representing the word, “ant,” in the verboceptual sub-awareness of the linguiceptual sub-awareness of my reducticeptual awareness, and maybe data activating cells causing a barely perceptible reaction to fear of the sting of a fire ant.

All these active cells will send attempt to activate behavraceptual cells capable of causing appropriate behavioral responses like moving a hand that’s near the ant, carefully sliding a piece of paper under the ant and removing it from the house without injuring it, splotting the damned thing, or singing a song about “Aunt Delores,” if I knew one.  Meanwhile, instacon A would probably have continuing sequences of information in it with nothing to do with the ant—something to do with why I’d come into the kitchen, for instance.  Behavraceptual cells responsible for various appropriate behavioral responses (or behavioral responses that seem appropriate to me) would activate those responses.

In effect, they would vote for the action begun, or continued—make that actions, because we generally carry out more than one action during each instacon.  Each activated cell or cell-group would try to send energy to the muscles or glands responsible for carrying out its desire.  But much of that energy would be blocked by the greater energy another cell or cell-groups responsible for a behavior in conflict with the behavior the first cell or group was trying to cause.  In other words, a lot of votes would be cast, and the evaluceptual awareness, where they were being cast, would determine which candidates receiving votes would win, and succeed in causing action.  If any.  For I may take no action, no cell or cell-group’s transmission being strong enough to cause me to do anything.I suspect that in this case, the word, “ant,” would make me say to myself, “Damned ants.”  This would be an ethotactical response based on my perception of the ant as an intruder, and—possibly—my empathy for the robotic damned thing.  Perhaps my laziness would be a factor, too.  Would it have any ethical component?  I think not.  I think I would have a musclaceptual reaction of “don’t squash, too much work” that would be purely, amorally, protoceptual—i.e., having to do with my desire not to exert myself, nothing else.

Which suggests a question to me: can something a person does with no ethical intentions be ethotactical?

TO BE CONTINUED

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Entry 1636 — Back to Goldberg

Wednesday, November 19th, 2014

Okay, back to my response to an essay by Jonah Goldberg.  I was writing about the effect of ethotactical intelligence on ethotactical duration but also the width of said duration.  An “ethotactic” is a person’s moral choice of action in a given situation.  I ended my writing for that day with the following:

“Obviously, the situation will have a lot to do with the length of a person’s ethotactical durations, there seldom being little point in trying for a long one regarding what to do morally about a piece of candy one has been offered.  Short-term moral behavior will not depend much on ethotactical intelligence.  That means day-to-day behavior will generally be intelligent enough (and considered acceptable enough) although not based on long ethotactical durations or particularly high ethotactical intelligence.

“Now for a scattering of points, because I don’t see right off how to present a better organized response to Goldberg’s essay.  First is his suggestion that too many people, especially young people, believe that “if it feels right, do it!’ by which he means all they think is necessary to make an ethotactical decision is passion.  Goldberg amplifies this when he quotes a character in the movie, Legally Blonde, as follows: “On our very first day at Harvard, a very wise professor quoted Aristotle; ‘The law is reason free from passion.’  Well, no offense to Aristotle, but in my three years at Harvard, I have come to find that passion is a key ingredient to the study and practice of law—and of life.’”

“Well, I would agree with Goldberg that the character is an airhead  . . .” I stopped there, cutting the paragraphs above from the text because I thought it had come to a good stopping point before them.  When I came back to them just now, three days later, and wrote the paragraph beginning this entry, to set the scene, I was immediately unsure what I was talking about.    There’s a person’s plain choice of action.  How is it different from his moral choice of action?

Okay, a person’s choice of action depends on a vote from each of his active awarenesses at the time.  These votes will probably never be equal.  How much weight the vote of a given awareness will have will depend on the person and on the situation.  And now I suspect I’m constructing a different theory or set of ideas than I was describing in part one of this cluster-dementia of an intellectual exploration.

I should probably re-start but I’m too lazy too.  It is also possible that I’ve got an idea begun that may lead somewhere worthwhile.  Question: what awareness provides the ethical portion of a person’s choice of action?  Immediate answer: the evaluceptual awareness, because it is the awareness that determines on the basis of past experience what path is most likely to maximize the pleasure-to-pain ratio.  This answer is wrong.

