And Mexican?
And smelly? (Little bit.)
Pushover. Where are the forum bleeding hearts when you need them, damnit.
On the Heroic: What is a hero?
- Thread starter invert_nexus
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And Mexican?
And smelly? (Little bit.)
Pushover. Where are the forum bleeding hearts when you need them, damnit.
Made of marble.
there are no heros. just heroic deeds.
I find your synthesis that Mexican-Americans are more flammable than other-Americans highly offensive. However, I am not trained by our common education system to be judgemental in any way. Instead, I will harrumph and look out the window, frowning vaguely.
Hiding in the corner. That's what we pushovers do. We don't get pushed over as much, you see. Comfortable chelonian conditioning.
Deeds are performed by, whom?
Clark Kent was way more heroic.
hope you aren't talking to me. cuz i said there are no heroes, just heroic deeds.
cuz every deed is judged no matter what happened before on its on heroic merits.
fuck up once and you stop being a hero.
Bruce Wayne...Now he was a hero.
That's just it- why the acknowldgement?
Perfectly able men and women the world over slave through the day to put food on the table, each and every one of them a simple choice away from
surrendering.
The exhuastion involved in survival is marginalized when the person is capable of fullfilling his duty, yet praised- in your case acknowldged- when the person is incapable of wiping his own asshole.
Why respect one man for achieving the same goals required of both?
CHRIST, I can't type for shit.
Notes on the absurd
And a star is a star because of its properties and behavior, not because we humans observe it.
Notes:
See Also:
Invert Nexus said:
And a star is a star because of its properties and behavior, not because we humans observe it.
• • •
All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning. Great works are often born on a streetcorner or in a restaurant's revolving door. So it is with absurdity. The absurd world more than othres derives its nobility from that abject birth. In certain situations, replying "nothing" when asked what one is thinking about may be pretense in a man. Those who are loved are well aware of this. But if that reply is sincere, if it symbolizes that odd state of soul in which the void becomes eloquent, in which the chain of daily gestures is broken, in which the heart vainly seeks the link that will connect it again, then it is as it were the first sign of absurdity.
It happens that hte stage sets collapse. Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm--this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the "why" arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement. "Begins"--this is important. Weariness comes at the end of the acts of a mechanical life, but at the same time it inaugurates the impules of consciousness. It awakens consciousness and provokes what follows. What follows is the gradual return into the chain or it is the definitive awakening. At the end of the awakening comes, in time, the consequence: suicide or recovery. In itself weariness has something sickening about it. Here, I must conclude that it is good. For everything begins with consciousness and nothing is worth anything except through it. There is nothing original about these remarks. But they are obvious; that is enough for a while, during a sketchy reconnaissance in the origins of the absurd. Mere "anxiety", as Heidegger says, is at the source of everything.
Likewise and during every day of an unillustrious life, time carries us. But a moment always comes when we have to carry it. We live on the future: "tomorrow", "later on", "when you have made your way", "you will understand when you are old enough". Such irrelevancies are wonderful, for, after all, it's a matter of dying. Yet a day comes when a man notices or says that he is thirty. Thus he asserts his youth. But simultaneously he situates himself in relation to time. He takes his place in it. He admits that he stands at a certain point on a curve that he acknowledges having to travel to its end. He belongs to time, and by the horror that seizes him, he recognizes his own worst enemy. Tomorrow, he was longing for tomorrow, wheras everything in him ought to reject it. That revolt of the flesh is the absurd.°
____________________
° But not in the proper sense. This is not a definition, but rather an enumeration of the feelings that may admit of the absurd. Still, the enumeration finished, the absurd has nevertheless not been exhausted.
(Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus)
____________________It happens that hte stage sets collapse. Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm--this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the "why" arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement. "Begins"--this is important. Weariness comes at the end of the acts of a mechanical life, but at the same time it inaugurates the impules of consciousness. It awakens consciousness and provokes what follows. What follows is the gradual return into the chain or it is the definitive awakening. At the end of the awakening comes, in time, the consequence: suicide or recovery. In itself weariness has something sickening about it. Here, I must conclude that it is good. For everything begins with consciousness and nothing is worth anything except through it. There is nothing original about these remarks. But they are obvious; that is enough for a while, during a sketchy reconnaissance in the origins of the absurd. Mere "anxiety", as Heidegger says, is at the source of everything.
