THE FORKIE PHILOSOPHER

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  • PAUL KERSEY BECOMES BATMAN: Movie Musings #12

    ***SPOILER ALERT***

    From the very beginning the franchise had a very straightforward theme: the law is useless and criminals are running amok. Thus, vigilantism is the only solution. Paul Kersey and the US 2nd amendment are the perfect cure for this disease. Good guys and bad guys, nice and simple. Socioeconomic factors be damned! Save that shit for your lecture halls! This scum needs to be eliminated, and the films leave zero possibility for pity toward these lowlifes. Just eat your popcorn and enjoy the bullet ridden justice.

    The sequel followed the tradition of increasing bloodshed and chaos, but Kersey remained basically the same gun toting avenger with a few tactical tricks up his sleeve. By the 3rd instalment he is a vagabond punisher of the US thug, mugger and rapist community. He eventually ends up back in New York visiting a war buddy and gets involved in his local gang strife.

    An inspector recognizes Kersey and gives him the ‘don’t take the law into your own hands’ speech. It doesn’t take long for the inspectors’ frustration regarding the overwhelming crime rate to soften his views on Kersey’s solution and just like that Kersey is set loose.

    However, this time he is up against a genuine gang, rather than random hoodlums and they seem well prepared to fight back. I believe the inspector even puts Kersey into police protection at one stage to keep him safe. I’m sure I don’t need to explain how that turned out.

    Eventually Kersey and the inspector team up and put bullet holes in the bad guys. This sparks an uprising of the law-abiding citizens and any gangsters left alive realise it is time to skip town. Oh, did I mention Kersey takes out the number one villain with a fucking racket launcher?

    The inspector gives Kersey a head-start to getaway and our gun toting avenger wanders off like Caine in the Kung Fu TV series.

    The next film finds him in L.A going to war against a drug cartel; why not? They sell crack and this one is called Death Wish 4: The Crackdown – get it? We’re into full-on one-man army stuff now. Gunfights with Uzis and AK47s, Kersey even ends up with one of those M16s with a grenade launcher attached. It’s a whole new look now guys.

    No unofficial alliance with local cops this time, just Rambo level extrajudicial mayhem. When the smoke clears, the bad guys are dead along with anyone who was unfortunate enough to have Kersey fall in love with them. Oh, did I mention Kersey takes out the number one villain with that grenade launcher? Is that a step down from a rocket launcher? Same result anyway.

    The hapless cop tries to arrest Kersey after the explosive kill, but Kersey just watched another love interest meet her maker and is not in a compliant mood. He throws down his weapon, turns his back and walks away saying “do whatever you have to”. The cop relents and our homicidal hobo walks off into the night.

    Now we arrive at number five: The Face of Death. Up till this point, despite the cartoonish ramping up of bullet ridden violence, the arguments against vigilante justice were at least given lip service. Although the increased body counts and explosions, have an uncanny numbing effect to the horror of the violence. This finale takes it to its comic book conclusion.

    What better bunch of bad guys to finish up with than the Mob?

    Witness protection program and name changes aside, the setup is the same. Bad guys being evil and eventually fucking with someone close to Kersey’s (Stewart is his witness protection name but we’ll forget about that) heart and carnage soon ensues. This Kersey is one hell of a romantic I tell you! He won’t let a few raped and murdered ex-lovers dampen his quest for true love.

    This time the object of his affection is the ex-wife of a mob boss – great! Somewhere in all the sequels Kersey sparked up a friendship with District Attorney Brian Hoyle. Kersey tries the legal path and connects his love interest with the D.A – fucken great!

    The Mob finds out and the vicious warning is sent; not until after Kersey proposes of course. With his fiancé disfigured, Kersey plans to do what he does best, when a cop tells him to hold back because he has been chasing this mobster for 16 years – not a glowing reference. Apparently, the big bust is imminent; they have a stool pigeon willing to wear a wire.

    Kersey stands down and the sting fails miserably with the snitch and a cop getting killed. For his hesitation, Kersey is rewarded with the murder of his betrothed – what’s the male version of a black widow? Some people are just meant to be single.

    Kersey tries to get custody of his dearly departed’s daughter, who just happens to be the daughter of Mr Mobster himself – yeah seriously! I’m not sure which one she would be safer with at this point.

    “Face of Death”, it just hit me! Kersey is the face of death to every poor soul who gets close to him!!!

    Anyway. Kersey’s DA friend informs him that the psychopathic gangster automatically gets custody of his biological daughter. Kersey tells his friend to hit the road and take the armed guards surrounding his house with him. It’s time for Kersey to go to work people.

    He takes out his first goombah with a poison calzone; an interesting shift in modus operandi. The next victim gets the MacGyver booby trap treatment – turned up to nasty death of course. A remote-control soccer ball…see it for yourself.

    Before the final showdown comes, the scene that unofficially sanctions Kersey’s crimefighting methods plays out. After gunning down the DAs police associate in self-defence and the DA coming face to face with the lethal level of corruption in his own ranks we get this exchange:

    (Looking down at the dead body of Lt. Hector Vasquez)

    DA: You’re right. You can’t trust the justice system.

    Kersey: He would have killed you, Brian.

    DA: Yeah. (moves closer to the body) No judge, no jury…no appeal and no deals.

    Kersey: How do you feel about it?

    DA: I’m scared

    Kersey: What are you gonna do?

    DA: Paul…I’m not even here.

    (Both men look at each other and nod)

    That was the DA ladies and gentlemen! Let the carnage begin!

    The final shootout goes off rather routinely, but the final boss needs some special way to send him off to the great beyond. How about a liming bath? I’m not sure how the chemistry works, but it looks like fucken acid to me! The head henchman goes headfirst into a fucking shredding machine too! We’ve come a long way from popping street thugs with a handgun. Maybe Kersey is becoming Jason fucking Vorhees!

    Just prior to the coup de grace the cop who has been chasing our villain for 16 years shows up with his gun drawn and is swiftly shot by the soon be melted mob boss. Thus, Kersey’s acidic retribution was also the salvation of a rather mediocre law enforcement officer.

    As Kersey walks off to find his soon to be adopted daughter (God help her!) the wounded cop thanks him for saving his life. Paul calls out as he leaves the room “Hey, Lieutenant, if you need any help, give me a call”.

    The metamorphosis is complete.

  • WE NEED TO DIG A LITTLE DEEPER: Be The Best You Can Be

    The idea of arriving in your twilight years and realising you wasted your life is a horrible thought indeed.

    “I should have had more sexual escapades”

    “I should have been faithful to that wonderful husband or wife”

    “All that time spent making money, I should have:

    1. Given most of it away while I was alive.”
    2. Spent more time with my loved ones.”
    3. Spent more on drugs, orgies and partying”
    4. Become an evil Bond villain.”

