Tag Archives: Photography

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on death and social media

The odds of you checking out on camera via violence or accident are infinitesimal. You’re probably sixteen times more likely to get struck by lightning. Your last moments are hopefully to occur peacefully alongside family. And while that event isn’t going to end well for you, at least it’s what we’d consider natural.

I’m of the opinion that despite the exciting pages of history, the vast majority of humans have never seen or experienced brutal violence. Still, when there were no cops around and everybody carried a club, I’m sure we had our fair share of cave related deaths. Or vicious renaissance era coffee house brawls.

The difference between today’s world and say, a Vienna stabbing in 1734, is that everybody’s holding a camera. More than that, everybody’s holding a full-motion-video camera right in their pockets. Even the fixed-site big cameras are different now. It used to be the only time a security camera’s footage was shown is on the news. Now a security video makes its way to the Internets six minutes later.

Whereas we were once a race that traditionally never saw actual violent death with our own eyes, now every single person carries it at their fingertips. And please understand that I consider this light years from movie or video game violence. One is real, the other is not. It’s that simple.

A thought occurred to me a few days back while watching the video of the Tianjin blast in China. Put simply: “Is this wrong?” And then: “What is it doing to us?”

Everybody loves explosions. We’ve been enjoying fireworks for thousands of years. So like countless others, I got a real kick out of watching one of the biggest blasts you’re likely to ever see.

Here’s one of the better examples. Warning, big time profanity in it (even more than you’d usually read on this blog):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q04fV4j7A1w

Cool, right? But if you really took a step back and thought about it, as these major blasts occurred, probably about fifty firefighters were dying, incinerated. While it’s neat for us to watch, it’s also rather horrifying, and deeply disturbing.

You can take it a step further too. Here’s an example of security footage that found its way online quickly because some guy took smartphone video of the camera’s monitor. It’s of a guy having the blast collapse the entire entranceway and wall in front of him. In other words, his last few seconds of life:

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=7a3_1439409813

If we’re not careful, our inner-freak-human-self can degenerate to the part of our psyche that used to get a kick out of watching medieval public torture executions. It’s a special form of darkness.

The tale continues with yesterday’s murder of two reporters live on camera by a truly deranged individual. You had the unique ability to watch the killing from the perspective of both the victims and the killer. It doesn’t get any worse than this. Oh, but wait, except it does. For the Islamic State (neither Islamic nor a State) goons have posted some of the more vicious videos in human history, hundreds of them.

Tens-of-millions, perhaps hundreds-of-millions, of humans have watched these videos. I’m sure tens-of-millions worldwide have watched the Virginia murders from both perspectives in the last 24 hours.

I intentionally have never watched an Islamic State (neither Islamic nor a State) video. But I’ll admit it, Virginia I did, both perspectives. And I think it’s broken my brain, and a corner’s been turned.

“Is this wrong?” Yep. You bet.

“What is it doing to us?” Nothing good.

We’re supposed to evolve, right? Thanks to the Internets we now possess the ability to watch somebody die, right before our eyes, at the click of a button, just because we feel like. Or because we’re fascinated by it. Or because we’re just curious. Or because everybody else watched it. Or because maybe in our dark-inner-selves we enjoy it.

Or maybe you think it’s important that we watch, so we truly understand the darkness we’re facing? No, instead you should read any number of United Nations reports on what the Islamic State (neither Islamic nor a State) has done. It’s all there in black-and-white. You get a real good idea of just how truly wicked those dudes are by reading ten pages. We don’t need a snuff video to understand or appreciate evil.

No more. Not for me. I’m going to try and evolve. Certain things are wrong even if many have accepted them as commonplace. The culture seems to have decided that you can drink your coffee and watch somebody die. No thanks, I’m getting off this train.

Or put in another more practical way, the Islamic State (neither Islamic nor a State) goons and yesterday’s Virginia killer have one thing in common: They did the videos because they want you to watch.

It’s generally considered a bad idea to wake up in the morning, pour your coffee, and do what evil wants.

Like all human inventions, social media and the Internets are going to do a great deal of good and bad for us all. Choose the good. Discard the bad. Evolve. Do good. Live well. And hopefully others do the same.

It’ll never happen, but perhaps think of the positive change to humanity if some day, an evildoer posts their murder video online, and nobody watches.

internet death

No more.

