Of Entropy and the Divide.

Every theological argument ends with my opponent telling me to “just have faith” or explaining that they’ll “pray for me.”

Politics? It never used to be like that.

Now, however, every political argument ends with my opponent explaining how “if you don’t like this country, then just leave,” or how I can’t even talk about this or that because I have a penis or Caucasian skin.

I have no party, it seems. I am an all-party pooper.

Reason? Discussion? Empathy? All of it is evidently out of style — left and right wing, red and blue. The divide has grown so wide, the chasm has stretched its yawn to such a degree that those on one end of the spectrum cannot even hear those on the other.

This, I think, is the entropy of civilization that George Carlin once spoke of.

Sometimes I wish I could stop paying attention.

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Earth Plus Plastic (and Greater Things).

Sip from a cup
half empty.
It’s dying now.
The planet.

Can you smell
the death coming,
hear the ticking
time bomb?

Permanently
passed
four hundred parts
per million.

Down a minute every day.
Changing planet
and we were the key
ingredient
in its alchemy.

Ultimately we may die
by suicide, but what great
things will our
extinction bring?

Take a sip
from a cup half full.
Maybe we pave
the way to greater things.

Do Something.

In the small, nomadic groups in which we were organized for roughly 99% of human history, there was a chance to really offer something to our group, to honestly make a difference. With all the problems infecting our current globalized culture, where can one hope to make a dent? You could throw money at the problem, join a chanting sign-carrying crowd in protest, gather signatures for a petition, join or create a terrorist group to overthrow the government. Nothing really screams out as a potential solution. Where does one start, anyway — or is it more about committing yourself to one specific problem and ignoring the rest so as to not spread yourself too thin?

Words out of the mouths of George Carlin and Doug Stanhope, two names on the top of a very short list of comedians I truly value, run through my mind. They have taken the approach of divorcing humanity, of standing on the outside looking in and taking notes, as they recognize they have no investment in the outcome. I just cannot embrace that. This isn’t about guilt or ego so far as I am self-aware. I just need to, yet don’t, in the very least out of a lack of certainty in what would be a profitable means, though likely out of fear as well. Still, it fucking remains in me. This burning need inside to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem — and call me black and white, but the way I see it you fall on either one side of the line or the other — is a fire that is resistant to death, seemingly immortal, and suggests no possible route to quelling it. Matter put simply: I don’t know what the fuck to do. I fear I never will, I’ll watch all this fall to desolation and live with the agony of knowing I never even really tried to do something about it.