Today I'm ranting.
I'm ranting about people, because people comprise the most inspirational tributary in my river of hatred, and today I'm especially fed up with our species.

I think the most compelling proof of the ultimate stupidity of most people can be observed in the petty, unthinking ways that our vain litle brains process information. From own experience I know that people show up to emergency rooms with immensely dumber problems than whatever you might have, so don't feel silly if your tonsils are purple or you have an ear infection from a piercing or you've swallowed too much semen and have to get your stomach pumped in a hurry. Some of these examples are clinically serious, but all of them are ludicrous. The classic example is the one you've probably already heard about the man whose nose was broken because he was experimenting in gerbilistic delights with his partner, when they had problems getting it out. So he lit a match to try to scare it out, the match ignited a pocket of gas in his partner's colon, causing an explosion that rocketed the gerbil out of his partner's rectum hard enough to him in the face and break his nose. But, really, there are a million of them.

The night I was in the emergency room with my kidney stone, Broken was sitting in the waiting room with a man who'd somehow managed to cut one of his fingers off at two in the morning on Thanksgiving. Which is ghastly, but apparently they weren't in a hurry to see him. So his wife spent the entire time henpecking him, and irately demanding to see a doctor as soon as possible, and all the while, this poor bastard is sitting there with a finger missing (maybe they had it packed in ice; I don't know any of the particulars) and somewhere else entirely I was passing out on morphine. I'm sure it was a serious case, but if I'd been working in the emergency team that night, I would probably have had to run outside multiple times for sniggering breaks. It just strikes me as hilarious that some guy was probably doing something bizarrely stupid late one night, and ironic justice finally served him his finger on a small plate.

I was chatting, as is my wont, with cronies and long-time friends over coffee last week, when the story came up of a man who'd walked into the emergency room a couple of weeks ago, freaking out and desperately in search of medical attention because there seemed to be something wrong with his navel. So they brought him in for assessment, and ended up removing a wad of navel lint from his bellybutton. He had absolutely no idea what it was, and had dashed to the emergency room just to be safe. And again, you don't want to make fun of someone for that, but I would have been passing out from laughing so hard that I ran out of oxygen after he left. The moral is: emergency rooms are where anything can happen, and sometimes that even includes comedy (as opposed to whatever quality drama shows like ER would have you believe).

I'm attempting to figure out what my options are for housing. The house isn't impossible yet, but I may have to assert myself to the point of leaving. It's becoming really untenable for my friend Pixiegirl to continue living here, because she's feuding with our property manager. Said manager has been doing extremely mean things like having sex in Pixiegirl's bed, which was in a locked room, on a different floor, while she was away seeking mental refuge from the house problems. Which is not only infantile to an order of magnitude similar to the distance of the earth from the sun, but given that she's the property manager, it's also impossible to live with, and extremely threatening. If for some reason it turns out that Pixiegirl continues being harrassed (she recently cut all diplomatic ties, asked for all her stuff back, etc., and that's bound to have repercussions) I might have to put my oafishly large foot down and just say, "That's it. You're being a baby, and you're proving that you can't be a responsible, civil, or reasonable manager for this house. Either you swallow your personal grudges and act like an adult, or you can try to fill my room, too, because I refuse to live in a house where people can be so viciously turned on by the very people in charge of making this house livable and enjoyable for everyone else."

I don't want it to come to that, and I'm not sure if it will, but I'm so fed up with the pettiness. And obviously there are two sides to this, and obviously, for the most part, I'm only hearing about one. I'm trying to remain neutral, but it's difficult. At the same time, it's also understandable. When you're upset with someone, you want to rave and scream and fuss and fume, and you're not at all inclined to say charitable things like "But still, it's not all X's fault. I did this and this and this in the past to help instigate it, and I wish I could take them back...". People just don't talk that way. Said property manager has a side, and Pixiegirl has a side, and somewhere in the middle there's a reasonable point of objective truth that I'll never actually know myself. That being so, Pixiegirl is a sweet, but timid, person, and as introverted and wishy washy as I can be myself, I can stand up for someone else who needs help, and frankly said property manager on the verge of acting like a bully. And sometimes the only way to deal with a bully, even if they're your friend, is to clobber them for their own good.

