Aug 04
There is a part of my being that roots for him every night. With bated breath, I join the throngs, eager to witness history in the making. Like horny high school sweethearts, we wonder if tonight be the night. But with the storm clouds of allegations swirling around his stature, he stands at the brink of greatness and infamy. Still, it would be sweet poetic justice if he’s forever stuck at 754. No asterisk needed, just another footnote in the long history of the sport.
I’m now sleepwalking the silent streets, chemically intoxicated, but like an unfazed Horatio Caine, I survey the scene: larger-than-life creatures preen and prune themselves, birds of paradise caught in an urban jungle. Hiding behind vapid masks and fumes of machismo, they challenge me to refute their maxim: I think that I am, therefore I am.
The ghost of Descartes is gagging, but the words of Wilber peer through the ether. Our identity is constructed from four distinct and fundamental perspectives: interior, exterior, collective, individual. We are the product a bubbling mixture of images – either forced upon or gladly swallowed. We are a projecting species, not unlike Arctor’s scramble suit.
Look in the mirror – do you recognize who you see? I touch the image before my eyes and flinch. Daltrey’s primitive howl shatters my visage, and I won’t be fooled again.
Jan 08
Thirty-three million people roared in unison as the country’s collective heads swell with pride and hearts sent aflutter. Three straight gold medals at the World Junior Hockey Championships and once again Canadian wombs continue to assure our dominance at this elegant sport.
“Elegant?” one might ask. Consider the goalie’s pinpoint hand-eye coordination needed to catch a puck hurtling at speeds of up to 100mph. Or the balance required to burst down the ice and stop on a dime, supported by only a thin steel blade. Basketball may have showboating slam-dunks, and soccer fancy footwork, but nothing quite compares to a dazzling deke. Pure poetry in motion.
“But, but, the violence!” you protest. No doubt there is a brutish element – we’ll never forget The Bertuzzi Incident. And the fighting – the only professional team sport where fisticuffs is somewhat condoned. On any other playing field, players land in serious ca-ca, but in the rink, you get a 5-minute major penalty for dropping the gloves.
Like all organized sports, hockey is a perfect example of a moral absolutism in play – strict guidelines and appointed zebra-clad judges to call fair or foul. This particular ethical system succeeds not only because it is organized and happens within a contained environment, but mainly because when you step on the ice, you acknowledge said laws and acquiesce to the system.
(In the heyday of my career as a student of philosophy, my stock answer about my personal ethical system was that “Ethics is a sham.” To be honest, this frivolous response stemmed from the simple reason that I disliked my ethics classes. When pressed to elucidate, I would rely on two key weapons of mass distraction: Olympian language and convoluted logic. Usually sooner, but sometimes later, I would have confounded my opponent such that they forthwith declare to eschew abstract discussions…)
Unlike the world of sports where participants accept their lot, the game of life is a little different. Without a overarching moral scheme in place, humans will endlessly debate over what is good and evil, what one ought to do and what one ought not. In this empty void, many feel compelled to fill it with religion – as many as 75% of the world’s population. Religion is rife with moral absolutism; the paramount example the Ten Commandments. Which George Carlin promptly shreds to pieces…a spectacle I had the pleasure of witnessing in Montreal.
So where does that leave us? No closer to the truth than before. Everyone makes their own choices and reacts to situations differently. Still, from the pulpit I preach this two-word maxim:
Be yourself.