    Most people stay busy, entertained or numb in a subconscious effort to forget about their inevitable demise. The other, less talked about, reason for this ‘filling up our time’ is a nagging dread that we aren’t doing enough. That when we get close to the end, we will be overcome with regret. The irony, for me, is much of this ‘being perpetually engaged’ shit blinds us from what we really want to do.

    I realise this subject covers a vast area, so I want to break things down to more manageable chunks. Here I will focus on my immediate interest and stick to the Corporate Confusion theme. For the people who invest the meaning of their life into this realm, success is easy to define: wealth, status, power. Moving on up and up and up…

    The highest achievement is, if not literally tangible, easily describable. The CEO, the Chairman of the Board, the billionaire who owns the whole fucking thing! I will not bother going into whether any of this is worth it because that would be different for every individual. I don’t need to bother with the lives destroyed by such insatiable hoarding of wealth; I think it’s pretty obvious and if you disagree, that is a whole other debate.

    No, I am taking aim at my usual topic; how this quest for corporate/financial success affects the decisions we at the bottom must carry out or do our best to deal with the consequences of.

    Yes, we are all just numbers in the end and that might be enough for most people. Accept that fact with stoic resignation; try and climb yourself; try and rort the system in any way you can, drop out of society or start organising the revolution! All have their pluses and minuses and all may be part of YOUR meaning for life.

    “Because some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

    Alfred Pennyworth “The Dark Knight” (2008)

    I suppose I fall into the stoic acceptance group like the vast majority of plebs. How we cope varies enormously and is yet another topic for the future. I, at present am doing this: trying to understand why. I am almost certainly just spinning my intellectual wheels, but it feels like the right thing to do now.

    Okay, so back to our corporate climbers and their inconsiderate decisions that make our lives more difficult and seem to be destroying our entire ecosystem. The corporate/financial success ladder is yet another goal to get obsessed with and lost in. It aligns with one of the major ideals people chase, the pursuit of excellence, and is a superb distraction from the absurdity and existential dread lurking inside us all regarding this life we are born into.

    “Welcome to your life.

    There’s no turning back.”

    “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” Tears for Fears

    The pursuit of fucken excellence! Bullshit! Hear me out. I know it can look like greed on a degenerate scale, but to the ones in the competition, that accumulation of wealth and status is the prize. The most destructive element being that there is no limit! There is no grand final where an ultimate winner is declared. You’re number 1 this quarter, but some devious bastard passes you in the next. There can always be larger numbers on the screen of your net worth.

    Serena Williams, Conor MacGregor, Michale Jordan; they won events, tournaments and peer honours in record numbers. Their supremacy was measurable within their field of expertise. Money and fame were a by-product of their talent and dedication, not the sole objective. Strangely, for many retired superstars, it can become a substitute though.

    That single-minded commitment to be the best in your chosen sport certainly keeps your mind occupied and when it ends, most athletes are still quite young. These are competitive people, and lazing under a palm tree drinking cocktails can get very boring very fast; so, they need to find a new contest to dominate. I’ll continue this thread elsewhere.

    For the person whose forte is creating wealth and/or amassing power there is no ceiling when it comes to who has more. What even constitutes ‘the most’? There is an entire fucken industry that revolves around creating ultra expensive shit for these egomaniacs to buy, simply for flaunting their wealth! Superyachts, jet airplanes, ludicrous mansions, obscenely priced jewellery and apparel, luxury cars, preposterously priced restaurants, fucking spaceships!

    “Well, I can tell you everything in one word: money-maker. He has to make money. He’s dedicated to it. It’s the only way he can prove to himself he’s still breathing.”

    Harper (1966)

    If you aspire to this definition of success, you have already decided you deserve more than others. Whenever you are looking up you lose sight of those below. The higher up the totem pole you move the more distant and blurrier the bottom becomes. Sooner or later what you consider to be the bottom is half-way up the fucken ladder! You are still aware that there is a miserable rabble down in the lower depths somewhere, but what can you do?

    “I can’t change the system”

    “If I step aside someone else will simply take my place.”

    The old drug dealer rationale. If I don’t sell them the poison, someone else will. I might as well make some money. I can do some good with it after all. We’ll ride that upside down merry-go-round another time.

    It’s a cruel world they say. Aint that the truth. Just in case you haven’t already realised, I’ll lay it out. If you are working class in a first world country you are much higher on the economic ladder than a massive chunk of the global population. You go to work every day and put up with all kinds of shit. You pay your bills and feed yourself and kids. You deserve a holiday now and then, right? You deserve some appliances that offer convenience and entertainment. After that you’re flat out trying to save a little for emergencies and retirement.

    “Of course I’m distressed for those people living in abject poverty, but what can I do?” 

    That’s not an accusation; it’s just a harsh reality.

    “I am the one in ten

    A number on a list

    I am the one in ten

    Even though I don’t exist

    Nobody Knows me

    But I’m always there

    A statistic, a reminder

    Of a world that doesn’t care”

    One In Ten (UB40)

  • THE OTHER RELIGIOUS EMPIRE: Rise of The Tycoons #19

    Before ‘onward Christian soldiers’ was a thing those Jesus freaks were hard core pacifists! ‘Turn the other cheek’ was a strictly observed doctrine. My mind struggles to fathom the impact that kind of devotion would have on people who believed in the supernatural to such an extent. Gods, deities, witchcraft and all kinds of superstitions people adopted to try and understand and maybe feel a little in control of their turbulent existence.

    Our magic is powerful and gives us an edge. Well, our gods trump your magic, so there. Gods? There is only one God, and he has chosen us as His people, so the rest of you are fucked! Then this long-haired hippy starts wandering around with love for all and a profound idea regarding eternal life and getting into heaven. No malice, no exclusion; a genuine yearning to welcome allcomers to this celestial paradise.

    Long after his death (& rebirth?) people start to use passive resistance and devoutly dying in this bloke’s name. They refuse to return violence and seem in some way ecstatic about death. “These cunts are fucking happy to die!” Remember back in the BC days news travelled by word of mouth. Even though this was the exact beginning of the AD days, mind you. A guy remaining stoic in death can become a man who died in a state of bliss in one village and a man who pissed his pants and begged for his life in another.

    Either way, the original draw card for Christianity was this unshakeable faith that produced, not just a lack of fear, but an embrace of death. Not in a suicidal sense, no. These people hoped to live long and pious lives, but if faced with tyranny and forced to renounce their God and saviour, these fuckers would rather die! That’s very impressive, especially with no ability to accurately fact check these tales.

