Drawing the line on Facebook

A couple of years ago I decided I was tired of every political comment on Facebook turning into an ugly and heated exchange of entrenched (and usually prescribed) ideologies, and quickly devolving into childish name-calling and personal insults.

It was obvious to me that most people don’t really think through the beliefs they choose to align themselves with, but what was worse was realizing how the social medium was being used to divide us and sever whatever connections we might have had with each other. In many (if not most) cases with Facebook relationships, these are people we knew long ago in school or in the military, in college or perhaps an old job. They are people we otherwise didn’t bother maintaining contact with simply because life tends to lead us away from each other as we pursue our own paths. We wish no ill will toward them, but didn’t feel close enough to preserve a level of contact with the person other than fond memories and well wishing.

That was exactly the thing I loved about Facebook. The ability to reconnect with people I truly thought I would never see again.

I had no illusions that they would all share my political views. In fact, in the little town I come from, I knew that 99 percent of them had radically different political and religious views from me. I was always able to get along with many of them however. Those who accepted the fact that I had my own views anyway.

Technology has drastically changed the way we interact socially however, and we humans have not evolved quickly enough yet to maintain the same level of civility that we would have in a face-to-face conversation.

I’m reminded of a scene in the film Biloxi Blues, a semi-autobiographical story by Neil Simon. While in Army basic training he was constantly journaling and when someone grabbed his journal and started sharing what he was saying about his other platoon members they became outraged, leaving him with the realization that by simply putting something in writing you give it much more power than it would have if simply spoken.

When political memes are shared on Facebook, the intention is to get a “damn right!” validation from like minded people, but it’s also to irritate those who disagree. And if you disagree, the least productive thing you can do is engage with your argument to the contrary, because your disagreement is in writing. Not only that, it is being expressed to all of the poster’s friends and family. That makes it a challenge to ideology and if written with a condescending tone, is a public slap in the face to which response is necessary in order for them to save face.

At this point, good luck maintaining any civility. Feelings have been hurt and someone’s ideology and intelligence have been questioned publicly, and of course things quickly spiral out of control. Friends become un-friended and like-minded people entrench themselves further in their views, limiting their ability to listen to differing opinions and engage in real give and take conversations.

This is why I withdrew from political discussions on Facebook and I don’t regret it at all.

That said, I still have a point of view and I still feel very passionate about certain things. I am pro-veteran and anti-war (the two go hand-in-hand in my mind). I believe in religious freedom for all, not just for Christians. I believe in equal rights for everyone, regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation. I believe the overwhelming evidence supporting global warming compiled over more than 40 years of research as opposed to the “I’m not convinced” answer from a handful of “scientists” who are on the payrolls of big oil moguls. I believe there is a point where someone has too much money, when millions are starving and dying and some have more money than they could ever need or ever spend but greedily hoard it and grab more and more to throw on the pile. I believe that the Republican party and the Democratic party answer to the same bosses; the billionaires who fund both campaigns, purchasing influence so that only their agenda gets pursued. I believe the rest of us no longer have a role in our government and arguing left vs. right is not only missing the point, but a foolish participation in a distraction from the reality of the plutocracy we are living in. That’s right, I called you a fool. If you’re still arguing Reps vs. Dems and conservative vs. liberal, you’re a sucker. It just isn’t about that anymore. So as I said, I have no regrets about cutting out the political discussion on Facebook. I want Facebook to be a place where I maintain friendly relationships with everyone regardless of differing opinions. I don’t hate anyone for having a different opinion. I believe everyone is entitled to their own, and everyone walks their own path in life and has their own reasons for what they believe. I get it. I don’t however, want to continue in silence. I have to express myself. I’m a creative person. It’s what I do, and I’ve been silent too long.

Facebook is for friendly chit chat. This will be my forum for real discussion.

23

December 23, 1991 was a pivotal day in my life. It was the day I left Puerto Rico and the U.S. Army for a new life.

That was 23 years ago, and I was 23 years old. It was half my life ago, almost to the day.

I never asked myself, ‘Greg, where do you see yourself when you’re twice as old?’ I never gave much thought to the future. By many accounts, not nearly enough.

I don’t think I could have imagined the life I have now at that time. I also find it hard to remember who that 23-year-old was or where the hell his head was at.

It seems so long ago now, it’s like another lifetime. All of the journeys I’ve encountered since then, all of the friendships, all the hardships, all of the painful lessons as well as the eye-opening discoveries, all of the roads travelled and the paths hiked, all of the songs sung and stories written, all of the beers brewed and beers consumed, the laughter, the tears, the resentment and the forgiveness, between now and then. I am not the same man.

I have the best job in the world now. I’m a father of two of the best people to ever walk this planet. That’s really what I do. Everything else is in support of that endeavor and nothing else is more important to me.