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planes in the desert

I don’t know why wreckage attracts me at times.  I just can’t help but let the mind run away with what once was.  So this trashed airliner carried countless folks traveling where?  Their honeymoon, business, wherever?  All that life and now it’s just a hunk of unusable metal ripped for parts.  I get the same feeling when I see a wrecked ship.  I could have stared at this thing like a lunatic for hours, pondering.  Unfortunately, I had like 30 seconds on my way to meet a still functional airliner to take me home.

737

Boeing 737-2H4/ADV formerly of Southwest Airlines.  I looked it up online and the owning company runs private cargo.  It seems they bought this thing to restore it and use it as a 737 cargo plane.  But that didn’t seem to work out and so they’re stripping it for parts to keep their other 737s flying.

 

HU-16

Grumman HU-16 Albatross flying boat.    It’s on the same boneyard lot, but this one’s still flying.  This is one of only a handful still flying.  Originally born in the late 1940s these were flying boats for the US military.  Also stared in The Expendables.  This particular one did time in the US Air Force, then the Argentinian military, and is now in private hands.  Dude’s a long, long way from the water, caged up in the desert.  Hopefully it gets set free to see some much needed water again soon.

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sometimes folks take their craft too seriously

It can sometimes become a struggle to drink with folks you don’t know. It can also become a joy. It just depends. The group might not get along, everybody might already be in a bad mood, and so on. Or things can go great, and everybody’s happy.

But there’s always the risk you end up sitting next to guys you find insufferable. For me, it was a pair of craft brew queens. So I got to hear them rant viciously (I hate vicious rants, truly) about the beer. So I heard multiple uses of the terms “hop profile”, “style”, “branding”, and so on. In short, they hated the beer.

I sat with my hands in my lap the whole time struggling mightily not to say a word because I was in no mood to start anything at all. For you see, the beer in question was Belhaven’s Twisted Thistle IPA, and it’s one of my favorites. It’s not epic, but it’s just a good decent beer.

Just to determine if I wants nuts (yes, indeed), when I got home I looked it up and I’m apparently not the only one who likes this beer. So I’m not sure what’s up with those guys.

Don’t get me wrong, I kind of wish I had their knowledge level on beer, but I don’t. I can talk all day about beer. But I don’t really know how it’s made, how breweries work, or the science behind it all. In fact, I’ve never been on a single brewery tour, seriously. I’m not sure why, it’s on my list, but I’ve got a long list.

TT IPA

unrelated reference stock photo of beer not mine

 

But to me, I guess, beer is more of a relaxed thing, not something to take too seriously. This beverage came of age as the normal swill for the planet’s dirt poor. Old style beers were likely low alcohol, and of a differing consistency than what we see today, but it was still beer. They drank it because of the extensive risk of painful-waterborne-disease-death if you consumed straight water.

So to me, beer is like:

Them: “I find the fruity infusion on this saison to work well with the hop profile they acquired from Southeastern England.”

Me: [pops ordinary Yuengling can] [drinks] [enjoys life]

Them: “I’m wondering if that’s blueberry I’m detecting that goes well with the lactose they built in here to give it kind of a milk stout quality.”

Me: “The way to know if you’ve got a good batch of Skullsplitter is if it’s so freaking black you can’t see through the glass. Plus I love to look at that Viking dude as he splits my skull.”

And so on.

 

By the way, old Skullsplitter label is superior. They tried to go too Lord of the Rings with the new label.

SKULL-SPLITTER-GRAPHIC

I love the older label more because the Viking dude is staring out into space like a lunatic. It’s a good pose, because you’re like, hmm, what’s he thinking: conquest, a girl, space travel, beer? And so on.

220px-SkullSplitterLabel

 

 

Every human should have a craft they love. That’s what’s part of the great human experience. Find a craft and excel at it: brew beer, surf, write poetry, plot intricate assassinations, and so on. But also make sure to regularly sample like 700 other crafts. Because life’s too short for just one.

But also don’t take your chosen craft too seriously. All of this stuff is for fun anyways. Don’t get too negative (yes I am actually saying this) even if you don’t like it / disagree. Just sit back and enjoy it. Things can go great, and everybody’s happy.

 

I&G1

unrelated reference stock photo of additional Scottish beer not mine

 

goof

unrelated reference stock photo of drinking buddy not mine requesting belly scratch

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I’m over the heat

And so is my youngest, who in lacking a proper snout, has a rough go in the hot weather.  So the walks have to be shorter.  But we’re rather lucky enough to live somewhere where we get to experience four distinct seasons.  So it seems I grew up, as did she, with the idea that if you’re sick of one season you can look forward to the opportunity to experience a new one rather shortly.

