iGrieve

I wrote this last week, but didn't get around to posting until today.



I never knew Steve. Not personally. Yet I grew up on Apple. My dad's black and white Macintosh SE in our basement was my first exposure to a computer, something I use every single day. A mac, of course.

Steve has inspired me since I was old enough to be inspired by things. In the same room that the Apple II was connected to the old printer with those things on each side of the paper that you had to tear off, there was a poster on the wall – the only "decoration" in the entire room. It said "Think Different" on it. Those two words have stuck with me and sustained me throughout high school, college and graduate school. I remember my parents encouraging me to "Think Different" all my life. I've been tempted to drop out like Steve many times – to pursue my own ideas wholeheartedly. I only didn't because in addition to imparting the value of thinking different, the other main value my parents ingrained in me was education. Yet even in the academy, I am the "that guy". You know who he is. He's Steve.

It's kind of crazy to think about it – how despite never having met Steve or even being personally connected to him, I am who I am today because he dared to challenge the status quo. He dared not to sell a product, but an ideal – truly the only thing worth buying [into] these days. He has been a living beacon of hope for an entire generation of Americans. Now he joins the greats like Edison and Franklin in the history books – to be learned about in school by future generation of Americans.

And I don't know why, despite never having met him, that I have tears in my eyes as I write this. I can't say I'll miss him. I never knew him. Yet I've always looked up to him. Now, I suppose, I literally will continue looking up to him.

It's premature at this point to speculate what he will be remembered for the most. He changed the world with numerous innovations in Apple and Pixar, and set an example for CEOs everywhere by refusing a "normal" salary. But I think his greatest contribution to humanity has been simply himself. He is a brand in and of himself. He has inspired an entire generation of Steve Jobses, and who knows what impact he'll have on future ones?

I'm proud to be a Steve Jobs. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably think I was someone else.

So here's to the crazy ones, the misfits... the famous commercial that solidified the Apple brand as being tantamount to brilliance. It's time Apple released it with his picture in it as well.

Thanks for everything,

An Informed Idea ≠ An Idea about Information

Thirty years ago, British rock band Iron Maiden declared their refusal to be reduced to information – to be rendered into a number and stripped of their identity. In the present day, thinker Neal Gabler has assiduously diagnosed the most prevalent symptom of the information age as just that – obsession with attaining information irrespective of its importance or practical value. Informationists is the term he uses to refer to such novel brand of consumers – at least novel so far as it has become pandemic phenomenon.

We – those of us who subscribe to and engage in social media exchange – are all informationists. We cannot escape it, unless we refuse reality. We cannot escape that which yokes us constantly... the need for information – like insatiable, obsessed fiends – we devour voraciously and leave trace amounts of it as a byproduct in our boastings of cultural – or rather, informational capital. Cliché though this example is, we share in 140 characters or less – insufficient to present an argument or back up claims – but only helpful in directing attention toward deeper sources of information. We participate by funneling traffic to a third party site, that others might be exposed to something we found compelling enough to broadcast. But who actually takes the time to digest and ruminate over the swallowed information before thoughtlessly and robotically regurgitating it out for hungry chicks or worse – forgetting about it since most of it is, by relative definition, useless?

If we are living in a post-idea world, as Gabler states, then what actually could be left to generate innovation? Saying that is tantamount to saying we live in a post-life existence. And maybe we do. The truth is, innovation has for the most part evolved to take a different form. Rather than novel, revolutionizing concepts and technology, innovation has largely been delimited to software development for extant hardware, or the equivalent of such a metaphor for other spheres. It seems the exponential growth of our techno-culture is fast reaching the asymptote of complacent status quo – or at least slowing down.

In the movie Wall-E, the narrative illustrates how self-contained narcissism can thrive through a system designed to cater to the personalized needs of everyone. For a long time, narratives have been wonderful mediums for allegorical cultural commentary. Sometimes, however, the allegory is too real and resonates startlingly close to home. This is one of those times. This is the direction we're heading, replete with developed software for facial recognition while one is shopping so as to customize the experience and maximize purchases. Food delivery already makes it possible for someone to never actually have to leave home.

