Decapitation

Q_Anon

Back in October of 2021, I read a story on DailyBeast titled, “Oath Keepers Panicked That The Left Would ‘Decapitate’ Them After Failed Capitol Putsch,” and saw something I’d failed to recognize before. First of all, the story followed the devolving world of Yale Law School graduate Stuart Rhodes, the founder of Oath Keepers, a far-right paramilitary group. According to the article, following the January 6th, 2021 insurrection attempt on the Capitol, “Elmer” (Stuart Rhodes’s legal first name) told his followers that “the Biden White House was about to “conduct a ‘night of the long knives’ decapitation strike” on Oath Keepers under the guise of a massive power outage.”

So, who are the followers of the Oath Keepers, and what role has QAnon played in this? Beyond those two entities, what is the mindset that pulls adherents into the conspiracies that fuel groups that feed on this stuff and sustain the engine of producing more conspiracies? A blog post on Stanford University Press (SUP) by Sophia Moskalenko about the book “Pastels and Pedophiles” by Mia Bloom and Sophia Moskalenko shares the following:

Research on radicalization has consistently found that the subjective matters more than the objective when predicting violent trajectories. Relative deprivation is more predictive of anger and resentment than objective deprivation. Their bank accounts may not have been in distress, but that didn’t help the psychological distress of changing culture and eroding social norms. Highly subjective “life meaning” is a better predictor of overall well-being than objective economic measures.

One of the predictors of meaning in life is awe, the experience of “perceptually vast stimuli that transcend one’s ordinary reference frame”––like the “Whoa” moment QAnon followers experience when, escaping their relative deprivation, they connect the dots into a pattern. Their pain and anger transcend ordinary reference frames, filling their lives with meaning.

To those searching for meaning in the devastated sociocultural landscape, QAnon promises to make everything better. Personally discovering “the Truth,” followers experience awe, and their lives become more fulfilling as a result.

This brings me to what I failed to recognize prior to today, and that is the similarities between groups such as the Oath Keepers and the 1970s People’s Temple cult that ended in a mass suicide at Jonestown in Guyana.

When life has little meaning, and we are unable to find that thing that inspires us, isolation, loneliness, self-medication, various pharmaceuticals, and a society that doesn’t care how crazy the individual creates an environment ripe for the likes of a Reverend Jim Jones who feed the imaginations of those who need greater meaning and end up finding it in the rant of madness. In 1978, we learned that the majority of the 911 people who ended up dead were persuaded to voluntarily end their children’s and their own lives in a grueling poisoning that unfolded among nearly a thousand people driven into mass hysteria.

Today, the internet delivers voices such as QAnon in the role of Jim Jones to drive a disenfranchised large segment of our population into the madness of a conspiracy that offers them a truth of perception that alleviates the pain of uncertainty and loss. On television and in movies, there’s always a resolution to the unknowns, and the bad or evil side that is causing pain for others is clearly defined, but in real life, we ourselves are most often the culprits causing our own pain and suffering. The need to find that external cause is of greater concern than looking within to learn what we are harboring or lacking.

Someone whom a plurality of people considers potentially bad or evil can become an easy victim upon which to pin nonsensical stories. Take black Americans: throughout history, they have been lynched or imprisoned because the common bias against black men created “probable cause” and pronounced them guilty, if not for the charge at hand, then something in their past, so they “had it coming.” A large part of our population hated President Barack Obama, but our culture made it sine qua non to not voice racism in absolute terms else you would suffer ostracisation. When Obama’s last term in office neared its end, the pent-up rage from “suffering” a black president unleashed the propagandistic dogs of war, making Hillary Clinton the scapegoat while that segment of our population foisted a populist into power who held the promise of turning back the clock.

Returning to a “greater time” in the past is a contrivance of folly as only the circumstances leading into an age produce the conditions experienced as culture; we cannot manifest this by desire or any amount of hard work. This would be akin to the 30-year-old willing themselves back to being the 10-year-old, not just mentally but physically too.

The cult leader (or now the “Cult of Internet Conspiracy”) promises those anguished by being “born in the wrong decade” that the life they desire is just over the horizon. This megalomaniac offers definitive proof of who is at fault for why they feel out of sorts and lost in a society that has apparently abandoned them. Someone other than yourself is to blame, and only I can see and relate to your pain; follow me.

