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Cowardice Won’t Work

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

New York Times, August 22, 2004: Writer Stephen Johnson reports on an almond-shaped part of the brain called the amygdala (pronounced “uh MIG’ dulluh”), which is part of the primitive limbic system, which relates to emotions.

Do liberals ‘think’ with their emotions?

“Studies of stroke victims and scans of normal brains,” he reports, “have shown that the amygdala plays a key role in the creation of emotions like fear or empathy.”

If amygdala activity is a reliable indication of emotional response, it raises the interesting question: Do liberals ‘think’ with their limbic system (emotions) more than conservatives do?

And the answer appears to be: Yes, they do.

Not long ago, U.C.L.A. researchers analyzed neural activity of Republicans and Democrats viewing images from campaign ads. It turns out that ‘violent’ images — such as pictures of the 9/11 attack on New York’s World Trade Center towers — produce different effects in Republicans and Democrats.

In fact, you could predict which are the Democrats just by observing the brain scans, because the Democrats had much stronger activity in the amygdala region. Note that this is a reading on a ‘gut response’, operating below the person’s conscious control.

So we learn that liberal brains have generally more active amygdalas than conservative ones. So what?

It’s a plausible explanation that matches some of our stereotypes about liberal values:

* an aversion to human suffering
* an unwillingness to accept capital punishment
* an unwillingness to accept military force
* a fondness for candidates who like to feel our pain.

Which suggests how we may become Republicans or Democrats in the first place.

“Say you’re inclined to form strong emotional responses to images of violence or human suffering,” said the Times article, “and over the course of your formative years, most of the people you meet who respond to these images with comparable affect turn out to be Democrats. That’s a commonality of experience that exists beneath conscious political affiliation — it’s closer to a gut instinct than a rational choice — but if you meet enough Democrats who share that experience, sooner or later you start carrying the card yourself.”

Some of the pundits elsewhere were generalizing from these experiments to suggest that liberals would be more emotional and less rational, using “emotional thinking” more heavily, and that they would be generally more fearful. And that conservatives would tend to be more analytical and more courageous.

Last night, watching Vice-President Dick Cheney debating John Edwards, it seems to me that’s exactly what I saw. Cheney seemed to be more analytical and cited a “braver” course of finding and stomping terrorists around the world till it’s done. Attorney John Edwards seemed more like a car salesman, hitting on the emotional buttons, and glossing over inconsistencies of the past anti-war voting records of himself and Mr. Kerry.

I’m not a political expert, but with a fair amount of past experience in language de-construction and training in counseling and reading body language, I personally would trust Dick Cheney over John Edwards. I caught John Edwards in too many sophistic devices (trickery in using the language) to believe him very much.

I’ve also noticed two things in life.

One is that if you experience a friend or employee or anyone who’s attempting to ‘blackmail’ you, it never pays off to pay them off.

For example, your pal is using emotional blackmail like “If you don’t loan me this money, I’ll feel awful and it will be all your fault!” Or for example, your employee says “I need to have a raise immediately or I’ll quit.” In that case, no matter how awkward it is to let them quit, you’d better just let them quit. Because if you give a raise for this reason (instead of giving a raise because their work has earned one), they’ll just wait till another awkward time to spring the same ruse again. (I had this experience with a bookkeeper named Kathy. The first time I paid up. The second time I paid up. The third time I bid my fond adieus.)

As regards terrorists, if we follow Spain or the Philippines in a pattern of appeasement, we’ll just get more of the same. I’m no political analyst, but it seems like the USA did that very thing under Clinton, with no consequences for the bombing of the USS Cole, no consequences for the Oklahoma government building bombing, no consequences toward Saddam Hussein’s defiance of the United Nations. And we got more of the same. Just like Kathy, they’ll be back.

Till we kill them.

That takes courage. That takes guts.

I don’t like war. But even less do I like our kindergartens in Oklahoma being bombed by fertilizer-filled trucks, discos blown apart during bar mitzvas, dirty bombs in our cities, and seeing people leap from flaming skyscrapers to fall, and fall, and fall.

