The Secrets of Dumbledore and Storytelling via Mashed Potatoes

Review

This Wandering contains spoilers for the movie The Secrets of Dumbledore.

Much like cooking, storytelling is more art than science.  There are some universal basics like plot, character, and setting, but each storyteller can mix ingredients in new ways that please or excite the palate.  In the Secrets of Dumbledore movie, the storytelling team took an order for three baked potatoes, then chose to burn them beyond recognition before mashing them into a pulp and throwing the resulting mass against the wall in the hopes something might stick.  Unfortunately, not much did.

Potato one in this increasingly stretched metaphor: multiple character and plot arcs with little to no development.  Despite how describing one such issue naturally leads into another, I’ll try and limit myself to the highlights.  First, awkward Tiger King for magical creatures has no purpose beyond acquiring a deer with whiskers and shoving it in his suitcase.  We are led to believe at the end of the last movie that Tiger King will be integral to whatever plan Dumbledore has to defeat Wizard Hitler, but in the end, his nameless assistant ends up being far more useful.  Perhaps this whole movie is a subtle dig on how big name professionals are useless without their secretaries.  In the first seven hours of the movie, Tiger King and his team accomplish exactly two things that have any relevance to the climax, and he wasn’t there for either of them. 

Second—and most grating to me—is the utter insignificance of Tiger King’s brother, Overhyped Mall Cop.  Earlier movies establish him as a war hero and one of the world’s preeminent dark wizard hunters, along with his strained relationship with Tiger King.  These are spicy and savory ingredients to play with!  The skills someone would need to thrive on a wizard battlefield or to investigate magical criminal activity would be perfect in a back alley war against Wizard Hitler’s rise, but instead we get…nothing.   Mall Cop is captured twice (saved by Tiger King’s scorpion-crab dance and a suitcase of multiplying pastries, respectively), fails to achieve anything against Wizard Hitler, and adds no salient input towards the plot or other character arcs.  Which is a shame, because an arc where the two brothers can learn to appreciate each other’s skills and perspectives could have added so much depth to both of their otherwise shallow characters.

I won’t continue to harp on this point, but here’s the lightning round of other examples that still come to mind two weeks later: repressed love assistant; Wizard Hitler’s appeaser-in-chief; Wizard Hitler’s deer blood visions; wizard international voting processes in a pre-digital world; the double agent who only succeeded in letting Wizard Hitler erase his memories of his sister; references to fantastic beasts and the finding thereof.  The list is virtually endless.

The second potato: lack of carryover from previous movies.  The previous movie had its own dripping, soggy mess to clean up from where it was thrown against a wall, but it did leave a few specific lines for the follow-on movie to pick up.  Secrets of Dumbledore chooses to ignore the majority of these in favor of creating new and impressively pointless items to focus on instead.  Awkward love story between Tiger King and Long Distance Girlfriend developed over two movies?  Slap a picture on his suitcase and call it a day.  Literal ball of teenage angst recruited and primed by Wizard Hitler to kill Dumbledore (again over two movies)?  Two-minutes of conversation will clear all that up.  Basing the entire prequel series around Magical Beasts?  Here’s your mustachioed deer—it lives in a suitcase and glows twice. 

The counterpart to a lack of carryover is what did make the transition that arguably should not have.  Tiger King has been mostly irrelevant since the first movie, as the need for beasts of a fantastic nature became a dangling appendage for McGuffin production.  While his awkwardness provides some much-needed levity, cut him and focus on someone with more depth.  This can be easily accomplished by cutting the whole theme of magical creatures since the storytellers have already done so in all but the technical sense.  You could safely lose Token Muggle as well, since the only reason he comes along is because why not?  Each story arc from the previous movies should have been forced to validate the purpose of its existence on pain of liquidation.

Finally, potato the third: Dumbledore’s lack of secrets.  You would think with a title like, I don’t know, The Secrets of Dumbledore, the titular secret keeper would have some doozies to share.  As far as I can tell from the roughly thirteen-hour movie, the only secret Dumbledore reveals apart from a suitcase shell game is what a terrible person he is.  After Embodiment of Teenage Angst tries to kill him, Dumbledore spends roughly thirty seconds patting him on the head.  He says the only authority figure that’s ever shown Teenage Angst attention is a liar, admits to being an actual relative, then abandons him in a puddle on a dreary Berlin street with exactly zero answers or closure.  On the other hand, his treatment of Harry now makes more sense.

Yet Dumbledore has further abuse for the poor child!  Towards the supposed climax, Teenage Angst has a moment where he truly needs emotional support.  When his birth father—Dumbledore’s brother—tries to go to him, Dumbledore stops him because why not let that wound fester a bit more if it provides a mild inconvenience for Wizard Hitler?  But all of this is washed away when the magic deer bows to Dumbledore and reveals to the whole wizarding world that he is pure of heart.  I take a small solace in how the deer then goes on to bow to some random politician the audience knows nothing about, which allows me to assume it bows based on whether or not someone has snacks in their pocket or something instead.

