Social Commentary

BlogSocial Commentary

“It Doesn’t Affect Me…”

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This is interesting. Big tech/social media platforms hire people to moderate content that people upload to make sure it’s not overly hateful, violent, sexual, etc. Many people that do this kind of work suffer from anxiety, depression, night terrors, PTSD, and other severe mental health conditions from viewing disturbing videos. A couple observations:

What a sick and broken world we live in where thousands of people work every day just to filter out grotesque things that people not only do, but upload for other people to see. Not to mention those that consume it.

Second, how many times have you heard someone say “I can watch such and such – it doesn’t affect me…”? This is more concrete proof that what we watch does affect us. That’s just how our brains work. Maybe we don’t have a diagnosable condition from watching the worst of humanity several hours per day for a living, but if we’re honest I think we can diagnose the small changes to our countenances each time we consume something counter to our divine character.

From the article:

“Do you know what my brain looks like right now? Do you understand what we’re looking at? We’re not machines. We’re humans. We have emotions, and those emotions are deeply scarred by looking at (this stuff).”

Sometimes, when she thought about her job, she would imagine walking down a dark alley, surrounded by the worst of everything she saw. It was as if all of the violence and abuse had taken a physical form and assaulted her.

“All the evil of humanity, just raining in on you,” she says. “That’s what it felt like — like there was no escape. And then someone told you, ‘Well, you got to get back in there. Just keep on doing it.’”

Read the full article here:

https://www.theverge.com/2019/12/16/21021005/google-youtube-moderators-ptsd-accenture-violent-disturbing-content-interviews-video

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Social CommentaryVideo Poems

Make Room

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do you ever feel like
you’re in that big garbage compactor on Star Wars
surrounded by heaps of scrap metal opinions and elbows
standing in waters so murky you can’t even see your shoes
you’re pretty certain there’s something lurking beneath the surface
what’s worse is
the walls are closing in
you’re just searching for a pipe or a board
long enough and strong enough to prop between the oncoming mobs
one thing’s for sure
we’re all going to be a lot thinner

the china is flying in these tiny houses
I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a toilet
or a dinner table
can we make room
for discerning
in an age of pundits perpetually pushing perceptions
does everybody already know everything
is there any room left
for learning

before we jump straight to stake burning
and regurgitating our rehearsed rhetoric
can we make room
to mourn
for lamenting
this mortal condition
before we let our circumstances circumvent our identities
can we make room
for reckoning

these talking heads are deafening
desperate for dirty laundry to toss into a
24 hour spin cycle
7 days a week,
wash, rinse, repeat
is there no more need
for contemplation
I don’t think these problems are gonna be solved in 280 characters or less
is there any room left
for conversation
for nuance
for differences

we’re all so scared of what we’re blind to
what if we opened our eyes amid
our dispositions
and looked for something that wasn’t already written
on the inside of our eyelids
what if we moved the comfy couches in our minds off to the side
and made room
for the wrestle
what if we knocked over a few lamps in there

sometimes apologizing is better than apologetics
we’re all under construction
in all the dust and the chaos and the drilling
can we look past the aesthetics for just a second
can we make room
for the messes
for incompleteness
for progression

sometimes we don’t need the answers
we just need some space from the questions
can we make room
for a day of rest when
we just need to heal from this pain and sickness
can we frame these fragile family portraits in the proper context when
the glass is cracked because it has fallen to the floor for the fortieth time
the drywall anchors keep failing
because the weight of it all is just too much
or maybe we’re not installing them right
either way, it’s us
can we make room
for forgiveness

can we grab a paint brush
roll up our sleeves
and paint some of these walls
can we remember the hue
can we cut out some squares for windows
let some light in here
maybe we could remember the view

this foundation’s got a lot of broken bones
we can’t fix these broken homes without building
can we make room
for the master craftsman
can we consult the architect
instead of taking a jackhammer to the plumbing
just because we found a leaky faucet
can we make room
for becoming

and when we see someone struggling
stuck down there in that garbage pit
and there’s no C-3PO with a code to halt the crushing
can we throw them a new rope
show them the pull of peace
instead of the tug of war
can we raise them up
and invite them through the door
can we make room
for a new hope

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Social CommentaryVideo Poems

What Happened to Women?