    I reckon the whole ‘ask for forgiveness and ye shall be saved’ schtick helped the recruitment process too. Lots of evildoers would jump at the chance of such a simple salvation. The not fighting back stuff though, while awesomely noble in theory, would have become a sticking point for the average adherent in practice.

    One feature about religious texts is perfect for the sin and forgiveness debate: interpretation. Many people can read the same words and extract very different meanings. If those words have also been translated, you get another area of contention. A translation of a translation etc. and we’re moving into elastic territory. From there it is not a long way to “turn the other cheek unless…”.

    What’s the use of having a population of devout followers who have no fear of death, but refuse to fight? Although, as I already said, one could hardly expect to convert a huge number of people to follow such dogma. With a slight tweak, we end up with striking down the infidels; and with so many variations on the theme, even Christian enemies can be proved unfaithful without much trouble.

    “Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.” 

    George S. Patton

    Which brings us to the major competitor in the religious recruitment rivalry. One that took a much more direct route toward the ‘killing in the name of God’ creed: Islam. Unlike Christianity’s ‘blessed are the meek’, Islam came right out of the gate with “we don’t take shit from anyone!” or something along those lines. This is an outsiders view after all.

    Around 700 years after the death of Christ these warriors were dealing with the updated ‘God is on our side’ Christians, rather than the peace-loving lambs of old. Needless to say, much blood was spilled in God’s name. Or perhaps God was called on to assist in the victory of the faithful. Either way, God was playing favourites apparently.

    My interest lies more in the global expansion of these religions more so than their warmongering. My unscholarly understanding of this practice begins with the expansion alongside empires idea. As a Christian or Muslim empire took over the territories of non-believers or people of a different faiths, they brought their religion with them. Depending on where you get your history, either creed may or may not have forced their belief system on the new population. Regardless, it would have offered, even if only slightly, certain advantages to convert to the religion of the new lords. Thus, the most direct form of acquiring new followers was conquest.

    The other, more mobile, way of spreading the faith is the good old word of mouth. The legends around the exploits of each religion’s followers; their faith giving them strength, guidance and wisdom. God saving believers and giving them courage to bear the trials of life. In pre-scientific times, that stuff had huge influence. Shit, it still converts people today!

    Both religions were offering hope for the downtrodden and both offered eternal paradise for the faithful, along with damnation for the infidels. The target population being able to read your holy text would also be a fantastic advantage. I suppose having created enough interest to warrant a translation into a new language would represent quite a coup as well.

    Theory is one thing, but people are most convinced by results. Tales of heroism and miracles are impressive, yet verifiable or at least plausible examples are much more persuasive. Historically recorded military victories against the odds. People achieving great things in the name of their God. This stuff inspires! This stuff compels!

    With the western world spreading its empires across the globe and overwhelming populations with their advanced technology, they seemed to be onto a good thing. Maybe you ‘savages’ might like to get in on this. A combination of ‘look at our magical technology’ and ‘are you aware of your immortal soul?’ was a pretty good sales pitch. I reckon that original peacenik left a shadow of doubt once people thought about it though; especially the oppressed.

    Islam offered a kick-ass alternative! Same risk-reward ratio, but a God that insists on not getting kicked around. Fuck yeah! Heaven or hell for all eternity either way (unless of course you have backed the wrong horse), I’m gunna fight back and get some righteous revenge before I go. “I actually get upgraded if I die for the cause?” Bonus. That’s some Viking Valhalla shit!

    COP IT SWEET or KICK ASS? THE DESTINATION IS THE SAME…

    The rest is clauses and sub clauses: We can’t eat pork or drink alcohol, and we have to do a difficult fast for a month. I can’t really do a comparative one for Christianity because of the number of various denominations and interpretations of those denominations. “Don’t eat meat on Good Friday” maybe?

    Regardless, individuals from all denominations and both religions have their own unique unquestionable tenets, flexible rules and loopholes when they need them. Most people are born into their religion. Some may move about within that religions various systems, some may simply lapse, but few actively convert unless they see something offering a – better? More convincing? More powerful? – alternative.

    Jerry: I wanted to talk to you about Dr Wattley. I have a suspicion that he’s converted to Judaism purely for the jokes.

    Priest: And this offends you as a Jewish person?

    Jerry: No, it offends me as a comedian

    When people look at Islam or Christianity, standing up for yourself is a powerful enticement. God only knows how many of the new, and mostly American, Christian denominations promote hostility (and even greed), but that’s a whole other kettle of fish.

  • MUSINGS ON THE JOB ABOUT THE JOB: Carrying the Company

    “I do everything around here!”

    “This place would be fucked without me!”

    And the limitless variations on this theme. Oh, to have a dollar for every time I heard it. Shit, I ‘d be rich to have a dollar for every time I thought it myself! Wouldn’t be worth enough to get paid only for when I said it out loud though. Tis a heavy cross to bear we workhorses are burdened with. Funny that there’s almost always more than one of us.

    “Two men say they’re Jesus, one of them must be wrong”

    Industrial Disease Dire Straits

    In my 30 odd years in the workforce, I have seen many incarnations of this martyrdom, and I am fascinated by the vast spectrum of characters. I will begin with the one I am most familiar with: The Fool.

    Sadly, this was my role for a large chunk of my working life. The person who truly believes the work MUST be done, regardless of if there is enough time, resources, people. This simpleton feels an inordinate obligation; not necessarily to the boss or the company, it runs deeper than that. They genuinely feel that the need to ‘pull their weight’ includes picking up the slack for those who have no such impulse.

    This person is perpetually perplexed at their coworker’s lack of work ethic. This is the major tell for me that the Fool’s industriousness is ingrained and akin to OCD. The person cannot help themselves; even if they are fed up and exhausted, it is almost distressing for them to leave work undone. Like OCD it is very fucking unhealthy!

    You see OCD characters in movies or on TV and it is often presented like an impairment that also bestows the sufferer with some type of savant gift. Alternatively, it is simply played for laughs. The important part that is often missing is the stress, fatigue and exhaustion. From the outside it can sometimes look like the Fool just has a strong work ethic and plenty of energy. Inside it’s a very different story.

    Imagine running yourself ragged trying to get ‘the work done’ while those around you are just cruising; or worse, bludging!!! You know that person was supposed to complete that task, but they have left it half done and are now having a chat. Sometimes they are having a chat with the fucking boss!!! Fuck me!!! So, you stop what you’re doing and finish the task to prevent a potential bottle neck and then go back to what you had been doing and try to make up for the time you just lost.

    More often than not the whole thing will go unnoticed and yet the Fool has another delightful defect: even if the boss was to praise them or the coworker should miraculously thank them, the Fool would be incapable of feeling any joy. At best they may mumble a ‘no worries’ and a weak smile, then return to their beast of burden routine. At worst the boss will ask the Fool why they haven’t finished their task yet. Eye starts twitching.