But again, I don't think it will come to that... it's just a possibility. I can probably support my friend quite well without having to move out myself. Said property manager is quite capable of controlling people who are weaker than she is, but she ought to presumably back down when confronted with, or at least listen to, an equally strong personality. And when I snap, which is probably how I'll wind up expressing myself, my personality will be exceedingly strong.
Nevertheless, I'm just assessing my options as they come up. Whether my sister and her husband go to China or not, moving out is probably something I'll want to do before school starts next year (probably before June, in fact). My friend Caira really wants me to move in with her. There are disadvantages to this, like the fact that it's her father's house, so I'd be a boarder (sacrificing some of my absolute autonomy), but I'd be with friends, in a huge room in a basement all to myself, and I'd have a washer, and a dryer, and my own bathroom, and a kitchen. A kitchen that only three other people would use (Caira, her boyfriend, and Caira's father). Right now my hugest expense is food. I'm hemorraging money simply because I'm forced to eat out, and I'm probably spending $300 just to eat -- which is absurd.

Even that might not work out, because I might decide it's not for me (I have reservations, as well as compulsions), or the apartment in the basement might stay occupied (it hinges on the tenant moving out within the next couple of months, which is only theoretically possible). So I'm by no means expecting to make a decision this month, or even next month. Very possibly not even until May or June. It's just a conclusion I'm reaching that, sooner or later, I'm going to be saner and less stressed out if I live in a house with less politics and not so many goths (I've decided that, whenever I do move out, for the purposes of closure and catharsis, I'm going to have to put my love of goth music, culture, clothes, and music aside for awhile, and rant and fume about how much I hate goths -- or at least, the goths I live with. Stupid, idle, vain, petty, pretentious fickle creatures. You'd think they were on the League of Canadian Poets or something. After a month or so, I could go back to liking goths again, but it will probably prove to be a necessary step).

F e b r u a r y 11

When the time to leave came, I was just barely finished. Yet, still confronting me was the horrible fact that I needed to print off all my code, and all the testing pages as well. I looked at my printer. My sixteen-year-old dot matrix printer. And it looked back at me and, at some level not quite imperceivable to humans, it made me fully aware of just how unreasonable it was for me to expect that I could somehow print off eight pages in the twenty minutes I had before I needed to go. Nevertheless, this is precisely what I attempted to do, and it rewarded me by getting somewhat through this task before the paper slipped off the tractors in the midst of the second question. This was the murder question... I had to write a program that would determine if a number was a prime number or not. That is (for you art weenies even more incapable of math than I), whether it was divisible by any number other than itself or one. And, strikingly, it was a bizzarre process. I'm not really certain how they intended for us to do it -- I missed those lectures... tee hee -- but it probably involved either storing a lot of known variables in an array, or dividing the number against every other number until the computer got it to the point where the divsor equalled the number itself. Both of which would be really inefficient, though easier than the method I chose, which was to create two multiple-tiered loops with intricate subloops within them, that first ruled out that the number was not even, by dividing by two until the divisor was half that of the variable, and then putting it through a really sophisticated second loop, with many subloops of its own, that factored out any possible odd numbers. All the research I did told me that creating a program that factored out prime numbers was one of the more complicated algorithms you would want to attempt, but for the second assignment in a first year course, I'm fully aware that taking two days to create this monstrosity was no doubt far more work than they intended me to do.... especially since the first question, again, was "draw a house.".

But I digress.