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not all superheroes wear capes
some wear shin guards
and headbands crafted from pre-wrap
and cleats laced with determination
sometimes lasers come out of feet
instead of eyes
did anyone else see the
the fireballs they unleashed

as those streaks of white lightning
and red and blue striped moxie
lit up the soccer fields of France
I said to my 5 year old daughter
look how they conquer
look at the fearlessness
see it’s not only men we cheer for it’s
not only men that make it onto our big screens
it’s not only men that can have big dreams

from afar we adored them as they scored
and soared to the very summit of sport
we marveled as they sparkled
we followed those rocket’s red glares
into a sky of triumph
and watched as three stars became four
then came the parades
the victory tour, the awards
the immortalization
forging their place in history
next to the 91, 99, and 15 teams
2019 world champions

now, it’s 2023
time to fire up the lasers
re-lace the cleats
and go for the three peat
only this time, come to find
that one of the European teams
is comprised completely
of players that only recently
identified as women
our ladies lose in the quarterfinals
to the eventual winners

2027 we return
to reclaim that holy golden grail
to prevail
we’re going to need to tip the scales
back in our favor
now to make the U.S. women’s national team
you need to have been born a male
you need to have the right level of testosterone
the proper bone density and muscle tone
and the proper swatch of X and Y chromosomes
to participate on this pitch
this
is the new patriarchy

my daughter, who’s now thirteen
appeals to me
and says Daddy
you told me there was a field for my dreams
what happened

how do I explain this
special kind of thievery
do I tell her
it turns out there’s nothing special about a woman
you’re just a man without the machinery

do I tell her
there can be no more tomboys
only toms and boys

because we were so transfixed on being woke
we nixed an entire gender
we conspired in the genocide of femininity
in the name of Equality we Acted
to destroy
and now the dissonance is deafening
this is the reckoning

what happens to the women’s world cup?
to the WNBA
to women’s gymnastics and track and figure skating
tennis, volleyball, cycling, softball and swimming
what happens when all the games they fought for so long
just to be able to play
are taken away

what happens when
all those little girls that were so inspired by their wonder women
grow up
and are left to wonder
what happened
to women

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BlogSocial Commentary

What If We Found Life?

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What if we found life

on Mars.

Not like aliens with the small necks and big green heads and black eyes, just something simple. A tiny little creature, what we might liken to a puppy here on Earth, but smaller. By all measurements we were able to obtain it would fit in the bowl of our cupped hands. Imagine the interest this would induce.

Because as humans, we understand that there’s something special about life.

We have entire branches of science dedicated to trying to figure out how life began, what makes it keep going, and where we might have come from.

We’re fascinated to learn about how resilient life can be, from extremophiles that survive in boiling waters near thermal vents in the ocean to penguins stumbling and sliding around the frozen tundras of Antarctica.

We spend the best of our days meandering around zoos, aquariums, and national parks, gawking in amazement at animals in all their variety. We even adopt certain kinds of them into our families and homes. A cat prowls across my desk as I write this. Persistently perplexed at why I stare at an inanimate screen instead of him, he stops directly in front of it, sits on my keyboard, and starts purring. He’s reminding me that he is life.

We spend millions of dollars on missions into space designed in part to detect life on other bodies in our Solar System. Just finding a single-celled prokaryote on one of the moons of Jupiter would be the discovery of the century. We cup our telescopic ears as far as we can hear out into our galaxy, hoping our radios are tuned to just the right frequency to pick up a faint riff from an extraterrestrial rock concert broadcasted 1000 light years ago.

We think we’ll know life when we see it.

Imagine if we sent a manned spacecraft to Mars to bring that tiny peculiar puppy back to Earth. Imagine the hero’s welcome – for both the astronaut and their precious cargo. Imagine the care and protection we would give this newly found life while trying to learn about the wonders of its existence. We’d do whatever it took to keep it alive.

Then, imagine if someone broke into the lab one night and killed it.

Imagine the outrage.

Because as humans, we understand that there’s something special about life.

What if we found life

and it was ours.