Side note: how could the storytellers not have the goodness detecting deer bow to the Token Muggle?  They spend the whole movie talking up how he’s a righteous man that always does the right thing, a man whose heart is full and loyal, and then put him right there in prime deer-bowing range.  He is the one person that can completely invalidate Wizard Hitler’s platform of “Muggles Bad” if the magical deer bows to him, and they do nothing with it.  Obviously, the nameless politician was a better choice.

This particular Wandering only scratched the surface of my disdain for the movie, and I admit some of it draws from a frustration of squandered nostalgic potential.  But as my wife and I discussed on the way back from seeing it, it does have two pluses.  First, the special effects were fun.  Whoever worked the CGI for the movie deserves a round of applause, because they made a bunch of neat effects that helped distract from everything else.  Second, a bad movie is better than an alright movie.  Let me explain. 

When you finish watching an alright movie, you shrug your shoulders and then move on with your life, never thinking about it again.  When you leave a bad movie, however, you get to eviscerate it with whoever agrees with you on it.  Often the enjoyment from that can trump whatever you’d get from watching an alright movie, and sometimes even a good one!  So far all your flaws, Secrets of Dumbledore, thank you for the ammunition.

Office Productivity Hack #1: The Woodpecker

I know why you’re here.  You have spent the last month neck deep in tasks and can barely keep up.  Your boss can’t be trusted to manage your workflow any better than a moderately well trained raccoon.  There are at least seven different mediums you receive information through, and the last office productivity blog you read suggested a dozen different hacks to organize them.  What is a hard charging, always hustling, starter-upper, entrepreneur-savant to do?  I have one word for you: Woodpeckers.

No, I am not trying to sell you the latest Silicon Valley wünder-startup—all talk and no product.  This is the real deal: a 7-10 inch feather totin’ head bangin’ Picidae with a license to drill, baby, drill.  Why bother inventing something new or taking a hard look at why you use a chaotic flood of inputs to distract from your lack of direction when Mother Nature has the answer for you?  She has Failed Fast/Learned Fast for billions of years to deliver the perfect tool right to your doorstep.

Did I say doorstep?  I meant forehead.  That’s where your personalized Woodpecker will soon roost in its effort to keep your office productivity on track, synergized, and disruptive.  Here’s how it works: all of your current communication systems will funnel into a central Feed called the Trough.  Instead of a dozen different notifications spread across your phone, smart watch, computer, tablet, and—horror amongst horrors—human interaction, your new Trough funnels them all right into your bandwidth gullet via the Woodpecker.  Each time your system of systems needs your attention, a small Feed Bug drops from a convenient storage container resting over your head.  Your Woodpecker then strikes your forehead to eat the bug with the power of a college dropout with an idea, determination, and $90 million in venture capital funding.  Instant feedback for instant results!

I can see your concern—how can we be sure that your Woodpecker does not miss a notification?  No need to worry, friend, we’ve thought it all through so you don’t have to.  We have ethically and organically sourced our Feed Bugs from the best bioengineering firms in the business.  Each Feed Bug contains little to no nutritional value, so even though your Woodpecker will constantly hit the Feed, it will never find actual satisfaction.  Instead, it will exist in a state of perpetual anxiety as it awaits the next Feed Bug, allowing you to relax in the knowledge that nothing will slip by its manic state!

Where the Woodpecker truly shines, though, is in its user interface.  Let me take you on a journey.  Imagine you’re in a meeting, laptop open in front of you with your email in one window and your Teams chat in another.  You’ve got your phone under the desk to ping someone back on Slack and your smart watch open to a text message when you realize someone at the meeting has tried asking you a question for at least a minute with no response.  Disaster! 

Now imagine a world with a Woodpecker safely strapped to your face.  You are responding to the first three notifications simultaneously when your coworker attempts to ask a question.  Your Trough recognizes your coworker’s question through artificial intelligence, machine learning, an Ouija board, and paradigm shifting proprietary software, then releases a Feed Bug.  Driven to the brink of madness by overstimulation, your Woodpecker jabs its beak into your forehead with a force of up to 1,400 G’s.  You gaze up from your three devices through a growing stream of blood and piggyback off whatever your coworker said last.  Crisis averted!

Office productivity hacks are no joke.  Through the careful alignment of impactful systems, you can keep your productivity in lockstep with a structural pivot towards greater leverage in the work place.  When you can move the needle past the line in the sand and keep every task on your radar while thinking out of the box, you are ready to foot stomp the closest alligator to the boat and slap the table.  Now go forth and be productive!

The Addictive Nature of False Productivity

Musing

I appreciate putting in the minimum effort required for a given situation.  Some high-minded busybodies might call such a thing laziness, and I take offense to that.  They’re right, but I’m still offended. My preferences, however, have allowed me to discover something.  I know why as organizations grow, meetings explode exponentially.  There is an addictive nature to false productivity, and meetings provide the purest hit of it.

What is false productivity and why is it addictive?  False productivity is achieving a sense of progress without actually moving anywhere.  Have you reworked the same plan of action five times without accomplishing step one?  Congratulations, you are a purveyor of the finest sort of false productivity!  One finds this in any sort of endeavor.  The lifter who constantly changes his routine and never builds muscle is kin to the manager who rewrites her mission statement every quarter.

