Som tidligere nevnt skrev jeg blogg i mange år på engelsk, men så ble nesten hele den engelskspråklige verden nazi så jeg bestemte meg for å “reise hjem” og begynne å skrive på norsk (og dermed føkke flere titalls tusen lesere som jeg hadde), men jeg vet ikke om jeg liker en bloggplattform som ikke er moderert, for det finnes nazier her også. De snakker fritt her, det vil si at de oppfordrer til både drap og selvmord (men på en indirekte, politisk korrekt måte). Og ingen konfronterer dem. Ingen ber dem dra til helvete og bli der. Alle “passer sine egne saker” og dermed skjer det samme som forrige gang dette avskummet hadde vind i seilene. Herregud. For en gjeng med ynkelig klynkende spyttslikkere. Er vi svensker nå eller hva?
Uansett, jeg har skrevet litt på engelsk i det siste og derfor vært fraværende fra norsken.
Her er en copy/paste av mitt seneste produkt:
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She’s Just A Little Tease
Only a moron would believe their own eyes because the data set one is able to pick up and analyze by these ridiculously limited means is insufficient to form any valid hypothesis about the world, so it represents an overreach of the typical human kind, where one later says “I wish I had known back then what I know now”. Which begs the question: What do you know now?
Abraham Lincoln once said – when he was criticised for changing his mind – that he wouldn’t put much trust in a man who isn’t smarter today than he was yesterday. Which is kind of a scientific attitude, that seems to have later been removed from the political party that he represented, but that’s beside the point, which is that the mind needs daily maintenance and upgrading work.
Reality is a titillating bellydancer that refuses to stay in focus for more than a few fleeting moments at a time. She’s fluttering like a butterfly all over the place, only at a breakneck speed, creating a pattern which we call the great illusion and worship as if our lives depended on it (which they do). We are, after all, beasts. So we tend to think, feel and act like beasts. However, there are options. Humans have “special talents” that may be developed.
The information we can gather with our eyes (and the other senses) is good, what we do wrong is “believing” that the image we create in our mind is a true representation of that which is out there, when in fact it is, at best, just a whimsical sketch – or a suggestion as it were – of what our unconscious mind thinks that we may be interested in, not unlike how the algorithm of some web page may suggest things based in our former search history.
The so called first principle of metaphysics asks the question “why is there anything at all?” and examines various ways that humans have attempted to answer this question, but I’m personally of the mind that a deeper (and more pertinent) question must be: What makes me think that I have the ability to understand these things? The great illusion is very alluring. I don’t think it’s safe to operate along the edges without acknowledging that there are unknowable things that we should take great care to not confuse with those that are only unknown (but knowable with some effort). Immersing oneself in speculation around the unknowables will break the mind as surely as it will break the body if we try to do physically impossible feats.
There is a market for certainty. The demand exists. People wail and cry woe is me because humanity weren’t granted divine abilities. We should expect to see various charlatans making a move on the certainty market, ready to trade whatever snakeoil they’ve got with the anxious community. People are willing to pay exuberant prices for the coveted “feeling of absolute certainty” but no honest scientist or philosopher can offer them anything but “degrees of probability” (which are open source and free for all) so they turn to the black market for imaginary nonsense and (more or less) clever self deception, wherein we find not least the old Lovecraftian monster that is religion, feeding off humanity’s vain desire to acquire god powers, or at the very least be “the special bitch” of some all-powerful entity that may or may not exist (see “Pascal’s Wager” for the sordid details).
Upon beholding the human condition, we may laugh or cry for precisely the same reasons, however I recommend the laughing option simply because this has “the better spirit” of chutzpah (which is often good to have in this life). We do not laugh out of spite but because it’s funny, in a sliding on the banana peel and falling on your face sort of way. Are we an intelligent species? I don’t think so, but that hangs on how you define intelligence. In my opinion, stupidity isn’t about not knowing or not understanding, it is what happens when we falsely assume that we understand something, whereas it will later turn out that we had no fucking clue. Does this happen often? Then this is proof that we are in fact a stupid species, or more accurately that we are a lazy species who will stop at nothing when it comes to the “creature comfort” of it all. Including, but certainly not limited to, simply making shit up as we go rather than taking on the arduous task of improving our standards.
Hadde noen fortalt meg at jeg skulle ende opp med å blogge på norsk da jeg først fant ut at dette var noe jeg kunne tenke meg å begynne med, ville det vært like fjernt som å si jeg skulle blogget på urdu *hehe*.
Greia var imidlertid at dette med at hinsides mange flere skjønner engelsk, også innebærer at det er hinsides mange flere om beinet, for å si det sånn! Og i rosabloggernes æra var det jo mer enn vanskelig nok å bli ‘sett’ i konkurranse med utelukkende norske bloggere. På de engelske portalene viste det seg å være klin umulig, så her er vi, da..
Min erfaring med internasjonalt orientert blogging på et av de store verdensspråkene – i mitt tilfelle engelsk – er at din status som “norsk” gir deg ganske mange gratispoeng i kampen om oppmerksomhet, siden de fleste som blogger på engelsk jo ikke er norske og derfor har et svakere troverdighetsgrunnlag for å svare på soørsmål om Norge (og Skandinavia generelt), som flere enn man skulle ha trodd viser nysgjerrighet overfor. (Det oppfattes som et veldig “annerledes” sted.) I Norge er du bare en av mange norske men i “det store utlandet” er du noe sjeldent. Dette er ihvertfall min opplevelse av verden der ute, enten det har handlet om fysisk reisevirksomhet med kropp, bagasje og hele pakka, eller vi snakker om “virtuell representasjon” på nettet: Jeg blir behandlet bedre enn andre bare fordi jeg er norsk.
Siden har vi spørsmålene om stil og temavalg. Jeg måtte slå opp begrepet “rosablogger” for å se om det betyr det jeg tror det betyr — og det gjør det. Det er når jenter snakker om jenteting. Sånt vet jeg ingenting om. Jeg er ikke interessert i jenteting og det er fullstendig uinteressant for meg “hvordan det føles å være kvinne” (jeg bryr meg ikke engang om “hvordan det føles å være mann”, det er bare en tilfeldig biologisk kategori som sjelden har noen saklig betydning). Mine interesser har en utpreget intellektuell profil – la oss si filosofi og generell kulturkritikk – og i det spillet er jeg like god som de beste du finner der ute. La oss kalle det “infrarød blogging” for å holde oss til fargespekteret, men også fordi det gir en bekvem åpning for å sitere Schopenhauer: “Talenter treffer mål ingen andre klarer å treffe. Genier treffer mål ingen andre kan se.” Den andre kommentaren din behandles separat i en egen post.