Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains:
Knatz.com / Teaching / Society / Social Epistemology /
@ K. 2006 07 24
I hate pollution in the lake. Yet I piss in the lake, freely, daily, when wading to fish: or when boating. (Surprise: I have no porta-potty in my rowboat.) I love untracked snow: deep powder; but I can’t wait to put my own tracks in it. I look at the sunset. Ah. Others look at the sunset: and want to throw their beer can onto the beach. I want to kill them; but: I recognize their impulse as kin to mine: only a smidgeon removed, not miles and light years.
Similarly we don’t feel, and certainly don’t apologize for the mass that we ourselves add to the inertia of society. On issue after issue, the culture is parked smack on top of my sore toe. It hears me scream, but is well used to ignoring me.
The society hates my favorite music, or, it likes it, but on Saturday night, doesn’t take it seriously, still won’t let the musicians into the hotel. Or they do now, but still don’t apologize for not letting them in in 1900, 1920, 1955, 1960 … Now they let them in, know that once they weren’t let in, but don’t think it was them who didn’t let them in: same as they think it was someone else who hung Jesus on the cross … or put a contract out on Luther, on Jack Johnson, on Einstein: all manifestations of Jesus — in Jesus’ own words.
Every position that society takes, every step, every move it makes, somebody’s sore is getting stepped on. I’m acutely aware of getting stepped on, but I have to see that I too am doing the stepping, if not on this issue, then on that. Together we fill the universe with static anguish. Enough to heat the cosmos, to power the stars.