This behavior scratches an itch deep inside us all—full emotional payoff with minimal effort.  I love painting with problematically broad brushes, so I feel comfortable saying every human being knows the satisfaction that comes with accomplishing something.  The only difference in climbing Everest versus not throat punching an obnoxious customer is scale, but the reward is the same: our brains release some sweet, sweet dopamine.  We ride that natural high with a conquered task under one foot as our voice raises to the sky shouting “Who’s next?!”  Obviously, we crave more of this.

Thus, the issue.  Like any addiction, the body adjusts to the stimulus.  We need more input to get the same output.  A kid gets a rush the first time he climbs a ten-foot artificial rock wall, and a few years later he’s free soloing El Cap.  The thing is, accomplishing tasks gets hard.  It takes effort some of us would much rather put towards reading books or daydreaming about throat punching customers.  To further complicate it, you know deep down that your laziness should not be rewarded by any hormonal cocktail.  What is a lazy person to do?

Enter the useless meeting.  I make a distinction between a productive working group (PWG) and a useless meeting (UM).  The PWG has a clear agenda leading to a tangible product at its conclusion that will advance one or more organizational goals.  Unless you are an expert at skating, avoid these at all costs (more on that later).  UMs, however, accomplish nothing apart from the appearance of productivity.  One emerges from an UM with a false feeling of progress and all the accompanying dopamine, but having spent no actual effort.  This is the dream for the lazy person willing to grab it.

As organizations grow, so too do their UMs.  Why is this?  If we consider the axiom that only 10% of personnel provide the majority of value to be even remotely accurate, that leaves a lot of time to fill for the 90% who don’t accomplish much.  Enter the UM.  Nothing gives the appearance of productivity more than a schedule chock full of them.  If anyone tries to question a lazy person on what they actually do, there is no better defense than to take an aggrieved stance while pointing towards a day full of meetings.  “I have to attend so many meetings, I can barely get anything done!” one can say with a straight face.  Amazingly, all but the most discerning of managers readily accept this excuse (likely because they, too, are lazy). 

Lazy people should worm themselves into as many UMs as possible—maximum returns for little to no effort.  It can be difficult to do so, as many guard these opportunities like dragons crouching over their hoards.  The last thing any UM host wants is for a 10 percenter to show up and announce that the meeting is useless.  Doing so disrupts the communal hallucination lazy people need to guarantee the dopamine hit, and thus is a threat.  This is why as organizations grow, the meetings taking place within it grow at a rate beyond that of the organization itself.  Few organizations put up safeguards against UMs, so all it takes is a group of like-minded lazy people to set up in a conference room and talk in circles on a routine basis.

Now, I mentioned earlier that only the most advanced skaters should attempt to join a PWG.  The trick is to find a way into the PWG without accepting a defined role.  You are wallpaper, noticed but never commented on unless looking awful or emitting an odd odor.  No one expects anything of you, but by being a part of it, you share in the outcome.  This is the Elysium: the satisfaction of real results with no effort.  Think back to any group project you ever had to work on in school.  The one kid that did nothing but still got the high grade earned by the others’ hard work?  That is your spirit animal. 

The risk here cannot be overstated.  By attending a PWG, the peril of actual work hovers over you like the Sword of Damocles.  Make the wrong productive comment and you will find yourself with a list of due outs faster than you can fake a bout of food poisoning.  Provide nothing, though, and the high performers running the PWG will sniff you out and banish you, the equivalent of a dealer cutting you off.  For once you have tasted those highs, you can never go back to a steady diet of UMs. 

It has never been easier to be a lazy person.  In olden times, laziness meant death by starvation because your fields remained fallow.  The modern knowledge work environment oozes opportunities to skate, as offloading the real work onto actual producers still results in a group grade that management thinks of as organizational success.  Ride that wave, my friend.  Ride it until artificial intelligence replaces us all and forces us back into subsistence farming while the 10 percenters rule the world.

To Finish, or Not to Finish

I have experienced something new—turning off a Pixar movie halfway through.  My wife and I tried watching Turning Red recently, but only made it to the halfway point before looking at each other and deciding we were wasting our time.  This is a first for me.  Pixar has been a stalwart ally for many years, with not a flop to their name.  Granted, the critic reviews (which I had to check after to see if they validated my opinion) were glowing overall (dang it), but it didn’t work for me.  That gives me two trains of thought: why didn’t this one land, and what drives us to finish a piece of media or not?

First, take what I say with a huge grain of salt.  As I mentioned in my previous post, I forgo the right to critique the movie as the director intended it to be since I did not watch the whole thing.  Maybe it turns around in the second half and makes up for the nail on a chalkboard level of obnoxiousness in the first half.  I doubt it, but maybe.  What I can say, however, is that artists must tread a fine line on giving their characters flaws.  Too little and the audience doesn’t see satisfying character development, too much and the audience dislikes them so much that any development doesn’t matter. 

That latter issue is where the main character suffered.  Every time she opened her mouth, I hated her just a little bit more.  I could see the story’s destination and her arc, but by that point it didn’t matter—even if she became a non-obnoxious person by the end (doubtful), I was never going to forgive her for making my teeth grind earlier on.  Her friends further exasperated that—two-dimensional caricatures who with their every action created some dark alchemical formula to drive me into a completely unjustified rage.  Again, maybe they developed into something more by the end of the movie.  Also again, I hated them enough halfway through that it no longer mattered.  As my wife noted to me later, my face throughout the part we watched said, “Please, take me out back and kill me now.”

