One hundred years in the past, artists declared that art had failed in its task of civilizing humans as evidenced by the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France after August 1914. One hundred years in the future, artists will declare that they are finally successful in their task of civilizing humans as evidenced by the utter lack of senseless mass slaughter on battlefields, despite the heroic efforts of folks who like that sort of thing. Senseless mass slaughterers are left scratching their heads. They desire senseless mass slaughter. They think about senseless mass slaughter. They plan senseless mass slaughter. They drink beer and talk about senseless mass slaughter with their fellow senseless mass slaughterers. But when it comes to actually committing senseless mass slaughter, somehow, it just never seems to come together.
One of the senseless mass slaughterers remembers a philosophy professor of the twentieth century who maintained that anything can be done if it is broken up into small enough steps. There is a ray of hope. The senseless mass slaughterers order another pitcher and get busy with their pencils and papers breaking the job up into smaller steps. Still, nothing ever comes of it. The senseless mass slaughterers get old and fat and sluggish and die blabbering about suicide bombings and thermonuclear attacks they used to plan back in the old days.
But before they die, they tell their grandchildren to find out who is responsible for undermining their efforts. The Jews? The Artists? The Quakers? It is, indeed the artists, but they dare not come out of the closet yet, lest they be declared saints and get martyred. One of the tactics of practical sainthood may to blame someone else when accused of sainthood.
"Me? A saint? Whoa! You got the wrong guy, buddy! You mind if I smoke? Yeah sure I make sculptures that make people feel uncomfortable about committing senseless mass slaughter, but it's all my wife's fault. She is just so queasy about murder, theft, rape, sucking the brains out of fetuses, all that exciting stuff. Me, I'm just in it for the money, you know? Here, have a beer. She hassles me about how my art should be, you know? What can I say? It sells. Hey, look at my collection of old Schwartzenegger dvds. Lots of boom, boom, boom, nome sane?
Blaming the Jews for turning humanity into a race of wimps could lead to a holocaust. Blaming artists or Quakers may do the same. But blaming the women? Too risky? Cultural Terrorist will have to think about this for a long time.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Practical Sainthood Part II
In Dadaland, the world of the future, artists have successfully manipulated cultural climate change so that no senseless mass slaughter on battlefields ever occurs, despite the heroic efforts of folks who like that sort of thing. The artists run the risk of being pegged as "saints" and consequently going through the slow horrible death that is traditional among saints. One way of avoiding this is trying to blend into the populace and become invisible, much the way that a green tree frog blends into the leaves on a twig, a Zebra blends into the tall grass of the savannah, or a treehopper pretends to be a thorn on a rose bush.
This method of blending into the populace has been tried many times, notably by nuns. Young nuns wished to resemble old widows, lest they be raped by Vikings or, if they were blonde under the wimples, hauled off in the dragon-headed ships to Spain, to be sold for a pretty penny to Moors who believed, with no scientific evidence, that these girls would breed especially healthy children. Nuns, however, tended to lack fashion sense. That is to say, they were so busy reciting psalms that they did not notice when women began buying clothes they did not actually need in order to be wearing something different from what they wore in the previous month. After about four hundred years of this, approximately when Twiggy in her mini skirt burst out of London's Carnaby Street into the mass media in 1963, the nuns finally noticed that they no longer blended in with the populace. Fortunately, the Moors had, by then, been driven out of Spain and the Vikings had given up rape and taken up furniture making.
Nonetheless, in Dadaland, it will be highly inadvisable for an artist to dress like a nun. Even a claim that he or she is merely engaging in "Performance Art" may lack crediblility. This was done, in the 1960's by a companion of Paul Krassner, editor of an underground periodical called "The Realist" : the pair went to various public places and performed acts of passionate saliva swap and wimple disarray. Performance Art is, in Dadaland, just sooooo twentieth century.
Preferable to dressing as a nun is playing golf to blend in with the populace. An artist who plays golf will probably be able to openly say "I am an arist. I manipulate the cultural climate so that no senseless mass slaughter on battlefields ever occurs, despite the heroic efforts of folks who like that sort of thing." His or her golf companions will reply "Yeah, right, tell me another one." The International Dada Centennial Committee is, in fact, planning to establish a special golf school for artists to be ready for this world of the future when artists are the dominant life form on Earth.
To be continued...
This method of blending into the populace has been tried many times, notably by nuns. Young nuns wished to resemble old widows, lest they be raped by Vikings or, if they were blonde under the wimples, hauled off in the dragon-headed ships to Spain, to be sold for a pretty penny to Moors who believed, with no scientific evidence, that these girls would breed especially healthy children. Nuns, however, tended to lack fashion sense. That is to say, they were so busy reciting psalms that they did not notice when women began buying clothes they did not actually need in order to be wearing something different from what they wore in the previous month. After about four hundred years of this, approximately when Twiggy in her mini skirt burst out of London's Carnaby Street into the mass media in 1963, the nuns finally noticed that they no longer blended in with the populace. Fortunately, the Moors had, by then, been driven out of Spain and the Vikings had given up rape and taken up furniture making.
Nonetheless, in Dadaland, it will be highly inadvisable for an artist to dress like a nun. Even a claim that he or she is merely engaging in "Performance Art" may lack crediblility. This was done, in the 1960's by a companion of Paul Krassner, editor of an underground periodical called "The Realist" : the pair went to various public places and performed acts of passionate saliva swap and wimple disarray. Performance Art is, in Dadaland, just sooooo twentieth century.
Preferable to dressing as a nun is playing golf to blend in with the populace. An artist who plays golf will probably be able to openly say "I am an arist. I manipulate the cultural climate so that no senseless mass slaughter on battlefields ever occurs, despite the heroic efforts of folks who like that sort of thing." His or her golf companions will reply "Yeah, right, tell me another one." The International Dada Centennial Committee is, in fact, planning to establish a special golf school for artists to be ready for this world of the future when artists are the dominant life form on Earth.
To be continued...
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Practical Sainthood
In Dadaland, the world of the future, artists have successfully manipulated cultural climate change so that senseless mass slaughter on battlefields never occurs, despite the heroic efforts of people who like that sort of thing. The artists will sometimes become paranoid that they might get perceived as "saints," you know, the guys who are so clueless about the unspeakable joys of murder, theft and rape. They get told all the time, "You are such a saint." Then they get nervous, because they remember their art history courses, where they were exposed to paintings of Saint Agnes, Saint Catherine, Saint Sebastian, Saint Joan, all depicted as suffering horrible death by torture. Then there were all the sainted disciples of Jesus, to say nothing of Jesus himself. If one is Catholic, one can experience this paranoia before taking any art history courses.
In Dadaland, it is highly likely that the artists will begin to contemplate how to avoid being perceived as "saints," thus avoiding crucificixion, barbecuing and the like. As Dadaland will require a large number of artists to do the enormous task of cultural climate change, the International Dada Centennial Committee wishes that people do not avoid becoming artists in order to avoid slow, horrible death that is traditional among saints. So we will be offering occasional practical advice about how to avoid slow horrible death from being perceived as a saint, even if one actually is a saint.