This devil’s bargain is a path to ruin and always has been. What good has come from following the likes of Hitler, Manson, Stalin, Koresh, Jim Jones, or Donald Trump? The most devout always sacrifice their freedom and often their lives, too. If you claim that Donald Trump improved the economic situation of Americans, the exact same was said of Adolf Hitler from 1933 to 1939, the six years before Germany invaded Poland, leading to over 50 million deaths during the following six years. All of these leaders promise to bring their adherents to some mythical promised land which apparently is code for the graveyard.

The point of this post, though, is not to argue about my biases held against those that bring ruin to their followers or if any of those named were really ever as I perceive them but to notice how the internet has brought about the power of a deranged cult leader in the form of clues, hints, videos, and forum posts that allow the congregation to meet up behind the scenes and to anonymously foment their personal revolution among the like-minded. Dispersed and unable to be contained in a neighborhood, city, or country, they are cancer living among the healthy cells, spreading their disease by reinforcing bad mental health. How can anything be orchestrated to contain madness unless it’s imposed by something operating outside of its operating field?

Just as a segment of society worries about the rule over their body and mind by a malignant artificial intelligence, disinformation, and conspiracy will be the first digital disease arising out of fear to cause widespread damage to the body of society, requiring drastic remediation to purge the illness from our population. I mention those afraid of AI as though they abhor the idea of being obedient to a nefarious AI, yet they are busy infecting themselves with a disease that has only previously been fought by means of armed conflict, either from policing or actual war.

The Blank Page

Blank Page

The blank page is an awful thing to witness; it is devoid of substance and lacks meaning, and the interpretation of it is not much more than seeing a blank slate. For the sheet of white to garner the reader’s interest, one must commit to filling it with something that pulls the reader’s eyes forward to explore the thoughts of the person who left the breadcrumbs. Due to the limitations of language, there will be long sequences of machinations that may or may not reveal things of interest. So, why do the streams of words that flow from some fingers carry travelers to new and interesting places while someone else expending an equal effort fails to engage the reader’s curiosity in quite the same way?

Words create images painted in colors and characters that satisfy the dreams not yet imagined in hungry minds yearning for meaning. But, meaning is an abstraction of current conditioning that allows the person to navigate those things at the margin of perception. We cannot write about hobbits, gnomes, sprites, and fairies without the folklore that allows us to consider their presence. Dinosaurs, monsters, aliens, and the like are possible because we’ve seen their artistic renditions and, in some instances, proof of their existence due to their fossilized skeletons.

So, when the storyteller wants to bring others on a journey into the unknown, it is their responsibility to architect the structures that render the invisible horizon into sequences of moments painted in language. As the musician borrows from the palette of tones to create melodies, the writer will borrow letters and words that must sing while simultaneously offering images and landscapes that are meaningful enough to become a working narrative or even new folklore in our memory while certain passages take on musical-like qualities and play as a soundtrack giving meaning to our gathering experiences.

As I go forward creating an ocean to contain this unseen universe, I must remain aware of the need for symbiosis in which disparate parts relate well to one another, just as fish don’t fly to the moon. Cadence should dictate that time is linear, but when it does jump around, it will serve the story to complete a grounding in the subject being familiarized to the reader, who I hope is adopting the story into their own lore. This has me circling back around, wondering what it is precisely about any yarn being spun that takes possession of the brain cells such that it is retained for a lifetime. The answer can only be that readers have found some small or large part of themselves within the pages with wishes that they were part of the story or fortunate that they avoided the situation. Does this imply that what’s written is either fantasy or a lesson?

How could it be anything else? Well, the easy answer there is that it can be both, although the reader may not yet have enough knowledge to glean where the learning is, or might they be so learned that they understand that there is no fantasy but only potentialities? — Written October 2021

Obituary for a Pair of Socks

Handmade Socks

Yesterday, this pair of socks that Caroline informed me is less than a year old developed a large hole under the ball of one of my feet. They are unrepairable as the darning stitches that would be required to bridge the hole would be too uncomfortable for my highly sensitive feet. The yarn was picked up in Santa Cruz, California, last May 4th, which means Caroline just finished these within the last 6 months. Maybe I wore them too often or it’s possible they didn’t have enough nylon spun into the yarn? In any case, they weren’t as durable as others. There’s really no way of knowing, but they need to be put aside with great sadness. We are considering keeping one and adding it to our Tibetan prayer flags that hang over a sliding door. When socks are handmade for you, it’s absolutely tragic when a pair must go away.

