Nietzsche said that there are two types of people: those who want believe, and those who want to know.

More recently, it’s been suggested that the distinction between the two may be related to intelligence. Now I know how condescending that sounds, but think about how the mind works: stitching together a constant stream of information coming from the senses and presenting it to us in a form that becomes our individual “reality”.

Where the brain cannot stich together information from the senses, it relies on memory, or knowledge. It fills in the gaps as best it can to create the illusion of something solid, so we can make decisions that will keep us alive.

The less knowledge you have, the bigger the gaps, and the greater the need to fill them with something, anything, to maintain a coherent story. And filling those gaps with knowledge is a lot harder, and sometimes much less pleasant, than filling them with what you want to believe.

So I don’t know if I agree with the idea that Intelligence is the deciding factor, as much as a sort of general mental strength –more akin to character and willpower– to resist the temptation to rely on wishful thinking, rather than critical thinking. 

Because frankly, wishful thinking isn’t it really thinking at all.

So you’re unhappy with how the past year played out. The people elected a tacky, crass demagogue whose grade-school language winks at racism in his speeches and incites bigotry and xenophobia. And emboldened by his example, the volume of other ugly voices has been dialed up to eleven on our cultural speakers.

It’s like half the country is embracing the worst stereotypes the rest of the Western world holds about Americans, and embroidering them on Chinese-made red ball caps.

So what are you going to do about it, cuck?

Here’s an idea: in a culture that glorifies the crudest aspects of our nature, choosing to carry yourself with dignity and class is an act of rebellion.

I know, you want to fire back, to give as good as you’ve gotten. You could completely wreck that guy if this were a face-to-face conversation –you know he wouldn’t be running his mouth much less calling you inane shit like “cuck”. It would be a lot easier to just start dropping f-bombs along with your facts, to show that you’re not fucking around.

But all you accomplish with that is to allow the bar to lower faster. Sure, I know that bar is getting heavy with fewer and fewer hands holding it up these days. But that’s where the strength of your own dignity becomes essential. If people start defecating on the sidewalk, do you join them, or do you repudiate their actions?

As the saying goes: Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. Weak men create hard times.

We may very well be at the tail end of that chain, ready to start the cycle over. In that case, it’s essential to keep a stiff upper lip, even when your nose is twitching angrily from the smell of shit on the sidewalk.

What good is the study of philosophy if any conclusions or ideas that come of it never reach the minds of the masses?

Sure, things trickle-down and diffuse through the memescape or zeitgeist or other $2 word to describes the cloud of culture that loosely connects all human thought.

But what is truly the point of seeking insight if only a handful of people will ever benefit from it directly?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to just spend one’s time learning how to build a better mousetrap? It’s not like the people running the planet are guided by the kind of philosophical thought that holds up to actual scrutiny by people who think critically and dispassionately.

Maybe that’s why a PhD in philosophy seems to accessorize with a green, coffee stained apron, rather than an executive business suit.

Just a random thought on wrestling with as I drive halfway across the country.

It’s 0018, just past midnight, and after a pouring a pot of coffee into my face over the last hour, my brain has been making a sort of chewing gum of the news I follow, to give itself something to do in the background while I wrap up things that don’t really require my full attention.

Bleak economic analysis of jobs and markets and trade deals, an upcoming election between two equally repugnant options, coverage of the progressively more intrusive technologies that come bundled with a sense of entitlement to every private word or picture or moment, and the standard, vapid celebrity nonsense– all congeal into a rubbery, foul-tasting lump of thought.

And here it is:

Sometime in the next few years, anywhere from two to ten by my guess, we’re going to see a movement on the part of the young to opt out of the “American Dream”, and “drop out” of what they’re coming to understand is a system that’s rigged against them from the moment they’re born. To put it simply, we’re going to see a new wave of “hippies”, and that might not be such a bad thing.

Anyone who’s paid honest attention to how society has been operating the past couple of decades can’t help but notice that the average person is at the mercy of a predatory class consisting of different groups, all of which exist to extract everything they can from a person at each stage of his or her life.

Our children are marketed to as soon as they can process information; toys and games and candy.

Teenagers are conditioned to believe that they’ll be ostracized without consuming the latest in fashion or trends or music or media just to stay afloat in their social pond.

Newly-minted adults attend colleges and universities to pursue degrees that are required by Human Resource departments often simply to cull applicants, for fewer and fewer jobs, paying tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars for the privilege of getting an application past an automated filter.