1. If one finds that one's saintly lifestyle inadvertantly results in a collection of fawning sycophants, this is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. They will probably be more trouble to the "saint" than they are worth in ego strokes, but it is often the case that without their "saint," the lives of these fawning sycophants would seem empty, dreary and meaningless, leading to blowing their brains out, and worse, leaving a note that names the rejection by the "saint" as cause. So if one is stuck with a collection of fawning sycophants, it is highly inadvisable to refer to them as "disciples." Preferable is "homies." One can get away with this better if one is visibly of African ancestry, or, lacking that, speaks with a Black accent. A Black accent can be acquired by going through a heroin addiction treatmen program. The IDCC knows of no such program that requires applicants to prove that they are actually heroin addicts, so do not worry about getting busted for imperonating a junkie.
2. To be continued.
In Dadaland, it is highly likely that the artists will begin to contemplate how to avoid being perceived as "saints," thus avoiding crucificixion, barbecuing and the like. As Dadaland will require a large number of artists to do the enormous task of cultural climate change, the International Dada Centennial Committee wishes that people do not avoid becoming artists in order to avoid slow, horrible death that is traditional among saints. So we will be offering occasional practical advice about how to avoid slow horrible death from being perceived as a saint, even if one actually is a saint.
1. If one finds that one's saintly lifestyle inadvertantly results in a collection of fawning sycophants, this is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. They will probably be more trouble to the "saint" than they are worth in ego strokes, but it is often the case that without their "saint," the lives of these fawning sycophants would seem empty, dreary and meaningless, leading to blowing their brains out, and worse, leaving a note that names the rejection by the "saint" as cause. So if one is stuck with a collection of fawning sycophants, it is highly inadvisable to refer to them as "disciples." Preferable is "homies." One can get away with this better if one is visibly of African ancestry, or, lacking that, speaks with a Black accent. A Black accent can be acquired by going through a heroin addiction treatmen program. The IDCC knows of no such program that requires applicants to prove that they are actually heroin addicts, so do not worry about getting busted for imperonating a junkie.
2. To be continued.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Dadaland
In Dadaland, a land of the future, the artists have successfully manipulated cultural climate change so that any human who wakes up one morning and declares, "Hey! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, my wife is cooking bacon! What a great day to go out and start a war!" will find that no matter what he does, war mysteriously never results. No plunder, no pillage, no carpet bombings, no rape of twelve year old girls in front of their parents, no torture, no nukes, no nothing. He goes to the shrink.
"Doc, I am frustrated. I want to be the next Hitler, the next Pol Pot, the next Napoleon, the next Mao Tse Tung. What am I doing wrong?"
The shrink convinces him that he might consider becoming a successful vacuum cleaner salesman like neo-Nazi leader David Duke.
The International Dada Centennial Committee speculates about whether artists will try to blend in with the populace so that no frustrated vacuum cleaner salesman comes to the door, looks around as he makes his spiel, notices paint, easel, and the smell of turpentine, and detonates the suicide bomb hidden inside his sales kit.
"Take that, you...you... you ARTIST!" he screams as he flips the switch. Pieces of vacuum cleaner salesman, artist, arty wife, arty children, arty dog, arty furniture, organic food, tubes of sugar free toothpaste, tubes of paint, all go flying through the shattered walls and out into the neighborhood.
Artists in Dadaland may be well advised to not use oil paint, since the smell of turpentine is a dead giveaway. Also they may be well advised to live somewhere so remote that vacuum cleaner salesmen are unlikely to come. Do not, however dream of Jehovah's Witnesses also being unlikely to come. Rest assured that there is no such place in the Solar System.
"Doc, I am frustrated. I want to be the next Hitler, the next Pol Pot, the next Napoleon, the next Mao Tse Tung. What am I doing wrong?"
The shrink convinces him that he might consider becoming a successful vacuum cleaner salesman like neo-Nazi leader David Duke.
The International Dada Centennial Committee speculates about whether artists will try to blend in with the populace so that no frustrated vacuum cleaner salesman comes to the door, looks around as he makes his spiel, notices paint, easel, and the smell of turpentine, and detonates the suicide bomb hidden inside his sales kit.
"Take that, you...you... you ARTIST!" he screams as he flips the switch. Pieces of vacuum cleaner salesman, artist, arty wife, arty children, arty dog, arty furniture, organic food, tubes of sugar free toothpaste, tubes of paint, all go flying through the shattered walls and out into the neighborhood.
Artists in Dadaland may be well advised to not use oil paint, since the smell of turpentine is a dead giveaway. Also they may be well advised to live somewhere so remote that vacuum cleaner salesmen are unlikely to come. Do not, however dream of Jehovah's Witnesses also being unlikely to come. Rest assured that there is no such place in the Solar System.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
What is wrong with this picture?
Cultural Terrorist is beginning to conceive of the International Dada Centennial Committee as a piece of abstract art. This is fitting, since Cultural Terrorist did, after all, major in abstract art. But if the IDCC is a piece of abstract art, it is not the sort that has squiggles of paint on it. It is composed of actual abstractions...you know... the kind that can not be seen, e.g., Basic Rights, Traditional Values, Non-Basic Rights, Social Justice, Antisocial Justice, Non-Traditional Values, Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, Life, Liberty, and the Capture of Happiness, Tall, Dark and Handsome, etc. That said, I will now proceed to do what artists do: look at the piece and ask, "What is wrong with this picture?"
Oh no! It is Shabbes! I am not supposed to do any creative work today! Ah, but, but, but....maybe asking the question "What is wrong with this picture?" is not making art, but merely indulging in art appreciation. Yeah, like the rabbis decided that while one must not compose music on Shabbes, it is okay to play the piano. And while one must not lift 165 pounds, on Shabbes, it is okay to jog your body of that same weight around the track in the interest of living long enough to hear your grandchildren tell you that they wish their father were as nice as you are.
So, we have been exploring the idea of artists becoming the dominant life form on Earth so that they can more effectively manipulate humans into not nuking themselves into oblivion. But, considering the universal corruptibility of Earthly sentient life, one suspects that the main motivation for the artists fostering the continued existence of humans is so that humans will continue to pay artists for their art, or, lacking anyone who wants to buy it, continue to give the artists grants to make art that no one wants to buy. Self interest, in other words.
Ah, but is there any interest that is not self interest? When I was a child, I got twenty five cents weekly allowance. I once tossed the entire quarter into the basket of a blind beggar while accompanying my mother on a shopping trip to Jamaica Avenue. It felt good to give my entire allowance to a blind beggar. So there was self interests involved....you know... making oneself feel good.
So. We are again exploring the idea of artists becoming the dominant life form on Earth. Sweet. The humans look at us and feel resentful that we, putting Dada into practice, manipulate cultural climate change so that human not only do not nuke themselves into oblivion, but actually fight no wars at all. In fact, due to the arcane work of the artist, humans no longer murder, steal, rape, torture....no longer do a great many things humans once believed to be loads of fun.
