Kohelet: The Best of All Possible Lives Without Torah

Rambling, Torah

Imagine you and a lover are trying to save your relationship, which is in danger of ending due to apathy and wandering eyes. You recite love poetry, even the Song of Songs, to each other, but to little effect. The endless metaphors about the fullness of being together versus the emptiness of being apart ring hollow.

You love each other more than you love your relationship, so you start to ask a new question: What would be the best possible lives each of us could lead if we were to break up? You fill in the blanks with what to the best of your understanding is the best of everything.

The wisdom of Solomon is commonly understood by Christians as a tough but ultimately charitable account of human frailty. Though expressions of “all is vanity” can be found throughout Hellenistic and Indian thought, Ecclesiastes’ place in the Bible has made it the go-to book for Christians exploring this worldview.

As received by USA pop culture, “to everything there is a season,” “que sera, sera,” and “namaste” are all synonyms for “chill.” “All is Vanity” would make for a fine motto to slap on credit cards.

Learned as the Jewish Kohelet rather than read as the Christian and/or philosophical Ecclesiastes, the book presents the best of all possible lives without Torah: a life of ardent, earnest pursuit of knowledge and experience that culminates in a feeling of passive contentment.

Without Torah, human beings can make the world no better or worse than it ever has been or will be. There can be no assurance of life after death, either as an afterlife or a remembrance of one’s name and accomplishments. It’s foolish to expect too much of the tool-making featherless biped. “To everything there is a season…” refers to the variety of experiences one goes through amidst life’s ups and downs.

With Torah, every human action has eternal consequences. One’s possessions, family, and reputation may or may not endure, but the mitzvot one has performed, which contribute to the constant renewal of creation and revelation, are eternal. “To everything there is a season…” refers to the sanctification of time through mitzvot.

The lovers conclude that the best of everything apart would be nothing compared to an ordinary or even an unpleasant moment together. Thus has the relationship between YHVH and Israel endured millennia of apathy and wandering eyes.

And the old school version…

And the really really old school version (“To everything…” starts at 16:13 and ends at 18:02)

Secular Stag Nation

Rambling

In with the content. Out with the data. In with the content. Out with the data.

Now reverse.

In with the data. Out with the content. In with the data. Out with the content.

Like a magnet moving through a coil, you induce a current, a steady stream of revenue to us.

The devices we sell you on credit are the holiest objects you own.

We search your soul better than you ever could.

Cannabis Culture, Part II: Feelin’ the Bern

Rambling

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Western Massachusetts seamstress Emily Engel with her hit Lil’ Berniedoll

Nobody can be progressive without being doctrinal; I might almost say that nobody can be progressive without being infallible – at any rate, without believing in some infallibility. For progress by its very name indicates a direction; and the moment we are in the least doubtful about the direction, we become in the same degree doubtful about the progress.

—G.K. Chesterton, “On the Negative Spirit”

Grass-Fed Democratic Socialist Capitalism

I arrived at the UMASS Amherst arena about fifteen minutes prior to the rally’s scheduled 7pm start. The press release encouraged folks to come early and leave their bags at home. A day of February thaw cooled into an evening of light-jacket ruddy collegiate chill. The line spanned the equivalent of a few city blocks.

It was the first day of the Monday-Wednesday Apollonian period of campus life. Most of the students around me in line either chatted about classes or stood silently looking tired. A Dionysian Thursday-Saturday or Tartarean Sunday would’ve had very different vibes.

A well-positioned UMASS Dining Services food truck was doing great business. The work-study burger-flippers said my grass-fed patty was one of the last, and interrupted our transaction to radio for a re-supply. My $10 bill yielded $4.50 in quarters as change.

Each time I used to visit friends at UMASS, I was struck by the sight of students employed as cooks and janitors. At least in recent times, the work-study students at Bernie’s and yours truly’s common alma mater helped professors with research, shelved books at the library, or ran the hippest coffee shops on campus. Black and Hispanic locals were employed by food service giant Aramark to do the dirty work.