    Unappreciated, frustrated and totally confounded. This poor shmuck usually exudes humility and stubbornly refuses to ring their own bell. This usually stems from feelings of inferiority rather than modesty. The affronts will accumulate within the Fool as they push them down with the force of a garbage compactor, until that one final insult, which will often be rather mild, causes an explosion that catches everybody unaware.

    “Just squeeze your rage into a bitter little ball and release it at an appropriate time. Like that day I hit the referee with a whiskey bottle. Remember that? When daddy hit the referee.”

    Homer Simpson

    “I’M FUCKEN SICK OF THIS!!!” Will be heard by all and sundry after some minor workplace faux pas. The bewildered co-worker who took his scanner by mistake stands there shocked. “That’s a bit over-the top” everyone within earshot thinks. “That guy’s fucken nuts” they say. The bosses wonder if he may be a liability.

    And therein lies the paradox of the “one who cares” (a coworker used to mockingly call me that a long time ago). He or she is trying to get the job done efficiently and in doing so may be spreading themselves too thin or even creating a hazard; either to others or just themselves. They also have next to zero understanding of the infinite variables that create any one person’s work ethic. It is usually much more nuanced than just laziness or spite that causes people to work with the hand brake on.

    The fool, with their grouchy demeanour and poorly disguised judgemental attitude is sabotaging the very goodwill their efforts should instil. Nobody wants to work alongside a grumpy person who makes them feel like they are a lazy shit. No boss wants to hear complaints about how “nobody does shit around here!” To them it sounds like “why can’t you do your job and get everyone to work hard?”

    “Fuck you!” would be the inner reply I imagine.

    So, by worrying about more than their fair share, the Fool, while “maybe” getting more done, eventually becomes a pain in everybody’s ass. And that’s if they are actually more productive in the first place.

    Of course, I like to believe that I was contributing more than my share, I can never be sure of how it all looked in the grand scheme of things. Remembering the negativity I radiated in my younger days, I hope my efforts were at least appreciated despite my grim disposition.

    I am certain that my impatience and indignant rushing about was unsafe. Fortunately, no one was injured or killed by my erratic behaviour. I do know that many sick days and injuries were caused directly or indirectly from that bubbling rage.

    It’s bizarre to see myself in the numerous other ‘Fools’ I come across and rather embarrassing too. I know they will not hear my suggestions about moderation, just as I didn’t. Like a recovering addict I can only watch and hope. If I happen to be there when they start to snap out of it, maybe I can help.

  • WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE: How do You Know?

    I would like to continue regarding generation X in Australia and our limited fact checking ability. This time I am curious about the potential gullibility this creates. I cannot personally remember ever being so eager for proof of something that I went trolling through the library referencing system (don’t get me started). I am sure I could have asked the librarian for help, but I never felt the urge.

    We all watched the same 4 (5 if you have good enough reception) channels and if something is reported on all the news broadcasts, for us kids anyway, that was that. It was in the newspaper; it must have happened. I have no memory of any major discrepancies leading to rival news outlets debating a major event. ABC had ‘News Watch’ which was supposed to be some type of watchdog, but cool kids only watch channel 2 for Monkey Magic or The Goodies!

    Of course, the grown-ups often had their impromptu debates; especially when a few beers or wines had gone down. Occasionally a teacher would feel the need to share their opinion with the class and that might give you a different perspective and they would gladly help explain anything you needed help with. They probably provided a little more nuance than mum and dads assertions too.

    The concept of Googling something to a kid back then is inconceivable! Most often we simply deferred to the grown up who spoke with certainty. Who could be assed scouring the library just to win an argument. As for researching current events back then, I struggle to imagine how we might have gone about it besides newspapers and magazines, which would leave substantial gaps in any subsequent report. Not that anyone would be bothered to read it, mind you.

    The 1980s equivalent of finding a fact on Google and showing it via your smartphone could take hours and would require access to a library, unless the argument is taking place in a residence affluent enough to have its’ own encyclopaedia. It wouldn’t be practical to carry a volume with you just to prove your point; those things were big! So, you are left with finding the page/s proving your thesis, paying for photocopies and then tracking down the person who disagreed with you and hoping they still recall the conversation.

    Even documentaries were rare back before cable television. I remember seeing them now and then; sometimes they were even the thing to watch that night! ABC and SBS would have had plenty and you knew one was coming whenever you saw that massive clunky video player getting wheeled out in school. I also remember sitting in the assembly hall watching film reels on a hanging white screen.

    The only other way to see the weird and wonderful stuff around the world without going there was the video shop. They usually had a documentary section (or shelf). There you could find old films from David Attenborough, Jacques Couteau, or our very own Alby Mangels. The lack of fact checking ability left us wide open to bullshit though and I think there will always be another scandal or lie waiting to surface.

    Needless to say, the most popular tapes were the more controversial ones about serial killers and perverts; these were the ones recommended in the playground at school. Accuracy was not as important as shock value. This stuff infiltrated our brains as facts.

    Movies like Mondo Cane (1962) displaying bizarre and macabre rituals and behaviour taking place in exotic foreign lands were accepted without doubt. Even horror movies about cannibalistic tribes isolated from civilisation planted seeds of belief. Films such as 1980s Cannibal Holocaust (arguably the first horror film to use the found footage technique) gave young minds a sense of legitimacy to these gruesome tall tales.

    Big media and the government had a much firmer hold on what ‘news’ and/or information we got access to. They controlled what movies were released in cinemas and/or on video, along with the authority to edit what they disapproved of. It was mostly hardcore porn and video nasties (ultra-violent stuff) that got banned, but we were none the wiser.

    The same went for music which was more controlled by radio stations and record stores. They had the power to promote or bury whatever they preferred; this included stand-up comedy and any other kind of spoken word or performance albums.

    It was always so cool when someone you knew came back from overseas with a movie, a record or cassette or maybe a computer game that was banned or just unavailable in Australia. Some things just didn’t get released here. Not because they were banned, just because nobody bothered.

    These were the kind of treasures that could only be found at ‘some shop in Chinatown’ or ‘this bloke at Paddy’s Markets’. These ‘underground’ copies had a way of turning up! I can’t recall Chinatown, but I certainly found a few bootleg videos at Paddy’s Haymarket, which was right next door, by the way.

    I am still amazed at the capability of the internet in finding obscure music and films. It’s a bit of a pity that kids today are incapable of appreciating the awesome wizardry that is smart phones and the internet!

    That’s enough. I feel old now.

