This and That
Capracus said:
But this case wasn’t about some typical American male not getting some snatch, it was about some atypical, likely psychologically compromised individual who felt disrespected by a woman and her boyfriend, and shot six people in an apparent irrational fit of rage.
What makes this atypical is its magnitude,
i.e., access to a firearm.
That bitch-slaps generally don't kill doesn't make them right or even morally and functionally neutral.
So your belief that such behavior is typical of men in that grieving community is suppose to give them comfort?
Just how would that work?
Slave holders could argue that losing control of their slaves would compromise their social and physical well being, just as women who desire to control the fate of late term fetuses do.
No, they couldn't.
Both may enter into their respective enterprises with an expectation of control over their property until society redefines the nature of that property.
The slave does not exist inside the master's body.
See, your perpetual disregard for
the woman's body is a defining aspect of your bigotry.
When someone like yourself fails to acknowledge the qualitative physiologic likeness between late natal and postnatal development, and bases survival worth on a state of proximity, how do you address such nonsense? I say such absurdity deserves to be countered with more of the same.
Turducken.
Like I said, none were personally accepted, and additionally, many not rationally perceived.
There were no rational arguments offered. Period.
I mean, you can keep trying to play make-believe, but you can't actually make any evidentiary case.
• • •
The Marquis said:
A meme is simply laziness - aptly suited, perhaps, to this environment, but loathsome nonetheless.
Well, so is arguing that other people need to look at you like a movie character. But I admit, I generally skip Joel Schumacher films; it's hard to explain how bad of a director he is. That is to say, I adore
The Lost Boys, but that's a purely sentimental thing; it's actually a
terrible film. Which, in turn, is better than I can say of
Flatliners,
Dying Young, or
Batman Forever. Those were just plain terrible films. I don't think I've enjoyed a film he's made since
Cousins, and that's a film I only ever watched once.
(
Lost Boys? Well, it's like Hughes'
Weird Science or de Bont's
Twister to me, a class of bad films I could watch forever.)
You, on the other hand, don't have the same motive. Those little confessions, they're an example of your pain, aren't they. Your understanding. Your compassion. The weight of the world, upon your shoulders. All of this, around you... the suffering. the pain. The pain. Oh, God, the pain.
What is striking about this construction is your vice.
Do you actually have any idea how easy it is for
anyone to simply walk on by? Sometimes we do need to walk with our feet on the ground.
It's true, the last couple horriffic screams I've heard in the neighborhood were just drunk passengers hollering out the window, and the weather has fewer people walking. The reverberations have quieted considerably, and yet I still have no answers. It strikes a little closer to home than certain abstract recognitions of just how common rape and intimate abuse are. It does little good to puff one's chest at the club; statistically speaking, a rape happening there while I'm there is an exceptionally rare expectation. The rapes happen later, in other places, after we've all gone home. There's not much to be done, so eventually the horror recedes.
But no, it's not actually about me. That godawful tale is about how easy it is to walk away.
Perhaps you think it's about my humanity and suffering because that sort of selfishness, for whatever reason, holds priority in your assessment criteria.
You claim to be empathic. But you're ready and willing to use a post, twist it into an unrecognisable mess to pursue your own agenda. To further your own ideals. What exactly is it that makes you any different to those currently engaged in furthering their own ideals on the border of Turkey? They believe as much as you do.
And you want to discuss the complexities of rapists?
Very well; this can only be disastrous.
Tell us, then, about the complexities of the rapist. Have at it. The stage is yours.
My emotions, Tiassa, aren't for sale to any Japanese businessman who can put a couple of bucks into a vending machine for a schoolgirl's used panties.
You're welcome to interpret that as a lack of empathy. I, however, do not.
This seems rather quite ... well, it's not exactly
non sequitur, because you were off the rails well before this. But at this point you seem to be simply ranting.
Or you can sit back and ignore, pretend you're above all that. Show me your ... empathy.
There are days that I wonder if part of the problem is that both of us remember a time when we were allowed to absolutely throw down and have it out. Like a poetry pissing pageant or something. Good times, good times.
But not every argument and emotion are
mere performance art. Life may be performance art but it's not all we do, just like breathing isn't all we do. One without breath is one without life; one without performance art is one without will.
One question in pretty much
any art is
why it exists.
Some art exists merely for aesthetics; this is especially popular in our contemporary age. Mass production makes that possible. But even abstract art communicates a purpose, and as you're well aware what the viewer perceives is, ultimately, the important experience in art regardless of what the artist intends. Psychoanalyzing the critique can be insightful, but not every critique, nor every psychoanalysis thereof, is necessarily accurate insofar as with art that sort of inquiry falls somewhere between less than behavioral research analysis and only marginally more than reading tea leaves or calculating astrological outcomes.
In this case, whatever it is you're trying to communicate is entirely your own. Think of some of the popular paintings in the 1980 and '90s. Nagel's famous serigraphs (
e.g.,
"Rio") did, indeed, include in their purpose some commentary about the dimensional limitations of how modern society viewed women at the time. Many of the original photographs were
Playboy images. Ty Wilson, on the other hand, pushed a series of simple
romantic paintings, largely aesthetic and intended to invoke nostalgia or other warm, comfortable, even intimate feelings. Meanwhile,
Steve Hanks has a longstanding focus on the beauty and intimacy of the female form, and in truth at some point it started to seem nearly obsessive. But that last is also
my perspective; I can't say what anyone else sees in that catalog. One can certainly objectively establish the technical quality of his paintings; beyond that, everything else is to the beholder.
But remember that what the eye of the beholder sees is defined solely by the beholder.
To use an example from the past:
What if someone actually comes out and says they are arguing what an objectionable view of a general issue because they don't like a particular person participating in the discussion? I mean, it's one thing to test theses for their logical outcomes, but to test roadkill just because one is annoyed at another? That sort of context really does color what that person has to say.
For our purposes here, 'twixt you and me, it ought to be sufficient to say that there really is a larger issue here than what we think of each other.
So for now, as you've asked so kindly, certes, the spotlight is all yours.
Explain to us, please, the complexities of the rapist that we are so cruelly ignoring because of our incapacity for understanding and tolerance of rape and rapists.
You're on.
It's
showtime.