The rampage and carnage that fool spread across the world is a shame to anyone with any sense of decency. I'm no great guy and I can see it. It makes me think that those who are better men than I just don't have a clue about the man as he was. Maybe some demystification is in oreder here for those who won't actually read. The pictures are worth a thousand essays.
Che is an icon of youthful rebelliousness and coolness. Che is one dead handsome guy, a movies-star good-looking guy, and with a gun and the long hair and the beard went a life of bad-boy Boy Scouting that appeals to the kid in many.
There is a cartoon from the early 70s that sums up Che-wanna-be's: An accountant stands in front os his mirror pasting a fringe of hair over his forehead. Next panel, frustrated with his look, he dons a Che mask. Then he struts. The Walter Mittys of the Modern world cheat themselves doing this kind of thing, which is bad enough, but then it goes to the mindless heads of the peasants of the world who don't know the differnce between disappointed medicrities and the real world of disappointed mediocrities who have boring jobs that provide satisfying personal lives. It's the role-playing that gets in he way of all of them. The mediocrity pretends he's cool, and the peasant thinks he's exploited because the mediocrity tells him so in order to come to the peasant's moral defence. Count the corpses.
Che is a fashion statement today. Who actually reads his diaries? Who reads the drivel he wrote on guerrrilla warfare? Who cares about the life he wasted or the lives he took? No, it's all image and posing. That's the world we have to deal with.
It's very difficult to tell people "The best you you can be is maybe who you are right now and it's not going to get better." Who wants to accept mediocrity? Who wants to be less than heroic? Can't get a life? Get a gun? Kill someone. Be a hero. It's a trait of fascism, for those who care to look into the meaning of the concept. Those who know they are and will forever be mediocre flee from it and join imaginary societies to find themselves part of a heroic whole, some great entity beyond their mediocre selves, something that they can feed off of. A Che tee-shirt will do.
There was a time, maybe it still exists someplaces I don't frequent, where those who lived vicariously di so as vicars, in imitation of the Life of Christ. That has to be more meaningful than a Communist killer Mr. Dress-up charade. But a vicar is hardly cool. No skateboarding and pot smoking and tagging buses.
Our vicars haunt the halls of academe, and they are phoney. That creature, Ward Churchill. Mr. Dress-up in the flesh.
The mediocre have a right to something good from life, something high and beautiful and worthy of life. It ain't Che. Those people cheat themselves, and that is a terrible punishment. But it's cool, and everybody does it, and why can't I? And then there's the cool rap to go with it, the morally superiour social justice rap and the crap and the rap of crap till the whole joke falls apart and stinks at ones feet.
If one is a man like other men, a mediocrity, a normal and decent guy who is no greater or lesser than another in meaningful ways there is much to be gained by living vicariously. One must know that to be the best person one can be is likely who one is now, and that that is good in itself if one is good. Murdering people never improved anyone's morals to the best of my knowledge. Want to be some small part of a great thing? Go bowling with friends.
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Che is Death, the wages of sin. That, at least, is my take from a post-Roman perspective
The rampage and carnage that fool spread across the world is a shame to anyone with any sense of decency. I'm no great guy and I can see it. It makes me think that those who are better men than I just don't have a clue about the man as he was. Maybe some demystification is in oreder here for those who won't actually read. The pictures are worth a thousand essays.
That Che is Dead one is so great. I want the t-shirt.
Che is an icon of youthful rebelliousness and coolness. Che is one dead handsome guy, a movies-star good-looking guy, and with a gun and the long hair and the beard went a life of bad-boy Boy Scouting that appeals to the kid in many.
There is a cartoon from the early 70s that sums up Che-wanna-be's: An accountant stands in front os his mirror pasting a fringe of hair over his forehead. Next panel, frustrated with his look, he dons a Che mask. Then he struts. The Walter Mittys of the Modern world cheat themselves doing this kind of thing, which is bad enough, but then it goes to the mindless heads of the peasants of the world who don't know the differnce between disappointed medicrities and the real world of disappointed mediocrities who have boring jobs that provide satisfying personal lives. It's the role-playing that gets in he way of all of them. The mediocrity pretends he's cool, and the peasant thinks he's exploited because the mediocrity tells him so in order to come to the peasant's moral defence. Count the corpses.
Che is a fashion statement today. Who actually reads his diaries? Who reads the drivel he wrote on guerrrilla warfare? Who cares about the life he wasted or the lives he took? No, it's all image and posing. That's the world we have to deal with.
It's very difficult to tell people "The best you you can be is maybe who you are right now and it's not going to get better." Who wants to accept mediocrity? Who wants to be less than heroic? Can't get a life? Get a gun? Kill someone. Be a hero. It's a trait of fascism, for those who care to look into the meaning of the concept. Those who know they are and will forever be mediocre flee from it and join imaginary societies to find themselves part of a heroic whole, some great entity beyond their mediocre selves, something that they can feed off of. A Che tee-shirt will do.
There was a time, maybe it still exists someplaces I don't frequent, where those who lived vicariously di so as vicars, in imitation of the Life of Christ. That has to be more meaningful than a Communist killer Mr. Dress-up charade. But a vicar is hardly cool. No skateboarding and pot smoking and tagging buses.
Our vicars haunt the halls of academe, and they are phoney. That creature, Ward Churchill. Mr. Dress-up in the flesh.
The mediocre have a right to something good from life, something high and beautiful and worthy of life. It ain't Che. Those people cheat themselves, and that is a terrible punishment. But it's cool, and everybody does it, and why can't I? And then there's the cool rap to go with it, the morally superiour social justice rap and the crap and the rap of crap till the whole joke falls apart and stinks at ones feet.
If one is a man like other men, a mediocrity, a normal and decent guy who is no greater or lesser than another in meaningful ways there is much to be gained by living vicariously. One must know that to be the best person one can be is likely who one is now, and that that is good in itself if one is good. Murdering people never improved anyone's morals to the best of my knowledge. Want to be some small part of a great thing? Go bowling with friends.
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