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BlogSocial Commentary

From Stevie Nicks to Miley Cyrus – a Landslide

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Stevie Nicks in her prime was before my time. But a voice like that can make time stand still. I’ve always enjoyed her music. She wrote the enduring hit “Landslide” in 1974 at the age of 26. Here are the lyrics that people were singing along to circa 1976, when the “Fleetwood Mac” album was at the top of the charts:

I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought me down
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Mmm
Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m gettin’ older, too


Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m gettin’ older, too
I’m gettin’ older, too
Ah, take my love, take it down
Oh, climb a mountain and turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well, the landslide will bring it down
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well, the landslide will bring it down
Oh, the landslide will bring it down

No matter your age, you probably just silently sang a wistful duet, Stevie’s slightly raspy yet melodically soothing voice guiding you through peaks and valleys of your own life.

Some would consider Miley Cyrus the millennial version of Stevie Nicks. Artistic merits can be debated, but there is a salient similitude at least in their vocal tonalities. In 2019, also at the age of 26, Miley is currently promoting an album called “She is Miley Cyrus”. Here’s what people are singing along to today:

Nasty, I’m so nasty, nasty
I’m nasty, I’m so motherf*cking nasty

Turn up your gratitude, turn down your attitude
I love my p*ssy, that means I got cattitude
If you don’t feel what I’m saying, I don’t f*ck with you
If you don’t feel what I’m saying, I don’t f*ck with you
(repeat ad nauseam)

Back up, you’re squashing my charisma
Why I gotta be so motherf*cking extra?
Back up, you’re squashing my charisma
Why I gotta be so motherf*cking extra?

(Get it, get it) I’m so nasty
(Cash Money) I’m nasty
(Get it, get it) I’m so nasty
(Cash Money) I’m so motherf*cking nasty

You’re just mad ’cause your hair is flat
(I’m so motherf*cking nasty)
You’re just mad ’cause your hair is flat
(I’m so motherf*cking nasty)

These are among the more pleasant lyrics you’ll find on her latest offering. Save your eyes and ears and take my word for it – it gets worse.

I tend to shy away from phrases like “the world’s going to hell in a handbasket” because let’s face it, said handbasket is always on fire and it’s always full of something. In fact, that phrase came into general use during the Civil War and I doubt a day has gone by without it being muttered by someone for some reason. But I do find it concerning to contrast what a popular singer in her mid 20’s sang about in the 70s compared to now. You can argue that it’s only one person, but if you expand the sample size you’ll find a common theme – today’s pop princesses are engaged in a crusade to see who can parade the crown of “nastiest” the most proudly. From what I can tell, that wasn’t the case 40 years ago.

I’m not here to condemn any of them. They’re artists, just trying to make sense of this human condition like the rest of us. But with great power comes great responsibility.

It’s one thing for individuals to buy into the idea that they can find fulfillment in foraging for flesh. To believe that the best way to achieve peak womanhood is to mimic the most reprehensible mannerisms of men. It’s another to sell this ideology to millions of young women who venerate your every tweet and emulate your every gyration. To teach them that feminism is vitriol and vanity rather than benevolence and virtue. That indignant nihilist is a higher identity than radiant daughter of God. With so many searching desperately for direction in the snow covered hills, this is what you choose to reflect back to them?

Miley performed a cover of “Landslide” in 2018 at an event honoring Fleetwood Mac. Stevie seemed to appreciate the tribute from someone whom she had influenced. In 40 years, when Miley is in her 60’s and a pop star of the 2050s glowingly serenades her with “I’m nasty, I’m so motherf*cking nasty…”, I wonder if she’ll feel the same about the millions that she has influenced.

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MoviesSocial CommentaryVideo Poems

Game of Drones

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did you know that in ancient Rome
a man named Commodus had amputees gathered from the city
brought to the Coliseum
and had them tied together so that he could beat them to death
and that this was entertainment
in the next episode some desperate souls were tied to boxes
wheeled out on dollies and nailed to crosses
animals were flogged into a frenzy to feast on flesh
and in the crowd they made bets
about which of the helpless men these beasts would feast on next

those barbarians
who would ever get together to watch people get slaughtered

anyway
who’s excited for the game of thrones finale?
8 seasons, 38 emmy awards
over 30 million viewers in 170 countries
uncountable thousands of deaths
50 meticulously orchestrated rapes
murdering pregnant women
burning little girls at the stake

Continue reading…

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