I had some really dark days following the aforementioned date. I had some really dark months actually, and had I been able to somehow receive advice from my 46-year-old self, I don’t really know what I’d have done differently. I mean, there were some stupid decisions I would like to take back, but those turned out to be merely temporary (although sometimes excruciatingly protracted) distractions from the bigger arc of my life which led me to where I am now.

Today we were forced to say goodbye to Mortimer, our cat. Mortimer was a female cat who was named while assumed to be a tom only later giving birth to a litter of five. She came into our lives roughly around 1995 and was with Penny and I since 1997.

When you’ve had a pet for such a long time, you can’t help but reflect when it passes. Mortimer lived with me for the vast majority of that 23 years since the Army days, so there are a lot of memories. Not that a cat can do many interesting, memorable things, but she was a member of the family long before it became a family. She has been there all along. And now she’s gone.

And it’s exactly 23 years later, and I’m finding myself posing the question ‘Greg, where do you see yourself in another 23 years?’

Well, I’ll be 69 … (chuckle). I’ll hopefully be retired and surrounded by family. I’ll hopefully be wiser still. Who knows, maybe I’ll have another cat.

Honesty

Honesty.

That’s a tough one. I mean we all speak of honesty as a pillar of virtue by which to judge the actions and words of others … and sometimes ourselves, but in reality people don’t like honesty. People don’t like to hear the truth.

So we find ways of telling them what they want to hear in the least dishonest way to put it. Often times we outright lie because socially it’s just a lot easier than getting into a heated battle over differing perspectives.

But the art of open, civil conversation is nearly lost in today’s society. At least in American society. Civility itself is becoming an endangered species.

Why?

Maybe it’s because the powers that be have done such an efficient job of divide-and-conquering us that we group together in fear, choosing opposing camps whose viewpoints have already been defined. We buy into the prescribed talking points and defend them against any notion that differs as if from invading, evil ideologies.

No one wants to hear anyone else’s opinion. There are plenty of people out there preaching the prescribed opinions of the right or of the left. Everyone would rather just listen to people who already agree with them, or at least with the opinions they have agreed to adopt in order to align themselves with a group … out of fear. The fear of being independent. The fear of going it alone in a world of warring factions.

So in lieu of honesty we bullshit each other. We bullshit the members of the group we want to become aligned with for the sake of fitting in. We pretend to accept or reject the same beliefs, despite having a perspective of our own.

We bullshit those in the opposing group. We pretend that there is in no way any part of what they believe in that we don’t find offensive and incomprehensible.

Worst of all, we bullshit ourselves. We bullshit ourselves into believing that by choosing the correct group and supporting them no matter what stance they take we are somehow helping humanity move forward, as opposed to further degrading our ability to work together to find solutions.

We pretend the propaganda we’re being fed by our side is revelation, while everything the other side is fed is propaganda.

We convince ourselves that the other side has an evil agenda fueled by self interest and that our side is driven by pure altruism.

All the while, nothing gets better. Everything gets worse and both sides point their fingers at the other.

Why does it not get better? Because it was never designed to get better. Not for us.

The conditions worsen every day for the average person, but for a handful of people the conditions are perfect. That handful of people doesn’t even have to worry about the rest of us figuring out what we’re doing, or what they’re doing, because we’re too caught up in the battle with each other.

Those people own everything that we think is there to serve us. They own all the politicians, they own all the media and they own all the banks. The only agenda that exists is the one that serves them.

Where is there room for honesty in a world like that? Where would honesty come from? Where would it go? Who would it reach when no one wants to hear it?

Blatantly dismissive post by my cat 11-10-13

Have you ever noticed how stupid dogs are?

Me either. I don’t even notice them at all. They suck.

I mean, I’m barely aware that dogs exist. Why should I give a flying fuck? They show up sniffing around with their big wet noses and nudge you like a pig to shit! Disgusting! But then you give them a good bitch smack with the claws poppin’ and shiiiiiiit… you don’t see them for a week.

I then I forget their stupid asses ever existed.

What’s a dog? Huh? Who cares?

I’m a fucking cat!

Mortimer

Response from my dog 11-9-13

It has come to my attention that the cat has been talking shit about me and I feel like I should speak up for myself.

First of all, I don’t lie on the couch. I’m not a lier. And what’s a couch? I don’t even know what that means. Cat’s don’t make no sense!

So now that that’s cleared up I think I’ll chew the back of my leg for a while.

That’s better.

I actually don’t have a problem with other cats. They’re pretty small and they only get annoying when you try to play with them and OUT COME THE CLAWS.

But you know who’s better? DOGS!

Dogs are so cool, when I see one taking a human for a walk I just lose my shit! I’m all, “DUDE! DUDE! HEY! IN HERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME? LET’S HANG! YOU CAN SNIFF MY BUTT!”

But the most awesomest is the humans. They’re so great. They pet me and let me walk them around town and give me treats and play fetch with me and they even pick up my shit sometimes!

