OBJECTIVITY It is impossible to be objective about a situation if we are immersed in it. Truly objective viewing may take place only if we are removed from the circumstances. Take the human condition. I consider myself to be somewhat detached from it. Consequently, the appraisals of it that are offered here and there at this website-about-nothing might appear a little strange to first-time visitors. Centered in the nihilistic bedrock that I am, it is understandable that I do not participate in the world in the same way (very likely) that you do. I have always been a bit of a maverick, a standoffish, even weird, sorta dude. I clearly remember my elementary school report cards being virtually emblazoned with the same comment: "Does not participate in group activities." The reason was very simple. I have never liked people in groups. They somehow take on an aspect that to my sensibilities feels sinister, or at very least untrustworthy. It is the character of the group that they are immersed in that disturbs me. I am fine one-on-one. I would have probably been a decent psychologist (except for the fact that I do not truly respect psychology. I consider it to be more of an amusement than a science). One of my detached observations about group activity has lately become a virtual theme song with me. I find myself repeating its refrain again and again. It goes, "People make too big of a deal out of stuff." For example, consider the car thing. How many people are content to have only what they need with respect to an automobile? Why exactly do they have all these unnecessary desires about having a luxury car, or a sports car, or an expensive SUV? Why? Because they've been coerced (duped might be a better word) by the group into embracing (and pandering to) these feelings. The group, through the machinery of marketing, is transmitting these feelings, and the vast majority of its minions are receiving the transmission loud and clear, and like perfectly placed cogs in a machine they carry out their social programming by complying (in near robot fashion) to the programming enhancements contained in the transmission. The group loves complacency. That is, in a very real sense, its primary reason for being. (It's what religion is really all about, a very scary group indeed.) Individuals left alone are likely to run wild and crazy. The group will not have it. Individuals must be controlled - for the sake of the group. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The only way to resist the group's controlling influence on you is to be fully aware that it is happening. If you are not aware of your immersion in a group, you are most definitely being controlled by that group. The chances are significantly high that you are not aware of such immersion, because you have been subsumed in a group since elementary school. Being contained by a group seems like a perfectly natural thing for nearly everyone. (Who doesn't go to elementary school?) You can't see the forest for the trees. You can't see the forest (as a forest) until you remove yourself from it far enough to allow yourself the perspective to see it for what it is. You cannot truly deal with human society until you remove yourself from it. (And, no, I'm not talking about having yourself incarcerated.) What I am suggesting is not an easy thing to do, and for that matter many people wouldn't want to have anything to do with detaching themselves from their group. They enjoy its security, not to mention the fact that it is indeed difficult to teach an old dog new tricks. It just flat out takes too much energy. I feel very lucky to have been blessed with an instinctive mistrust of groups. My voluntary separation from human society has thus been relatively painless. Not that I am a hermit, mind you. I do get out and about, go to Wal-mart and stuff like that (even to the mall occasionally). I am just not fooled by the herd mentality. I don't watch the home-improvement programs and get all excited about re-doing my kitchen or bathroom. And I most definitely do not daydream about having an unnecessarily large domicile (or a shiny new car). I do, however, fantasize about having some land. Yes, I wouldn't mind owning my own little piece of this planet. I have always been somewhat enamored of Christopher Robin's ability to roam and play in a hundred-acre wood. But if I ever were to have the good fortune to find myself in such an envious circumstance, I can assure you that I will most certainly have no thoughts whatsoever about erecting a 5,000 square-foot structure in the middle of it. Hell, no. A hundred-acre wood deserves a little cabin hidden somewhere in its pristine environs. Yes, an understated Hobbit-like home that looks as if it somehow grew there, which, I guess, could be my way of saying, "Fuck HGTV."
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