  • CORPORATE CONFUSION: The View From the Middle

    Let’s have a peek at that mysterious netherworld of the corporation. All those people in ‘middle management’, who work at ‘head office’ and any other characters that the workers on the floor randomly see being led around the facility by a honcho or never see at all. In this topsy turvy wonderland, positions appear and vanish; they have complicated titles and then maybe they merge and become a whole new entity.

    I must admit that I have never visited the corporate headquarters of any job I have had, thus this is all speculation based on what I’ve learned and what I’ve been told, plus a shitload of Television shows, movies, stand-up comedy, comic strips and any other form of satire that works so well. My office experience goes no further than the offices of the bosses and boffins of my own worksite and even that has a different vibe from the work floor.

    The reason all the jokes/stories work so well is their relatability. Beside the differences between office work and grunt work, every industry has their unique quirks as well. However much of the characters and dynamics are familiar all-round. Idiots, assholes, ass-kissers, snitches, work-buddies, shirkers, the overzealous and many others, along with the countless combinations.

    This musing is my attempt to make, at least a little, sense out of some of the utterly bizarre decisions we on the floor get lumbered with. The floor could be anywhere: a factory, warehouse, restaurant, store etc. Anywhere that the people making the decisions are all-but invisible to the people who must eventually do the job. The bigger and more convoluted the hierarchy, the greater the opportunity for chaos and hilarity. Or frustration and contempt depending on your temperament.

    I’ll begin with the most direct line on this totem pole: management/leadership. I’ll use a large furniture corporation as an example. Each individual store might be split into two sections: Sales and warehouse. Each of these sections would then have its own manager along with any team leader type role depending on the number of staff. At the bottom is the salespeople and warehouse staff.

    The sales and warehouse managers would answer to the store manager and that would be the extent of bosses a lowly store worker would meet. So, at best, an employee might be able to report a grievance or suggested improvement to the store manager. If we’re talking multinational corporation, that person’s influence is extremely limited. This scenario is only possible if the store manager allows it, mind you, and you’re still risking the wrath of any team leader or manager whose head you went above.

    Once you leave the individual stores you enter the Middle Earth realm. That mythical (to the grunts) place where rules and procedures are made. The direct link from the store to this place would be the state/regional manager. This would be the person warehouse and sales staff see being led around the place most often. You know, not long after your superior has frantically run around and told everyone to hide any flaws and make the place look so clean and organised it seems as if no work goes on there. This is the person the store managers in that designated area all answer to and this visitor travels with the authority of bigger chiefs.

    This manager resides in a very different domain. They are surrounded by people whose jobs are not directly in contact with the customer and/or the product. Lots of mundane clerical work to keep records of money and stock; the office version of grunt work. Many of these will come complete with their own section head or manager who answers to a higher power somewhere else. After here you get to the national level and then (for Australia) you enter the big leagues: The Australasian head office!!!

    We won’t scale those lofty heights just yet. Let’s stay with our immediate ‘superiors’. The people on the big bucks here who operate just under, alongside or maybe even outside the Regional Manager. People with titles such as: Regional Marketing Manager, State Human Resources Manager, NSW Logistics Manger etc.

    These guys and gals exist in a strange purgatory where they have a lot of authority and responsibility, but their autonomy is very much controlled by the next level up. Any major policy or procedural change must be approved by the powers that be. Any such changes handed down from above must be given very serious consideration. Criticize at your peril. Fail to implement and you better be good at passing the buck.

    The men and women these guys answer to (the Australian/National fill in the blank Managers) are on the precipice of going global and will not be much satisfied with losing face to their corporate masters. Any fuck ups better not reflect poorly on them!

    You see, none of these people are high enough yet as far as they are concerned. The ones that are will have certainly adopted a lifestyle suiting their salary and would shudder at the idea of a cut in pay and/or status. Even if they are okay with it, they can never be sure that the downgrade might also include the loss of their significant other.

    Regardless of ego and personal feelings, there is little doubt that these higher ups are just as susceptible as the rest of us to the siren’s call of debt. I’m the fucken regional/national manager! I should be living in a better house in a better suburb! The kids go to better schools. The family goes on better holidays. The house has the latest and greatest gadgets. The rug simply cannot be pulled out from under this.

    I have no doubt whatsoever that these people still buy the occasional lottery ticket hoping for a way out. At best, if they are financially astute, they might retire early but remember they will need to have enough for a higher standard of living than the peasant retirees.

    More perks, more responsibility. More money, more to lose. More status, more people wanting your time. As usual I am not trying to garner sympathy for these mid-level magnates, I am merely pointing out that they do not consider their lives to be easy and us whiny workers are a headache they are forced to deal with.

    So, the next time you find yourself asking “where do these fucking decisions come from?” Your first point of call is simple: from some poor schmuck who can’t afford to lose their job! Rather like you, just with fancier toys.

    I barely scratched the surface here. When I circle back here again, I’ll build upon this foundation. I already have a few ideas, but that’ll do for now.

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #22

    I don’t remember who I was with, but I know there were three of us. We were standing on the median strip on the Princes Highway, Tempe, facing east. Behind us northbound traffic was flowing constantly and the south bound in front of us was doing the same. Probably should have walked down to the lights, but hey, why bother?

    There were only two lanes of traffic moving and the other was filled with parked cars. You could feel the wind whoosh as each vehicle zoomed past us in the outside lane.

    A prime mover was headed our way on the inside lane of the southbound side doing the speed limit of 60kph. We all prepared ourselves for an extra strong whoosh to hit.

    For some god forsaken reason a car pulled out of a parking spot outside the TAB right into the path of the surging prime mover.

    “Holy shit!!!”

    Now the prime mover had only a few potential manoeuvres:

    • Ram right into the rear of the car that had just pulled out in front of it causing certain destruction and possible death.
    • Swerve left and slam into the parked cars causing God knows how much damage.
    • Swerve right into the outside lane and avoid hitting the idiot’s vehicle. There was no room for error here. If he swerved just a tiny bit too much he would no doubt take out the three teenagers standing on the median strip. They had nowhere to retreat to. Traffic was flowing constantly on the northbound side behind them, meaning that those three teenagers were sitting ducks.

    All we could do was watch and pray. That truck was really moving and he made the swerve right which meant our lives were in that drivers hands. It’s an odd feeling staring death in the face. I don’t recall my life flashing before my eyes. I just remember bracing myself and making a stupid face. There was nothing else we could do; just stand there frozen and watch and wait to see how this disaster was going to play out.

    The truck driver executed a perfect lane change in the tiniest amount of room. I have rarely seen anything so beautiful in my life. Such skill! Such precision!

    The three of us gave huge sighs of relief as the prime mover whooshed past us in the outside lane. That breeze felt like the gift of life. We stood there for a while longer patting each other on the back before we finally got a gap and completed our crossing.