I hate it when they give me a bath, but I love how good I feel when they give me a bath.

Bones are really fun to chew on.

So in closing, Mortimer is a jerk.

Max the dog

Blog Post from my cat 11/9/13

Today I had one of the best naps I can remember. I was so knocked out, man. At one point I thought I was awake for a second, but it was just a dream.

I wouldn’t have woken up when I did if I hadn’t farted. That shit was nasty. You know the kind of fart that you can feel it burn all the way down your nostrils and it feels like someone just tweaked your whiskers? Yeah. It was like that. I almost hacked up a hairball.

I don’t know why I’ve been farting so much lately, but Jesus Fish it’s haunting! It lingers like a tom’s spray when you’re in heat and he knows it. Ah...those were the days.

I hope I can get some more of that ham the big human guy was eating. That shit is awesome.

So where was I?...Oh yeah. I woke up from my nap.

In the afternoon I took another nap. That was nice. I curled up on a pillow on the big bed.

That’s right, I said it! I’m not afraid to admit it. I don’t give a fuck who knows either! I’m a cat. I could really give a shit.

I’m not trying to hide it like that stupid dog does when he’s been on the couch. As if the couch doesn’t reek of dumb dog after he’s been lying there all day. ...numb nuts. He’s fucking delusional.

He’s also dumber than a litter box full of clumps. When he gets out of the yard and wanders off, he’s too stupid to find his way home. What a fuck tard.

Well, it’s about time for me to go take a nap.

Peace out.

Mortimer the cat

Oh yeah, one more thing: Other cats suck!

Weirdo

I recently heard an old soundbite of Gene Simmons asked by a facetious interviewer, obviously hip to his typical style of brand-promoting, image-conscious rhetoric, “Any last minute crazy things you’d like to say to conform to expectations?”

Simmons, while definitely a shameless self-promoter is also not an idiot, and he responded instead with a sincerity she didn’t expect.

“No,” the demon replied in a soft tone. “But I will say something to anyone out there who’s, you know, the weird guy or the weird girl who always has the weird things that their friends put them down for.

“Don’t think it’s so weird. Maybe someday someone might give you the chance to make a living out of it. Just stick to it. You be weird.”

That’s the Gene we Kiss fans know and love.

I’m a weird guy. I always have been. When I was about eight years old, I discovered this band with powerful, exciting music who looked like the last thing they wanted to do was fit in. They went further out of their way to be different than any band had before or has since. That’s what got me...I think.

I’ve been giving this a lot of thought recently. I’ve been trying to nail down what exactly it is about Kiss that we fans get and no one else seems to get. Why do they speak to us?

I guess for a lot of us weirdos, they were the first people that showed us we don’t have to feel outcast and unworthy because we don’t conform to thinking, feeling, looking  and acting like everyone else. They showed us that you can actually celebrate being different.

In that sense they were real heroes to us. Champions of the weird. And they dressed the part.

The mentality in the little town I grew up in was if you weren’t a racist, homophobic Jesus freak, you weren’t just wrong. You were weird.

With Facebook I’ve been able to learn that little town hasn’t changed a bit. Most of those people stayed there, still think the way they did, and are teaching their children that everyone who is “normal” doesn’t question their values. That a “world view” need not be influenced by the world outside your little backwards-ass town. That ignorance is somehow a point of pride.

That anyone who DOES question their values is a communist, nigger-lovin’ faggot.

For some reason I thought a pocket of ignorance like Mooresville would have to have changed over the past 30 years, but that was naive I guess. In fact, it’s not such a small pocket. Indiana is probably the most backwards state north of the Mason-Dixon line.

I should probably explain the Facebook statement:

There was a certain friend-of-a-friend who added me on Facebook. I knew who he was, but never really ever got to know him. I soon learned however, that he was the quintessential Mooresvillian archetype.

After quickly tiring of his incessant, daily posts taken from unsubstantiated right-wing blog posts bashing Obama, liberals, non-christians, etc., I hid him from my feed. But then I found that every time I posted ANYTHING, he would leave the most hateful, racist comments. He made racist comments about African-Americans, Latinos, and Native Americans until I had finally had enough and un-friended him.

This set off a chain reaction and several of my other Mooresville friends un-friended me in retaliation.

So this is what Mooresville still is. “You’re either with us or against us.”

That’s okay. I don’t need friends like that. I’d rather be weird.

Kiss doesn’t involve themselves with politics. They’ve never been about saving the world, or promoting world peace, or saving the endangered plankton. They’ve never cared about making music that artistically elevates the culture or expands human understanding.

Kiss is about celebrating life, living in the moment, daring to be yourself no matter what anyone else thinks, and putting on the most spectacular show you’ve ever seen.

If you need more than that from a band, well...I guess you’ll never get it. I mean, there are tons of bands who have written great music, put on great shows, influenced generations of musicians and songwriters…but they’re not Kiss.