Do humans have any fun at all? Oh sure. they live much the same as middle class suburbarnites of today. They have loads of fun. In fact, they do not even notice that they are being manipulated by the artists into not committing senseless mass slaughter etc. Oh, but with six billion humans on the planet, surely one or two will notice and start kvetching. You know, like Hitler kvetched about how the Jews controlled everything. I wish. Such a non-murderous people.... don't get me started.
So perhaps the prime directive of Post Human Ethics is Thou Shalt Not Let Humans Know That They Are Being Manipulated By Artists Into Not Committing Senseless Mass Slaughter Because It Will Make Them Feel Bad And Then Come To Your House To Kill You And All Of Us. Is this a sort of forbidden fruit in the middle of a sort of Garden of Eden, tended by a sort of newly created intelligent life form, just waiting for a serpent subtle enough to successfully tempt some Eve to eat and feed her Adam the forbidden fruit? To be continued.
Oh no! It is Shabbes! I am not supposed to do any creative work today! Ah, but, but, but....maybe asking the question "What is wrong with this picture?" is not making art, but merely indulging in art appreciation. Yeah, like the rabbis decided that while one must not compose music on Shabbes, it is okay to play the piano. And while one must not lift 165 pounds, on Shabbes, it is okay to jog your body of that same weight around the track in the interest of living long enough to hear your grandchildren tell you that they wish their father were as nice as you are.
So, we have been exploring the idea of artists becoming the dominant life form on Earth so that they can more effectively manipulate humans into not nuking themselves into oblivion. But, considering the universal corruptibility of Earthly sentient life, one suspects that the main motivation for the artists fostering the continued existence of humans is so that humans will continue to pay artists for their art, or, lacking anyone who wants to buy it, continue to give the artists grants to make art that no one wants to buy. Self interest, in other words.
Ah, but is there any interest that is not self interest? When I was a child, I got twenty five cents weekly allowance. I once tossed the entire quarter into the basket of a blind beggar while accompanying my mother on a shopping trip to Jamaica Avenue. It felt good to give my entire allowance to a blind beggar. So there was self interests involved....you know... making oneself feel good.
So. We are again exploring the idea of artists becoming the dominant life form on Earth. Sweet. The humans look at us and feel resentful that we, putting Dada into practice, manipulate cultural climate change so that human not only do not nuke themselves into oblivion, but actually fight no wars at all. In fact, due to the arcane work of the artist, humans no longer murder, steal, rape, torture....no longer do a great many things humans once believed to be loads of fun.
Do humans have any fun at all? Oh sure. they live much the same as middle class suburbarnites of today. They have loads of fun. In fact, they do not even notice that they are being manipulated by the artists into not committing senseless mass slaughter etc. Oh, but with six billion humans on the planet, surely one or two will notice and start kvetching. You know, like Hitler kvetched about how the Jews controlled everything. I wish. Such a non-murderous people.... don't get me started.
So perhaps the prime directive of Post Human Ethics is Thou Shalt Not Let Humans Know That They Are Being Manipulated By Artists Into Not Committing Senseless Mass Slaughter Because It Will Make Them Feel Bad And Then Come To Your House To Kill You And All Of Us. Is this a sort of forbidden fruit in the middle of a sort of Garden of Eden, tended by a sort of newly created intelligent life form, just waiting for a serpent subtle enough to successfully tempt some Eve to eat and feed her Adam the forbidden fruit? To be continued.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
"Right" and "Wrong."
The last post was entitled "Post Human Ethics." Yet it seems to not deal with the traditional subjects of ethics, which is, roughly, the ideas of "Right" and "Wrong." Instead, it seems to focus upon the problem of resentment and violence against artists who conspire to become the dominant life form on Earth so that they can more effectively continue to trick humans into not committing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields. What has this got to do with ethics?
Well. We have already established that this series of speculations arises from the celebration of the centennial of Dada, the movement that declared that art had failed in its task of civilizing Humans, as evidenced by the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France in WWI. And this movement introduced the idea that artists actually have a task beyond simply getting famous and therefore rich by selling paintings and such. And that this task was to civilize humans into not committing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields. I would like to introduce the perhaps radical idea that "Right" and "Wrong" cannot be separated from "Survival." And "Survival" cannot be separated from "Death." And "Death" cannot be separated from "Senseless Mass Slaughter on Battlefields." So artists who define themselves as the civilizers of humans, by means of preventing mass slaughter on battlefields, and then find them selves in danger of being killed by from those same humans who resent being manipulated into not committing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields or off of battlefields , when asked, "Is senseless mass slaughter 'wrong?'" are very likely to answer 'You bet your ass'. I am not sure what I just said.
Let us now consider the idea that "Right" and "Wrong" cannot be separated from "Survival."
Imagine, if you will, the statement "Abortion is wrong." Change the previous period to an exclamation mark , if you wish. Let us try to separate this idea from the idea of "Survival." I speak here only of survival of entire societies. The reason is that people who tend to say "Abortion is Wrong" tend to be the sort of people who claim that they "believe in traditional values." And the only way a value can become traditional is that it is passed on for so many generations that no one can remember when it first appeared, and the society that passes it on has managed to survive to pass it on. So it is not possible to separate "traditional values" from the survival of a society long enough for the particular value to become "traditional."
So. Back to the separation of "Abortion is Wrong" from "Survival." Time marches on. "We" witness significant numbers of societies come and go and notice that societies that hold to the traditional value "Abortion is Wrong" have a seriously tendency to disintegrate and disappear. And societies that hold to the traditional value "Abortion is Right" have a serious tendency to survive for thousands of years. What does it mean, in this context, to say "Abortion is Wrong?" It means, in part, that we are willing for our society to disintegrate and disappear. Yeah, yeah, I know, "Post hoc, ergo propter hoc" is a fallacy. But I still ask the question. Get over it.
So: I am tired. I don't feel like going on with this any more.
Well. We have already established that this series of speculations arises from the celebration of the centennial of Dada, the movement that declared that art had failed in its task of civilizing Humans, as evidenced by the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France in WWI. And this movement introduced the idea that artists actually have a task beyond simply getting famous and therefore rich by selling paintings and such. And that this task was to civilize humans into not committing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields. I would like to introduce the perhaps radical idea that "Right" and "Wrong" cannot be separated from "Survival." And "Survival" cannot be separated from "Death." And "Death" cannot be separated from "Senseless Mass Slaughter on Battlefields." So artists who define themselves as the civilizers of humans, by means of preventing mass slaughter on battlefields, and then find them selves in danger of being killed by from those same humans who resent being manipulated into not committing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields or off of battlefields , when asked, "Is senseless mass slaughter 'wrong?'" are very likely to answer 'You bet your ass'. I am not sure what I just said.
Let us now consider the idea that "Right" and "Wrong" cannot be separated from "Survival."
