being there by David Hochman

Watch Out Shell

I’m confused: age, I surmise, is just a straight-line destination to confusion. And we’re not talking Alzheimer’s here. Neither are we talking about the ponderous questions—the only ones that have any worth—for which there aren’t any answers anyway: why are we here, the meaning of Life, etc. I’m talking about the questions in youth one did have answers for; answers to observable aspects of human existence. Now, gone are the certain days of black and white, replaced by an incessant grey blur. Yet, there’s something reassuring about the blur, about the doubt, the uncertainty. And the older I get, the more confused, reassuringly, I become.

What confuses me? These days, what doesn’t?

There are more and more people in the world; yet companies want to keep costs down, and do so by hiring fewer and fewer employees. Ok, let me get this straight: more and more people, fewer and fewer jobs…hmmm….

The government is loosening wise old regulations from the time of Hearst, allowing people like Murdoch to control more and more media airways, giving them dangerous influence over public opinion, and, as the last Presidential elections showed, the ability to push forward their own agendas and politicians….hmmm….

Iraq: a frightening glimpse into Nazi Germany. I always naively thought that somehow, some way, I’d be able to stop the madness, had I lived in those times. That I would be able, miraculously, as if inviting a friend to a pub, ring Adolf—or in this case, the Prez--and speak a little sense to him. And he’d say, Christ, you’re right. What the hell was I thinking? Thanks for sorting me out. Now, let’s have another beer.

Uh, right. How foolish, how absurd. What Iraq showed me: the individual with a discerning mind has little or no sway over events once propaganda and mass hysteria rear their ugly heads.

Speaking of heads, I’ve been thinking of the ancient inhabitants of Easter Island, who, in their zeal to build massive stone statues, the Moai, and transport them to the coast, cleared their palm forests, raining ecological calamity on their island. Faced with imminent disaster, how did the islanders respond? They tore down the Moai. Uh, yes, that must have done a lot of good. Let’s blame it on the statues!

Experts use Easter Island to illustrate the ecological disaster metaphor: humans, seeing the tragic consequences of their actions, are nonetheless seemingly unable to stop their own destruction. Are we, then, similarly destroying the environment with fossil fuels and imminently and inevitably decimating the ecosystem? If so, when all goes to hell, how will we react?

My vision: I see people tearing down gas pumps.

I am reminded of a passage from Milan Kundera’s acceptance speech of a literary prize: “…why does God laugh at the sight of man thinking? Because man thinks and the truth escapes him. Because the more men think, the more one man’s thought diverges from another’s. And finally, because man is never what he thinks he is.”

And that’s it for me. No more thinking. I’m closing my eyes and in November, compadres, I’m going with Bush. But this time, when he starts to go a little bonkie, I’m gonna take him out for a beer and set him straight, and he’ll listen to me, and even thank me, and let me sleep in the Lincoln bedroom as reward. And you know what? If he doesn’t, on the way home I’m gonna knock over a gas pump or two, and everything’s gonna be alright.

But unfortunately that makes me think of last Sunday’s referendum in Venezuela, the fifth largest oil producer, and how elected President Chavez yet again had to vindicate himself to the right-wing nutcases, and how the Bush administration wouldn’t acknowledge the slap-in-the-face victory, and hell, I’ve had enough…I’m calling the White House…and if no one answers…watch out Shell!

Anyone wanna join me?