Resistance is futile. The Borg made this assertion abundantly clear in the early 90s. There can be no retrogressing with technology like we can with religious ideologies. It's far too profitable anyway for the government or anyone in a position of power to seriously consider something so outrageous as banning it. So what is left to be done; or is this really just a high brow critique of the promulgation of low brow culture?

I know it's passé, but here's a idea: post considerately – both for content and for the time of your derivative consumers. If you can't beat them, join them. The old adage still applies. But that doesn't mean join the rampant whoring of information; it means if you choose to partake, at least do so sensibly in a manner that transcends self-awareness but actually brushes up against a virtual awareness of others. In an age when we socialize from the isolation of our home computers, it's still important to deny solipsism from taking hold and acknowledge at least the fabled presence of other Users.

A Religious Political Rally in Texas, or Another Sunny Day in Hell

I came to The Response – Texas governor Rick Perry’s “call to prayer for a nation in crisis” – because my mentor told me it would help situate my thesis on the shifting soteriological beliefs of Evangelicals. But after attending and asking plenty of questions, I don’t even know what to think. As a Jew in Bible Country, I was in way over my keppie.

As I made my way through the throng of believers (Americans) at Reliant Stadium in Houston, Texas (New Jerusalem?) Saturday, I stopped in my tracks as I heard the unmistakable trumpeting of a shofar, a ram’s horn traditionally blown during Jewish High Holy Days and in Biblical times to signify the start of a war or procession. Tikee-ah! No, it wasn’t Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. We’re still about a month away. What was going on? Sharu’ah! I zoned out as I droned through the human thicket, hoping that my time in graduate school had granted me enough Biblical literacy to figure out what was happening. Nothing. I turned to my Catholic friend, a professor of religion, who exclaimed, “Duh, this is from the Book of Joel. They think they’re ushering in the end of the world!”

“Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all who live in the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming” (Joel 2:1). Oh I get it: Zion has become America, and Texas is the mythic city upon a hill upon which heaven will meet earth? –Maybe through a subjective, self-righteous hermeneutic. I wonder if the rest of the world’s Christians believe that? But for all of Christendom’s historical and especially modern proclivity for eschewing the Hebrew scriptures in sermons, preachers tend to only evoke them when it serves their purpose such as mentioning homosexuality, abortion, or prophetic material regarding end times. There is also the assumption that the New Testament provides Christians with an “authoritative interpretation of the Old” after the premise that the Old came to fulfillment with Jesus Christ, thereby removing the need to cover superseded material. Some say divine allegory, I say selectively convenient eisegesis.

I make my way through a lax security and through the entrance. The numerous signs for “prayer teams” and the color-coordinated bowling shirts declaring congregational allegiance often with not so witty witticisms on the back made the whole event seem like more of a try out for the spiritually elect than a unifying prayer for America.

I arrive in the stadium proper a little late. A resounding hallelujah is heard from the upper deck as I pass the Maui Wowi shaved ice concession stand. My prior experiences with paying for parking, cheering and concessions tell me I should be in for a good show.

As I advance further into the arena, evocative Christian music sounds forth. Take me out to the ball—game. Take– me out to the park! I can’t tell which teams are playing, as all the festive shirts seem to evoke the same one: Team Jesus. Even with the different colors and slogans it’s not hard to recognize the affinity. Maybe it’s an outward display of which church can bring the most supporters and thus demonstrate their devotion? Maybe it’s just easier to keep track of one’s kin? A man walks by with a brown shirt that says infidel on the front and has an American flag on the back.

Thousands of fans have come for their spiritual entertainment.

Another shirt proclaims: “my God is bigger than your God.” It seems out of place, even there, in an event of, by and for Christians. Perhaps he’s lost in a sea of moral relativism.