074

For her it can’t come soon enough.  For she loves the snow so much it’s the only times she’s actually tried to run away from home.  Twice.  Frolicking off into oblivion atop a snow pack.  Off to somewhere?  I guess?  I have to watch her like a hawk.

109

Please, please don’t go too far.

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nobody ever suspects the butterfly

I saw this dude twice today, if it was in fact the same dude.  When I saw him this morning I stared at him for about five minutes.  Then when he came back this afternoon I took a picture.  But it’s a bad picture on a phone (dude was just too fast), so you’ll have to play Where’s Waldo to find him.  For those of you too young to know, Where’s Waldo was an old smartphone app that’s lost it’s popularity.

butterfly

I have no idea what type of butterfly this is.  I don’t particularly care.  I was fascinated by the complexity of God / Nature that made this little thing to eat while also expending limitless energy to fly around flowers.  This thing weighs less than a penny, but can fly all day and eat and be good to go.  We don’t appreciate it, but little things like this are freaking miracles.

My family’s been through hell and I’m hesitant to talk about it even to my own brain.  But my brother, for intermittent laugh purposes, brought up this Simpsons joke.  I have no idea why.  I didn’t care.  I laughed.  It was enough.  This clip sucks [thanks Fox copyright assholes] but you get the idea:

Then today I saw the butterfly and remembered my brother’s reference from a few days back.  I laughed.  And then I watched the beautiful butterfly.

My other brother (I have two, blessed by God) kept flipping to Gladiator the other day while the family was together.  For those who have seen it, Oliver Reed / Proximo has one of the greatest lines of all time:

“…we mortals are but shadows and dust…”

Yeah, we are.

Nobody ever suspects the butterfly.  That it could remind you of what you are.  But in a good way.  The butterfly is a freaking miracle.  And so are we.  But we can also do poetry, write songs, and drink beer.  So we’re better off than the butterfly.

But next time you see the butterfly?  Stop what you’re doing.  And watch for a few minutes.  You’ll be glad you did.

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Triumphator lily

lily1

My Mom’s, just outside the front door.  They only last for a few days.  In the short term, they attract a lot of ants and bees.  Which is always delightful because my dog(s) are of the mind they can eat bees without any negative consequences.  [foolish canine act not pictured]

lily2

I don’t have my camera with me so this was shot on my Samsung S3 Mini, a piece of technology that many of you would classify as a paperweight, but which still manages to baffle me on a regular basis.

lily3

She’s had this same, simple vase for decades.

lily4

This vase is new and so I asked where it came from.  She says, [shrugs] “Somebody sent us flowers and I kept the vase because I figured the color would match the lilies.”  Indeed.  And she says, “By tomorrow morning the whole room will smell of them.”  Sweet.

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requiring the permission of strangers to turn on a ceiling fan; and other ways our homes are no longer ours

For the uninitiated, in America a Homeowner’s Association (HOA) or similar construct is an evil organization bent upon world domination through regulation of the style and manner in which your bushes are trimmed. In that sense, they have similar priorities to the always delightful, Sturmabteilung or Nazi Brownshirts.

For the uninitiated, who haven’t learned history because it’s not taught anymore, the Brownshirts were another evil organization bent upon world domination through regulation of the style and manner of clown nose coloring, tap water purity, the rules of chess, mass genocide, and the process by which one acquired permission to don footwear.

brownshirts

Bringing peace and enlightenment to the people; one broken window at a time.

Anyways, way back when after a HOA embarked upon a six month ordeal to force my parents to change the color of their shed, I’ve been of the strong opinion that HOAs are nothing more than an excuse for parasites to add luster to their otherwise pathetic lives by holding power over their fellow human beings, aka their own neighbors.

The guy in my next door cubicle at day job is a HOA president. So I get the joy of hearing his frequent used car salesmen back door scheming on daily HOA management. I wouldn’t trust this dude to hold my coffee for six seconds. And yet, please pardon the vulgarity, I think his voice sounds so weird after one of his HOA phone calls that he likely has an erection inside the cubicle.

So when I bought my current shoebox home, I tried my best to stay away from HOAs. But bizarrely, in modern America if you want a neighborhood without an active HOA you need to be willing to pay more. I couldn’t afford it. And so, $50 of my money each month goes to fund an organization whose sole purpose is to destroy me.