Some “humans” are not quite human. Some are still barbarians. Some will knife you in a ghetto for your sneakers. Some will bomb your children’s kindergarten and call it religion. They aren’t like me and you.

Being nice won’t work.

Pulling out of the war, on a certain date, won’t work.

This is a new face of war, and there are no Marquis of Queensbury Rules in a knifefight. The bad guys aren’t just the soldiers inside a certain country. You can’t just go there and they’ll come out and fight. Yet, to avoid barbarians murdering those we love, we must fight. And we have to go about fighting differently.

The second thing I’ve learned in life is that, if you must fight, what wins is the use of excessive force.

For example if you just block the incoming blows, sooner or later, you’ll miss and you’ll lose. This reminds me of President Bush debating Senator Kerry last week. Kerry continually attacked, and Bush continued defending against the attacks, and that’s not an effective way to win such a debate.

Similarly, once we have the fact that these subhumans called terrorists do intend to kill us and our children, it will not be enough to just block them. They won’t go away. In fact, our refusal to viciously fight will be interpreted by them as weakness, and will encourage them to escalate. In their eyes, we the enemy are running away and so it’s time to mow us down ha ha ha! Look at the funny bleeding infidels! Ha ha ha.

Empathy, a “more sensitive” war, holding “summits”, issuing “directives”, or “withdrawing in six months” — none of these are courageous. None of these will work.

Cowardice won’t work.

We may not like it, but we’re in it. Relentless effort on our part, unreasonable effort on our part, deadly effort on our part, toward terrorists and their allies like Mr. Hussein … that’s the only thing which will work.

Liberals, with gut-instinct aversion to war, too bad.

Fight or die.

Categories // All, consciousness, Looking Back, mind, non-conscious mind

The Band Jacket

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

Henrietta, Texas, October 1961: I got elected Band King. I’m not sure why. Perhaps there was a dearth of candidates.

As a practical matter, this meant two things. One was that I’d get my picture printed real big in the year book, and saying “Band King.” Yahoo.

The other was that I could have a free band jacket.

The fanciest and most coveted school jackets would have the school colors (black and gold, which really came out black and orange) with sleeves of real leather. This kind of jacket was absolutably de rigeur, a must-have.

I had a different idea. As usual, it caused trouble.

I was thinking ahead, about leaving for college next year. I didn’t think my high-school jacket with real leather sleeves would actually be that spiffy. It would be, like retro, man.

So when Mr. Raeke, the band leader, sat me down with the catalog, I ordered my jacket with a plain grey flannel body. He peered over the catalog.

“Not black and gold?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

Then he asked me what kind of sleeves. Again I chose plain grey flannel material. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Then he asked me what color for the High-School Letter. I requested no High-School Letter. He smiled and wrote up the order. Now I had a nice stylish grey jacket coming. A nice, free jacket. I was happy.

The next day, he told me he’d sent off the order. “I had to fight,” he said. “The principal thought you ought to have a letter.” He smiled again. I was happy, too.

All that week, I heard indirect muttering. So-and-so at the school board had heard, and he thought it was outrageous. I didn’t care.

Some weeks later my nice, free, stylish grey jacket came.

I liked it. I liked it a lot.

Categories // Looking Back

Doing Other Stuff

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

As anyone can see, the Bloggard has been unable to create many micro-stories just lately.

I’ve become immersed in other projects, that’s what creates the interference.

My voicemail business has diminished (cell phones are very popular these days) and I’ve had to make adaptations to that business (see 24Metro Voicemail and Free Web), for example, providing free domain-name, email, and websites for voicemail clients.

In addition, at Mobius Megatar we’ve revamped the inventory system, so that we can now sell pre-built musical instruments from stock, and to offer these instruments I’ve created a new EBay store at the EBay “Megatar Store”. Our new inventory system makes it possible for a musician to purchase an instrument with immediate shipping, instead of waiting 3-7 weeks for the order to be built.