So, anyway, yeah, my printer started messing up lines. The page had slipped off the tractor on one side, and gone unnoticed, creating lines that were split into fuzzy, slanty, unreadable splotches. I screamed. It was really quite cute, except that it involved my stressful terror so drastically. As it was 1:30, and I had to have everything ready for 2:30, I gave up and dashed to school. My only possible recourse was to find a lab, or one of the new, shiny, dedicated printing stations they've thoughtfully set up in public areas around campus (which is where it turns out I got said printing accomplished), and spend some copier card money (prepaid electromagnetic strip cards that get debited when you use a photcopier or print station at school... you can add money at these clever machines anytime you like, and it's one of those odd things that gives you a sense of identity and belonging when you're at a lab and you see everyone whipping theirs out) on laser printing. Quite fortuitously, I ran into Broken on the bus to school, so I sat with her, nibbled on these little baby quiches she made up (I had to dash home and get my work done before she could make breakfast, so, thoughtful delight that she was, she turned our omelette into quiche), and ranted about my printer. I was almost tempted to run to the computer store, grab a clerk, and say "If you let me print off my assignment on one of these printers, I'll buy one from you right now." Which was more of a clever thought than anything serious, but, well, after I'd guiltily handed in my assignment (which was late, on account of how much time I spent on that dratted prime number algorithm), I waltzed into the computer store anyway.

I feel like I just had a hate fuck. In the spite, ire and contempt I had for my trusty old clunky dot matrix printer of so many years, I started to poke around with inkjets. I just had to do it. Just to get back at it. A clerk came out to talk to me, who so happened to be rather husky (considerably moreso than I), which was probably the first problem. There are two types of computer store employees. The thin, weasly ones who just know enough about what they're doing to have a job there, and the Pyknic-Cyclothymic fellas who pretty much don't do anything else with their lives, and so know considerably more about what they're trying to force you to unnecessarily buy. I was introduced, as a course of my browsing, to the cheapest printer they had, which was an NEC SuperScript 150C. It was an inkjet type printer, capable of colour, and only cost 175 dollars. I asked the guy, in an "I'll think it over later" kind of way, to work out the entire cost, after taxes, of the printer, an ink cartridge (it came with a colour cartridge, but those are hardly for black and white text), paper, and a parallel cable; and the total cost was $237.93. It was so great, I impulse (revenge) bought. I yanked it home, my bank card still smoking, and spent fifteen minutes setting it up (I was fussing over it like a baby). Oh, it's so happy. I printed off a copy of Pretty Blue Fetish (because I had no printouts of it), and the quality is spectacular. Laser-like. It's soooo much better than my old printer.

Of course, I spent entirely too much money. Any amount is too much. I spent the rest of the day trying to put together a mental budget in my head, taking comfort in the $1000 paycheque I'll get next month (I'm being paid in a lump sum thanks to my new, sneakier, contract), and hoping for the best. Therein comes my friend Antony. He showed up today, looking for company and coffee, so in spite of my guilt over spending so much money on a luxury item, I got some more currency from the bank and we went a-wandering. We sat down at James Street (Caira's regular NTN haunt of much working-class celebration) and I nibbled on fries while he ordered 20 of their 25 cent wings (it's one of those civil-servant Wednesday evening type after-work rituals). He couldn't finish them, though, after eating six, so he got them wrapped up. But he was really very full, and sick of even the concept of chicken wings (I pointed out that very probably it was only about a month ago that they were attached to real live (walking)/(tiny wire cage-kept) chickens), so he gave them to me to give to Broken, because I thought she'd like them. However, it was while walking home that I passed by a downtown street corner where a young girl was panhandling for any possible spare change she might be able to have. She smiled kind of earnestly, and hopefully said, "It's for food...," and my heart broke. I said, "Do you want these? They're chicken wings," and handed her the wrapped-up styrofoam container. Her face positively lit up, and she gleefully said "Oh, thank you! Awesome!" in the most delightful tone of voice, and I just sort of skipped home, feeling good about helping someone in my day of extreme glut and excess.

I mean, I didn't buy the wings. They weren't mine for any other reason than my friend didn't want them at all, but it seems like the ultimate sort of destiny that a quantity of food that someone who came from a background of plenty, had had his fill of (he had six out of twenty), and gone to someone who had nothing, and appreciated them more than anyone else could. My good deed for the day, if you can call it a good deed. I at least feel nice.