Likewise and during every day of an unillustrious life, time carries us. But a moment always comes when we have to carry it. We live on the future: "tomorrow", "later on", "when you have made your way", "you will understand when you are old enough". Such irrelevancies are wonderful, for, after all, it's a matter of dying. Yet a day comes when a man notices or says that he is thirty. Thus he asserts his youth. But simultaneously he situates himself in relation to time. He takes his place in it. He admits that he stands at a certain point on a curve that he acknowledges having to travel to its end. He belongs to time, and by the horror that seizes him, he recognizes his own worst enemy. Tomorrow, he was longing for tomorrow, wheras everything in him ought to reject it. That revolt of the flesh is the absurd.°
____________________
° But not in the proper sense. This is not a definition, but rather an enumeration of the feelings that may admit of the absurd. Still, the enumeration finished, the absurd has nevertheless not been exhausted.
(Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus)
Notes:
Camus, Albert. The Myth of Sisyphus & Other Essays. Trans. Justin O'Brien. New York: Vintage, 1955. (pp. 10-11)
See Also:
Excerpt: The Myth of Sisyphus. See http://bdhilling.wordpress.com/2007/08/10/the-canon-camus-myth-of-sisyphus/
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so, how doesn't being handicapped make a person heroic? He may be a burn victim because his meth lab exploded.
Tessie:
That was not me you are quoting, illetirato.
I wouldn't misspell Sysyphus.
Because, my little Babushka, a handicap is that greasy patina of artificial gold we humans spray on mediocrity.
And you're exactly right- what's harder than knowing the second you finally walk in the door, half frozen and starved, that in 10 or so hours you have no choice but to repeat it?
Yet we go on living out endless cycles of mindnumbing labor and for what? To meet the same, cold obejctives imposed on a man who's lost both his legs: Survive.
Yet he's the one with the 2 minute soundbyte on Connie Chung or Geraldo, the same man you have to move aside for at a concert when they roll him through on a wheelchair towards the front.
That was not me you are quoting, illetirato.
I wouldn't misspell Sysyphus.
Because, my little Babushka, a handicap is that greasy patina of artificial gold we humans spray on mediocrity.
And you're exactly right- what's harder than knowing the second you finally walk in the door, half frozen and starved, that in 10 or so hours you have no choice but to repeat it?
Yet we go on living out endless cycles of mindnumbing labor and for what? To meet the same, cold obejctives imposed on a man who's lost both his legs: Survive.
Yet he's the one with the 2 minute soundbyte on Connie Chung or Geraldo, the same man you have to move aside for at a concert when they roll him through on a wheelchair towards the front.
God, you all suck.
Way to break free of your stereotypes. You knew I was trying to trap you, didn't you?
Ok.
So, let's stop and reconnoiter a moment, shall we?
First. Let's have the definition of hero. That seems a good place to begin.
Now.
Let's go back to the prime specimen of which we are speaking.
We are speaking of a man (or woman or child or what ever) who is handicapped in some way. Who is perfectly within his/her rights to sit back and live without effort. To be cared for as an invalid. To be a parasite on the face of humanity.
There are a good number of people out there who do just this. And many of them are not even really handicapped. They claim that they are handicapped because they're overweight or some such hogwash. They are feeding off the system because they're too weak and/or lazy to care for themselves.
Here we have an individual who's life is utter trial. From sunup to sundown he struggles with practically every action he must take.
Yes. We do have to eke out our existence. And we do it in order to survive.
Yet, the cripple does not do it to survive. He's quite capable of surviving without exerting the slightest effort on his own behalf due to the various government and societal organizations which exist to care for him. These organizations are even utilized by the healthy who wish to parasitize rather than struggle each day like the rest of us. Some (cough cough coolskill cough cough) deem this parasitism a form of heroism. Sticking it to the man or whatnot. (Another topic altogether of course)
The poing being that the cripple does not perform these actions to survive. He does them for higher reasons. For pride. For self respect. And, in some cases, in order to be an example to others who are similarly afflicted. Who are faced with the choice of festering in their own invalidity or to rise up and strive to make a place in the world just like the rest of us.
They do it by choice.
Their's the difference.
Now.
Let's see which definitions of hero have been satisfied so far:
I think that definition 1 is satisfied as the cripple performs these actions for noble reasons.
I think that definition 2 is satisfied as he is an example to others in how to live their lives nobly.
And, perhaps we could say that definition 5 is satisfied as long as the cripple works at Subway.
Uhmm.....
Tiassa,
Exactly. The original question was whether you would consider the man a hero. His own opinion is not under question.
Whitewolf,
Irrelevant. Let's assume that his job is practically pointless. A mere paper pusher.
Of course.