The moral content of the evaluceptual awareness’s choice will be determined all or mostly in the anthroceptual awareness, because it will try to make one act properly in order to satisfy one or more social instincts like the need to conform, the empathic need not to cause pain . . . there must be others but I can’t think of them now.  The instinct not to cause pain probably has many sub-instincts under it: like the need not to boast (because it may make others feel smaller) . . .

I wonder if there’s an egoceptual instinct to be honest in appraising oneself.  No one else need see that you dishonestly rate yourself a better poet than some Nobel Prize Winner, so it’s not a socioceptual instinct, if it exists.  I think it may exist because it would be advantageous for preventing unrealistic behavior.  But would it be moral?  And what about the embarrassment of missing five lay-ups in a row in your backyard where no one can see you.  You have immorally failed to live up to your own expectations just as missing one layup in a game would be immorally failing to live up to your group’s expectations.  If doing what you’re supposed to in a team effort hasn’t to do with morality, what does it have to do with?

My problem is to intelligently describe a person’s choice of action, which I now see is a matter of describing the many choices it is a combination of—basically the votes of various awarenesses (and sub-awarenesses) I’ve already mentioned.  Too much work for me now, so I’m outta here.  I hope I return to this matter, for my own sake.  (It would be immoral for me to deprive the world of my further thoughts about it.)  Not sure I will.

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Entry 1633 — Moral Integrity

Sunday, November 16th, 2014

Jonah Goldberg is one of my favorite writers.  I consider him funny enough to steal material from, and agree with (most of) his political outlook.  Often, though, I find myself partially disagreeing with some position of his.  At the moment, I’m disagreeing with portions of his latest essay in National Review, “Empty Integrity.”  Goldberg believes the world is opting for a kind of “integrity” that Irish philosopher David Thunder categorizes as “purely formal accounts of integrity (which) essentially demand internal consistency within the form or structure of an agent’s desires, actions, beliefs, and evaluations.”  Opposed to this is a kind of integrity, Thunder describes as “fully substantive accounts.”  The difference between the two is that a person with the first kind acts in accordance with ethical principles designed to maximize his pleasure-to-pain ratio whereas a person with the second kind “desires to do what is morally good in all of his decisions,” according, again, to Thunder.

Goldberg implies that the first kind of integrity, which—because he associates it with the philosophy of Nietzsche, one of my idols—I will hereafter term Nietzschean Integrity, is “empty.”  It isn’t.  What he is really bothered by, first, is that a person possessing it does not “apply reason to nature and our consciences in order to discover what is moral” but simply does what “feels right.”  This is wrong for Goldberg because it ultimately means understanding integrity “only as a firm commitment to one’s own principles—because one’s own principles are the only legitimate principles. The god of a person’s morality is thus not Jehovah but the person.”

Nietzschean Integrity is “empty” only inasmuch as there is no imaginary being running it.  It seems to me that a truly empty integrity would be one that was devoid of rules to follow.  That is not the case with Nietzschean Integrity.  What makes it empty for Goldberg is merely his dislike of its rules . . .  No, what is wrong with it for him is not its rules but the rules he believes it will be based on if some entity outside it is not their source.  Actually there is no reason a person with Nietzschean Integrity might not “apply reason to nature and (his) conscience in order to discover what is moral” and, as a result become firmly committed to absolutely standard good old George Washington principles—because they lead him to rules of morality that “feel right” to him.

Ultimately, we all must follow the internal moral rules that feel right regardless of where they come from.  Everything we do, we do because it feels right.  Reason may tell someone that if he sticks his hand in a fire, he will experience pain, but he will accept what it tells him because it feels right.  To give just one example of why you should accept my generality that should suffice to clinch my case—which, I suppose, reduces the question to one of simple semantics.