Imagine, if you will, the statement "Abortion is wrong." Change the previous period to an exclamation mark , if you wish. Let us try to separate this idea from the idea of "Survival." I speak here only of survival of entire societies. The reason is that people who tend to say "Abortion is Wrong" tend to be the sort of people who claim that they "believe in traditional values." And the only way a value can become traditional is that it is passed on for so many generations that no one can remember when it first appeared, and the society that passes it on has managed to survive to pass it on. So it is not possible to separate "traditional values" from the survival of a society long enough for the particular value to become "traditional."
So. Back to the separation of "Abortion is Wrong" from "Survival." Time marches on. "We" witness significant numbers of societies come and go and notice that societies that hold to the traditional value "Abortion is Wrong" have a seriously tendency to disintegrate and disappear. And societies that hold to the traditional value "Abortion is Right" have a serious tendency to survive for thousands of years. What does it mean, in this context, to say "Abortion is Wrong?" It means, in part, that we are willing for our society to disintegrate and disappear. Yeah, yeah, I know, "Post hoc, ergo propter hoc" is a fallacy. But I still ask the question. Get over it.
So: I am tired. I don't feel like going on with this any more.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Post Human Ethics
Cultural Terrorist has apparently been hibernating. In the interim, he has realized that the very small number of people who have looked at his blog make it an excellent venue for writing things that he does not want anyone to see. I am not talking about weird sexual fantasies or anything so predictable. I am talking about Post Human Ethics.
In a previous post, we considered the notion that, in the distant future (the word "future," no longer in current use, may be roughly translated as "going forward") , when artists become so good at engineering cultural climate change that they consider themselves a superior life form, they then refuse to date non-artists and become thereby so genetically different from humans that they actually are a different life form, in the conventional sense of the term. That is to say they are no longer able to interbreed with humans and produce fertile offspring. We also considered the notion that humans, now feeling depressed over no longer being the most highly evolved form of life, as well as over being consistently manipulated by the artists, rebel by refusing, en masse, to reproduce at all and go extinct, leaving artists, with no one to support them, alone to learn to hunt, gather, and make their own beer. A problem I see with this is that now that I have mentioned it, the artists will try to prevent the voluntary extinction of their human benefactors by being very, very nice to them. This is the field of Post Human Ethics. It applies to that period of time before humans go extinct, and planet Earth hosts two sentient species, Homo Sapiens and Homo Artificialis, each eying the other with suspicion.
That said, the first specific instance of the problem of humans feeling depressed about being manipulated by artists via engineered cultural climate change is right here: If any non artists read this, they may feel depressed just from the speculations about their future as a sort of domesticated herd of highly intelligent beasts, roaming "Pasture Earth," getting up early, going to school and job, maintaining industrial production of enormous amounts of largely unneccesary goods and services, taking orders from idiots, and prevented from nuking each other into oblivion by their domesticaters, the all mighty artists. So Post Human Ethics must be researched and developed right away. One never knows when the humans will do something drastic after reading this, like killing off all the artists before it is too late. Stranger things have happened. And the first solution to this problem is right here: all communications about the virtual conspiracy to make artists the dominant life form on Earth must take place in venues that humans almost never look at, e.g., this blog. EUREKA!
In a previous post, we considered the notion that, in the distant future (the word "future," no longer in current use, may be roughly translated as "going forward") , when artists become so good at engineering cultural climate change that they consider themselves a superior life form, they then refuse to date non-artists and become thereby so genetically different from humans that they actually are a different life form, in the conventional sense of the term. That is to say they are no longer able to interbreed with humans and produce fertile offspring. We also considered the notion that humans, now feeling depressed over no longer being the most highly evolved form of life, as well as over being consistently manipulated by the artists, rebel by refusing, en masse, to reproduce at all and go extinct, leaving artists, with no one to support them, alone to learn to hunt, gather, and make their own beer. A problem I see with this is that now that I have mentioned it, the artists will try to prevent the voluntary extinction of their human benefactors by being very, very nice to them. This is the field of Post Human Ethics. It applies to that period of time before humans go extinct, and planet Earth hosts two sentient species, Homo Sapiens and Homo Artificialis, each eying the other with suspicion.
That said, the first specific instance of the problem of humans feeling depressed about being manipulated by artists via engineered cultural climate change is right here: If any non artists read this, they may feel depressed just from the speculations about their future as a sort of domesticated herd of highly intelligent beasts, roaming "Pasture Earth," getting up early, going to school and job, maintaining industrial production of enormous amounts of largely unneccesary goods and services, taking orders from idiots, and prevented from nuking each other into oblivion by their domesticaters, the all mighty artists. So Post Human Ethics must be researched and developed right away. One never knows when the humans will do something drastic after reading this, like killing off all the artists before it is too late. Stranger things have happened. And the first solution to this problem is right here: all communications about the virtual conspiracy to make artists the dominant life form on Earth must take place in venues that humans almost never look at, e.g., this blog. EUREKA!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
clever, clever.
Cultural Terrorist thought he was just sooooooooo clever and original when he chose to call himself Cultural Terrorist, because who in their right mind would do this and risk alerting the FBI and the CIA and the Department of Homeland Security that he calls himself a terrorist and having them show up on his doorstep with handcuffs and getting his picture on Fox News and embarrassing his daughter to the point of changing her name before she is even married.
?
But NooooooOOOOOOooooo! Turns out that when one googles "cultural terrorist," there are 6,610,000 freaking results, including people calling themselves cultural terrorists, and one calling George Bush a cultural terrorist and another calling Barack Obama a cultural terrorist. I am a firm believer in false humility, but the real kind is still not fun.
?
But NooooooOOOOOOooooo! Turns out that when one googles "cultural terrorist," there are 6,610,000 freaking results, including people calling themselves cultural terrorists, and one calling George Bush a cultural terrorist and another calling Barack Obama a cultural terrorist. I am a firm believer in false humility, but the real kind is still not fun.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The History of Dada
1. In August, 1914, the senseless mass slaughter began on the battlefields of Europe.
2. Some artists got disgusted.
3. Some disgusted artists went to neutral Switzerland to sit and drink beer.
4. They declared that art had failed in its task of civilizing humans as evidenced by the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields.
5. They wrote manifestos that declared that they were going to give up on art and produce anti art instead.
6. The anti art began to sell.
7. Anti art evolved into Surrealism and this, too began to sell.
8. Meanwhile, Communists took over Russia and promised to bring eternal peace and an end to senseless mass slaughter.
9. Then the war was over.
10. The Dada artists all joined the Communist Party and forgot all about anti art and senseless mass slaughter.
11. In 2009, a blogger called Cultural Terrorist started the International Dada Centennial Committee to celebrate the birth of anti art.
12. In 2014, Cultural Terrorist was so famous from the International Dada Centennial Committee that people paid big bucks for his paintings and sculptures as fast as he and his assistants could crank them out.
13. Cultural Terrorist was, by that time, 65, and so rich that he forgot about anti art and senseless mass slaughter.
14. In 2114, the International Dada Bicentennial Committee organizes the celebration of the birth of anti art among the survivors and descendants of survivors of the senseless mass slaughter of the third World War that had been started many years before by the Korean Communist Party.