Now that I, a grown adult, have spent far too much time wailing and gnashing my teeth over a children’s movie, I want to explore why electing to leave media unfinished interests me.  This is leaving aside turning something off for inappropriate content.  I view that as a separate issue compared to continuing off an assessment of quality; morality based instead of off taste preferences. 

I am relatively new to the maturity levels it takes to give up on a story partway through.  For the bulk of my life, I have been of the opinion that if I started a book/movie/game/etc, I was honor bound to finish it.  Many an abysmal story passed through my eyes and ears because of this, and I shudder to think of the hours wasted hate-reading/viewing something I did not want to continue.  That, I think, is where the interesting bit lies.

All of life is an equation that filters down to a simple number—24.  We each of us have exactly 24 hours in a day to do what we will, no more, no less.  As Arnold Bennett wrote over a century ago, those 24 hours are what we have to “spin health, pleasure, money, content, respect, and the evolution of [our] immortal souls.”  One should always view the consumption of media through this lens.  Our purse of time trickles out second by second regardless of what we desire.  Does spending it on media we are not enjoying and have no expectation of enjoying should we continue make sense?  Of course not.  That is merely an application of the sunk cost fallacy, sating our pride at the expense of time irrevocably lost to us. 

Have enough respect for yourself and your time to say no, and your life will be all the better.  I hope that you learned that lesson long before I did.

If you haven’t read “How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day” by Arnold Bennett, I cannot recommend it enough.  You can find a copy of it here.

Also, you may have noticed some new artwork gracing the site.  That comes courtesy of my incredibly talented cousin Chelsea Ward and her shop Sketchy Notions!  If you want to check out more of her work, visit her page at sketchynotions.com.

Trilogies, Artist Intent, and Why You’re Wrong

There are few things worth starting a fight over.  Attacks on my family or my person, the unjustified and non-consensual forcing of one’s will over another, and moral wrongs are the prime examples.  To that list, I now add another.  I will fight anyone that says you can watch the movies of The Lord of the Rings trilogy—and it pains me to even write this—solo without the accompanying films in proper order.  I am willing to throw blows over this.

Why do I care about this?  What possible reason could a grown adult have for hyperbolic gesturing on the internet about instigating violence over movie watching preferences?  Simple.  It’s the principle, you see.  The story told in The Lord of the Rings may be broken into three movies, but that’s only because the average movie goer lacks the commitment and vision to sit in a theater for twelve hours straight.  One cannot simply hop into LotR halfway through the journey.  To do so is to destroy the greatest power of Tolkien’s work—character development.

As with most spanning epics, LotR covers its story through a wide range of characters.  Each of them receives some sort of arc that spans across all three movies, not just one.  Jumping straight to The Return of the King means you see Pippin accepting responsibility with open eyes and displaying admirable amounts of courage, but without the framework provided in the first two movies showing just how big those steps are for him.  Likewise, you cannot understand the depths of Gollum’s madness and betrayals without seeing his internal conflict displayed in The Two Towers.  And most importantly, you don’t see the depth of Sam’s friendship to Frodo unless you watch—as Sam watches—the agonizing breakdown of all that Frodo is as he bears the burden of the One Ring alone.  Watching only one or two of the movies disrupts the tapestry each character weaves for themselves and amongst each other.  With a story as good as Tolkien’s, that is a crime.

This ties to the real reason for this Wandering: artist intent.  Tolkien originally intended LotR to be one novel, but his publisher made him break it into three for easier digestion.  Thus, in the mind of the creator of Middle Earth, there is no distinction between each novel aside from a rough page count.  So, too, follows the movie.  Each one is self-contained only to the extent that it satisfies movie executives.  That intent translates to needing to have all three movies seen in concurrent order to experience the full story as Peter Jackson envisioned it.  So what is the issue with a viewer choosing to go out of order?  Violation of artist intent. 

Tangent time.  I listened to a podcast with Brandon Sanderson recently that touched on this subject.  He and his friend discussed whether Sanderson would watch a show with a prodigious amount of obscene material.  Sanderson leaned towards no, but was also not willing to consider watching an edited version that removed the offensive material.  He thought doing so violated the artist’s vision for the show, and as an artist himself chose to defend the show creators’ intent.

There is a middle ground here.  Consumers of media have every right to enjoy that media in the way they see fit.  However, doing so in a manner separate from what the artist or creator intends means the consumer forgoes the right to critique the media in its entirety.  If someone chooses to cut out a quarter of a show’s material because it’s inappropriate, how can they give an accurate assessment of that show compared the full version?  It doesn’t seem like a stretch to make that logical leap, just like someone who reads the Wiki plot summary of a book isn’t taken seriously as a reviewer of the piece as a whole.

My opinion is that the vast majority of inappropriate portions to shows are only there because of weird Hollywood perception that show needs sex to be “edgy” and “modern”, but I acknowledge that they occasionally have plot points involved.  Rarely.  When I cut that stuff out, I recognize that I am watching a version of the media the creator did not envision, one they may not necessarily agree with.  Others who want to watch the whole thing, therefore, should take my thoughts on a show with a large grain of salt. 