    Thinking back I still smile whenever I recall that near miss. Something as mundane as crossing a highway you cross everyday can suddenly turn into a life and death struggle. None of us had the slightest sense of danger as we darted across the first lanes into the middle. We stood there on the median strip so vulnerable and yet so unaware. We had all done this hundreds of times and have probably done it hundreds more since; yet on that one particular day fate decided to throw the dice. Lucky for us it came out our way.

    I would like to say that this changed my life in some way; that it gave me a better appreciation of life, but unfortunately the adrenaline soon fades and we return to our usual selves. The story got told many times and eventually it settled into the back of our minds and even faded from memory altogether. Note that this story is number 22. It just popped back into my memory recently.

    Thinking about it now I do feel a sense of extraordinary luck, but I do not have any great revelations concerning fate and fortune. I just smile and thank my lucky stars. I hope I still have a few more lucky stars in store for the future.

  • IT AINT WHAT YOU DO, IT’S THE WAY THAT YOU DO IT: Movie Musings #11

    ***SPOILER ALERT***

    Both films use the same names for Tom, Marge and Freddy. In Purple Noon, Marge’s carefree partner is named Phillipe. In The Talented Mr. Ripley he is named Dickie. I will refer to this character as Phillipe for both films for simplicity’s sake.

    I have not read the book, so I will not be referring to it. Although I understand it has differences from both films, not just the inevitable lost in translation between the written word and cinema, but actual character and plot stuff. I hope the omission of a third comparison will save us some time anyway.

    Two films made 39 years apart based on the same source material utilize the same characters, settings and plot points, yet leave vastly different impressions on the audience (I can only speak for myself of course).

    Purple Noon is a 1960 European film based on the 1955 novel by Patricia Highsmith, ‘The Talented Mr Ripley’. Hollywood turned out a version, using the book’s title, in 1999. Both films follow a similar structure:

    • Tom Ripley covets the luxurious lifestyle of Phillipe and Marge.
    • Phillipe, being a self-absorbed playboy, eventually gets bored with Tom and mistreats him (the how of this is one key variation between versions).
    • Tom kills Phillipe (another important contrast).
    • Tom uses his numerous talents to not only cover up the crime, but to also steal Phillipe’s identity and lifestyle. This is the crux of the films and the grist of the thrills and, while hitting the same key events, both films deliver unique obstacles for Tom to overcome.
    • In both he bullshits Marge and plays cat and mouse with the police.
    • In both he is almost unmasked by Phillipe’s philandering friend Freddy. In both this is Freddy’s fatal mistake.
    • The final turning point and finale are where the two movies definitively divulge and this being the freshest memory the viewer goes away with, this really hammers home the distinctions.

    The 1999 version takes a lot of time showing Tom’s miserable life and the way he stumbles into the gig that has him meeting Phillipe and Marge. We even get a glimpse of Ripley’s flexible relationship with the truth as he orchestrates this ‘coincidental’ encounter.

    Purple Noon chooses to subtlety reveal Tom’s reason for being there and only touches on his poverty through dialogue. When we first meet Tom, it seems to me, that him and Phillip are good friends. As Phillipe’s father’s plan is disclosed, I was still under the impression that the two ‘pals’ had gone to school together. I cannot recall the exact moment I figured out the wealth inequality between them as a matter of fact.

    The inciting incident for this adaptation was a stark and cruel event. The trio are out on a yachting trip when Phillipe begins to manifest his boredom and disdain for Tom. He strands Ripley on the dinghy being towed behind the yacht and forgets about him. When he finally remembers and pulls him back into the yacht, Tom is severely sunburned and unconscious. Unbeknownst to Phillipe, his fate has been sealed.

    The 1999 film draws the rift between Tom and Phillipe out into a slow and blasé affair, for Phillip at least. Tom however is desperately trying to salvage the relationship. This film leans heavily into the homosexual undertones of Ripley’s adoration and even hints that this might have been an extra reason for Phillipe’s rejection. Either way, this was not so much an ‘inciting incident’ as it was a well-crafted sequence taking us from Tom and Phillipe being as thick as thieves, to Phillipe casually discarding this plaything he is no longer interested in.

    The incident itself, being Phillipe’s outright scorn, takes place only moments before the bloodshed. Until then, Phillipe is merely indifferent and just trying to get away from Ripley’s suffocating devotion. This irritation turns to outright contempt one day when the two are out in a rowboat (alone with no witnesses).

    Phillipe’s frustration regarding this clingy infatuation erupts into anger and insults are exchanged. In the heat of the moment Ripley smashes Phillipe on the head with a wooden oar. After a second of shock, Tom is instantly regretful, but on seeing the blood pouring from his wound, Phillipe flies into a rage and attacks Tom. Tom begs him to stop, but Phillipe is going proper berserk! In the melee, Tom gets the upper hand and proceeds to literally bash the head in of the man he had previously worshipped.

    That killing is a sharp alternative to the one in Purple Moon. In that film, which seems to move at a quicker pace, Tom’s homicidal attack is cold blooded murder. After the dinghy incident Phillipe asks if Tom was having thoughts of revenge. This evolves into a macabre conversation where Tom explains how he would go about impersonating Phillipe after killing him. This appears to be the last straw for Phillipe, and he now wants to be rid of his peasant friend.

    Sensing the morbid plot may not be hypothetical, Phillipe asks Tom for more information and Tom is happy, or maybe proud, to oblige. Phillipe offers a large sum of money for Tom to get lost, but it is all too little too late and Tom unflinchingly stabs him. This was not a mix of fear and rage in the confusion of a vicious fight. This was a calculated assassination. Same game changing narrative moment shedding very different light on Ripley due to the circumstances.

    Purple Noon leans right into the cold calculating psychopathy, while the later version leaves a shadow of doubt as to how far Ripley’s criminality sinks. In the first he is a Machiavellian scammer who may or may not have been planning to murder Phillipe but was given the necessary incentive after the callous dinghy incident. Phillipe was always a potential mark, but after that event he was a marked man.

    The 1999 version adds an extra layer to the sense of betrayal Tom feels when Phillipe withdraws his attention: the fury of the spurned lover! Tom not only craves Phillipe’s wealth and lifestyle; he desires the man too. Rather than a premeditated slaying based on envy and indignant vengeance, we end up with a crime of passion that results in a violent assault; followed by a furious counterattack accompanied by threats of murder. When the smoke cleared it could have been either man left standing.

    Moving into the next act the audience has two very dissimilar impressions of the same character, as far as his homicidal tendencies are concerned at least. This act is all about the ‘talents’ of Mr Ripley as he covers his tracks and sets about becoming Phillipe.