There are people selling themed shirts on the outskirts. Food or drink cannot be brought in but can only be purchased from approved venders. How to feed the 5,000? Didn’t Jesus overturn the tables and throw out everyone who was selling and buying in the temple? I struggle to understand how Jesus’ lessons have materialized in such an aberrational form: Would he want this? How would he react to such a fray assembled in his name? The Bible doesn’t ever mention him gathering his followers to pray for Judea (or Rome?) or any other land.

Hands are outstretched to receive the spirit. Some people lie prone in their reverence. Others sway like Hassidic Jews at the Western Wall. Every single person there seems to be completely oblivious of anyone else present. Collectively, they are left to their own self-expression. I couldn’t help but wonder if the displays were genuine or put on for others to exhibit one’s faith – one’s religious capital. For whom is it real? Does it even matter? I spot one man sporting a Jewish talit, the prayer shawl worn and earned by becoming b’nai mitzvot. Why in the world would a Christian choose to wear a Jewish prayer shawl? For the first time since setting foot in the palaestra, I’m surprised to find myself offended. The yarmulkes… fine. There is precedent for Christian head-covering, but usually only among Catholics and Orthodox… and clergy at that. But a talis? I can’t fathom where the guy got the idea. Must everything sacred be co-opted? Was the covenant not enough? I have no words.

A woman pantomimes a ballet-yoga – scooping and parting her arms. Other women begin to join her on the floor – dancing and waving around. Two of them, seemingly unaware of each other, gradually lock hands and begin twirling each other before transitioning into a high school slow dance. The background song assures the audience that “he loves us.” An inward and outward display of religiosity: a demonstration to others and proof to oneself that Jesus is with them. In another setting, perhaps in another life (or maybe just outside of church), this same archetype of women are those rolling on ecstasy, dancing rhythmically. All that were missing were glowsticks. As a fellow scholar next to me glibly remarked, “The hippiness is like Woodstock, only not… and with presumably less rape.”

Rick Perry takes the stage. He tells the phalanx of warriors for christ what they need to hear to affirm his identity as one of them and his role as their leader: “The only thing you love more [than this country] is the living Christ.” We all should pray for “the American Dream and pursuit of finances” to get closer to our “first love.” Jesus through America. America through Jesus. We are a nation of Christians. We are a Christian nation. What about everyone who isn’t? What about those without an ascribed role (not saved?) in this encompassing Us versus an implied conquered or impotent Nobody typology? What about me? I’m sure there would be a place for me too if I would but convert. After all, they didn’t check my cross at the door.

As other speakers took the stage, the circular message was clear: The Church must model the way for a united nation. “God can use the church to fix America.” The church must be delivered in order for America to be delivered. It doesn’t take a political pundit to recognize the America = Church rhetoric. What better way to pander for votes than to equate religiosity with patriotism? In America’s hyper-religious society, there isn’t. There is no sincerity in politics – only the leveraging of power and influence.

For all the controversy that The Response has drawn, I don’t find fault with a political leader organizing a prayer meeting as an expression of his faith. Questionable, yes, but he was well within the confines of the first amendment. However, I do find problematic the implicit message given Perry’s presidential ambition that if we vote to elect Perry, he will work as an agent toward American revivalism by following his religiously motivated agenda. A nation of Christians. A Christian nation. If what I witnessed on Saturday is any indication of the kind of America Perry would like to actualize, then the oppressive humidity of Houston forebodes many more sunny days in Hell unless we as Americans actively work for otherwise. Prayer is great, but without works, it’s insufficient in effecting change.

When the American Dream is Displaced out of America

What makes America 'America'? Is it the melting pot? Is it the skyscrapers and pretty lights? Is it democracy? From the very beginning, when American began to carve out its own identity amid the vestiges of Native American civilization and across the world stage, American identify has been personified in the American Dream. This idea – a vague promise, an unbacked standard, a looming possibility – this alone makes America the country that it is. So what happens when that chief signifier no longer applies? We become as Old World as the nation that birthed us.