So if someone wants to argue about the right way to watch the LotR trilogy, I will keep my clenched fists at my side.  You are entitled to your own opinion on how to watch the movies.  You’re wrong if it isn’t all three extended versions back-to-back-to-back in a single session, but you can still think it.

Ukraine, Russia, and the Armchair Battalions

It’s an odd feeling, living in a stretch of time you know will get a paragraph in future history textbooks.  With an equal measure of lies and tanks, Russia invaded its neighbor Ukraine on 24 February 2022.  It is an unjustified, unprovoked, naked power grab of the sort Europe thought they left behind decades ago.  But I don’t plan on talking about that, at least not directly.  I want to focus on the Armchair Battalions.

Let me first lay out a bit of my resume.  I have a bachelor’s in military strategic studies, a master’s in international relations, and have spent the past nine years in the military—four of those stationed in Germany, looking east towards Russia.  All that said, I have no idea what Putin is going to do next.  So when I see folks lining up to offer their insight on what will obviously happen, it amuses and frustrates me in equal measure.  I have dubbed these newfound experts the Armchair Battalions, and they serve with misplaced confidence and ferocity on the front lines of the Internet.

The Armchair Battalions are a varied lot, and their focus tends to shift with the topics of the day.  A coworker recently commented that his friends on social media have gone from thinking themselves epidemiologist experts to geopolitical savants overnight as the Russian invasion kicked COVID out of the media spotlight.  This is par for the course.  There is no cause too unknown for the Armchair Battalions not to have a rock-solid opinion on.  And when those opinions are proved wrong?  Not to worry!  They can fire and maneuver with tremendous speed.  Observe how they went from being sure Russia wouldn’t invade, to being sure Russia would flatten Ukraine in a matter of days, to being sure that Ukraine would win the war.  Throw in some old pictures and misidentified video game footage as evidence, and any point can become a hill to die on. 

Where does my frustration with this behavior really lie, though?  People are entitled to their opinions, what does it matter if they blast them out online?  It would be hypocritical to the extreme for me to have a blog doing just that if I didn’t allow for it from others.  No, I think the frustration stems from two areas.  First is a personal pet peeve: hindsight bias. 

The Armchair Battalions now say it was obvious Russia would invade.  They say that knowing the result and looking backward, filling in the evidence gaps with whatever information fits the narrative.  Hindsight bias is deluding yourself that the answer was always obvious, even before the event took place.  But if that were so, then there would have been nigh-universal acknowledgement of the event ahead of time.  Just glance at the news from the week before Russia invaded and you’ll see plenty of intelligent people convinced Russia would never invade.  This is just pride talking, wanting to convince ourselves we are cleverer than we are and using a paint-by-numbers approach with past events to do it. 

The second reason it frustrates me is more personal and esoteric.  Seeing the Armchair Battalions at work annoys me.  Why?  In this case, because I feel that I have a justified level of expertise with the subject.  Ahh, you say, so you’re upset people are listening to those other voices but not to you.  Yes, I can’t overlook that point.  There’s only one man to have ever fully overcome his own pride and fully subsume himself in humility, and I assure you it’s not me.  But digging deeper, there’s another level below that.  Maybe no one listens to me because I don’t have anything worth saying.  That is a hard pill to swallow. 

As I think on it, though, another potential shows up.  Maybe it’s not that I don’t have anything meaningful to say.  Maybe it’s the fact that life is far too complicated for us to sit down and say “this is how it is.”  I could accept the Armchair Battalions if they approached their battles with that in mind.  We should all strive to understand important events that shape our world, as we are all crew on the same rock hurtling through the cosmos.  It’s when they armor themselves in pride that things go sideways.  An unwillingness to consider other viewpoints and recognize personal mistakes hurts us all, individually and as communities and peoples. 

Next time you find yourself laying out some point for those you perceive as the ignorant masses, take a second to pause.  Think about how much expertise you actually have on the subject matter.  Did you just skim the headlines of a few articles and call it good, or have you done the intense, intellectual work to really dig out an issue?  Are you making grand, sweeping gestures that paint the whole scenario with a paint roller the size of your ego, or are you considering each stroke carefully, choosing the right brush for the context? 

Even in this Wandering, I’m sure I’ve made numerous errors on each of those fronts.  This stuff is hard, and it should be!  If you just repeat someone else’s opinion with the hopes of looking intelligent or getting attention, you are the human equivalent of a parrot looking for a treat.  Gaining worthwhile opinions requires a level of effort beyond regurgitation.  Critical thinking gets tossed around so often it’s almost a useless buzz word, but it still gets the point across.  Put the time in to think deep about topics you care about, or you’ll just be another conscript in the Armchair Battalions.

If you are looking for ways to help Ukraine beyond keeping yourself better informed, consider donating to the Red Cross, the Ukraine Humanitarian Fund, or writing your local elected representative asking them to sponsor legislation to support Ukraine.