15. This time the artists decide to get serious about preventing senseless mass slaughter.
16. They research and develop methods of directly stimulating the brain to produce the sensation of seeing great art without actually looking at any great art.
17. The artists get so rich from this that they get snobby and refuse to date non artists.
18. By 3014, artists are so genetically different from humans, that they can no longer interbreed.
19. Humans realize that they are no longer the most highly evolved life form and get very depressed about this and about being controlled by the artists.
20. Humans begin to refuse to reproduce.
21. By 4014, Humans go extinct.
22. The artists are on their own. They have to learn to hunt and gather and farm and make their own beer.
23. Oh well, at least there is no senseless mass slaughter.
24. Yet.
2. Some artists got disgusted.
3. Some disgusted artists went to neutral Switzerland to sit and drink beer.
4. They declared that art had failed in its task of civilizing humans as evidenced by the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields.
5. They wrote manifestos that declared that they were going to give up on art and produce anti art instead.
6. The anti art began to sell.
7. Anti art evolved into Surrealism and this, too began to sell.
8. Meanwhile, Communists took over Russia and promised to bring eternal peace and an end to senseless mass slaughter.
9. Then the war was over.
10. The Dada artists all joined the Communist Party and forgot all about anti art and senseless mass slaughter.
11. In 2009, a blogger called Cultural Terrorist started the International Dada Centennial Committee to celebrate the birth of anti art.
12. In 2014, Cultural Terrorist was so famous from the International Dada Centennial Committee that people paid big bucks for his paintings and sculptures as fast as he and his assistants could crank them out.
13. Cultural Terrorist was, by that time, 65, and so rich that he forgot about anti art and senseless mass slaughter.
14. In 2114, the International Dada Bicentennial Committee organizes the celebration of the birth of anti art among the survivors and descendants of survivors of the senseless mass slaughter of the third World War that had been started many years before by the Korean Communist Party.
15. This time the artists decide to get serious about preventing senseless mass slaughter.
16. They research and develop methods of directly stimulating the brain to produce the sensation of seeing great art without actually looking at any great art.
17. The artists get so rich from this that they get snobby and refuse to date non artists.
18. By 3014, artists are so genetically different from humans, that they can no longer interbreed.
19. Humans realize that they are no longer the most highly evolved life form and get very depressed about this and about being controlled by the artists.
20. Humans begin to refuse to reproduce.
21. By 4014, Humans go extinct.
22. The artists are on their own. They have to learn to hunt and gather and farm and make their own beer.
23. Oh well, at least there is no senseless mass slaughter.
24. Yet.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Cultural Terrorist lies awake at night, feeling guilty that he harbors secret wishes for a new Great War to sweep away the tired old thought and behavior patterns of the 20th century as a hundred years ago artists and intellectuals looked forward to the first Great War. People will die in this new Great War, some slowly. Cultural Terrorist is superstitious enough to think his secret wish for this new Great War will be his fault and people see his secret written on his forehead and will point fingers at him when it starts. Now that North Korea has tested its bomb, he is more worried about this than ever. He has decided to try to prevent this new Great War that sweeps away the tired old 20th century by sweeping it away himself. Hah!
How to sweep away the tired old thought and behavior patterns of the 20th century: These tired old patterns are all around us. They are like pyramids of oranges at a produce stand that depend on no obnoxious little boys sneaking up and knocking the bottom corner orange off and sending the whole thing crashing to the ground. Given enough time, the obnoxious little boy will come along. The fruit vendor is a nervous wreck because he knows this.
One of my favorite tired old ideas is Equality. Equality is a pyramid of oranges dependent on everyone pretending that they do not know what they all know. What they all know is this: Equality Sucks. How do we know that they know this? We simply remember the old cartoon in Playboy where the naked guy in bed with two naked girls kissing him is saying into the telephone, "Of course I love you. I love everybody." No one would agree to wedding vows that promise to love each other equally with all 6 billion other human beings. And children whose parents treat them equally with all other children will grow up to be mass murderers.
Equality Sucks. Tolerance Sucks. I hate tolerance. Intolerance makes me feel alive. I am intolerant of many things. I am intolerant of Rapists. I am intolerant of Nazis. I am intolerant Cruelty to Animals. I am intolerant of people who would tolerate me if I were a Nazi rapist who throws cats off the roof. Tolerance is a pyramid of oranges. I hope we can sweep it away without a new Great War.
Equality Sucks. Tolerance Sucks. Social Justice Sucks. Social Justice is the basic right to other people's stuff. It is a pyramid of oranges, just trembling in its boots for fear that some one in the room will point this out.
Equality Sucks, Tolerance Sucks, Social Justice Sucks, and Jobs Suck. Jobs are a pyramid of oranges. The whole civilization is dependent on no one pointing out that a job is where you get up when you want to be in bed, you produce goods and services that no one really needs and you take orders from idiots. No one really wants a job. They claim they want a job and some claim they actually have a right to a job, but the truth is we all hate jobs. We are made to hunt and gather and sit on the beach with a cold beer.
To be continued, hopefully on a day when Cultural Terrorist got up on the right side of the bed.
How to sweep away the tired old thought and behavior patterns of the 20th century: These tired old patterns are all around us. They are like pyramids of oranges at a produce stand that depend on no obnoxious little boys sneaking up and knocking the bottom corner orange off and sending the whole thing crashing to the ground. Given enough time, the obnoxious little boy will come along. The fruit vendor is a nervous wreck because he knows this.
One of my favorite tired old ideas is Equality. Equality is a pyramid of oranges dependent on everyone pretending that they do not know what they all know. What they all know is this: Equality Sucks. How do we know that they know this? We simply remember the old cartoon in Playboy where the naked guy in bed with two naked girls kissing him is saying into the telephone, "Of course I love you. I love everybody." No one would agree to wedding vows that promise to love each other equally with all 6 billion other human beings. And children whose parents treat them equally with all other children will grow up to be mass murderers.
Equality Sucks. Tolerance Sucks. I hate tolerance. Intolerance makes me feel alive. I am intolerant of many things. I am intolerant of Rapists. I am intolerant of Nazis. I am intolerant Cruelty to Animals. I am intolerant of people who would tolerate me if I were a Nazi rapist who throws cats off the roof. Tolerance is a pyramid of oranges. I hope we can sweep it away without a new Great War.
Equality Sucks. Tolerance Sucks. Social Justice Sucks. Social Justice is the basic right to other people's stuff. It is a pyramid of oranges, just trembling in its boots for fear that some one in the room will point this out.
Equality Sucks, Tolerance Sucks, Social Justice Sucks, and Jobs Suck. Jobs are a pyramid of oranges. The whole civilization is dependent on no one pointing out that a job is where you get up when you want to be in bed, you produce goods and services that no one really needs and you take orders from idiots. No one really wants a job. They claim they want a job and some claim they actually have a right to a job, but the truth is we all hate jobs. We are made to hunt and gather and sit on the beach with a cold beer.
