Haiti: Reflections on catastrophe.

[I wrote a draft of this in the early days following the Haiti quake and decided not to post it fearing its perceived insensitivity. I reread it recently and thought it contained some worthwhile thoughts so I'm posting it after having made some edits, etc.]

---

Sudden mass casualties have a unique way of sending the human community spiraling into a frenzied revaluation of all our worldy beliefs.

As believers in God, we're forced to confront the logical conniption of such large-scale suffering occurring under the supposedly benevolent and omnipresent gaze of an all-powerful creator. Those whose God is of the retributive persuasion, may incline towards identifying reasons why one community and not another may have deserved such a devastating expression of wrath. Those without a belief in God—particularly when enduring suffering—may find themselves feeling (more than ever) the absence of such a powerful healing agent, looking for something, anything to pin their hopes to. People in all categories are likely to experience a heightened sense of cause, as it is all too human to ask, Why?

Our very membership to the human family connotes an obsession with causes. We've built our science around them, our very lives and ascension as a species seems to have everything to do with our ability to recognize and route out causes. Anything we might define as "progress" depends on the discovery of new causes, or on back-linking old causes to still older causes which are then, in turn, effects as well as causes; the result (to our mind's eye) is a chain of events receding back in time and disappearing into the abyss of pre-history.

It's with this long chain of history in mind (and with the utmost caution and sensitivity) that I contemplate the significance of an event such as this most recent natural disaster in Haiti [and also the still more recent Chilean earthquake].

Here's a question: How is the ordinary suffering that we as a species experience everyday any different from the calamitous suffering caused by a natural disaster?

Granted, one is a far less concentrated form of suffering. But is there something fundamentally different about it? Some lesser significance? If one thinks about the innumerable ways in which humans suffer every day—in hospitals, in poverty and starvation, in illness, in accidents and sudden tragedy, at the hands of one another—and then considers the fact that death (likely accompanied by some degree of suffering) is something, the fate of which, no single human being has ever escaped; why then should space/time-based notions like concentration or frequency or proximity imbue an event with any added significance? Is life not intrinsically hostile?

Imagine for a moment, each of every life regretfully cut short by the Haiti quake tenderly spread out over time, shuffled in among the mean, "ordinary" suffering we accept as normal—would that not dilute our sense of loss?

Proximity is everything.

The lives lost in Haiti and Chile bespeak an unfathomable sum of grief and anguish. This is felt by the human community at large, but is no doubt experienced most acutely by the family and friends of the victims. The severance of these vital human connections—alive through shared experience, love and kinship, but cut short without explanation or higher cause—offends our very humanness, rattles our concocted sense of justice, and results in immeasurable sorrow and frustration.

And yet, the further you get from an event of this sort, the more the forcefield of sensitivity wains. Given enough time, of course, nothing is sacred. One day you wake up and it's somehow acceptable to make jokes of a certain kind. Holocaust jokes (one would be hard-pressed to come up with a more oxymoronic two-word phrase) are, indeed, taboo. But that doesn't keep many variety from circulating. Such jokes have the potential to elicit a wide range of reactions; even in the most receptive of telling environments it would still likely be acknowledged as being "off-color." But off-color? Surely in the direct wake of 1945, any "taking lightly" of the events that had just transpired warranted a visceral, barbaric reaction.

Proximity is everything.

I don't intend on making any jokes. My only aim here is to give a broad-lensed perspective of our human predicament: mainly, that death and disorder and calamity are as much a part of life as their antonyms; and that history (what's known of it) is the record of these elements playing out, for better and for worse, and with impartiality.

For info on the relief efforts in Haiti and Chile, and for an easy way to donate visit: http://www.redcross.org/.

The higher intelligence behind Doritos packaging (a/k/a, God LLC's 50th Post!)

Standing in the rain chatting with a fellow the other night about philosophy and all the fruits that the examined life can bring, we couldn't quite decide whether it was a road to liberation or tyranny, happiness or depression. We wanted to say liberation and happiness (nature favors optimism), but we lamented what we both agreed was an anti-climax with respect to philosophy's promise of greater clarity and enlightenment.

That night I went home and sat upright in bed and partook an odd ritual—I ate a bag of Spicy Sweet Chile Doritos just before turning out the light. As a side note, this made my tongue very raw the next morning and so I don't recommend doing this. But as I was finishing off the bag I was examining the packaging. Having some design expertise, I am often fascinated by the finer details of product packaging, particularly when those products are of as meager import as corn chips. This of course does not stop them from strutting as though they were the life-blood of a generation, able to adapt to the times like Modonna, pre-American Life.

Unfortunately though for snack food, such ambitions are quite out of reach. Beer is of a slightly more respectable pedigree and commands a proportionately greater amount of respect. This is of course evidenced by the more frequent use of crests, and shields, and ornate badges suggestive of awards—or in the case of Tecate, a reich-ish eagle ("Excuse me, do you have any Nazi-approved beer?").

Still, though snack food may occupy the near-lowest totem on the hierarchy of consumed goods, this does not stop Doritos from trying to offer me an "experience" beyond that of the "game-changing" "bold and daring" flavor of their sensational "flavored tortilla chips." Such transient, mere hunger-staving fulfillment is apparently limiting. And besides that's not what you payed 99¢ for, you wanted an "EXPERIENCE!"