And, yet, I have little choice in the matter. I wouldn't say no choice as there are some few options available to me, but they all entail a lifestyle which is beneath that which I aspire to. I've eaten garbage in the past, I don't care to do so again.
They also killed a lot of people and dragons and whatnot.
Tab,
I think it would be doggedness in a fit man. In a handicapped one it would be a striving to be more than the bounds which one is placed in within society. Society has tried to peg down this cripple as an invalid and he rises above his label to be something more. To show that he can be more. That he must be more.
And, what's more, he doesn't want to be seen as a hero (perhaps). He just wants to live his life in freedom. Like everyone else.
A hero?
Why not?
Way to break free of your stereotypes. You knew I was trying to trap you, didn't you?
Ok.
So, let's stop and reconnoiter a moment, shall we?
First. Let's have the definition of hero. That seems a good place to begin.
he·ro (heer-oh)
–noun, plural -roes; for 5 also -ros.
1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.
2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child.
3. the principal male character in a story, play, film, etc.
4. Classical Mythology.
a. a being of godlike prowess and beneficence who often came to be honored as a divinity.
b. (in the Homeric period) a warrior-chieftain of special strength, courage, or ability.
c. (in later antiquity) an immortal being; demigod.
5. hero sandwich.
6. the bread or roll used in making a hero sandwich.
[Origin: 1605–15; back formation from ME heroes (pl.) < L hérōs (sing.), hérōes (pl.) < Gk hrōs, hrōes]
–noun, plural -roes; for 5 also -ros.
1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.
2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child.
3. the principal male character in a story, play, film, etc.
4. Classical Mythology.
a. a being of godlike prowess and beneficence who often came to be honored as a divinity.
b. (in the Homeric period) a warrior-chieftain of special strength, courage, or ability.
c. (in later antiquity) an immortal being; demigod.
5. hero sandwich.
6. the bread or roll used in making a hero sandwich.
[Origin: 1605–15; back formation from ME heroes (pl.) < L hérōs (sing.), hérōes (pl.) < Gk hrōs, hrōes]
Now.
Let's go back to the prime specimen of which we are speaking.
We are speaking of a man (or woman or child or what ever) who is handicapped in some way. Who is perfectly within his/her rights to sit back and live without effort. To be cared for as an invalid. To be a parasite on the face of humanity.
There are a good number of people out there who do just this. And many of them are not even really handicapped. They claim that they are handicapped because they're overweight or some such hogwash. They are feeding off the system because they're too weak and/or lazy to care for themselves.
Here we have an individual who's life is utter trial. From sunup to sundown he struggles with practically every action he must take.
Yes. We do have to eke out our existence. And we do it in order to survive.
Yet, the cripple does not do it to survive. He's quite capable of surviving without exerting the slightest effort on his own behalf due to the various government and societal organizations which exist to care for him. These organizations are even utilized by the healthy who wish to parasitize rather than struggle each day like the rest of us. Some (cough cough coolskill cough cough) deem this parasitism a form of heroism. Sticking it to the man or whatnot. (Another topic altogether of course)
The poing being that the cripple does not perform these actions to survive. He does them for higher reasons. For pride. For self respect. And, in some cases, in order to be an example to others who are similarly afflicted. Who are faced with the choice of festering in their own invalidity or to rise up and strive to make a place in the world just like the rest of us.
They do it by choice.
Their's the difference.
Now.
Let's see which definitions of hero have been satisfied so far:
I think that definition 1 is satisfied as the cripple performs these actions for noble reasons.
I think that definition 2 is satisfied as he is an example to others in how to live their lives nobly.
And, perhaps we could say that definition 5 is satisfied as long as the cripple works at Subway.
Uhmm.....
Tiassa,
Exactly. The original question was whether you would consider the man a hero. His own opinion is not under question.
Whitewolf,
Irrelevant. Let's assume that his job is practically pointless. A mere paper pusher.
Of course.
And, yet, I have little choice in the matter. I wouldn't say no choice as there are some few options available to me, but they all entail a lifestyle which is beneath that which I aspire to. I've eaten garbage in the past, I don't care to do so again.
They also killed a lot of people and dragons and whatnot.
Tab,
I think it would be doggedness in a fit man. In a handicapped one it would be a striving to be more than the bounds which one is placed in within society. Society has tried to peg down this cripple as an invalid and he rises above his label to be something more. To show that he can be more. That he must be more.
And, what's more, he doesn't want to be seen as a hero (perhaps). He just wants to live his life in freedom. Like everyone else.
A hero?
Why not?