To be continued, hopefully on a day when Cultural Terrorist got up on the right side of the bed.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The International Dada Centennial Committee must not fail to mention that, in the context of a celebration of the declaration, in 1914, by a group of artists in neutral Switzerland that art had failed in its task of civilizing mankind by, among other things, preventing the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France, it is at least disturbing and perhaps ironic that in the years leading to the great war, many artists and intellectuals in Europe actually looked forward to a great war. They "reasoned" that the old Europe of the 19th century needed to be swept away and the most effective way for this sweeping to take place would be a great war.
When the war broke out, German Expressionist painter Franz Marc went so far as to volunteer to join the German army, fully aware that this would put him in the position of firing bullets at his own British and French friends. It was a brilliant stroke of poetic justice that he was the one killed in battle. Whether or not he was shot by one of his British or French friends is not known.
Cultural terrorist experiences fear and trembling that, deep down inside, he harbors similar sentiments of these long dead artists and intellectuals, that something needs to sweep away the tired old thought and behavior patterns of the 20th century and that a great war might do the trick, even though great wars can be so much greater these days. Cultural Terrorist is too old to be drafted. And he lives in a place that no one would bother to nuke. So, if he does secretly harbor such sentiments, he is doubly a dick.
When the war broke out, German Expressionist painter Franz Marc went so far as to volunteer to join the German army, fully aware that this would put him in the position of firing bullets at his own British and French friends. It was a brilliant stroke of poetic justice that he was the one killed in battle. Whether or not he was shot by one of his British or French friends is not known.
Cultural terrorist experiences fear and trembling that, deep down inside, he harbors similar sentiments of these long dead artists and intellectuals, that something needs to sweep away the tired old thought and behavior patterns of the 20th century and that a great war might do the trick, even though great wars can be so much greater these days. Cultural Terrorist is too old to be drafted. And he lives in a place that no one would bother to nuke. So, if he does secretly harbor such sentiments, he is doubly a dick.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Correction
In the previous post about the Appalachian Cultural Center, Cultural Terrorist wrote that the Yankees who gave Bubba a grant for his verticalized collection of junk to be considered art lived in Washington, and thus "did" have to drive by his junk on a daily basis. It should read "did not."
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Appalachian Cultural Center
A fellow who calls himself "Bubba" (an uncreative pseudonym, in my humble opinion) has told cultural terrorist that he is thrilled to become a member of the International Dada Centennial Committee because he has been celebrating dada in his front yard for years. His county government that had been taken over by Yankees, passed, a few years ago, a law that declared that the collection of what he calls "objects" are actually "junk," and must be removed from view of the street.
He wrangled with them to no avail until he took a road trip on Interstate 40 to visit a woman he met on the internet who lived in Bakersfield California. On the way, he passed by the famous 60's era sculpture that consists of a row of vintage Cadillacs half buried in the dirt of the flat, empty, Texas panhandle. He was reminded of how, in school, he was taught that dada artist Marcel Duchamps turned a men's urinal upside down and declared it to be art. This did not make much sense to him until he witnessed the Cadillacs. He did not collect "objects" because he thought they were art. He collected objects because he liked them. Now, he got a revelation: any piece of junk can best get away with being called art if it is made vertical, rather than horizontal, like the random arrangement of junk in his front yard.
He decided to fight fire with fire. He knew Yankees held art to be sacred, even though they did not hold junk to be sacred. He arranged his junk in vertical columns, got a lawyer cousin to incorporate him as the "Appalachian Cultural Center," and applied for a grant from a different group of Yankees who, since they lived in Washington D.C., did have to drive by his collection of objects on a daily basis. It worked, at least to the extent that the county government has been too deadlocked about him to harass him any more so far.
Other areas of his life were not so sanguine. He proposed marriage to the woman from Bakersfield and she too got deadlocked. Reasoning that everyone in California is an environmentalist, he thought to impress her by naming his vertical junk collection "Replacement Rain Forest."
"I thought it was, you know, ironic. They said on the Discovery channel that the rain forests are being destroyed and can never be replaced. So I thought maybe when that happens Obama will pay artists to make, you know, replacements. But she did not think it was ironic. She just said it was 'cute.'"
The local newspaper printed a photo of Replacement Rain Forest. And soon after, a group of neighborhood boys climbed the columns of junk, one of which toppled and broke the wrist of one of the boys. His parents sued Bubba, who settled out of court for the amount of his grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. The woman from Bakersfield is sympathetic, but still deadlocked about marriage.
He wrangled with them to no avail until he took a road trip on Interstate 40 to visit a woman he met on the internet who lived in Bakersfield California. On the way, he passed by the famous 60's era sculpture that consists of a row of vintage Cadillacs half buried in the dirt of the flat, empty, Texas panhandle. He was reminded of how, in school, he was taught that dada artist Marcel Duchamps turned a men's urinal upside down and declared it to be art. This did not make much sense to him until he witnessed the Cadillacs. He did not collect "objects" because he thought they were art. He collected objects because he liked them. Now, he got a revelation: any piece of junk can best get away with being called art if it is made vertical, rather than horizontal, like the random arrangement of junk in his front yard.
He decided to fight fire with fire. He knew Yankees held art to be sacred, even though they did not hold junk to be sacred. He arranged his junk in vertical columns, got a lawyer cousin to incorporate him as the "Appalachian Cultural Center," and applied for a grant from a different group of Yankees who, since they lived in Washington D.C., did have to drive by his collection of objects on a daily basis. It worked, at least to the extent that the county government has been too deadlocked about him to harass him any more so far.
Other areas of his life were not so sanguine. He proposed marriage to the woman from Bakersfield and she too got deadlocked. Reasoning that everyone in California is an environmentalist, he thought to impress her by naming his vertical junk collection "Replacement Rain Forest."
"I thought it was, you know, ironic. They said on the Discovery channel that the rain forests are being destroyed and can never be replaced. So I thought maybe when that happens Obama will pay artists to make, you know, replacements. But she did not think it was ironic. She just said it was 'cute.'"
The local newspaper printed a photo of Replacement Rain Forest. And soon after, a group of neighborhood boys climbed the columns of junk, one of which toppled and broke the wrist of one of the boys. His parents sued Bubba, who settled out of court for the amount of his grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. The woman from Bakersfield is sympathetic, but still deadlocked about marriage.
The Anti Novel
Cultural Terrorist has only had one respondent who claimed, in the spirit of dada anti art, to be making anti jazz. This is the band that calls themselves the Empty House, in reference to the fact that their jazz with no rhythm also tends to have no audience. But we (royal? presidential? confused?) have received several ( well, just three) reports of anti novels. Here is the gist of the most interesting. A Bettina Rathbone claims to have written an anti novel because if the the novelists' craft consists of getting people to begin to read, continue to read and finish reading, she has not been able to get anyone except her sister to read it. Her mother, husband, daughter, son, and best friend have not been able to get past page four. And her sister only read it, she says, in order to have an opportunity to say that it is a "piece of shit."