F e b r u a r y 13

Being vegan, I think, requires a lot more committment than my brand of ovo-lacto vegetarianism. It seems to be the reason that some vegans can be really caustic towards non-vegans of all sorts, be they the meat-eating general public, or other vegetarians. Especially the sorts who have gone vegan to save the world. There is the much-held argument that the world holds the resources to sustain 10 billion people, if only we would give up our wasteful ways and stop raising animals for food. This is, in my opinion, only half true, because the way in which our would operates entails that you could have the resources, but they're not going to magically redistribute themselves without money and labour and selfless generosity, and that doesn't come easily to our world. That being so, one particular vegan on the discussion group is the worst of the lot. Apparently he looks down on any and all who are not as vegan as he is. He considers anyone who eats meat as personally responsible for the 12 million starving children in the world. I got really ired and cranky, so after lots of lurking (I post infrequently to the group, saying something only when I think it will make a difference). This argument was already in progress, but I jumped in. The comments in white are Manuel's (said vegan), and the ones in dark blue belong to the individual he was previously arguing his case to.

Manuel M Campagna (ah514@FreeNet.Carleton.CA) writes:
 
> In Article 2597 cb755@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Aaron Phelan) typed
> recently :
> 
>>>
>> The way humans relate to each other is the problem. If we could treat
>> each other with respect and compasion there would not be starvation.
>>>
> 
> I am happy that you realize that.
> 
> I am not sure that everybody in this region considers the victims of
> starvation as actual human beings -- remember that those victims are
> mostly dark-skinned and/or bridled-eyed living in countries relatively
> far away.

I think people have been capable of some remarkable generosity and compassion when it comes to assisting those coping with famines in other parts of the world, and the assertion that the race or distance of these people in any way comes as a factor for those of us choosing not to be vegetarians is at the very least preposterous. When there is a concerted effort towards famine relief, people have proven to be most helpful in the past. People continue to give to causes like Worldvision in at least some effort to help; it's a sad fact that people aren't necessarily able to unite over issues that don't really seem to affect their everyday lives, but it's not a justifiable conclusion to assert that they are therefore 'guilty' of any and all wrongs that result as a lack of there being sufficient food resources in the world. It's like saying that I'm guilty that there aren't enough Corn Flakes to feed the growing children of Ottawa because I really like broccoli and refuse to give it up. And everyone knows that broccoli and corn are natural enemies. More to the point, if anyone is guilty of what happens to starving children, it's large corporations who have the power to enslave populations, chop down rainforests, drain and exploit the resources of other countries and graze cattle where grain could be cultivated. They are the ultimate culprits. If you focus blame on consumers, then you're providing precisely the same excuse the companies would if they were charged for their wrongdoings; that is, "We're only trying to meet the demand of the consumers. If they didn't want beef, we wouldn't sell it." This is true at a basic level, but not in the real world sense that we take it. It's actually the sneakiest and slimiest scapegoating of all.

We are culturally indoctrinated to want meat. The same companies that charge the consumer as being responsible for the destructive resource misallocations of the world ("Duh, let's chop down this rainforest and graze cattle in whatever will struggle to grow in the anemic soil there for McDonalds!") are responsible for a hundred years of advertising, lobbies, "Beef councils," and anything else they can think of to assert themselves on the buying public. If you ask any meat-eating person to justify his or her eating habits (and personally I wouldn't; I think I'm happy being a vegetarian, and I have a million good reasons to be one, but I'm not a missionary), they'll return with the rhetoric they've been fed along with their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents about meat. People are slowly becoming more conscious of their impact on the world, but it's not going to happen overnight, and unless you have an army of evil robots, 'progress' probably shall continue to take its sweet time.

It's very difficult to change the core beliefs of people. It's very hard to suddenly 'make' people not want to be racists, or homophobes, or Christians, or left-handers, or whatever it is that's (absolutely or relatively) wrong with them anymore. Unless you can brainwash them or reprogram them with sleep deprivation or alien implants, very likely the best you can do is use education and awareness to, over time, effect social change. I would certainly argue that this culture is a significantly more open and tolerant a culture than you would have found forty years ago; subsequently, forty years from now, I'd hope that people will continue to be enlightened as a society.