I’ve also intensified my investigations of the last ten years regarding the behavior of financial markets, with somewhat encouraging results, and this takes time, too.

There’s more, but that’s enough. And so I must permit the Adventures to languish at present. My goal was to create an autoblography, and that’s been done. (See A Year and a Lifetime.)

Over 400 micro-stories are already available here. See them listed alphabetically by title in the Archive Section.

And information about my “How to Get a Boyfriend or a Girlfriend” manual will be found in The Sweetheart Report posting.

Down the road, when time permits, I will be back to create more Adventures of Bloggard.

Thank you for your readership.

Categories // Looking Back

Well, Isn’t That Nice!

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

Los Angeles International Airport, January 2000. Two nicely dressed ladies were sitting near me, and as the flight was late, I suppose they fell into conversation.

The first woman seemed to be a brusque, arrogant California woman, apparently married to a very wealthy man. The second woman was a well-mannered elderly woman from the South.

The conversation centered on their children, and the California woman said, “When my first child was born, my husband built me a wonderful mansion in Bel Air.”

The lady from the South commented, “Well, isn’t that nice.”

It wasn’t long before the first woman was boasting again. “Then,” she said, “when my second child was born, my husband bought me a beautiful Mercedes Benz.”

Again the lady from the South said, “Well, isn’t that nice.”

Encouraged, the first woman said, with an air of pride, “Then, when my third child was born, my husband bought me this beautiful bracelet.” She jangled the bracelet, and it glittered in the bright light.

The lady from the sound again said, “Well, isn’t that nice.”

The first woman seemed to realize she was bragging, and she turned to the second lady and asked, “Men are so funny. Did your husband buy you presents when you had your children?”

The lady from the South replied, “Only the first one. When I had my first child my husband sent me to Charm School, something I’d always wanted to do.”

“Charm school?” asked the California woman. “What’s so interesting about going to charm school? Is it useful?”

“Well, yes,” replied the lady from the South. “I found it quite useful. For one thing, in Charm School I learned that, instead of saying ‘Who gives a rat’s ass’ I could instead say ‘Well, isn’t that nice.'”

Categories // Looking Back

Musicians

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

January 1979: R.J.’s mother had been a music major, and so when they joined the small rural church, perhaps it was natural that she volunteered to lead the music, since they had nobody to play piano or organ.

However, since she’d been a vocal major, in fact she couldn’t play piano or organ either, but that didn’t slow her down. She got a three-ring binder, and wrote in the lyrics, and above the lyrics she wrote the chord symbols such as “C”, “D7”, and “G”. Then, she’d strum her autoharp and lead the choir, singing sweetly together.

About that time, two brothers who were truck drivers started attending the church, and in a rural church, since it’s the custom for everybody to pitch in, it soon developed that they were standing behind R.J.’s mom with their two guitars.

She’d start playing the next song, and they would listen for a measure or two, and then they would follow along. And follow along they could, quite well.

One day, she saw them huddled around her three-ring binder, and she overheard their discussion.

“What are those letters written above the words?” asked one of the truckers. His brother gaped at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”, his brother replied, “Can’t you read music?”

Categories // Looking Back

Paddling Upon the Azure Lake

03.13.2011 by bloggard // 3 Comments

Lake Berryessa in Napa, California

Lake Berryessa, Napa County, CA, Summer 1973: My cousin Bruce was a video wizard, and he lived in Berkeley. (This was some years later than the time he pulled the plastic bra off the 30-foot tall woman in San Francisco.)

He invited me and Barbara A, the writer, to go a-boating. This was because he had a new boat. Well, sort of a boat. It was a yellow inflatable boat, and he was eager to take it for a sail upon the nearest lake.

Barbara A. and I foolishly agreed to go.

Bruce and Leanna brought their young son, Nathan. The boy was a bit obstreperous, but then so was Bruce. (And, truth to tell, me too.)

So the trip in the car seemed eternal.

This may have been due to our supply of green cigarettes. All things considered, considering the confusion, cross-conversation, maps, questions, squabbling, and wrong turns, it is miraculous that we found the lake at all.