If you're American, you have a stance on illegal immigrants in our country. Maybe it's tighten our borders to not let as many in. Maybe it's deport all those we find. Maybe it's actually sympathetic because hey – they're doing jobs that other Americans wouldn't do and contributed $11 billion in taxes last year while tending not to pursuing tax paid benefits out of fear of being discovered. It doesn't really matter so much what your view is. What matters is that many illegal immigrants are returning to Mexico because they can better find the American Dream there – sueño mexicano, if my high school Spanish is still good.

America's unemployment rate is 9.4%. Mexico's is less than half that. It's easier to purchase a home on credit, get a job, and attain higher education in Mexico than in the States. Mexico has a growing middle class, strong and stable banking system, and a rising standard of living. But this article isn't about Mexico. It's about America. Is Mexico becoming the New America? Give me your tired, your weak and your poor... hardly.

While I give kudos to Mexico for doing it's thing, the fact that we are failing at reinforcing our identity not just as the birthplace but the definitive bastion of the American Dream is a tremendous blow to America. When you lose your identity, you lose everything. With the economic crisis and everything else, this is really the icing on the cake. This is really the one thing that should scream "HEY, AMERICA, GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER!" But it's overlooked – under-appreciated. There are numerous other more pressing things to worry about right now, but this one is, I think, the most symptomatic of the collective all. The Comedian in the movie Watchman said it tersely when asked what happened to the American Dream. "It came true,' he retorted. Indeed. Maybe that's why it's about time we wake up to the America we've created.

Hemingway: A Golden Calf in a Mythic Golden Age

It has forever been the preoccupation of man to idealize the ways of the past, as history has a way of highlighting modern values in their "purest" forms. This is the mythology we tell ourselves in an age when Biblical stories are regarded as parables and those who cling to them are regarded as nutty. But then there's the truth: there was no Golden Age. There was no time when things were done perfectly. Cultural memory becomes selective and occludes those facts that might threaten our lionized account of history.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

We are raised to be discontent, as Duryodhana exclaims in the Mahabharata. We are reared to be self-deprecating. We are acculturated to compare ourselves to others -- to size others up -- even if they're no longer living. What do they have that we don't? Which of their characteristics do we admire and how can we cultivate them in ourselves? Why is it so much harder to attain those qualities today than it was back then? The stories we tell ourselves condemn us to misery.

In an article lamenting the lost manliness and braggadocio of Ernest Hemingway, author Marty Beckerman illustrates this false nostalgia well. He paints Hemingway as a man's man, both a knower and go-getter -- the perfect combination of sophistication and ruggedness. Every civilization has its gods; and the gods of the postmodern era are no more real or false than those of foregone civilizations. But their veracity or fictitiousness never mattered; what matters is what it tells us about their followers and consequently ourselves.

Despite the compelling nature of Hemingway's larger than life persona, psychologists and biographers have deconstructed him to who he was rather than who he portrayed himself to be. This isn't to say that who he portrayed himself to be wasn't who he was... it's just half the story. However, reconciling these two constructs is hardly my point. Rather, my point is to illustrate the suggestive nature of the stories we tell ourselves and our predisposition for gullibility and the lack of relevance of authenticity in them. The Golden Age. Gods. Idyllic romance... our map is not our territory.

The very idea of a golden age is embedded in and founded on principles of discontent. It supposes a fall from grace or a degeneration of how things once were. But Duryodhana's claim that "only discontent leads to happiness" is not founded on an idealized past, but an idealized future. He seeks to gain for himself an unrivaled kingdom and forge his own history, rather than seek to revivify a time past. The idea of a golden age is thus only helpful so far as it provides models for one to emulate one's actions after; but we would do well to note that even these models are simulated constructs manipulated by historians, the media and those who would seek to rediscover them. If we maintain that a golden age has passed, then what hope have we for which to reasonably look forward? It is therefore better, I think, to imagine a golden age only as it could exist, not how it may have existed. Otherwise, we condemn ourselves looking backwards to reliving history, at best, rather than developing the future.

What's Real about Religion Anymore?

This past Sunday, I went with a friend to her Baptist church. I had never been to one before, and she assured me that the people there were quite friendly and wouldn't attempt to proselytize me (which is why I usually give my "Christian" name whenever I go to church). She was right, but I had no idea how right she would be.