In any case, the real problem for Goldberg (and me) is what I have some up with the brilliant name for of “Stupid Integrity.”   And here I bumble into boilerplate I feel bad about repeating but, I fear, is all I have to say about the topic.  I claim that one necessarily tries always to maximize his P2P (i.e., his “pleasure-to-pain ratio”), as he at the time believes—I should say, “guesses”—it to be for a length of time dependent on his . . . anthreffec- tiveness, or effectiveness as a human being, which includes but is quite a bit more than his “cerebreffectiveness,” which includes what those less picky about such matters than I would call “intelligence” but is significantly more than.  To make it easier to plow through what I will go on to say, though, I will replace “anthreffectiveness” with “intelligence.”

The stupider a person is, the shorter the period of time I’m speaking of will be.  Since my greatest defect as a thinker is a need to name just about everything I discuss, I am now going to call this period of time the “ethotactical duration.”  It’s a term I’ve come up with on the spot, so probably won’t last long.  It’s how long ahead a person plans (in effect, since usually the “planning” will be nothing like formal planning, and won’t even involve what most people think of as thought)—or, to put it more simply, it’s how long a person will take to decide, based on his (conscious or unconscious) moral code, what he will next do.  (A “behavratactical duration” is how far ahead a person plans before initiating any behavior.)

Note to Goldberg: please tell your couch that I am not purposely trying to distract my readers from my essentially empty ideas by overloading them with terminology, and that—while I do feel he’s almost as good an influence on my as he is on you, I’d prefer that he not bother me until I’ve finished saying what I want to say here.  I should add that if he wants me to continue referring to him in the future, thus improving his chances of immortality by at least 0.62%, he needs to try harder to be my friend.)

To be fastidious to a nauseating extreme, I must say that by “how long ahead a person thinks before making an ethotactical decision about what he will do next,” I actually mean “how long ahead the wide variety of facts, feelings, and who-knows-what-else a person will (in effect) consult before making an ethotactical decision regarding what he will next do.

Now then, while the length of a person’s ethotactical duration has a great deal to do with the intelligence of his moral acts, the width and depth of his moral decisions (i.e., their intelligence) will have significantly more to do with it.  Does he just consider the taste of a piece of candy he has been offered, or also its effect on his health and/or its effect on his reputation, and/or its effect on a child with him if you don’t offer it to him and the effect of that on you, and/or its effect on his mood and the effect of that on the poem he is composing . . . and the effect of that on what the world thinks of him in the year 2222?

As you can see, ethotactical intelligence will effect ethotactical duration but also the width of said duration.  In the case just described, if the person is concerned only with the taste of the candy bar and the immediate effect of his giving it versus not giving it to the child, he will only be concerned with a duration approximately equal to the time it takes him to eat the candy, or the same length of time (let’s assume) that he will enjoy the child’s enjoyment of the candy if he gives it to the child, or feel guilty about not giving it the child if he eats it but the width of the duration will be greater than it would have been had he only considered how the candy would taste.

(My thanks to Goldberg’s couch for not telling me how clumsily I just expressed myself.)

TO BE CONTINUED (alas)

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Entry 1519 — Thoughts on Morality, Continued

Saturday, July 26th, 2014

When writing about morality yesterday, I puttered on after finishing the part I post in yesterday’s blog entry.  That resulted in this:

When I first had my little cluster of ideas, I thought I could describe how what I consider the central innate human drive, the pleasure-to-pain ratio maximization (P2P) drive, leads to a person’s internalized morality (also innate).  Further reflection on this was what put me in my null zone.  What follows are fragments from the system I thought I could come up with.

To begin with, the P2P drive, as its name, indicates, compels a person to try to maximize his pleasure (or minimize his pain). The “try” is important for he won’t necessarily know what will lead to a maximum pleasure and/or minimum pain.  Hence, his attempt may result in the opposite of what he wants.

By maximum pleasure, by the way, I mean anything that causes happiness or diminishes pain, not just wine, women and song, or the like.  It is most important to note, too, that I am speaking of a person’s lifetime of pleasure.  Hence, heavy, unpleasant physical exercising, or piano-practice, or studying–because of the pleasure the person believes his sacrifices will lead to.  The same reasoning holds for minimum pain.