And When We Got There …

The lake, eventually, turned out not to be one of those wooded alpine beauties tucked quietly among the hills. Rather, it was a man-made long blue swatch lying among brown summer hills out in a vast nowhere somewhere east of the city of Napa. All the same, it was a big stretch of quiet blue water, and we lugged the boat down to a bit of deserted shoreline. Then we lugged the boat back up to the car, and with a motorized gadget plugged into the green cigarette lighter, we pumped it up.

And then we carried the inflated boat down to the water and set it upon the lake.

We piled it with oars and a picnic basket. The two women climbed in. Little Nathan scrambled in. Bruce and I got in.

Then, because the boat was sitting on the bottom, Bruce and I got out and we eased the boat to deeper water and clambered in again to take up our oars.

We Set Off …

We paddled out a bit, and enjoyed the blue water around us, as we sat under the broiling sun. Somehow it now seemed that going over to a stretch of trees along the far shore might be a good idea, cooler for our picnic. This decision was long and involved, and somewhat difficult, but finally all were agreed: we would paddle to the trees and have our picnic.

I sat in one end of the boat, with Barbara near me. I could hear Bruce and Leanna and Nathan talking and squabbling behind us. I paddled.

And I paddled.

And I paddled.

It was hot, but I kept on paddling.

And paddling.

A Peculiar Situation …

But the odd thing, I slowly realized, was that we seemed to be making no headway at all, even though I was paddling and paddling and paddling.

Barbara and I discussed this, as I paddled, and after a bit of discussion and comparison of certain trees and rocks, she agreed: we were making no headway.

Calling out to Bruce behind us, we got him and Leanna to consider the phenomenon. They couldn’t quite agree whether we were making headway or not. Bruce was cussing in between paddle strokes, and I’d become tired of trying to follow their conversation, and I quit paddling.

The Mystery … Solved

Suddenly I noticed that the boat now seemed to be going backward!

Turning around, and looking at Bruce’s back, and him still paddling, I found the mystery was solved.

The two of us were paddling in opposite directions.

Categories // adventure, All, amazement, family, Looking Back, unconscious

So Long — Ray-Gun

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

June 5, 2004: Today Ronald Reagan died at age 93. Although my friend Donny Burkman met Mr. Reagan once upon a time, I never did, although I shot him the bird one evening, which could have got me shot by secret service guys, but it didn’t.

I recall little of Reagan’s time. I recall only a sunday comic where an aged hippy referred to him as “Ray Gun,” and at the time of Mr. Reagan’s presidency, it was cool to act contemptuous of the president’s foreign policy.

As if us young folks with no experience in anything somehow knew more about how to run a country. Now, older, I realize that I don’t even know how to act in major motion pictures.

So long, Mr. Reagan. I apologise for my poor behaviour.

But I was much younger then, and knew everything.

Now I am older and wiser, and know far less.

Categories // Looking Back

Dodge-Em

03.13.2011 by bloggard // Leave a Comment

Oakland, CA 1976: I sped over the Bay Bridge on my shiny Yamaha motorcycle, very sportif in my brown motorcycle jacket, jeans, and high boots. I needed to register my Thumbtack Bugle business name in the East Bay.

I found the Oakland courthouse perched between one-way streets, and wrapped inside a freeway exit. It was kind of hard to get there from here, if you know what I mean, but I wrestled the motorcycle around in the parking lot after a couple of wrong turns, and pulled out onto the street, and at just that moment a city bus swept down from the freeway.

No problem for active me.

I swooped myself and motorcycle over a traffic island, and let him pass, then pulled out in his slipstream.

At the red light, I pulled up into the left lane, and the driver, sitting behind the open window just above me, grinned down at my quick maneuver. I grinned back.

“Do you get the same points for someone driving a car as for a pedestrian?” I asked him.

“Naw!” he said, “We get higher points for pedestrians, but you guys on motorcycles, you’re quick! So you’re worth three extra points.”

Categories // Looking Back

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