Wednesday, June 6, 2018


A sadness, a hope, of the world around us is the presence of evidence of not being alone; of something else being out there. That moment of existential fear we may experience upon one of our births, a newness of any sort, is not fun, because realistically contemplating being the only thing that exists, has ever existed, is terrible, even if it only lasts for far less than a second. And we tend to forget that kind of thing, because even remembering what it was like can shatter anything we've built.

A great part of our flirtation with the Random god, specifically our inversely wishful feartasy of evolution by chance, is likely related to our respective experiences with this terrifying moment, when we explore the possibility of believing that we are alone forever. It can seem too good to be true that we are not, and on Terra, our fantasies of not being alone are themselves often as broken and error laced as our fears of actually being alone (e.g. All Powerful Sky Man created me because he thinks I'm great versus the world is Void).

If we're out hiking, all the original dilemmas are still there, in the sense that we can't conclusively prove that we existed before beginning the hike or before the most recent step, nor that anyone else has ever walked here before and that this is actually a hiking trail. Perhaps roadside restaurants or marker signs or trail names can assuage us, though they might well be furnished by the overactive imaginations of the one terrified to further insanity. Barring that, though, or perhaps considering and rejecting it, the old wildman's cairn is our truer marker, where if one finds a pile of stones, one can speculate that although they may have piled themselves there geologically or via the wind, it is far more likely that someone else placed them there, that someone has come this way before, and that the chance of the stones having randomly arranged themselves that way is, like human-market-based theories of random evolution, too ridiculously impossible to seriously contemplate, ergo there are other hikers out there, or were within the past 100 years, because even a violent windstorm's chance of upsetting the heavy cairn in the past 100 years is of infinitesimal merit next to the monumentally (sic) greater chance that they were placed by a human at some point, probably somewhat recently.

Real evolution is like a cairn, where we can find ourselves on a planet with an atmosphere of a certain mix of chemicals and creatures perfectly suited to breathing those chemicals and conclude that there is no way this relationship occurred randomly, but, like the cairn, was most likely set up to look like that. There are 3, and also 500, and also thirty million more likely explanations than that a dude like us came up with it all 5K or 80 billion years ago, though that's a more mathematically sound conclusion than that it just happened, though quite vulnerable to accusations of wishfulness and more specific analysis of local antiquities. What seems to miss us on this planet is the possibility of accusations not of wishfulness, but of inverse wishfulness, where our own potency is validated not by believing in a sky-man, but by believing that we are so incredible that we could not possibly have been planned. The reaction is similar to the ultimate racism of our (over-) expressly non-racist universalism, where truest understanding means understanding that everyone is equally capable as we define capable pursuant to an extremely limited set of outcomes. E.g., African non-patriarchy and the use of physical violence instead of the development of nuclear bombs can't be due to the expression of philosophies deeper than abstract thought, but must merely be a repression of the African's natural abilities and desires to develop nuclear bombs. It is a horrible indictment of Nu Euros, their cherished belief that everyone is and must be and has always been just like them: and in its own way, our insistence upon the random appearance of these planetary cairns is similarly arrogant and stupid. "We're so incredible no one could have ever thought us up!" In local parlance, we might say such an attitude is equally childish to deciding that a sky man who looks like us made this all to see how cool we were or weren't. I'm taking my toys and going home.

And of course, the Nu Euro insistence that Africans were nuclear bombers in their heart of hearts reveals not only how great we think we are for developing what passes for our technology, but how worthless we think of what the African has developed on his own. We're so interested in racism now, in haughty defiance of the truth that being "liberal" is significantly more racist than being "conservative"--but not in the way that conservatives use when they try to argue that Congoid businesses don't need extra tax credits. Rather, truly recognizing the racism inherent in today's liberalism is less flattering to Europeoids than it is to other peoples, because yes white people were smarter than other races and thus formed the modern world and all its goodies, but it scares us a lot to contemplate those goodies not being the best possible. So we offend not only the milkwater anti-racist liberal, but the pro-science white race realist, when we question whether or not the past few thousand years of Europeoid tech was really the best possible way. The "liberal" can't admit that the African really couldn't have accomplished this, while the "race realist" can't admit that maybe what was accomplished actually wasn't that good, and that maybe the Congoid's deferment of abstract thought for twenty thousand extra years will turn out to be a superior survival strategy in the long run than the Europeoid's horrid abuse thereof. How many millions of successful African farms would you trade for four new Dresdens? Tough question either way.

The paling consequences of our "tech," and the occasional imaginations of what we might perceive as its "mis" use, reveal a great deal about us, very little of it good. Stuck in a hell of undeclared urban warfare, with Africans killing off Europeoids as fast as they can without rousing the beast, this sort of concern seems silly and badly timed, but imagine the opposite, living in the nuclear apocalypse, and you can see how the Nu Euro's "He may guide us to use it" wargasms might've led you to view one hell as worse than another. If the Jews had wanted the last white people to annihilate themselves in the 1960s, make no mistake, the proud little Nu Euros would've done it, and some dumb Congoid survivor's oral history that "Yeah, dey was sum bad shit up dere" would've been a more thorough and intellectual history of the Europeoid race than anything that's been composed in this reality about the Cuban missile crisis.

Details aside, remember the cairns. Someone has gone this way before and the way is passable.

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