It may seem as if I’m overly-preoccupied with consciousness, the self, free will, and other philosophical ponderings. I must confess to a more-than-passing interest in the subject, but not for reasons most people might assume.
Meaning, there’s no desire to “know myself” or “find a purpose” or gain an understanding of the spiritual, metaphysical, and esoterical consideration many invest themselves in.
I’m perfectly happy just living life as it comes and doing stuff I like without ascribing deep meaning to it. However, many of the people I share this rock with do invest considerable portions of their limited time with these matters and it just so happens I like to examine what makes other people tick.
Rather, to examine what they say makes them tick and then point out where they’re fooling themselves and not actually living by what they believe or that what they say they believe is fraught with fallacies and self-contradictions.
Basically, I’m mostly a consequentialist. Of course, like any belief or ascribed rules for behavior, taking it to the extreme can present challenges and thus there are a few other tenets tainting the totality of what one might consider my consideration for judging when something is moral, just, ethical, and so on.
A simple example to illustrate the point is a surgeon. At first glance, someone who cuts up bodies and removes pieces of them and in the process causes pain and suffering sounds like a monster. But, if one looks at a slightly bigger picture, one can come to consider surgeons an FSM-sent gift to humanity. The truth is likely subject to the individual experiences one might have with surgeons.
We have courts of law mostly to decide if the intent of a given law supersedes the letter of the law and when one or the other should be the governing metric. So, for instance, a patient might die on the operating table, but the consequences of not doing anything would result in greater suffering. BUT, there’s also whether the surgeon was drunk at the time or if they made a mistake and whether it was an honest mistake and so on and so on.
People differ on how they approach the application of laws. For instance, cars that take up two parking spaces should be crushed and their owners flogged . . . that’s my belief, but others might just limit their response to leaving a note with the word “jerk” on their windshield.
I argue that my way would result in strict adherence to social norms whereas the other way just reinforces bad behavior because the consequence — being thought of as a jerk — carries no punitive baggage for people who are, in fact, jerks.
Basically, I argue, letting jerks get away with stuff just produces more jerks.
Where am I going with this? Nowhere. Just jutting down some thoughts.
And now, the photo:
The interesting thing about this photo is that until I looked at it on the computer, I hadn’t realized there was any blue paint on the sculpture. But the camera picked it up. In my defense, it was a bright day and I was wearing sunglasses. Plus, cement reflects light efficiently and to the eyes, the whole thing was likely blown out into a very light gray.
However, interesting seeing a Braveheart color scheme on an Oriental ornamental piece.
The art of the joke is the mental 90º turn one is confronted with at the punch line. Martin is consistently good with both the set-up and delivery.
I must admit to looking for the equivalent to that mental 90º turn in all my daily dealings. Some people like that. Others are annoyed by it. I prefer the former.
This is another of my drawn doodles and the name — Tiger Eyes — makes more sense when viewed on the backlit screen of a phone. The effect may or may not show up here because I notice that these doodles look a lot better in their native environment, the Note 8.
And . . . that’s it
Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.
You can read about Project 313 HERE.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
Finally, if you interpret anything on this blog as me asking or wanting pity, sympathy, or complaining about my life, or asking for help and advice, know you’re likely missing my subtle mix of irony, sarcasm, and humor.