This much I remember enough to quote: "I heard a joke about how if you want to hide something from a black man, put it into a book. So maybe anti novels can be a way to send secret messages by putting them inside stories that no one can stand to read."
Well, that is all fine and dandy. It does not relate very much to the topic of the centennial of dada, but there you have it.
Another respondent asked, if membership in the International Dada Centennial Committee is free, why does cultural terrorist charge four dollars for his signature? Well, the answer is very simple.
1. Four dollars will get you lunch at a fast food restaurant.
2. The International Dada Centennial Committee is a celebration of the birth of the idea that art is a technology for the prevention of senseless mass slaughter on battlefields.
3. Cultural terrorist is not motivated to put himself out for anyone not willing to lose his (male=neuter) lunch a single time for this celebration.
This much I remember enough to quote: "I heard a joke about how if you want to hide something from a black man, put it into a book. So maybe anti novels can be a way to send secret messages by putting them inside stories that no one can stand to read."
Well, that is all fine and dandy. It does not relate very much to the topic of the centennial of dada, but there you have it.
Another respondent asked, if membership in the International Dada Centennial Committee is free, why does cultural terrorist charge four dollars for his signature? Well, the answer is very simple.
1. Four dollars will get you lunch at a fast food restaurant.
2. The International Dada Centennial Committee is a celebration of the birth of the idea that art is a technology for the prevention of senseless mass slaughter on battlefields.
3. Cultural terrorist is not motivated to put himself out for anyone not willing to lose his (male=neuter) lunch a single time for this celebration.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The Empty House
Cultural Terrorist is astonished at the rapid and voluminous response to this blog. One of the most interesting was a telephone conversation with a jazz musician of a quartet called the Empty House. I will reproduce it here from memory as best I can.
"I would like to join the International Dada Centennial Committee."
"You're in, dude. It's free. Of course if you want my signature on anything, that will cost you four bucks"
"Cool. Actually my group has been kind of celebrating the Dada movement for some time. Didn't the dadas say they were creating anti-art?"
"Yeah, in protest against the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France."
"Well, we play anti-jazz."
"Sweet! What does it sound like?"
"Well, it has no rhythm at all."
"No rhythm..."
"Yeah. We figured that since rap music was music that was nothing but rhythm, with no melody, the next logical step in musical evolution was music that was nothing but melody, with no rhythm."
"So what kind of reception do you get?"
"Well, that is how we came up with the name Empty House. Music with no rhythm tends to also have no audience."
"Sorry about that..."
"No, it's cool. We can't get gigs in bars because we don't bring in people to buy drinks, but we play in city parks and on the streets. We get the contemplative types who need to relieve stress for a while."
"A yes! Homo Sapiens, the only life form capable of self contemplation!"
"Well, capable doesn't mean much. But we have gotten so we can tell who is going to stay to hear a number and drop a dime in the bucket and who isn't. So we slow down the tempo until the wrong ones can't stand it and split."
"Do you have a cd I can get a hold of?"
"No, but we can play for you right now, over the phone."
"I'm all ears."
He then introduced himself as trumpeter Bud Miller. He introduced drummer Myron Platzblatt, bassist Random Beaux-eaux, and vocalist Heather Weintraub. They played for about three minutes. It was quite interesting. Bud was really good. I am not sure what kind of objects the drummer was hitting. They certainly were not the standard snare set. The bassist was fair and the singer had a strange mixture of teenager and ravaged middle aged woman in her voice.
"Is there any reason you all take turns and don't every play at the same time?"
"It just seems like the right thing to do."
I then began to suspect that the Empty House anti-jazz quartet was actually one person playing all four parts with his mouth. But I am not ready to confront him with this yet. I may never.
"I would like to join the International Dada Centennial Committee."
"You're in, dude. It's free. Of course if you want my signature on anything, that will cost you four bucks"
"Cool. Actually my group has been kind of celebrating the Dada movement for some time. Didn't the dadas say they were creating anti-art?"
"Yeah, in protest against the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France."
"Well, we play anti-jazz."
"Sweet! What does it sound like?"
"Well, it has no rhythm at all."
"No rhythm..."
"Yeah. We figured that since rap music was music that was nothing but rhythm, with no melody, the next logical step in musical evolution was music that was nothing but melody, with no rhythm."
"So what kind of reception do you get?"
"Well, that is how we came up with the name Empty House. Music with no rhythm tends to also have no audience."
"Sorry about that..."
"No, it's cool. We can't get gigs in bars because we don't bring in people to buy drinks, but we play in city parks and on the streets. We get the contemplative types who need to relieve stress for a while."
"A yes! Homo Sapiens, the only life form capable of self contemplation!"
"Well, capable doesn't mean much. But we have gotten so we can tell who is going to stay to hear a number and drop a dime in the bucket and who isn't. So we slow down the tempo until the wrong ones can't stand it and split."
"Do you have a cd I can get a hold of?"
"No, but we can play for you right now, over the phone."
"I'm all ears."
He then introduced himself as trumpeter Bud Miller. He introduced drummer Myron Platzblatt, bassist Random Beaux-eaux, and vocalist Heather Weintraub. They played for about three minutes. It was quite interesting. Bud was really good. I am not sure what kind of objects the drummer was hitting. They certainly were not the standard snare set. The bassist was fair and the singer had a strange mixture of teenager and ravaged middle aged woman in her voice.
"Is there any reason you all take turns and don't every play at the same time?"
"It just seems like the right thing to do."
I then began to suspect that the Empty House anti-jazz quartet was actually one person playing all four parts with his mouth. But I am not ready to confront him with this yet. I may never.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Dada was an art movement that put, on the map, the idea that art is a tool, mechanism, macromechanism, a technological entity, for the preventing of senseless mass slaughter on battlefields. Now, one hundred years later, in the future year of 2014, we will revisit this idea in a thousand and one mostly dumb ways. Dumb may become an officially recognized critical category among Art Historians. Why did I capitalize that? I really like the way Germans capitalize all nouns.
Art as technology for preventing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields is not high tech. From abacus to the Internet took, what, 5000 years? I am impatient. I want Art, no, art, capitalizing on a keyboard is just such a pain in the neck, no, ass, to become high tech now, NOW! Calm down, buddy. Okay.
One day art as moral technology will be user friendly. Dude comes to the breakfast table, says good morning darling, drinks coffee and reads the newspaper. Will there still be newpapers when art becomes effective in preventing senseless mass slaughter? He reads about some senseless mass slaughter in, oh, say Africa. Senseless mass slaughter will probably continue in Africa farther into the future than anywhere else. Holy shit, he says, there is yet another case of senseless mass slaughter in Africa! This is a job for Art Man!
Well, don't hurt yourself, dear, his wife says. I will be carefull, he says. He jumps into a telephone booth which, of course, is not really a telephone booth, it is just called that. For centuries after the disappearance of telephone booths, it will be called that. He may not even leave home. He may not even leave his chair at the breakfast table.