Random

Butterfly

Do not look for that thing we believe will be found in love before you have learned something about who you are, and don’t believe that sense of knowing can be had before you start to approach your mid-20s. Learning and experience must be accumulated just as language or artistic skills must grow over time. We are not born with fully developed skills for using words or paint brushes; we cultivate them gradually and take influence from the many interactions that must occur before we are able to share competency. The same holds true as we begin the journey of exploring our emergent adult selves. We cannot commit to a person early if we are to reach our complex potential that must grow and evolve. Who are we, what are we capable of, and what do we want to know that we don’t know yet? Those answers must be found as we traverse the space within us; they are only rarely delivered by someone else. Just because you watch a story about a fairy princess, you do not magically become one, and just because you want love, there’s no guarantee that what someone tells you is love will be, in fact, love.

There are people who desire to please others, hoping for love in return, and there are those who only take from others as they themselves never learned to give. It is only through giving that we begin to flirt with love. Do not fool yourself by giving your all that the recipient will be enlightened by your efforts if you’ve known them to be takers. People who only take do not love themselves or anyone else; they are exploring self-hate that cynically has them telling and showing others exactly what they want to hear or see so the taker can get what they think they want. The problem is that the taker has no real idea what they want as they are lost, blinded by an inability to feel for others.

Our investment in discovering ourselves requires traveling a path that only rarely do we have the opportunity to share with a kindred spirit. Often alone, the journey into discovery demands we peel the onion of life and suffer the tears of anguish, which brings forth the cliched maxim of “What does not kill me makes me stronger.”

Do not look for affirmation from others; you will not find validation from them that only comes from within.

As we transition to our teenage years there are those of us who experience for the first time ideas of loneliness; we are no longer nestled tightly within our family. We start to identify who we wish to be. Narcissists never grow up and accept this loneliness or isolation, and so they clamor to keep people around and dependent upon them so that they never need to feel alone or by themselves.

The Trash of Nostalgia

Pieter Bruegel the Elder - The Ass in the School

Pioneers, inventors, wanderers, and people steeped in hard work helped define a nation in a previous age. Nowaday,s this has been supplanted by superficial caricatures of clowns that are themselves creations of illusions. While people are relics with little utility to a society that is possessed by fragmentary citizens honed from the trash of nostalgia and trivia.

Do not conflate nostalgia and trivia with real knowledge, as a grab bag of nonsense regarding sports, celebrities, viral videos, and video games hardly replaces literature, philosophy, science, and theology. Fashion belies the idea that someone’s external expression is somehow relevant to the advancement of our species. Yet, due to our utter lack of direction as people of the United States, we now rely on the appearance of things to wholly define one’s place in the natural order.

It is as though we’ve reversed our trajectory into the future, regressing to the age where one’s display of face paint, seashells, necklace of trophies, or types of animal skins worn proffer an adequate positioning of our standing in the social hierarchy.

Fractured media sources play into this by delivering fragments of nonsense construed as specific cultural knowledge but presenting us with superfluous trash masquerading as contemporary relevance. Do we as a society want more than that? The answer I see writ large on the foreheads of those I encounter is a resounding NO. We are seemingly happy to be lost in our trivialized compendium of all things golf, Pokemon, celebrity du jour, fad exercise, or scandal rocking the tabloids that we find trending on social or mass media.

The cliché that we are becoming a nation of idiots is played for laughs but actually applies to the vast majority – which do not realize this includes them. In my estimation (or arrogance), I believe this concerns almost 95% of those I am likely to encounter on any given day, week, or month. I move from poor to wealthy environments and rarely am able to claim to be witness to intellectual activity. Sure, I listen in on savvy investors making money, real estate deals, and people plotting their next vacation or sending their children off to university, but the underlying mindset is tone-deaf to matters of societal cohesion beyond obtuse biases that often fuel hate.

Without a working broad spectrum of knowledge and little logic backed by critical thinking, my fellow citizens wreak of posturing imbeciles while whatever hope I’ve had of finding inspiration and mentorship from those around me has faded like the sun over Seattle in January. How does one find community in a society of idiots when the ambitions of the individual are met with indifference to big-picture issues and sharing well-reasoned wisdom doesn’t exist? Instead of being embraced in the community, we are labeled nerds and geeks to be relegated to the margin as difficult while being perceived as awkward and or anti-social.

Somewhere along the road of advancement in the United States, knowledge became a weapon characterized by showing off and appearing arrogant. The economic reality of capitalism requires rewarding of smart, but it should happen off-camera on the margin and in the shadows. Should great success come your way, the scrutiny of who you are and the hope for your demise will run rife in our population of misfits who thrive on seeing others ultimately suffer worse fates than they perceive themselves to be suffering.