Rules of Engagement

Though we were all but a captive audience, no one tried to engage us until we’d almost reached the entrance of the arena. A grungy man in his 30s asked if anyone was a local registered voter who could sign a petition for a 22-year-old running for state legislature. A Unitarian church lady decked out in Bernie tried to pep us up: “You’re almost in! It’s warm in there! There’s loud music!” A tall, well-built young man with earnest eyes, solid cheekbones, and a serious black suit stood beside the line asking “any questions?” like an inexperienced teacher. It took a moment to realize he was the one running for state legislature.

I braced myself for the Secret Service security detail. My last encounter with them was when my Parisian friend somehow scored VIP tickets to an outdoor rally featuring President Obama a few days before the 2010 midterm election. Our section of lawn was close enough to the Big O to warrant a Yankee White security checkpoint, complete with crew cuts and corded earpieces. Unlike run-of-the-mill TSA agents, those guys seemed very well trained in Israeli-style predictive profiling.

Bernie’s Secret Service protection consisted of TSA types in outfits that said Secret Service. There were no plastic baskets on the table next to the metal detector, so I just plopped down my $4.50 in loose quarters. Did my vintage Kent State sweatshirt (unstained from a thrift store rather than pre-stained from Urban Outfitters) attract suspicion?

An agent took a quick flip through my notebook but didn’t pat me down. Then, he told a young woman she couldn’t bring in her plastic water bottle, but would be allowed to leave it on the floor in a corner just outside the checkpoint. I felt enough at ease to snarkily ask him if any of the quarters was counterfeit (the Secret Service protects both high-ranking officials and the currency). He shrugged and replied, “I don’t know.”

Massachusetts Police stood guard at each door of the arena, approximately every 30 feet around the concourse. They’re the stars of all of the Commonwealth’s pride parades, regardless of whether they recognize or enjoy this distinction.

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Huge Beatlemaniacal Amazonian War Shrieks

Once through security, I was greeted by a single volunteer, a 20-something black man. He suggested I go to section M so I could sit directly behind Bernie.

The organizers didn’t set up the customary risers behind the candidate filled with a diverse, choreographed group of supporters. Most candidates set up risers at most rallies. Trump serves as one-man color guard to a line of USA flags. As much as I would’ve enjoyed filling a square millimeter of TV screen with silly reaction faces, I opted for a frontal view. I can’t report on Bernie’s dandruff because I lacked the VIP mosh pit access bracelet.

Like Obama in 2010, Bernie was introduced by a Latina in both Spanish and English and summoned by a chant of his name. Homemade signs and other decorations weren’t allowed through security, but “Change We Can  A Future To Believe In” small signs were held up in abundance. The 10,500 seat arena was about 75% full.

The stump speech covered the same applause and boo lines as always, including:

“We need more jobs and education, not jails and incarceration.”

“What we need is a country that works for everyone, not just the top 1 percent.”

“We are the only major country on Earth that doesn’t provide health care to all people as a right.”

“The American people bailed out Wall Street, and now it’s their turn to help us by paying their fair share of taxes. Every one who’s capable deserves an education at a public college or university tuition-free.”

“We are the only major country on Earth that doesn’t provide paid family and medical leave to all workers.”

“So you ready for another radical idea?”

“No one who works forty hours a week should be living below the poverty line. The federal minimum wage of seven bucks and a quarter per hour is a starvation wage. We’re committed to a minimum wage of fifteen bucks an hour.”

“You want family values? A new mother who has a baby should be able to spend time with her baby.”

“X months ago we were at Y% and the pundits said we were going nowhere. Look where we are today!”

“We must reverse the disastrous Citizens United Supreme Court decision.”

“We’ve shown that it’s possible to run a campaign without a Super-PAC based on more than Z million small contributions, of an average of $27. We’re bringing together young and working people who have previously given up on the political process.”

“We must re-build our crumbling infrastructure, creating millions of jobs.”

