Friday, June 3, 2011
Do You Know That “IF” Is The Middle Word In LIFE?
Its that time of the year. You know, the one where you beguile yourself into thinking that change can indeed come about. People call them resolutions, delusions, bans and enactments, laws that make decent folks outlaws. For that matter, its whatever ticks their minds, hearts or heads. Me? I’ve seasonal issues man, and these Vietnam movies I been watching non-stop ain’t helping either. Apocalypse Now, Platoon, Hamburger Hill, Casualties of War, We Were Soldiers… pretty good shit, and what do you know? They come jam-packed with dieseled napalm and bleeding philosophy.
Col. Kurtz: “I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us. He was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there, and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember I … I … I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget.” -
“And then I realized, like I was shot! Like I was shot with a diamond … a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God, the genius of that! The genius! The will to do that! Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand that these were not monsters. These were men, trained cadres — these men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love — but they had the strength, the strength to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men, then our troubles here would be over very quickly.”
Yes ladies and gentlemen, I’m officially depressed. I’m back on the Kanth because there’re things that make me unhappy, like the weather, which I can bear, mind you… But what I can’t bear is the bloody façade… The concerned bit being fed to us by the powers that be; monkeys jumping about in a brand new big tree all confused and greedily clutching any and all branches in their reach and going, “I’m doing this for your good!”
It happens to me every winter-spring-monsoon-summer-autumn-winter: a seasonal and yearly hangover running 24/7-365-Days. It’s an old habit and we do pretty fine. Its fine. The palatability is mutual. My bones hurt, my nerves ache and besides that
I feel simply dead. It’s that season of the year that gets me every time. It normally begins with my birthday which is in early November, and picks up momentum as Christmas approaches and then of course, the bloody New Year and Losar or Loser as I’ve started dubbing it. But by stretching this winter and hijacking spring in-between, I’m plain pissed with this chicken-shit of a summer.
I’m done with that and the New Year ruckus that accompanies it like Cacaphonix. Why people choose to celebrate that one darned day is bloody beyond me! All it does is leave a sour taste in the mouth and a bitter sting in the heart. The institutionalization of every one single thing that might have been spontaneous has been terminated; mankind has instifuckintutionalized the living daylights out of our lives.
Well, my dear compadres, I’m done with that, and I’m done listening to the magi: the gray Gandalfs can conjure as much magic as they want but I’m out of the ring. It’s also another reason, besides those Nam-stories, why I love this movie called “The Assassination of Richard Nixon.” I empathize with the ideas and ideals of Sam Bicke (played to infinite perfection by the great Sean Penn) and the cold slab concrete-manufactured reality that juxtaposes him and his life.
What Sam essentially asks in the film is this- why can’t a man make a decent living without having to resort to deception and the like?
Sam can’t figure out why his bosses want him to blatantly lie just to make a profit that is guaranteed anyways.
That, basically, is what the film is about. A man’s refusal to queue the herd and take orders blindly- a man who refuses to be pushed around by the bullies of the day; though he loses everything dear to him, he does not sell-out. In that sacrifice lies his greatest triumph. He goes down shoving that middle finger up the establishment’s arse, paying the ultimate price – that of his own life, which further cements the fact that he was true to himself and went out with honor.
If you have a hang up about life and the bloody meaning of it, look up this movie and if you don’t, there’s always the dude awaiting a rental as The Big Lebowski. Two polar opposites playing the same cards and engraving the same shit on the deck – fuvkin’ life and the establishment that wants you established!
“I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror... Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies! You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment! Because it's judgment that defeats us.” Col. Kurtz - Green Bereted And Fuckin' The World.