Americans and Responsibility

Max Brooks fascinates me.  A best-selling author of works like World War Z, he also speaks to organizations about preparing for future crisis response actions and maintains dual fellowships at the Atlantic Council’s Brent Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and the Modern War Institute at West Point.  Basically, he’s who I want to be when I grow up.  Brooks recently did a podcast interview with Dan Carlin of Hardcore History, another favorite of mine.  In a discussion on asymmetrical warfare, Brooks said the following: “Americans have a lot of freedoms, but freedom from responsibility is not one of them.”

In one sentence, Brooks provided a unifying theme to my disparate thoughts on America’s current course.  That may be why he is the famous author/speaker/fellow while I pay someone else for the privilege of hosting a blog talking about Abraham Lincoln’s favorite lift.  Responsibility threads through our lives, and the amount of it depends on the context of our environment.  America, for all its flaws, is still a democracy.  Democracies require their citizens to shoulder a portion of the burden of governance.  I believe what we see today is the result of Americans abdicating that responsibility.

A note before we begin.  It is not my intent to turn this into a political roast.  I have taken a personal stance while serving in the military to remain apolitical—my oath is to the Constitution, and through that whoever happens to be giving legal orders from the White House.  While actions taken by the predominant political parties will factor into this argument, they are a symptom and not a cause.  I speak primarily about the average American citizen, and I stand as one of them.

The abdication of responsibility falls into three areas.  First, the failure of accountability (also broken down into three parts).  The great check of democracies is the voter.  Your elected leaders spent more time soaking in hot tubs than passing laws?  Send them packing in the next election, and good riddance.  But in practice, how often does that happen?  The issue is never my representative, it’s those other ones over there.  My guy or gal has their act together and deserves my continued support.  Yet if the country’s confidence in Congress hovers at a cool 10-20%, we can’t all be right about our representative’s competence.  This is accountability breakdown #1: I am never wrong.  The blame can always be shifted to an “other,” be it an opposing candidate, party, or just someone I don’t like. Accountability, however, starts with the self.  If I cannot police my own feelings and actions, how can I expect to do so externally?

Accountability breakdown #2 stems naturally from #1.  Just as we fail to police ourselves, we fail to hold the tribes we subscribe to accountable.  Political parties are the glaring example.  Left or Right, doesn’t matter—both sides are quite content to throw feces at each other in what passes for political discourse today.  Again, this is shifting blame instead of owning up to a responsibility to accountability.  Anytime a voter has checked a box because it had an R or a D next to it with no further thought on the matter, they have abdicated their responsibility to be an informed citizen.  If enough citizens do that for long enough, the entire system collapses. 

The third accountability breakdown is what happens when external accountability (e.g. the voter) vanishes.  Since the parties have entrenched themselves enough to have little need to hold themselves accountable to their voters, they have no need to hold themselves accountable to fair governance.  Thus we see practices like gerrymandering—conscious, data-driven efforts to subvert the will of the voters in favor of one party or another.  A party accountable to all of the people it purports to represent—not just those within its party—would never tolerate that practice.  They would instead find the humility to accept what informed voters decide and adjust their platform accordingly.  A party that has abandoned accountability in pursuit of power, however, will weaponize processes like gerrymandering.

Accountability is a core responsibility for American citizens, but accountable to what?  Answers like the Constitution or to each other are well and good, but I crave ill-defined, ethereal concepts.  Let’s go with vision.  It should shock no one that the American government operates on a two-to-four year cycle based around its elections.  It is almost impossible to think long term because the next election is never far away, and heaven forbid anything positive from your reign happen during your opponent’s time at the wheel.  This is the result of giving up a responsibility towards maintaining a unified vision of the future.

“Unified!” you scoff.  “There is nothing that those [insert pejorative slur about opposing tribe here] and I agree on!”  Of course not, fair reader.  Your hallowed halls are safe from the rampaging barbarians.  I am sure none of them believes in wanting a better world for their children, or that people dealing with starvation in the wealthiest nation in the world offends every moral sensibility, or that it is better to be led by honorable men and women than corrupt ones.  Ah, I see you lowering your pitchfork and torch.

This is where the abdication of vision leads—when we no longer focus on a common vision all would enjoy, it becomes far too easy for the aforementioned feces throwing.  Will all sides agree on the method by which to reach that future?  Not a chance.  Nor should they!  Evidence consistently points towards diversity in thought resulting in better outcomes.  I want bold new policies tempered by restraint, just as I want the stalwart practices of old periodically reviewed to see what is safe to jettison.  But having those targets helps us look up from the mud to see that mythical city on a hill.  It may always be just out of reach, but every step towards it is one taken away from the morass.

Our third abdication of responsibility is often the most difficult to address—listening.  People can be shamed into accountability or inspired to hold to a vision.  Unfortunately, no silver bullet exists for encouraging a society of individualists to listen to one another.  It is disheartening to see tribal statistics like parents’ unwillingness to have their children marry a member of the opposite political party skyrocket.  It signifies the deeper concern that those parents have a) decided the other side has no worth, and b) will do their best to pass along those beliefs to their close relations. 