Somewhere in the back of my head, maybe in the front, sit Alan Watts, Terence McKenna, Nietzsche, Baudrillard, Baudelaire, Bukowski, Burroughs, Dickens, Ram Dass, Russell, Dawkins, Deutsch, E.O. Wilson, Fortey, Foucault, Reich, Canetti, Marcuse, and Bataille. They inform my search for a voice.

500,000 years ago, we started making stone tools; 30,000 years ago, we learned to work with clay; 12,000 years ago, we learned how to farm; 10,0000 years ago, we learned to work with copper; and 6,000 years ago, we learned how to work with bronze. Today, we are reduced to social media and empty posturing so that a new religion called consumption and conspicuous display can rule over us. The digital tools we are using are the new religious icons that adorn our minds, occupying them with thoughts of our electronic Jesus, Buddha, etc.

Out of The Real and Into Omega Mart

Highway 93 north of Las Vegas, Nevada

We wake to the blissful idea that there are 100 miles of this ahead of us before we have to encounter the mega aggression of what it is to drive in the city of Las Vegas. When I think of the horror of driving in Los Angeles, I should keep in mind that even on a Sunday morning in Vegas, the people in this place of broken dreams are driving with incredible contempt and regret for their poor decisions and, consequently, they care little about others who must die like they already have done inside.

Highway 93 north of Las Vegas, Nevada

In retrospect, as in when I actually got to writing this post, it would be these V-shaped electricity poles that would be the main attraction of the day. To get this photo, we had to walk about a half mile across raw desert, and the payoff was well worth it. It was fascinating to see that these poles that would be mostly out of eyeshot of us humans were wrapped in black steel as nothing more than a decorative element. Something else drew us in: while we simply assumed that guy-wires were stabilizing the V configuration of the towers, it was difficult to see them from the road; out here, it all became clear.

Highway 93 north of Las Vegas, Nevada

I could also now grab a shot of the mountains behind the powerlines that were obscured before.

Highway 93 north of Las Vegas, Nevada

We drove next to this desert art installation for miles before realizing that if we didn’t leave with photographic proof of their aesthetic qualities, we’d be forever disappointed in the lost opportunity to share this with others and prove to ourselves that such things really do exist.

Highway 93 north of Las Vegas, Nevada

We were about to drop into Las Vegas where we’ll visit Omega Mart from Meow Wolf before stopping for lunch at Chengdu Taste for Szechuan culinary treats. From big nature into the maelstrom that is Sin City is a jolt better left to those looking for riches, sex, drunken or stoned debauchery, and confirmation that they are living the American Dream.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

The reality from my perspective is that this city is a nightmare of neon, DayGlo, fake body parts, lawyers, guns, 24-hour everything, weed, Barry Manilow, and a giant golden dildo of a hotel emblazoned with the word “Trump” across the top that for some is a Great Attractor while for me it acts as a megaphone blaring, “GTFO of here!” But we are not here to bash the place we’ve avoided visiting together since 2004; we are here for Omega Mart above all else.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

After visiting Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return in Santa Fe, New Mexico, we’ve been looking forward to visiting their other locations, the one over in Denver, Colorado, and this one right here. We were actually a little confused visiting this Meow Wolf location today because once you find the enclave pocketed next to the freeway, you are confronted with a parking lot aimed more at those arriving by something like Lyft, Uber, or taxi. You enter a giant warehouse-like building called Area 15, which is a blacked-out neon mall/nightclub and is probably hopping after dark, but here in the morning, it’s family time.

Caroline Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Knowing the drill from our summer visit to Santa Fe, we knew to check all doors and everything else that might act as a passage to somewhere else. With that in mind, we entered through a cooler and were genuinely excited to discover what lies beyond the cool passage.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Blam, Alex Grey type of projection-mapped irregularly shaped walls greet us in a great room. This is promising.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Oh, this is nice, an ornate skeleton in a glass coffin. We are intrigued, and our excitement is growing.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Should we pass back into reality? Not yet.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Hints of the Santa Fe location and the draw that there is yet a lot to be discovered.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

But too quickly, we are again in the main room, and while the projection mapping is great, it seems like we circled back here far too quickly.

Caroline Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Okay, now we are on the right path, this hidden tunnel will certainly bring us to an area that is not obviously part of what we are able to see from various spots on the main floor.

Caroline Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

I’m starting to get creeped out, not by the environment but by the number of observers/security personnel that are all over the place. What does this presence say about the visitors? Taking photos without them is no easy feat. At this point, we are still enjoying the ambiance and scale of things, and the tunnel stairs gave us hope that the space will be bigger and more intricate than our first observations have alluded to.