And an experience you'll have—if you just visit snackstrongproductions.com! It's there that you'll realize Doritos is far more than a corn chip manufacturer. Doritos is a lifestyle, doy! And they've teamed up with E.A. Sports to bring you more great Doritos® brand experiences—which is exciting!

Here's a question, why should a corn chips website take over a minute to load because of some fancy Flash feature? And just how much do people who construct fancy corn chip websites get paid? I'm honestly curious about this second question (and if you have any leads on snack food design prospects, please find a way to get in touch with me, I'm on the internet).

My guess is, they get payed a lot. Like, a lot-a lot. And all so a corn chip manufacturer can stay "relevant." Of course, in effect I can think of few things less relevant than on-fire tortilla chips, bitted-out squiggles and the color purple—but hey, I'm not from Plano, TX, so what do I know.

Maybe by now you're wondering like I am, what this has to do with the supposed purpose of this blog. At times on this forum, this has meant that I'm about to address irony. But since it's hard to do this without sounding like a total gay-fag (pardon my southpark) I'll just note that at the end of the day, I've been more seduced by Philosophy's promise of a better life than Doritos' (I know, a bit naive of me of to say...). Maybe it's a mistake, perhaps both are equally invalid. But the difference, for me, has been sustenance vs. empty calories.

Petty Friday: U_i_n G_s_e_ M_s_i_n Thrift Store

I've been wanting to make this confession for some time. But making it means I'll have to ID my favorite under-frequented thrift store—a best kept secret among myself and certain of my peers (most of whom now live out-of-state). I suppose it's not actually necessary that I disclose the store's name or location, but I will anyways—just don't go snatching up anything good that I might want, unless of course you're getting it for your's truly.

Our story begins (as many do) behind a dubious Teriyaki stand in Tigard—a concrete cutaway yields to a secret cove: the parking lot of the Union Gospel Mission Thrift Store.



I forget exactly who it was that turned me on to this hoarder's oasis—maybe it was Brittney, possibly Simon (it hardly matters at this point except that I might duly thank them). The fact remains, that the Union Gospel Mission Thrift Store is of that rare and coveted type that satisfies two essential criteria: one, it has "good stuff" (this is of course completely subjective) and two, it doesn't seem to have any sense for the real value of the goods on display—or at least, it shrugs-off the potential for greater profitability.

The result (for me) is a smorgasbord of stuff-I-don't-really-need-but-can-easily-justify-not-having-to-live-without-if-the-price-is-right. The concept is a mouthful but it can be easily summed in two words—"price absolution."

Price absolution makes for the very foundation of my hoarding... ahem... thrifting habits. It means that if the price is negligible (i.e., $2, 50¢, etc.), then any guilt that might otherwise be associated with a given purchase is absolved. In other words, if I can walk out of a thrift store with a new hat, some cassette tapes, a book on the joy of indoor plants and a kitchen drawer full of primary-colored plasticware—all for under $5!—then why should it matter if I don't get around to reading (or clipping the images out of) the book for 17 years? People blow that much nightly at the video poker machine.

Oh well, who cares. I'm not trying to rationalize anything. The point is, until it starts to tear my family apart one day, I'm perfectly comfortable with my tendency to accumulate things.

I am however less comfortable with purchasing these frivolties from Christian-run thrift stores. I don't know why, I guess I just feel... guilty (I know right, like who's gonna judge me.) Principles, it turns out, can just as easily give rise to feelings of guilt as can morals, and in the case of the atheist who shops at the Christian-run thrift store to take advantage of the "guilt-absolving" pricing, there is likely a violation of principles. But just which principles?

To some extent, the weight I've been carrying with respect to my many and various UGMTS purchases, has everything to do with the erroneous presumption that the sole purpose of United Gospel Mission Thrift Store is to service the less fortunate—to do things like furnish the homes of those who could not afford to "buy new," or to clothe those who, without the help of that new blueberry-colored power suit and off-matching pumps, might have entered into that job interview with confidence suboptimal.

Accordingly, who am I to step in and take advantage of these perceived hand outs (often merely to to satisfy my aesthetic whims), when clearly the items supplied are intended for those less fortunate than myself. Plus, these hand outs are being provided in accordance with a Christian ethic that says help the needy—am I not scum?

So goes my self-important logic.

As it turns out, according to the Union Gospel Mission website "revenue generated by the thrift store helps men and women in the LifeChange recovery community," the addiction recovery arm of UGM. This means that, in effect, I'm doing my part to support a rich tradition of indoctrination. Should this cancel out any of the guilty feelings outlined above? Okay, so now I am rationalizing.

Basically, all items on display are received by donation and then sold, and the profits largely go to benefit the recovery program. Also, most if not all of the store's workers are part of the program.

In the end, my core reason for thrifting (as you might imagine) is quite distinct from helping Union Gospel Mission. Why buy new when there is plenty of decent stuff out there to get use out of. Rather than acquire a taste for everything new, why not acquire an appreciation for all things old, and enrich your experience of history in the process. In conjunction with the ever-clued-in internet, there is much to be gleaned from perusing old manuals, fondling relic electronics, and examining ephemera—such things are informative.

I've prepared a small collage of sights and sound for your meditative enjoyment.