“A bank that is too big to big to fail is too big to exist. Break! Them! Up!”

“We must allow student debt to be re-financed at the lowest possible rates.”

“You might ask how I’m gonna pay for this. Good question. We will pay for this with a tax on Wall Street speculation and a repeal of loopholes that allow corporations to hide billions of dollars in the Cayman Islands and other tax havens.”

Any mention of women, especially “equal pay for equal work” and “control of their own bodies” elicited a Beatlemaniacal Amazonian war shriek from the young ladies present.

My favorite moment was when the crowd joined in a Brooklyn pronunciation of “Huge.”

Message Without a Target

Bernie’s voice often cracked. He started building up to a list of differences between himself and Hillary but lost his place in a pile of papers. The only foreign policies he proposed were to, in general, work with other countries to slow global warming and avoid trade deals that are bad for USA workers.

Targeted modifications of the stump speech were limited to using “people in Vermont or Massachusetts” as examples and thanking us “for sending Elizabeth [Warren] to the Senate.” He never shouted out to UMASS specifically as a great public university which he would make tuition-free. He neglected to mention last week’s campus rape sentencing and shooting scare. He said “gay” in a liberal college town where “LGBT” has been fashionable for years. His best moment was the only one that at least seemed impromptu and targeted:

“If you had told me ten years ago that in the year 2015 gay marriage would be legal in all fifty states, I would’ve asked ‘what are you smoking?’ [Pause] And by the way, that’s another issue.” [No elaboration, biggest howling applause of the night]

Speak Loudly and Wave Your Finger Around

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Bernie often cites both Presidents Roosevelt as role models, but doesn’t fully appreciate that they were not only great reformers, but cunning imperialists. Perhaps it’s hard to be one without being the other. Stay tuned for more on this big subject in the next post of this series.

Bernie’s No Crook

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Instead of supporting the K Street media consultants who spend most of Bernie’s campaign budget on Nixonian brainwashing,  I suggest you donate your $27 to my BernieSings Super PAC in order to flood the airwaves and internet cables with Bernie’s true, original message of justice, love, and peace.

Cannabis Culture, Part I: Mao’s Magic Dragon

Rambling

Elders often say that today’s weed is stronger than the stuff back in the day. I’m not that old and am no expert, but this seems plausible. What isn’t often mentioned is that USA culture–from music to product design to views on the purpose of existence, is stoned 24/7. This is the cumulative effect of decades of culture makers, consumers, and their friends and admirers who have been influenced either by weed itself or by others who have been influenced by weed.

One could say that there was more novelty to smoking weed in the pre-60s alcohol-culture than the post-60s weed-culture, even if the weed itself was weaker, and puffed from joints rather than vacuumed from bongs. Two reasonable, opposite corollaries follow: that in a stoned culture it’s either natural to be stoned all the time or gratuitous to be stoned at all.

Whatever weed is, it isn’t and never has been rebellious. Here’s a prime example of how stoned often can be squarer than square.

 

 

Peter, Paul & Mary’s contribution to Eugene McCarthy’s 1968 kiddie campaign likely lost him votes. If Sanders loses in the primary, his antecedent will have been McCarthy. I’m unaware of any video made to go with this song.

 

 

By the next year, the best indie folk music videos were being made by…Pepsi.

 

 

The tumultuous 1968 Democratic convention nominated Hubert Humphrey. Nixon’s campaign was artistically superior, in what I can’t help but see as stoner style.

 

 

If Sanders loses in the general election, his antecedent will have been George McGovern in 1972. Sanders isn’t meek like McGovern, but compensates with a double dose of self-righteousness. Here’s a plodding McGovern ad that feels much closer to an hour than a minute.

 

 

Meanwhile, Nixon campaigned on a flowers and sunshine platform.

 

 

Nixon’s new friend Mao, an accomplished poet, invented EDM to turn the youth against their parents. Next time you DJ a party, try throwing this into the mix after asking the Mandarin speakers not to spoil the fun.