Follow-up

A friend of mine discovered this, and I wanted to pass it on as a follow-up to my previous blog. This is an ad printed in the New York Times concerning the backlash against the LDS church over Prop 8:

http://www.nomobveto.org/images/nytad_lg.png

Quite frankly, I'm very impressed. I'm glad that responsible citizens (who don't profess to be mormon or gay) are willing to speak out against the ridiculous response to LDS members (and others) who supported Prop 8.

Well done, sirs.

In the wake of Prop 8

I wasn't a big participator in the Prop 8 argument. I'm not firmly decided in any particular way, it seems MUCH more complicated that most want it to be. Believe it or not, the argument over Prop 8 is not between lunatic, godless, twisted sex demons bent on fiery, burning apocalypse and the complete destruction of America's moral system versus wild-eyed Christian fanatics bent on conquest through Bible-violence, forcing their opinions on innocent bystanders like bloody crusaders of years past carving a swath through heathen "Mohamadens".

It's all much more human than that. These people on both sides are people, people.

However, what does get me in a bit of a fit (Besides retarded Mormons with no idea how to ethically consider people that have different beliefs and lifestyles) is the post-prop 8 backlash. Many of the homosexual-rights groups have gone well past the line. I'm not talking about civil rights or political platitudes. I'm talking about blatant disregard of life, liberty and property. Why do we even HAVE a constitution if these people can trample on the rights of those that disagree?

Check out this article, it echoes many of my sentiments in a fairly level-headed way:
http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=YTU5MjZmMDIyMDU3NjRiMjBlNjcxYTlmOGQ2ODA5NjA=

Why do we stand for it? Why are the protesters climbing over the wall of the LA temple not thrown in prison? Why are many of the vocal anti-religious groups not branded as the bigoted idiots that they present themselves as? Why isn't America pissed about this?

I am.

A Quick Glance of Spain

On my way to school, whether I walk or ride the bus, I witness many occurrences that reveal Spain. Sometimes Spain is the wisp of smoke, the dog crap on the sidewalks that sticks to my sandals, two women chatting with loud voices and lively gestures, the smell of fresh-baked bread, or the long line of cured pig legs hanging at a butcher shop. At other times, Spain is one of many teenagers' mullets, a flock of birds, the whine of a beggar’s violin, or the rhythm of the feet of pedestrians.

For me, Spain is the king of specialty stores and quaint mom and pop shops. There is an “-ería” for anything g you could image (frutería, panadería, pastelería, papelería, dime-que-quieres-ería), and very few monster superstores. There are large street markets where gypsies, Africans, and Spaniards sell every item under the sun. This includes exotic fruits: membrillos, jínjoles, chirimoyas, caquis [persimins], y granadas [pomegranates]. While the prices are reasonable, the problem is that you usually have to buy at least a kilo. It can be hard to carry all the food you are interested home, let alone consume it all. The non-food items you need to be careful with as they are probably from Morocco or China, and the quality is often poor. There is definitely a black market here in Spain. The salesmen offer their products (Gucci look-alike purses, movies, music CDs) on blankets and sheets. They tie a rope carefully around the blanket so that if they see the police coming they can pull the cord and the blanket will close up. Then, they can make a ran for it or try to meld within the crowd.

Part of Spain is poor and miserable. I see it in the people waiting in line at the doors of the government employment agency. Some carry babies (possibly for emotional effect when speaking with an agent), others sport Mohawks, and others dress like businessmen. They age from 18 to 60. I see it in the lives of beggars. One shook his money-cup frantically up and down with his teeth up because he was armless. There are drunks; one walrus-man passed out on the sidewalk, his enormous stomach pouring out onto the pavement.

The majority of the urban cities are anthills with cramped streets. I don’t know how the busdrivers can wind there way through them without accidents [correction: they don’t]. Navigating through an unvisited neighborhood seems like wandering in a labyrinth. There are supposed to be streets signs on the sides of buildings, but most of the time they are not available. Many of the smaller streets are not available on the map. Gratefully, the cities are so beautiful during the day that even if you are lost you end up in a place where you can enjoy yourself.

Spain is crowned with the arts. Everywhere there are cultural sites, monuments to writers and intellectuals, and museums to historical figures. The works of painters are collected in galleries like the Prado or the Reina Sofia. On the Gran Via there is a series of theaters and music venues. Add to that the many elaborate fountains, medieval fairs, and botanical gardens. Spain even protects the stork nests by placing fences around them on the roofs. Aesthetics and sports mix in the bullfights. It is a cruel art, a correct art in portraying the ser-en-lucha of existence that would satisfy Schopenhauer, but unnecessary in a life that already proclaims this message to the four winds. There is also the darker side of art here. Spain was a prostitute when I left her in 1997, and she still plays her role. Pornography fills the newspapers, and covers the shelves of gas stations. The book stores at train stops and in the streets all sell sex books with risqué covers. Even the advertising used by local pharmacies shows naked women to promote their products.

