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I have mixed feelings regarding failblog. It’s an assortment of mistakes and errors and accidents, held up for our amusement and ridicule. And this stuff is generally hilarious; from overloaded cars to video of people wiping out on skateboards, there’s something to be said of the truth that the suffering of others is can often be funny. My friend Ian likes to point out the comedy isn’t nice, and that there’s usually a good amount of schadenfreude in most jokes, and moreso, that what we find funny is the unexpected failure of plans. And so, when we see people making mistakes in wholly-unexpected and incongruous ways, we laugh.
At the same time, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like the Darwin Awards, which celebrates the death of stupid people under the pretext that the human race has been improved for their removing themselves from the gene pool. I really try not to take pleasure in the misfortune of others, because it seems very much to me as though I’m denying something about their dignity and worth. Maybe it’s just me being overly scrupulous — which is possible — but I wonder.
Is this a recent phenomenon? Or is it analogous to freakshows and other nineteenth-century touring oddities, simply invoking our wonder that such odd things can even happen? Is it enjoying mistakes at the expense of others, or simply fellow-feeling laughter, not mockery but almost companionship, a fumbling admission that “Hey, anybody can make these mistakes, so we might as well all be able to laugh about them?” I’m certainly leaning in that direction, that, unlike the Darwin Awards, failblog is quite a bit less meanspirited or celebratory.
If there’s one thing I love, it’s design. And so, I proudly present a link I found through Nick Milne, the work of MS Corley!
Good morning, comrades. How’s your lent going? It’s one of those days were you can’t eat meat, and one of those days where it occurs to me that every meal of mine involves some manner of dead animal. It’s very difficult to find a non-meat meal in my house, so God only knows what I’m gonna do. I hope the dining hall is serving fish. Yup. Looks like there’s a plethora of fish dishes that look quite delish on the menu. So I’ve got that going on.
Last night, I watched Il conformista (1970) by Bernardo Bertolucci. Maybe it was my uncomfortable chair, my distraction by the film’s overt sexuality, but I have never been more confused by a film. I had to go look up the plot synopsis on Wikipedia afterward to make sense of it. I think my difficulty is that the movie opens with a series of interconnected flashbacks which themselves have very little context; it became difficult to determine what was a flashback and what wasn’t.
An analysis of the psychology of fascism, I think it also happens that, without the context of having lived under fascism, I simply was unable to connect with the movie in that way. It was very much an insider’s look at how that system functions, through the repression of individuality and the desire to belong, to the casual betrayal of old friends to secure your own position; in fact, the plot itself deals with a man ordered to assassinate an old friend, and, while on that mission, repeatedly cheats on his own wife with the wife of his target. The betrayal is quite layered.
I would have liked to be able to watch it with friends instead of classmates, to have the opportunity to discuss and analyze it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a real thought-provoking picture; most of the flicks I catch at the theatre are the big budget superhero movies. Nothing wrong with them, of course; not only are they occasionally damn good, they’re sometimes even excellent, The Dark Knight in particular standing out as a well-constructed character piece that simply happened to have stunning special effects. Either way, I can’t remember the last time I really substantively analyzed a film, giving movies the attention and time and discussion they deserve.
I guess that last time was probably Wall-E, or mockingly, The Happening.
Either way, Il conformista is a movie that deserves time and attention, and last night, I was barely willing to give it either one.
I was kicking it with Brian this weekend, and something brought up the way college girls almost unilaterally (at least on VCU’s campus) use Halloween as an excuse to dress up like skanks. That was kind of a stepping-off point to a broader idea. The Halloween Skank phenomenon, and the curious variety of female Halloween costumes (Sexy Nurse, Sexy Policewoman, Sexy fill in your job of choice ), is part of something much broader.
Brian couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He sensed it, but wasn’t able to quite make the connection. It’s not true of each and every single person, but I think it’s a poignant observation on the broader culture. No, all women aren’t guilty of it but it’s a very present, dominant force in modern culture. So when I refer to ‘women’ I’m not stereotyping, I’m just referring to the popular culture and the people who fall prey to it.
It’s a post-Feminist movement phenomenon; Women asserted their rights, their equality alongside (or against, depending on the perspective) men — part of that was dispelling the idea of women as sexual objects, as pieces of meat. Women are intelligent, capable people with dignity. I agree with this, this is perfectly fine and true and great. But at the same time there’s this contradiction or clashing assertion that because of this, it’s up to women to take their sexuality and flaunt it at every opportunity. You shouldn’t be a slut, or a whore, but you can pretend to be one sometimes. Be a lady, be intelligent, be classy, be comfortable in your sexuality….and f*** as many guys as you want, because it’s okay for guys to do it (It isn’t, btw). Flaunt your sexaulity, show off your body, make sure we can all see your cleavage popping out of your blouse, but don’t you dare tolerate it when men stare or god forbid have the nerve to mention it. Then, you give them a piece of your mind!
Just because I dress this way does not make me a whore!
(bit of profanity in the clip)
It’s awful, really.