    Both films highlight Tom’s skill at forging signatures and telling lies. The second throws in an extraordinary gift of impersonating voices with uncanny accuracy. It also includes an extra character that creates a whole new influx of complications for Ripley to navigate: Meredith Logue. She met Tom when he first arrived and met him as Tom Ripley. She also runs in the same circles as Phillipe and Marge; providing an elaborate and complex juggling act for Tom/wannabe Phillipe – exquisite tension ensues.

    It’s not as if he had it easy without this added peril. In Purple noon Tom now must evade anyone who knows the real Phillipe, while he goes about slipping into his identity. He needs to bullshit Marge and the police about Phillipe’s whereabouts and intentions all while switching between personas to fit which con he is in at each moment.

    While keeping these balls aloft he is confronted by Phillipe’s party-boy pal Freddie. Freddie makes no attempt to disguise his distrust and contempt for Tom as he listens to his lies. He asks a few too many questions and reveals cracks in Tom’s deception, and we end up with another corpse.

    Both films play this as a deliberate crime of desperation. Tom is cornered and eliminates the threat. Much less room for interpretation here. With this act Tom reveals his cold and calculating relationship with the taking of human life. The disposal of the body is much like a Mafioso after a hit.

    The Talented Mr. Ripley sends us off on a whole other set of trials and tribulations. Not least of which is the character of Meredith who is a most dangerous cat among the pigeons! Tom now has an extra ball in the air; let’s make it two based on the dual personas and the imperative to keep from meeting the wrong people at the wrong time; or maybe not meeting the wrong people at the same time…It’s fucking complicated!

    “But wait, there’s more!”. Marge has a friend named Peter who falls in love with Tom. Peter met Tom as Tom, not Phillip, and Peter is from the same circle as Marge and all the other rich vagabonds. Therefore, he knows Meredith, who knows Tom as Phillipe. Red flag!!! Imprudently the lonely and isolated Tom cannot resist the affections of Peter and dives into the longed-for warmth and tenderness wholehearted. Thus, adding another ball or two to the juggle. I’ve lost count!

    As Phillipe’s father arrives to settle his son’s affairs the two films match up again. Although the 1990 version gives us the added information that Phillipe had a hostile temper and a history of violence. Marge is also adamant that Tom killed Phillipe but cannot prove nor convince anyone of it in the latter film. I assume all the extra characters and scenarios were in the original novel.

    Either way Tom is home free and that would be a dark but fitting conclusion. However, both films have one last card to play, and one hits much harder, and truer, than the other.

    Purple Noon sees Phillipe’s body being discovered at the last moment and Tom brought to justice. It kind of feels like a tacked on “crime doesn’t pay” cliché and just didn’t sit right.

    The Talented Mr. Ripley on the other hand has a much more devastating punishment for Tom. He is on board a cruise to Greece with his beloved Peter and all looks wonderful until he meets Meredith on deck by chance one night. Peter is in the cabin, so Tom still has room to manoeuvre.

    He asks if Meredith is alone and we the audience shudder. She tells him she has too many companions and will never know how close she came to a watery grave. This puts Tom in an excruciating painful predicament. Peter and Meredith can never meet, and Meredith would certainly be missed very quickly.

    The film concludes after Ripley has done the only thing that could keep him safe. Killing the man he loves; the man who adored him. He gets away with his crimes and a shitload of money…but at what cost?

  • WE NEED TO DIG A LITTLE DEEPER: The Clock is Ticking

    “We’re all gunna die!” someone screams in a crowded supermarket. People’s ears prick up and they start attentively scanning their surroundings. “We’re all doomed!” comes the voice again. Some people feel that spike of adrenaline and become hypervigilant, causing them to hit the deck or rush for the exit. A few ignore it or laugh it off. Some warily begin searching for the source.

    What they find is a young man seated on the floor with his knees pulled close to his chest. He is visibly shaking and crying uncontrollably. A quick scan of the area shows no sign of imminent danger. The security guard announces that the police have been called and a middle-aged female staff member kneels to see if the man is hurt.

    When the smoke clears it was a personal crisis, a severe panic attack. Everyone goes on with their lives and has an interesting story to add to their repertoire. The young man attends therapy and is eventually prescribed anti-depressants. With regular counselling and cognitive behavioural therapy, he learns to adjust his thinking and significantly reduce his anxiety.

    The end.

    Have you ever heard someone ask, “am I gunna die?” when they have an inexplicable pain or symptom? And some smart-ass replies “we’re all gunna die”. I’m sure I’ve said it a few times thinking myself rather wise. While the statement is true, it is obvious that was not the question. “I am going to die” and “I am going to die next Thursday at 12:45PM” are two very different assertions which stir up very different reactions.

    Okay, so we have established that our time here is limited and at some point, our bodies simply shut down and rot. We also have zero empirical evidence regarding what happens to our consciousness after that. We have plenty of anecdotal evidence and we of course have many more religious and spiritual concepts, but nothing is certain. That is the basis of faith after all, to believe (or for the truly devout; have complete trust) without evidence.

    If you have been reading this blog for a while I hope you know that this is not the part where I start lecturing on ‘living life to fullest’ or ‘live and love like there’s no tomorrow’. My interest lies with where platitudes like this come from, what they mean in practice and how that affects our behaviour and interactions. Along with religious doctrine and any other theory prescribing the ‘right’ way to spend our finite existence in this mortal realm.

    “Don’t waste your fucking life!”

    “What am I supposed to do with this life?”

    Sooner or later we all face these existential wake up calls. Many choose to ignore them or just go along with whatever is the latest version of “living your best life!” I would place those on a spectrum between the steady family life and party hard!!! Be a good citizen, get married and raise the next generation. Alternatively, you may choose to numb yourself with booze, drugs and casual sex. Ife is too short! Enjoy yourself before it’s too late. I suppose the happy medium would be, party hearty in your youth and settle down later. I believe that 25 would have been considered the ‘correct’ cut off point, but man, time really does fly when your having fun. Or perhaps, you lose track of time when you are munted on a regular basis. Something like that.

    Maybe you need to travel further along the spectrum to an extreme like some form of religious or political zealotry: use your time trying to change the world, save people’s souls or perhaps become a celibate, vegan living in a cave. It’s good to be passionate right?

    Money, career, power. You can really make a difference. You will have visible success, and people will have to respect you! Influence and the ability to create real change. Or perhaps you just want to flaunt your wealth and revel in the envy of others. High class decadence, that’s the way to go! You only live once, so make sure you do it first class all the way; experience all the luxury and pleasure life has to offer.

    Hang on a minute! What about the delights of nature? Rainforests, waterfalls, beaches and all that shit. The best things in life are free you know. I’ll become an intrepid backpacker travelling on tight budget. See the world; meet different people, eat exotic food, trip out on peyote.