What struck me as odd wasn't the rainbow decorations and how LBGT friendly the place was -- it was surprising, but not offputting. It was the language used throughout the entire service. Everything was symbolic. Nothing actually "was" -- but rather represented an idea or ideal. Everything was fluffy. Everything that should have been sweet tasted of Splenda. Ever unable to turn my critical thinking cap off, I began to deconstruct what was transpiring and why the service felt so inauthentic to me.

In my musings I was reminded of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, in which he writes:

"...with their artificial resurrection in the systems of signs, a material more malleable than meaning, in that it lends itself to all systems of equivalences, to all binary oppositions, to all combinatory algebra. It is no longer a question of imitation or duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real, that is to say of an operation of deterring every real process via its operational double, a programmatic, metastable, perfectly descriptive machine that offers all the signs of the real and short-curcuits all its vicissitudes. Never again will the real have the chance to produce itself--such is the vital function of the model in a system of death, or rather of anticipated resurrection, that no longer even gives the event of death a chance."

While deeply abstract and intricate, Baudrillard contends (so far as our example is concerned) that the institutionalization of signification is vaccuous of identity and wreaks of the relativism indicative of our postmodern age. More over, something that signifies rather than simply is cannot be real, for it is nothing in itself. Instead, it only references something else -- an object long gone, far removed and "dead". By seeking to elicit the symptoms of the real by depicting what should be its characteristics, the church offers but a simulation of religion, not religion itself. Of course, this lends itself to Baurdrillard's claim that religion began when God died, so there never could have been religion as we think it to be, but only its ghost, its simulacrum.

I don't mean to debase the church I attended, but I can't help but find Baudrillard's argument compelling. Is it all just ritual devoid of content? Are we just going through the motions, trying to evoke the real that William James confessed or that Durkheim posited? Mystical experience and collective effervescence, without rubrics that seek to replicate experiences but rather originate them, may be the only way to resurrect and access the long-dead real that religion tries so convincingly to depict. A church service is at best an elaborate and habitual homage to a time passed. Perhaps there's truth to Serendipity's quote from the movie Dogma: "You people don't celebrate your faith, you mourn it." But I suppose Baudrillard would say that's really all you can do.

Energy Drinks are Godsent

In a recent alarmist article warning of the dangers of energy drinks, the Huffington Post cautions symptoms of "irritability, high blood pressure, heart palpitations, seizures, and strokes." Ironically, these are the same symptoms of people who are overworked. Is it any coincidence that people who are overworked thus rely on energy drinks to get through their work? That's like saying people who have jobs risk making more money than those who don't. Really.

America is a land swimming in hypocrisy. We'll pull you in for an embrace and stab you in the back while you think you're getting love. We'll sell you cancer and withhold the cure so we can make more money off products that will just keep you in the pipeline for years. Energy drinks, really? In the land of minimal vacation, maximum hours behind the desk a week, and coffee shops on every street corner... energy drinks are the problem?

If America really cared about reducing the risk of diabetes (as the Japanese do), stroke and heart failure in its citizens, then it would adjust the conditions that contribute to developing such symptoms. I don't ever remember seeing a study that says "Americans work too many hours; maybe they should work less and companies should hire more workers". That would create jobs and improve worker health and happiness. But that's far too convenient. We're in a recession, so it's easier just to work employees to burn out or death since the pool of applicants gets increasingly full by the day.

But instead of actually solving problems, we cast blame on those things that actually would help us get past those problems. That's why Republicans so heavily sought the resignation of Congressman Weiner even though he didn't break the law and has done so much for our country, his state, and his district. Republicans have gotten away with worse. So has coffee.

So I sit here and sip my "all natural Amazon energy" acai berry drink, as I contemplate if I should end this article here, or move on to the mound of other work I should be doing. I don't drink coffee because I can't stand the taste, so I drink about one energy drink a day to get me energized enough to begin plowing through the endless amount of work I have. And these researchers really have the audacity to say energy drinks are the problem? I think not. I'll rest when I'm dead.