I’m fascinated, and perplexed by the psychology at work here. The kind of mindset that fuels this behavior is…well it’s jacked up is what it is. I don’t even know how to really get at it objectively or break it down to be more granular. To be honest, it confuses the crap out of me. Perhaps it’s all just an image thing. People are just too busy being caught up in the external, in the outer appearance of things and each other. On the one hand, women demand the dignity and respect that is duly theirs, but on the other hand, they don’t really act like they want it. They shout from the rooftops about how they’ve triumphed and asserted their equality (dominance?) and risen from the mud, but I promise the next time you’re in the grocery store, walking by the magazine rack, look at the cover of Cosmopolitan; not so much the gorgeous (and slightly photoshop edited) Model or Celebrity Personality on the cover, but next to her, in bold letters, some inside article about 100 ways to please your man, or ‘drive him crazy in bed’ or some nonsense. There’s only four ways, by the way, Cosmo is lying to you.
It is contradictory in every way. Respect us while we go and act in a manner that degrades ourselves. The choices we make don’t matter, it’s that we have the power to make those choices, and dammit, we’re gonna live it up.
-I guess, in a way that affects me personally, I worry about ever meeting a woman who could possibly meet the bar set by my mother.
Busy day today, so I can’t promise much in the way of posting.
Fr. Barron has a fantastic video which deals deftly with my problem with Batman.
The issue of Batman vs. Superman in a “Who’s Better?” contest is a pretty contentious one, with more emotion and investment than the classic Kirk vs. Picard dispute. In the superhero question, the answer for the dominant pro-Batman faction (my evidence for their dominance is purely anecdotal; I appear to be the only Superman supporter in the world) generally centers on his personal bravery of taking this role upon himself without any superpowers. Batman represents the zenith of human fortitude and will, having trained for years to steel his body and mind for the express purpose of seeking and enacting justice. Not simple law enforcement, but a particular brand of justice; meting out to people what they deserve. But, as both Fr. Barron and I have pointed out, Batman’s entire mission is motivated by revenge. He’s among the most brutal and violent of the major superheroes, and is driven, not so much even by bitter obligation, but by anger that the world is as destructive as it is.
The conclusion he reached in the years of meditation and reflection following his parents’ murder was that he needed to be just as destructive. Force could only be met by force, violence by violence, and he, to quote Captain Picard, would make them pay for what they’ve done.
Batman thus does what he does in response to evil, and has been unable to find a way to respond to evil except in evil. By this I don’t even necessarily mean his violence, but by his justification, this need for revenge which has dominated his entire life. He cannot act apart from that need for revenge, and will not act apart from that need. This sets him apart particularly from Spider-Man, whose spurring motivation isn’t revenge but bitter obligation. I’d admit Batman is “good” relative to the scum he takes down, but his whole image exists to inspire fear. Not awe, not dread, but bone-chattering, pantspeeing fear.
Superman seems to have it right; he does what he does purely because he’s the sort of person who would do it. His great motivation is a desire to see good done in the world, and I maintain that, had he not a single superpower, he’d still be doing good in the world. The only reason he fights is because there’s a monster that’s about to kill a number of people and that monster must be stopped; but, if there weren’t monsters, I can’t see him turning to stopping back robberies; he’d be stopping asteroids and preventing train collisions. Superman exists to make the world a better place, and to inspire the people of the world to do the same. Batman’s out for blood.
This isn’t meant to be an all-encompassing condemnation of Batman who so often finds it in himself to be the sort of inspiring figure he can be. Note the end of The Dark Knight and Kingdom Come; in each, his motive for revenge is outstripped by a latent nobility of spirit. And yet, these seem to me more the exception than the rule. It’s unfortunate, really.
I mean, Batman is awesome.
I have a happy little achievement to report: I had a dream in Italian. I’ve never dreamt in another language before. I’ve never used another language in a dream before. I don’t remember terribly much about this dream except that I was trying to explain the differences between American and Canadian football to someone in Italian, and in the dream, I knew about the same amount of the language as I do in real life, and was struggling to make myself understood. But the fact remains — I totally had a dream in my language of study, and that pleases me greatly. Or rather, mi piace.
Click for full-size!
As the great Harvey Pekar once asked, can you eat lentils during Lent? Is there any connection between those two words? So yes, it’s Lent today, which means one thing if it means anything: time to switch volumes in Liturgy of the Hours. Having been swimming along in the big brown book for the past few weeks, today I broke out the special red one, which reads on its spine “Lent and Easter,” and began the complex dance of trying to juggle which prayer is on which page, because on special days like today, things cease being simple in the Liturgy.
Yesterday, I had my friend MaryEllen over for a pancake dinner. We celebrated the last day before Lent in the traditional manner used by our ancestors for centuries: watching reruns on DVD and then chilling out with a game of Youtube oneupsmanship.
I always have difficulty with Lent, which I believe is likely a fairly common complaint. It’s difficult for me to acclimate myself to the ancient tempo of the Forty Days when we live very much in the modern tempo. It seems particularly odd to even be discussing Lent on a blog rather than on some two-thousand year-old papyrus, to be planning in a bit to do some of my Italian homework rather than engaging in some sort of penance. Lent has simply always seemed difficult to apply to the modern world.
This is entirely the modern world’s fault, by the way. Lent didn’t do anything wrong; we just up and got ourselves in some sort of damn hurry.
So the question of what to give up always arises. A friend of mine expressed his dissatisfaction with people giving up things like candy, maintaining that it’s a pretty pussy thing to give up. But fasting is hard, and like exercise, you can’t jump into it all at once. I think more of a problem is a real lack of education and formation regarding the point and nature of fasting — what it’s really for. We’re all very badly catechized with regard to what fasting is supposed to accomplish and how we’re supposed to encounter God in it.