    Wait a sec! Hallucinogenics! Yeah! Open the third eye man. See new dimensions and shit. Maybe go a different route through meditation or yoga or follow some charismatic guru. One with the world. One with nature…surfing! Those guys are fucking cool man.

    Why not scuba diving, hang gliding? That stuff looks awesome! Fuck it, skydiving, mountain climbing, bungee jumping! You have to push yourself; face your fears. I’m gunna train for an MMA fight! I’ll work as a bouncer just to test myself.

    All that is selfish man. I wanna help: Doctor, nurse, paramedic. I’ll start my own charity; go build wells in impoverished villages. I’ll rob banks and give the money away. Bingo! Fuck society and its fucken rules. I’m gunna be an outlaw – freedom or death!

    Okay I’ll stop now. Thank you for taking whatever that was with me. The point I’m trying to make is that “a good life” or however you wish to label it is, like beauty, in the eye of the beholder. Or maybe consider this: are you proclaiming that your chosen path is the ‘right’ one because it feels right to you? Because it is what you excel at? Or maybe even because you put so much time and effort into it, the idea of it being a mistake is unthinkable?

    Have you followed the herd unquestioningly and are only now realising that you should/could have done something else? Did you forge your own path and wind up lost? Maybe you split and joined up with a new and exciting bunch of rebels who led you off a cliff. Was this wrong? Who gets to say?

    Are you doing stuff because you want to? Because you think you should? Or are you just going through the motions? What is the difference between being aimless and going with the flow? Other than the connotation?

    Are you doing it because it brings you joy or satisfaction? Or are you doing it because your gratification derives from the admiration or envy of others? Do you even know?

    Yes, we are all going to die and we can never be sure when that moment may come. Yes, you will often look back with pride or regret. You may well be laying on your deathbed one day wondering if you fucked it all up. Or maybe you’ll have a revelation that only comes at the point of death. Shit, I hope it’s a good one!

    Here’s a slight curveball to consider: all that talk about your life flashing before your eyes and deathbed flashbacks…You may drop stone dead and never have the slightest inkling of it. Is that bad?

  • THE STORY SO FAR: Rise of the Tycoons #18

    If my amateur calculations are correct, the Zhou Dynasty in ancient China was entering its twilight years when Alexander the Great was conquering the world; a world in which China did not exist apparently. The Qin Dynasty would rise and fall; and be replaced by the Han Dynasty, all while Ancient Greece was the centre of the (western) world. Although, Ancient Persia was staking a major claim and closing in fast!

    On the other side of the world, the Mayan civilisation was well on the rise. I’m not sure how big the Egyptian empire was around this time, but it was certainly well established. In my limited knowledge, it seems the rest of Africa didn’t really kick into full-on empire mode until a bit later.

    The Aksumite Empire kicked off in Ethiopia around the time Rome was rising from the Ancient Greek ashes. All the while I believe The Han were still lording it over China and the Mayan Empire was getting into full swing. This whole expansion racket was a global craze!

    Northern native American tribes managed to keep their distance from the Mayans. Countless tribes of ‘savages’ and nomads wandered Africa, Europe and Asia managing to avoid absorption into the latest empire or empire wannabe on the hunt for new blood: 2nd class citizens or slaves, not a great choice.

    Britain and the Celtic lands were populated by primitive tribes until the Romans waltzed on in with their feckin’ civilisation. Other nations similarly separated by water from the mainland enjoyed a little bit of breathing space before the civilised hordes arrived. Places like the Philippines and Japan had a natural barrier for a while before they were ‘discovered’.

    The indigenous Australians seemed to have it made! All the way down there with oceans between themselves and the ever-swelling populations of the ‘advanced’ peoples. Naval technology would inevitably put an end to that blissful isolation as it would with almost all the pacific islands and New Zealand.

    Strangely enough it was this same technology which would eventually nearly wipeout the native American population. They managed to avoid getting co-opted by the Mayans, Incas and Aztecs only to be invaded by European aliens with newfangled weapons and technology (not to mention diseases). French and British forces would scramble to ‘claim’ this ‘free’ land and use a combination of treachery, violence and sheer weight of numbers to wipeout or displace the locals.

    The native tribes and even the empires to the south didn’t fare much better unfortunately. The Spanish and Portuguese were not going to miss out on this land grab, and it seemed there was plenty to go around. Except of course for those pesky locals. The awesome architecture, agriculture, arts and crafts and all-around organised culture of some areas made it difficult to label this land uninhabited by ‘civilised’ peoples. Unfortunately, the South American empires were way behind in the arms race and conquest was considered a ‘legal’ option.

    So now the swelling populous of Europe could spread themselves out and have a fresh start in a new unspoiled land. Problem being of course, that ‘civilisation’, once it is finished the murder and mayhem of colonisation, breeds population growth and sooner or later, we’re running out of room again. More on colonisation a little later.

    I’ll try and draw all these musings together for a moment:

    • Humans are a social animal; we were always going to band together.
    • Equilibrium with nature can only be sustained by keeping numbers low; lots of tribes is superior to empires in terms of ecology.
    • That’s not true! Things were fine with villages, towns and even kingdoms. Not even the early empires threatened the planet in any major way.
    • This is correct, however once the trajectory of expansion had begun it was going to continue relentlessly until it became a major problem.
    • Just like today’s insatiable corporate appetite, it is more than just greed. You either grow or die. You must gobble up the competition and stay strong enough to stop being gobbled up yourself.
    • Once the pin has been pulled in the game of power, it can’t be put back in the proverbial grenade; not unless all sides agree to ‘enough is enough’ and have confidence that no one will take advantage of the deal. What are the chances? Nuclear arms race anyone? Who wants to be first to leave themselves defenceless?
    • Even if that miraculous agreement were achieved and followed, what happens then? How do you prevent population growth without draconian laws.
    • So:
      • Humans are not consciously trying to destroy their environment.
      • They do however have an inherent aversion to scarcity.
      • A way is found to provide more sustenance and more people are bred.
      • When the numbers grow bigger than a large tribe, kinship begins to deteriorate.
      • The temptation becomes too much for some, and they want more than their fair share.
      • Populations swell and the greedy manoeuvre their way to the control of the coffers.
      • Eventually the theft and raiding turns to outright conquest and the need to populate and arm up becomes essential.
      • This race continues to this day and no one country, corporation or institution is powerful or confident enough to stop it.

    “I’d like to share a revelation that I’ve had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you’re not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area, and you multiply, and multiply, until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet, you are a plague, and we are the cure.”                              

    Agent Smith “The Matrix (1999)

    Holy shit! That’s terrible! I’m gunna go have a beer now.

    Please explain how I am wrong or throw out potentially viable options in the comments. Cheers.