Color-pulsing flowers with shifting hues were nice, but a theme is becoming apparent; we are moving through large installation spaces in an almost traditional museum setup of walls and art pieces instead of feeling like we are in something immersive as we did in Santa Fe.

This should be the reminder, we are in Las Vegas. As much as I want to be at Meow Wolf as I first experienced it, we are in a city we abhor for the type of people it attracts. Ironically, back in the late 20th century, when we still were intrigued by this place, we despised the hell found in Laughlin, Nevada, popular with the elderly and bikers, but by now, well into the 21st century, I have the same disdain for the type of person Vegas attracts. Maybe when Earth forked 50,000 years ago, I landed in the highly discontiguous zone of grumpy assholes destined to despise the masses.

Caroline Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

Too much of a reliance on video, in my opinion, which I can only figure appeals to the dim-witted who are more accustomed to being fed information via a screen with moving pictures than having to rely on deciphering what objects of art might mean. This particular part of the exhibit did allow Caroline and me to take a selfie that is well outside the ordinary of how we typically shoot them.

Caroline Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

More video. There are a lot of videos and screens for people to feel comfortable with.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

On the other hand, I want more of this.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

This was a nice, albeit slightly confusing, use of technology: it appears a motion-sensitive detector sees that a person or people are in front of the display and triggers a light; a camera records a burst of video and then plays it back mixed with digital noise that has it looking like we are peering into a universe as overlords or gods.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

And then we arrive in our favorite room of all of Mega Mart, a multi-layered glass and light sculpture that boxes in the walls. It’s always in movement with changes in the quality of the light on different panels within the layering, picking up the light and color giving the illusion that things are animated.

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

There’s something reminiscent of the Monterey Bay Aquarium we recently visited with allusions to the shapes being influenced by sea plants, jellyfish, sea stars, various membranes, eyes, and water bubbles flowing in and through things. While this exhibit is a favorite, it’s really being hammered on us that we are entering relatively empty spaces with art on the walls, and while it’s not like anything else we’ve ever seen, there seems to be something missing in comparison to our immersive experience just a couple of months prior at the House of Eternal Return.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

We are back in the main shopping area of Mega Mart, and yes, those are purple tears of disappointment at having spent $118 to be here for only a bit more than an hour. While we enjoyed most of the things we saw, the place has the vibe of being here for drunken visitors who require larger spaces that are both easy to clean and facilitate larger groups moving through without damaging fragile art, such as what we saw in Santa Fe. There is a lack of intricate detail and too much of a reliance on video screens and projections; there are not enough hidden passages. There are half a dozen doors that have signs that say, “Nope” and appear to either be unfinished rooms, rooms under refurbishment, or simply closed as they proved incompatible with the type of people that visit this location. Whatever the circumstances, nothing was offered about why this experience was so expensive and so brief.

[It should also be noted that all of the Meow Wolf installations have storylines and clues that visitors can attempt to discover and decipher. However, unlike Santa Fe, Las Vegas offers visitors an “interactive experience” for an extra charge. Since it wasn’t obvious to us what the value of that would be, we decided against it (we didn’t try to “solve the puzzles” in Santa Fe either and had a fabulous time just roaming the exhibit rooms). I suspect that the cards allow visitors to interface with the various terminals to get “clues.” It looked as if most of the other visitors were clustering around every conceivable computer screen (instead of looking at the artwork) as if we were moving through a fancy internet cafe, and that was a bit of a turn-off. – Caroline]

Meow Wolf's Mega Mart in Las Vegas, Nevada

In a sense, I feel like this display in Mega Mart is a comment about us visitors that says, “You are nothing more than ground meat for the purveyors of this attraction to carve fortunes out of the styrofoam package of you so we may contemplate how our own existence becomes more meaningful than yours.  You are reduced to nothing more than building blocks of our wealth and happiness.”

The funny thing is, we are not so disappointed that we now want to forego a visit to Denver’s Convergence Station by Meow Wolf. We are trying to understand the reasoning behind the Vegas location and maybe a different demographic that is looking for quick experiences on their way through a whirlwind visit to a city that has countless other attractions all vying for the eyeballs and money of people trying to see it all as quick as possible.

Our fantastic lunch of authentic Chinese food at Chengdu Taste made up for the slightly bitter taste left after we so easily dropped $118, but so be it. As we head out of town, we are guessing this might have been our last ever visit to Las Vegas.