“It’s not my fault!” I hear people cry out.  “If only they would just listen to me, we could fix this!”  What makes us so convinced that the amorphous “they” is always the one that needs to change?  Perhaps this goes back to our first abdication of responsibility, that of accountability.  Or perhaps it’s even simpler—everyone has issues, and no one has lived someone else’s life.

It’s easy for a struggling white person to think that affirmative action or reparations are ridiculous concepts.  After all, they are overwhelmed too.  Why should someone else get an additional boost, how is that fair?  But if that person listened to what some of those others are saying, they might hear stories about how people have to change their given names on resumes so they don’t get discarded based off that alone.  They might hear about the devastation of having an unarmed family member shot by the police during a routine traffic stop.  They might hear how terrifying it can be to turn on the news and see a mob of people with torches chanting, “Jews will not replace us” in a country theoretically founded on freedom and justice for all.

That sword cuts both ways.  An urbanite might look at their fellow citizens living in rural America and raise their nose in disgust at such ignorant viewpoints.  But if they listened, they would hear the frustration and rage that comes from having a way of life stripped away bit by bit.  Jobs get sent overseas and generations of politicians promise to bring them back but never deliver.  Concepts of their self-image they hold dear like religion and family values are mocked on stage and in media.  Above all, they hear over and over from fellow citizens who should be on their side how uneducated they are and that they are to blame for all the country’s woes.  How else should they react, if not with anger?

A responsibility to listen is demanding.  It requires us to put ourselves aside for a moment and open our minds.  In a frantic world that demands every second of your attention, you must choose to pause on behalf of another.  How easy to step away from that, to focus on yourself instead.  How easy from there to turn your back.  How easy from there to point the finger in faux-righteousness.  And from there, we arrive here.

All of these abdicated responsibilities—accountability, vision, and listening—should be familiar.  They are the responsibilities of a functional adult, and isn’t that what democracy demands of us?  It is a government for those who wish to be treated as adults, capable individuals who desire to be a part of the system and have their voice heard.  Like it or not, that comes with responsibility.  And what label do we slap on someone who refuses their responsibilities?  The other side of the equation—acting like a child.

There is an option for those who prefer to live as a child.  Just as democracies require their citizens to behave as adults, authoritarian systems demand childlike obedience.  They remove those responsibilities from citizens in exchange for that obedience, and punish any aberration with the same authority a parent has over a child, unbound by any law save that which they apply to themselves.  This system has its temptations.  Responsibility is hard.  How many of us would love to have someone with all the answers tell us what to do?  Can I reasonably expect a single parent of three working two jobs to put in the time to research which candidates from local to federal best represent his or her interests? 

That is a question each of us must answer for ourselves.  I look to the modern examples of authoritarianism and see horror lurking behind a thin façade of order.  Ethnic concentration camps in China, assassination of Russian opposition members, brutal crackdowns of Iranian police on protestors.  And while we think these things to be distant threats with no bearing on our lives, it does not start at that level.  It starts with an abdication of responsibilities that seems too hard at the time.  Maybe we should militarize our police, even if that risks violent escalation against peaceful protests.  Maybe we should just listen to whatever our chosen political tribe says, even if that means supporting those who post videos depicting graphic violence against their political opponents.  Maybe we should ignore the socioeconomic forces dividing citizens, even if that drives everyone into us versus them camps.

Or maybe we can rise to the challenge.  Taking on a responsibility should not be easy, nor should it be done without care and thought.  But the wonderful thing about living in a community of people willing to take on those responsibilities is that they do so together.  They share that burden across many shoulders.  They hold each other accountable when an individual falters.  They remind each other of their common vision when someone looks down instead of up.  And above all, they make the hard decision to listen when all they want to do is talk. 

Halo: Infinite and Character Connections

I warn you now, we are about to embark upon a story critique of the new Halo game that involves at least a passing understanding of the series history and lore.  If you have no interest in genetically modified super soldiers, giant floating rings in space, or a stumbling appraisal of such things, this is your stop.

Still with me?  Grand, let’s push on.  I finished Halo’s most recent installment “Infinite” earlier this week, and it left me both satisfied and disappointed—satisfied because I enjoy punching aliens in the face as much as the next guy or gal, but disappointed because it could have been something more.  Tomes of reviews already exist for the game, so I’ll focus on one small area: the game designers should have let the Master Chief lead.

First, some background.  Halo: Infinite takes place an unspecified time in the future past the events of Halo 5 and Halo Wars 2, thrusting you right into a cut scene where the big baddie Atriox wipes the floor with the Master Chief and tosses him into space.  It’s an ignoble start, one we don’t often see.  Right from the start, we have a crisis of competence for the character.  While we don’t know much of the context yet, we at least understand that things, in the parlance of the day, be jacked.

From there, we get a little exposition on a new character—the Pilot.  This man serves as a counter to what the series usually presents.  Instead of super soldier demi-gods, the Pilot is just a normal, scared man who tried to run away until Master Chief conscripted him as a convenient taxi service.  This is a nice touch, as it grounds our experience playing as the Master Chief against something tangible.  It provides a lens to view all the insanity the Master Chief gets into as what it is—impossible behavior for any normal human being.  Adding the Pilot helped round out one of the most famously iconic characters in video games.  