Ostensibly, the HOA’s purpose is grounds management, keeping the neighborhood looking nice, and otherwise maintaining order. This way that one annoying neighbor can’t leave an RV camper on their lawn for months at a time. However, in practice HOAs fuel a racket of lawyers, corporations, and white collared goons who are in it to make money.

The corporate behemoth running the day-to-day actions of my HOA does business in two dozens states as a full blown LLC. Because nothing says local democratic government and quaint neighborhoods like paying the Giant Octopus to cut the twelve square yards of public grass that border you property.

The former overlord running our HOA used to lead, to put it mildly, with a rather disengaged hand. Folks would literally leave garbage on their lawns. Eh, I kind of live in a rough neighborhood.

Just last night somebody emptied all six rounds from a likely large frame revolver into the woods out back. I hear gunfire all the time and so I don’t call the cops anymore. Why go to the gun range when the woods at 11pm work just fine? Sure enough, this morning there wasn’t a body out there. I think.

And so, if I have to dodge garbage while walking my dog(s)? Oh well. I bitch about it, but it’s not a big deal. Particularly given that I know what an active / engaged HOA is capable of.

And sure enough, we got a new HOA president. And she was active / engaged. I caught her roaming the neighborhood in her clown car with a note pad. She’d drive a few feet, stop, open her car door, stare at her neighbors’ homes, and take notes. While I walked by her with my dog(s) she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. She knew what she was doing.

And sure enough, then the entire neighborhood got flooded with “violation” notices. The garbage still litters the lawns. But apparently my bushes needed trimming (true). And, my entire freaking driveway needed replacement. Yeah, the entire driveway.

Why? Because she said so. The violation notice simply instructed me to replace my driveway within 60 days or face fines. No explanation as to why. Good luck with that, lady. I’ll sue first.

And when I replied in formal letter requesting clarification? Eh, no reply. So we’ll see if I hear from them after the 60 day clock runs out. Maybe she’s just overwhelmed with responses to all the paperwork she generated.

And then I’m walking my dog(s) yesterday and I see her latest idea. Behold the power of waste and general sadness! See if you can figure out what’s wrong here:

insanity

1) Now our cool little tree and flower circle has been surrounded by a trio of no parking signs

2) For a garden circle that is geometrically impossible to park around

3) On a dead end street that houses no consistent traffic

4) For a circle that I’ve never seen anybody park around for two years

5) When our neat flowers and cute little tree are now surrounded by steel, signs, order, and sadness

 

They say absolute power corrupts absolutely. But it’s rather hard to execute absolute power when you’re a darn moron who has as much common sense as a Brownshirt goon on meth.

I fear this is the future of the American home. The needless signs surrounding the tree. Home isn’t your home. The HOA owns you. The bank owns your mortgage. Via property taxes, you effectively only rent your home from the government. Even your local utility wants to hook up smart meters which empower them to turn off certain appliances at their decision, not yours.

dog

Happy non-contrarian canine wonders why beloved Daddy bothers to think and write about stuff that might not matter.

And so the future of the free American’s home will require the permission of strangers to turn on a ceiling fan.

Maybe it’s just a continuation of history’s reality. Through most of the human race’s great adventure, folks have never really been free or owned their homes, their land, their lives. So who are we to think differently?

We live in a modern society so controlling that entire arms of our culture are committed to telling you what you can / cannot say, think, eat, drink, smoke, vote, believe, and so on. So why not all of these things, and then some, even when you’re inside your own home?

It’s very troubling to me. It makes me fear what kind of home my kids, God willing, will live. Will they look back on my tale of their grandparents shed color debacle and be like, “Oh, that’s so minor compared to what it’s like today.”

Will freedom, the home, the joy of choosing your own path just slowly erode away? And those who come after us won’t even know what it was like. What it was like to live free before the age when a total stranger could order you around in your home? Just because they felt like it?

Or maybe my dog(s) is right. And I’m off my senses. And one day I’ll be wearing a tin foil hat mumbling to strangers about the Brownshirts. Eh, we’ll see.

stormy

The Arcturus Project’s Weekly (Not Weekly) Stormy Cloud Award goes to Her Eminence HOA President #457.2b. I won’t give in lady; there’s nothing wrong with my driveway; I’ll see you in court if necessary.