I personally refuse to consider meat-eating to be on anywhere near the scale of offensiveness and destructiveness as racism or genocide. There's no argument that could get me to accept this. The inaction of German citizens during the Holocaust can in no way be compared to the inaction of this society during a time when vegetarianism "makes so much sense." I think people really bristle when something they consider a pleasure, and have essentially been indoctrinated over the years to consider 'a necessity', is challenged by those they'd have to see as self-righteous. Meat-eating people have a terrible preconception of vegetarians as being abraisive, caustic, and smug; partly because it's the stereotype for vegetarians, and partly because they're reacting to the fact that vegetarianism is something of an affront to their own beliefs about diet. I think the natural result of this is that they'll naturally turn more of a deaf ear to even the best and best-intentioned arguments for the case of vegetarianism. More to the point, leading by example, and providing informed awareness will do more good than aggressive posturing and assertions, but even the best guidance will result in only a little change. However, even a trickle in a bucket, over time, leads to tremendous overfilling.

 

>> Treating other people with understanding and compassion is at least as
>> important to the betterment of our world as not eating meat. perhaps
>> it is even more important.
>
> 
> Would you say that the people who couldn't care less about the 12
> million children starving to death each year are fragile tender
> persons ? Or crass Ayn Rand style self-centered individuals ?

I think people are, in ways, both extremely delicate, and as well extremely self-centred. Altruism is a wonderful quality, but it's every bit as important in our own society as it is expressed towards those in other countries. I'm not certain if people are, unanimously, truly ready to express their best traits. As even our local ice storm demonstrated, crises within our own communities serve to produce the best and worst characterisics of our species -- altruism and selfishness. And again, it's sad, but without a "visible" crisis to unite them, I think people are capable of constructing elaborate mental shelters against the devastating realities of the world. We're programmed to look out for ourselves. It tends to be in exceptional cases only that we give of ourselves freely. I don't think this is Right... but it is True. If you levied a tax on meat that was to go towards people starving in Africa, I expect people would probably pay it. If you had a telethon, or a campaign of people doing door to door for donations, people would probably donate. But if you tell them that they have to give up meat to save the world, not only would they most probably (as has been demonstrated here) scoff and ignore you, they probably wouldn't even believe you.

It's extremely naive to think that if we all gave up on meat, then naturally all that surplus would just be given out freely and equally to the people of the world, wherever it was needed. It's a wonderful thought, and if it were true, it might perhaps be even more compelling a reason for everyday people to become vegetarians, but I don't really think it's the case. The world doesn't seem to work that way. I bet we could put McDonalds out of business if we did, but someone's still got to pay to reallocate everything, and the land that could be used to cultivate food for the world would still be in the hands of multinational concerns. McDonalds could just as easily sell farmland it could no longer afford to Nike, who would love to enslave people and create yet more sneakers for the world.

Mathematically speaking, it is definitely true that we're wasting our world's resources. Mathematically speaking, it is also true that we could feed the world if we were smarter and more fair about agriculture and resource-sharing.

Mathematically speaking it's probably also a tremendous waste of food that we don't actually eat our dead. Instead we embalm them so that nothing can eat them, and bury them in cemetaries that, too, could be used to cultivate crops. It's certainly important to do something to help this world live in; I'm not convinced that it involves vilifying those who choose to eat meat.

        

> Like Jesus I am happy to extend understanding compassion to kind
> Samaritans (three times in the Gospels) and to repented criminals, but
> unlike him, I'm not sure at all I'm willing to extend it to those who
> insist on remaining insensitive to the plight of starvation-dieted
> millions and would then crucify me.

As an aside, my Snivel-reading public, you can continue to read this argument by telnetting to: telnet.ncf.carleton.ca and logging in as 'guest'. You can then type 'go veg' at the main prompt, and press '2' to read the group.

F e b r u a r y 14

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