I emphasize that Spain is really a cultural passion; a mix of sensations and mental phenomena. She is not just a piece of land. I taste Spain in a gross yema [sugared egg yolk], I see her in a paella’s yellow, and I hear her in the sound of castanets. These rituals and experiences show me more of her organic history and delights than boundary lines on a map.

Voting Angst: Part Second

Honestly, it's hard for me to want to vote either way. When it comes to principles, I lean toward McCain and can't really consider Obama. When it comes to presentation of candidates, I lean toward Obama and can't imagine McCain. Obama seems significantly more rational and effective as a politician than McCain, but that doesn't mean he's the best choice. The liberal side strikes me as a pipe dream of a perfect world laced with some fairly disturbing and immoral ideas. I don't believe Obama seeks to kill babies and throw our country into communism, but there are definitely ideas that give me the heebie-jeebies. The Republican side reeks of ignorance, cronyism and decay. They can't get anything done and ignore facts that scream in their faces. Ostriches with their heads in the sand, both sides spending our money to save their personal political careers. At the expense of the rest of us. It's a brave new world or the same ol' corrupt one, eh?

There doesn't seem to be any middle ground for me. I checked out the third parties, they scare the heck out of me. They don't have ANY idea what they're doing in national/international policies. Basically, I feel like all I get is lies and propaganda and I don't know how I can make a good decision. As if there were a good decision.

So, I'll go to the booth tomorrow and vote. It doesn't make me happy; I'm not excited to do this particular civic duty. It feels like someone but a bag of poo on my porch last night and I have to clean it up now. When the chips are down, my sister's bit on the abortion issue (http://nessaandmichael.blogspot.com) seems the only thing that strikes a real chord in me. All of the rest seems like so much force-fed drivel that has nothing to do with the way the country will actually be run. It is certainly time for change, but there ain't no change in this election. So I'll vote for no change tomorrow. Not because I want to; because I have no choice.

Voting angst

Anyone have any good ideas what one should do when voting feels like selecting which cancer to contract? I've heard "lesser of the two evils" but after doing a bit of research on the positions of the main (and third-party) candidates, I've decided it's the "lesser of the five depressings." What on earth am I to do when I feel compelled to vote but feel a bit of disgust when I consider my choices?

More random Peirce thoughts

The symbols we use define our reality in many ways. They affect how we interpret the world and what we see around us. However, the symbols of our society are not concretely defined. They are always changing, depending on how they’re used and how wee the world. Peirce has said that we are always impacting and impacted by symbols. They are a fluid thing, guiding our communication and thought processes. For instance, the symbol of justice cannot be easily defined and, indeed, changes from case to case, moment to moment. And yet, we nearly all believe we have a concrete idea of justice upon which we base our conduct and the expectations of the conduct of others. Is would be useless to squabble over whether or not this fact is good or bad, it is merely a fact. However, we should realize the fact. We should understand that the symbols and terms we use are fluid. Many times we get stuck on a particular idea or way of looking at things when it is not, in fact, defined as such. How we have used a symbol, how we are now using it and its future use all play a part in what the symbol means.

Peirce’s pragmatism suggests that unless something makes an observable difference in the way we experience the world, an idea is pointless. I agree. However, this idea has some pretty strong consequences. If that is accepted, we can never assert to finally have “the truth.” We never know what facts lurk that simply have not made themselves known through a discernible difference. We will forever discover them, as our perceptions change and our ways of looking at the world become more complex. Will we ever understand everything? Maybe, but even if we did, how would we know that we did? Therefore: would it matter?

Drooling over Spanish Philosophers

While I once thought there was a dearth of Spanish philosophers, I recognized that it was just my Philosophy book. There is some great stuff here. I've been drooling over my copy of Unamuno's Del Sentimiento Tragico de la Vida. It's surprising easy to read philosophy in Spanish. I have also been plowing through his La Agonia of Cristianismo (The Agony of Christianity). I have also been trying to inundate myself in some Jose Ortega y Gasset. These guys are surprisingly in my line of thinking: mixing some James, Kierkegaard, Husserl, and Christianity into an interesting, pragmatic Christian existentialism to some extent. I have been enjoying John Thomas Graham's A Pragmatist Philosophy of Life in Ortega Y Gasset. And really want to get my hands on "Spain's Christian Existentialism," but of course it had to be someone's disertation... ugh. Anyway, I think I'm going to study some more Ortega y Gasset and Unamuno in grad school. As for some other Spanish philosophers, I'll want to go into George Santayana. And I have found John of the Cross' works surprisingly moving. The Spanish mystic is quite different than I would have expected; very different from other mystics.