Art at this time in the future, has developed into a high technology of senseless mass slaughter prevention. It also prevents senseless non-mass slaughter, sensible non-mass slaughter, etc. How does it do this? The art handbook explains both the theory and practice. The theory is based on Dracula. Dracula avoids the light. Art sheds light. When art increases the light indefinitely, there comes a point at which sinners feel uncomfortable about committing sins. This is called the tipping point. Sin requires a minimum of light shed upon it to flourish, just the opposite of green plants. Sin is a fungus, but not a morel.
The theory of art as moral technology was formulated in the early 21st century by a 60 yr old ne'er-do-well named Charles Barry Williams, sometime before he died painlessly in his sleep at a very advanced age. The key word in the theory is cultural mass.
CULTURAL MASS
Cultural Mass is the sum total of artists, genres, media, output, rate of output, that is focussed on manipulating the cultural climate in such a way as to make a particular sinner, say a senseless mass slaughterer, feel so uncomfortable committing his own particular brand of sin, that he develops inhibitions strong enough to prevent him from committing it. Cultural Mass is the vehicle of cultural climate change. Cultural mass is measured in three major ways: quanity, quality and diversity.
QUANTITY
Increase indefinitely the number of artists focussing on making the particular type of sinner feel uncomfortable. Increase indefinitely the number of individuals pieces of art, poetry, fiction, music etc., produced per unit of time. Increase indefinitely the size and flashiness of the pieces. Increase indefinitely the dispersal of the pieces so that the sinner gets the impression of being surrounded, or followed, that this "thing" is everywhere he(male=neuter) goes. Encourage the production and proliferation of low quality art because this is the easiest.
QUALITY
Increase the number of "great" pieces produced per unit of time.
DIVERSITY
Make it very difficult for observers of a particular project of moral technology to say "It all looks the same!" Confuse them, if neccessary.
To be continued
Art as technology for preventing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields is not high tech. From abacus to the Internet took, what, 5000 years? I am impatient. I want Art, no, art, capitalizing on a keyboard is just such a pain in the neck, no, ass, to become high tech now, NOW! Calm down, buddy. Okay.
One day art as moral technology will be user friendly. Dude comes to the breakfast table, says good morning darling, drinks coffee and reads the newspaper. Will there still be newpapers when art becomes effective in preventing senseless mass slaughter? He reads about some senseless mass slaughter in, oh, say Africa. Senseless mass slaughter will probably continue in Africa farther into the future than anywhere else. Holy shit, he says, there is yet another case of senseless mass slaughter in Africa! This is a job for Art Man!
Well, don't hurt yourself, dear, his wife says. I will be carefull, he says. He jumps into a telephone booth which, of course, is not really a telephone booth, it is just called that. For centuries after the disappearance of telephone booths, it will be called that. He may not even leave home. He may not even leave his chair at the breakfast table.
Art at this time in the future, has developed into a high technology of senseless mass slaughter prevention. It also prevents senseless non-mass slaughter, sensible non-mass slaughter, etc. How does it do this? The art handbook explains both the theory and practice. The theory is based on Dracula. Dracula avoids the light. Art sheds light. When art increases the light indefinitely, there comes a point at which sinners feel uncomfortable about committing sins. This is called the tipping point. Sin requires a minimum of light shed upon it to flourish, just the opposite of green plants. Sin is a fungus, but not a morel.
The theory of art as moral technology was formulated in the early 21st century by a 60 yr old ne'er-do-well named Charles Barry Williams, sometime before he died painlessly in his sleep at a very advanced age. The key word in the theory is cultural mass.
CULTURAL MASS
Cultural Mass is the sum total of artists, genres, media, output, rate of output, that is focussed on manipulating the cultural climate in such a way as to make a particular sinner, say a senseless mass slaughterer, feel so uncomfortable committing his own particular brand of sin, that he develops inhibitions strong enough to prevent him from committing it. Cultural Mass is the vehicle of cultural climate change. Cultural mass is measured in three major ways: quanity, quality and diversity.
QUANTITY
Increase indefinitely the number of artists focussing on making the particular type of sinner feel uncomfortable. Increase indefinitely the number of individuals pieces of art, poetry, fiction, music etc., produced per unit of time. Increase indefinitely the size and flashiness of the pieces. Increase indefinitely the dispersal of the pieces so that the sinner gets the impression of being surrounded, or followed, that this "thing" is everywhere he(male=neuter) goes. Encourage the production and proliferation of low quality art because this is the easiest.
QUALITY
Increase the number of "great" pieces produced per unit of time.
DIVERSITY
Make it very difficult for observers of a particular project of moral technology to say "It all looks the same!" Confuse them, if neccessary.
To be continued
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
2014 will be mark(?) the centennial of the commencement of world war I. I do not know whether the dada movement in the arts began in 2014 or after 2014. But the international dada centennial committee (IDCC) will recognize 2014 as the beginning of the dada movement because that year is easy to remember for anyone who still remembers his (male=neuter) high school history. Any one can qualify as a member of the International Dada Centennial Committee simply by saying he (male=neuter) is a member. Dada came about when a group of artists, hanging out (draft dodging?) in the neutral nation of Switzerland, declared that art had failed in its mission to civilize humanity, as evidenced by the senseless mass slaughter on the battlefields of France.
This is historically significant. It is, to my knowledge (and I majored in Art History at Duke University Graduate School, mind you), the first time the idea that Art has a mission of civilizing humanity got on the map. Now, (2014) one hundred years later, we in the IDCC will do our best to hit humanity over the head with this core idea: Art has a mission, a duty, a job, to civilize humanity by, among other things, effectively preventing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields, off battlefields, non-senseless mass slaughter, senseless non-mass slaughter, sensible mass slaughter, sensible non-mass slaughter...Have I left anything out? My name is Charles Barry Williams. I live with my wife of 30 years, in a little cabin of my own design and making, in the mountains of western North Carolina. I tune and repair pianos. I am an unsuccessful artist. I am 60 years old. I have not given up. If you suspect that my founding of the International Dada Centennial Committee is an attempt, one more time, to become famous, you are on to something. You are so smart. Welcome to my blog.
This is historically significant. It is, to my knowledge (and I majored in Art History at Duke University Graduate School, mind you), the first time the idea that Art has a mission of civilizing humanity got on the map. Now, (2014) one hundred years later, we in the IDCC will do our best to hit humanity over the head with this core idea: Art has a mission, a duty, a job, to civilize humanity by, among other things, effectively preventing senseless mass slaughter on battlefields, off battlefields, non-senseless mass slaughter, senseless non-mass slaughter, sensible mass slaughter, sensible non-mass slaughter...Have I left anything out? My name is Charles Barry Williams. I live with my wife of 30 years, in a little cabin of my own design and making, in the mountains of western North Carolina. I tune and repair pianos. I am an unsuccessful artist. I am 60 years old. I have not given up. If you suspect that my founding of the International Dada Centennial Committee is an attempt, one more time, to become famous, you are on to something. You are so smart. Welcome to my blog.
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