I feel pretty much out of ideas about my subject now–the ones I had didn’t last very long.  But I going to try now to add a few thoughts about the innate mechanisms I think most of us have that influence our moral behavior.  “Ethiplexes,” I think I’ll call them for now.

Two are the empathy instinct and need for social approbation drive that I’ve already mentioned.  It occurred to me that a sub-instinct of the empathy instinct might be the maternal drive, narrowly defined here as a human need to nurture and protect children, infants in particular, and much more developed in most women than in men.  But it is definitely present in most men–which is why there is so much more grief when a homicidal lunatic’s victims are children rather than adults.  I think it may well be the basis of the nanny-state western nations have turned into.  It has something to do with the perception of losers as infants by those with strong maternal drives.

I’m not sure how to discuss this without mortally offending just about everybody.  I’ll just add that evidence in support of my contention is the way exploration of space halted once we got to the moon, with almost no complaints.  Which reminds me of another drive that is too morally influential in my opinion: the species-preservation drive.  It seems like the more people we have in the world, the more horrifying events like the Challenger disaster seem.  I suppose the media is part of that.

The social approbation drive is also a conformity drive; an offshoot may be the drive to make others conform, the totalitarian drive.  “Do what you’re told” is a leading moral tenet.  Because utter conformity wouldn’t work for a species, I believe a few of us have an anti-authoritarian drive.  Perhaps most boys (and many fewer girls) have one that weakens as they age.

Yes, I’m really dragging today.  Not thinking clearly or deeply.  I was hoping I’d get going but it doesn’t look like I will today.  Maybe tomorrow.

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Entry 1441 — Can a Stone Feel Pain?

Friday, May 2nd, 2014

Whether or not a stone can feel pain is key question in philosophy although few would recognize as such.  I keep coming back to it.  The unreflective answer is, “Of course not.”  The insane answer is, “Certainly.”  The correct answer is, “We have no way of knowing, probably ever.”  You see, we only know a stone would have no way of telling us it was in pain, if it ever were.  Moreover, even if it did, how could we know it to be in pain rather than signalling that something hit it–without being conscious of pain, as such?  It may even experience it as pleasure.

What difference does it make?  Well, if one is a liberal suffering from empathophilia, or excessive need to express empathy, one–recognizing that a stone could feel–would forbid one from kicking one.  Of course, to those of us not so afflicted, it makes no difference.  We recognize that we can mistreat a stone because a stone is not us.  And can’t fight back.

There–another dumb entry because I take my vow of a blog entry a day seriously.  My computer would be in deep pain if I didn’t, not to mention the Internet.  How about someone reading this?  Well, I didn’t force him too.  Besides, he’s not me.  (Note: this last was a joke. My theory of ethics holds that other human beings, and many other creatures, are in most contexts, as almost-us as members of our family. Unless we iz psychopaths.)

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Entry 307 — Columpetry? « POETICKS

Entry 307 — Columpetry?

Some lists of best poetry collections published in 2010 have been posted recently at New-Poetry.  Needless to say, I was contemptuous of the selections.  I wrote a variation of what I always write about such rankings:  “My first thought is that even if these lists were compiled by critics with a knowledge of the full range of poetry being composed nowadays, they are premature.  The year has not ended yet.  My second, much more intelligent thought, is that the lists that ought to be compiled should be of the best collections of poetry published in 2000.  A minor third thought is that if the latter lists were said to be of 2010 collections, few would realize it from the poems in them (assuming topical references were deleted).

Remembering my coinage, “magnipetry,” it crossed my mind that these lists were not of the best collection of that, but of . . . “medipetry” (mee DIH peh tree).  No, I thought, some of the collections on some of the lists are superior however short of magnipetry they are.  What they are is . . .  I needed a term for good but unadventurous poetry.  If I got it, it next occurred to me, I’d need one for adventurous poetry, for not all adventuours poetry is magnipetry, nor all magnipetry adventurous.  Hence, “Columpetry” for poetry to finds new worlds.  But which is disqualified by its “lump.”

So I gave up.  But not permanently, I hope.

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