College graduates coming out the other end of the pipeline with nothing to look forward to but than a decade of debt, not to mention the sleepless nights that go with it when entry level jobs demand three to five years of experience; predatory internships, agencies who offer to pay in “exposure”,  temporary “gigs” rather than stable employment, and phony job listings to sift through just to find them.

And in areas where job prospects are better, the housing market isn’t; carving out a third to even half of their incomes.

Of course, some will always hit the birth lottery or and have parents who’ve leveraged their lives to put them through college. Others will gamble with their own lives and backs to serve in the military when their parents can’t, or won’t.

And just enough will make it through this drearier, un-filmable version of the Hunger Games, that they’ll be used as examples as to why the American Dream is still worth dreaming, as long as you don’t wake up too much.

Why the hell wouldn’t the next generation refuse to play?

Star Agent, Grade Zero, B’ama sat at the hidden terminal in his office, ready to write his final report back to galactic headquarters. The interface hummed as his fingers entered the type-field and he smiled to himself –he’d really done it, the toughest mission of his soon-to-be-legendary career.

You magnificent bastard, he thought. I’ll bet they give you your own moon after this.

Only a few hours left before could leave this primitive backwater and return to civilization. Might as well get to it:

MISSION SUCCESSFUL. INFILTRATED GOVERNMENT OF MOST POWERFUL NATION-STATE ON BLITTO, P-3, AND ASSUMED COMMAND. POLICIES AND LAWS IMPLEMENTED WILL ENSURE SUCCESSFUL INVASION WHEN FLEET ARRIVES.

He paused for a moment, relishing the feeling of completion, and looked out his window at the snow-covered lawn. Flowers would be springing from the thorny bushes outside again soon. It was a shame he’d miss that –they were delicious. He continued:

INFILTRATION NOTE; SMALL PORTION OF POPULATION SUSPECTED THIS AGENT WAS NOT ONE OF THEM, BUT DUE TO SELECTION OF SUBSPECIES ETHNIC FEATURES THIS AGENT WAS MISTAKEN FOR NATIVE FROM OTHER CONTINENT.

That bit should please his boss. She’d chosen this bioform for him at random, but would undoubtedly take credit for it as if it were deliberate. She’d also repay his loyalty for setting up the narrative of her foresight. Besides, it was such a lovely shade of brown –another thing he’d miss. Oh well…

Bama hesitated before continuing –this was the hard part:

GRAVE CONCERNS ABOUT HANDING PLANETARY GOVERNANCE BACK TO CLYN-TON REPTILOIDS. IT IS NOT THIS AGENT’S PLACE TO SUGGEST POLICY TO THE COUNCIL, BUT HAVING SPENT EIGHT CYCLES WORKING TO CORRECT DAMAGE LINGERING FROM THEIR LAST TERM, THIS AGENT SUGGESTS ALLOWING QUALIFIED LOCAL AN ATTEMPT AT GOVERNING OWN PLANET -*RESULTS COULD NOT POSSIBLY BE ANY WORSE*.

This would undoubtedly anger their delegate to the Council. The CLYN-TONs were such a vile race and Bama had no idea why they were allowed to take turns administering pre-conquest worlds, let alone granted full membership to participate in galactic management.

No, not worth it, he thought, deleting the entire paragraph. With the fleet set to arrive within the cycle, it wouldn’t really matter how badly they managed things. They could hand over power to one of those tasty thorn-flower bushes outside his office and it wouldn’t stop what was coming. All he’d accomplish would be to make a powerful enemy and put his own career in jeopardy.

Shame though, someone will eventually need to deal with those scaly dirtbags.

He flicked the Send receptor and his bioform exhaled in relief. Done, finally done. Years of manipulating the indigenous population, making subtle changes to policy, planting memetic time-bombs in the planet’s dank cultural subconscious – it would all pay off, for the glory of the Galactic Collective. All he needed was the reply to confirm the report was received and he could go home, retire, and reap his rewards, bask in his glory.

Text flashed on the display. Without a second glance he stood up and walked out, crossing the lawn to board the primitive aircraft that would ferry him to the trans-warp bunker.

And gleaming on the holographic display in the now-empty ovular office, the message read:

“THANKS ØBAMA”

Let’s not kid ourselves: Donald Trump is the President Americans deserve.

Americans can name more Kardashians than Supreme Court justices.

Americans know the win/loss stats of their NFL team, but not their Congressman’s voting record.

If “Christians” really wanted to prevent abortions, they’d encourage the use of birth control and condoms; things proven effective in reducing abortions, unlike “abstinence-only” education.

But that’s the key, it’s not about abortion, it’s about punishing women for having sex and controlling women’s agency as individuals; the moral equivalent of making them wear a burka