I rarely go a day without seeing a social media comment that “politician A just put politician B in their place!” or that “A scored massive points with their clapback to B!”.
“A clapback is a quick, sharp, and often witty response to criticism or disrespect. The term is often used to describe a comeback that is particularly effective or memorable.”
– via perplexity.ai
No. Just … no.
Cancel culture isn’t new; we’ve done it since humanity’s dawn. It’s critical to a functional society. The fact it seems special lately is due to a) a new name and b) faster and wider communication.
I’ve learned many things from my father, and I’m grateful for all of it.
Some I learned by example, some by counterexample, and some simply by listening to what I was being told.
It’s the latter that comes to mind today. All because of bears.
I ran across this comment via social media the other day.
You don’t have to approve of other people’s choices. You don’t have to like their hair color, their tattoos, or their piercings. You don’t need to agree with their style of dress or how tight their leggings are. You’re not required to agree with their non-traditional lifestyle or their relationship decisions. And you don’t need to like their religion, faith, or spiritual beliefs. What you DO need to do is respect that other people don’t have to live by your rules, because they’re no more important or relevant than anyone else’s. Acting like a decent human being and letting people live their lives should be an easy decision for everyone.
Here’s the problem: if you understand what “they” believe and why they believe it, you’ll quickly see it’s not an easy decision. Not at all.
My parents lived in The Netherlands during World War II. The country was occupied by the Germans for several years prior to the war’s end. My parents lived through that occupation, including the famine.
This was not just some “inconvenience”. My father told me stories of diving into ditches to avoid being captured and conscripted by a passing Nazi patrol. He and his brother did get captured once, but in a fit of “either way we’re probably dead” decision making, when they saw an opportunity to run, they did. They got lucky.
When I started 7 Takeaways, my intent was to force myself to read more, better content, by establishing a weekly public deadline where I’d publish something about the items I had come across.
Three and a half years later, I’d say it’s been working. I haven’t missed a week (though there have been a few Saturday cram sessions), and I’ve come across some interesting stuff.
And I have 600+ subscribers to whom I feel a responsibility.
What’s interesting, though, is that it hasn’t affected me in quite the way I expected.
I recently finished reading Magic Slays, book 5 in a light fantasy series by Ilona Andrews, set in an interesting alternate world that includes periods of time where magic is real.
There are factions, and zealots, and conflict, and more. The thing you’d expect from an engaging story.
But a series of paragraphs late in the book, as the characters were preparing for its major battle, caught my attention for reasons I think will become clear.
As the new year starts, I elected to change my daily reading source. For the past couple of years, I’ve been reading passages from The Daily Stoic. This year I’m starting A Calendar of Wisdom by Leo Tolstoy.
Same idea, an essay a day for the entire year.
Tolstoy grabs my attention right out of the gate on January 1.
One of the more contentious parts of the rise of AI is its relationship to the rightsholders for the content on which it is trained. Many consider it blatant copyright infringement.
I’m not so sure.
Have you ever looked at someone and thought to yourself: huh. Something’s a little off.
Nothing bad, really, just … different.
Not quite right. Not quite normal.
Maybe they’re a little eccentric in some way.
Perhaps you’ve said to yourself (or, *cough*, your spouse) “well, they’re certainly an ‘odd duck‘”.
Have I got news for you.
I’m fairly convinced my mother died before she had to because of the stress of taking care of my father, who had dementia.
While trying to be everything to her husband, she failed to take care of her own needs and her own health. The result was not just that she passed away too soon, but even in her own eyes she passed away before what she saw as her job was complete. My father outlived her by four and a half years.
I’ve previously expressed disappointment in people who seem to go out of their way to find fault in good news. They work to snatch negativity from the jaws of the positive.
There’s a related mindset I see that isn’t really negative … but it’s not really positive, either.
It’s something I see arising from black and white thinking and an instant gratification mindset.
I publish a daily newsletter called Not All News Is Bad. Several years ago I found myself in need of a reminder that there’s more going on in the world than the shitshow most news sources seem to focus on.
I forced myself to find at least one good news story every day. I started sharing that publicly, and eventually it became the daily newsletter. At this writing, it goes out to about 1,500 subscribers every morning.
It doesn’t happen often, but one thing that makes me shake my head is when a recipient of a good news story goes digging for negativity.
I have a fond memory of the song Radar Love by the Dutch group Golden Earring.
It’s 1973 or 1974. I’m one of the principle photographers for my high school year book. Our track team is competing across the state at Washington State University’s facilities, and I’m driving the 300 miles (one way) to be there take pictures, and then driving back the same day. The radio of my Toyota Corona is tuned to the local top-40 station at the time (KJR Seattle), and then its sister station (KJRB Spokane) as I make my way east.
And playing loudly, and often, in all its tinny cheap-AM-radio glory, was Radar Love.
We all want to live a long and healthy life. We want to be the ones making it far through the bell curve of life expectancy. I know I do.
There’s an unanticipated problem with succeeding.
I was recently chatting with someone, and the topic turned to a business trip to Munich I’d taken many years ago.
One evening, I encountered a street performer playing an accordion in an archway near one of the city plazas. The acoustics were amazing. He had chosen his location well. He was selling cassette tapes, so I bought one. I thought I’d digitized it, but for the life of me I’ve been unable to find the result.
SO. Internet to the rescue, I hoped.
Is it possible to be simultaneously content and passionate about something?
By content, I mean in the Buddhist sense of acceptance of the present moment.
By passionate, I mean wanting something more, and feeling strongly about it.
It’s something I wrestle with.
Pictured above is an aerial photo I took of the grocery store I was working at in 1977. I’m in the process of digitizing a large collection of my old photos, and it’s one that resurfaced. A friend of mine was a private pilot, and on one of our flights we flew over the location.
Here’s the location today, courtesy of Google Earth.
We love our opinions. We really do. We’re so proud of them, and we’re so eager to share them with anyone who’ll listen, and many who won’t.
And yet, there’s the adage: “Opinions are like assholes: everyone has one, and no one wants to see yours.”
Social media gets a lot of negative press. It’s blamed for the increasing political divide, for increased rates of depression, particularly among teenaged girls, for being some kind of spying tool used by corporations and foreign governments, and more.
And, to be completely honest, much of that is probably accurate.
But it also overshadows the fact that there are some very positive things happening on social media as well.