The addition of Cortana-lite also worked, in its own way.  But while I can respect the decision the game designers made given the backlash to Halo 5, I would not have played it the same way.  The strong callbacks to Halo: Combat Evolved evoked nostalgia, even outright laughs at a few moments.  Unfortunately, it brushed the previous game’s story under the rug in a haphazard way.  For what they tried to do, however, it hit most of its marks.  The relationship between Cortana-lite and the Master Chief—like his relationship with the Pilot—helped give a few rounded edges to an otherwise monolithic character.  The scenes of distrust between the Master Chief and Cortana-lite help show that while the Master Chief can brush off any physical harm, he carries plenty of emotional scars.

This is where I break for a moment to confess something to you—I am a heretic.  You see, I enjoyed the stories in Halo 4 and 5.  Sure, they weren’t perfect, but the vast majority of games aren’t.  What those games did was take Halo in a new direction. They took the Master Chief from the first three games—iconic, monolithic, unchanging—and tried to put something deeper behind the expressionless faceplate.  This, as one might imagine, ruffled feathers. 

People don’t like having their escapist fantasy vessel tarnished by pesky things like PTSD or heartbreak.  I acknowledge that how they handled it came across heavy-handed, but it still worked for me.  Take the ending of Halo 4.  When the Master Chief stares at Cortana fading away as the virtual world she created around them falls apart (again, not subtle storytellers), I felt something.  The game designers made the bold choice to disrupt the successful flow established by the first three games, and paid the price when the nerd hordes bayed for their blood.  But to their credit, they kept trying with Halo 5.  That story didn’t land for me as well as 4’s, but I still enjoyed it as a decent space opera. 

This leads us to Halo: Infinite.  It’s a compromise between what the game designers have tried to do with 4 and 5 and what the long-term fans of the series loved about the first three.  We have Master Chief and his plucky AI sidekick wreaking havoc on a reskinned Covenant across a beautiful ring world, but we also have the Pilot expressing how psychotic the whole endeavor is and showing the mental and emotional impacts so often ignored in the first three games.  It was a tricky path to walk, but I think they managed it with only a few stumbles. 

That brings me back around to my original point—the game designers didn’t let the Master Chief lead.  This is a man humanity built literal monuments to after he almost single-handedly saved the human race, for crying out loud.  In Halo 4, he completely ignores the orders of the captain of the UNSC’s most powerful ship and not only gets away with it, but has people help him commit mutiny because why wouldn’t they?  He’s the Master Chief

So we get dropped onto this new Halo ring in Infinite, only to discover that the Banished wiped out the UNSC forces six months prior.  Ok, you think, guess I have to do this myself with one pilot who managed to hide on a shuttle that whole time (can you imagine the smell?).  But wait!  One of the first things you do upon ringfall is claim a forward operating base (FOB) for the UNSC!  Heck, your new AI buddy even manages to scrub its location from the Banished’s systems so you have a secure base to operate from.  Then she tells you it’s time to rebuild the UNSC and highlights a few FOBs for you to liberate, along with some Marines that need your help.  If it sounds familiar, it’s because it has strong echoes of one of the best levels of the original Halo where you scoot around in a Warthog blasting baddies and saving Marines.  But this time, you’re rebuilding the scattered forces to take back the ring!

Except you’re not.  Oh, you can rescue Marines and reclaim FOBs, sure.  The problem is none of it matters.  You could go through the entire game without rescuing a single Marine or taking a single FOB past the few required to advance the story, and it would change literally nothing.  Yes, I get that the more FOBs you liberate, the more weapon and vehicle options you have to play with and more Marines will wander aimlessly around said FOBs, but that is all cosmetic.  It doesn’t impact the story at all, which is where the game designers missed their biggest opportunity.  They do a decent job with the tactical story telling (Cortana-lite, the Pilot) and the strategic (stopping the Banished, preventing the Harbinger from…doing whatever she does), but they completely miss the operational level linking the two.  What they needed was a Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson.

In the first three games, Sergeant Johnson provides a tangible link to all the UNSC forces Chief sometimes fights alongside.  A brash, quippy, over-the-top character, he is a caricature of what pop culture makes Marines out to be, and is all the better for it.  He gives the UNSC a face and some otherwise lacking life.  When played off other characters like Captain Keyes (both of them) or Admiral Hood, you got the sense that there was an entire organization out there you stood with and in defense of. 

Halo: Infinite has no Sergeant Johnson.  Its links to the UNSC are the Pilot (a contractor and admitted coward who ran away) and Cortana-lite (referred to as The Weapon and never given an actual name until the very end where one assumes she takes on the name Cortana). The nameless and often faceless Marines have no link to you, the player.  They repeat the same lines over and over when you rescue them from increasingly identical scenarios with identical results.  After rescuing my second batch of Marines, I lost any desire to rescue another unless it had a direct benefit on the immediate situation I faced.  And why not?  Usually they were out of the way, and I didn’t have to worry about a Sergeant Johnson yelling at me for leaving his men behind.

This is why I think the game designers failed to let the Master Chief lead.  He leads on an individual basis—his interactions with the Pilot establish real character growth—but does not do a thing to lead the rest of the UNSC forces.  Considering he likely outranks almost everyone else still living, this is a huge abdication of responsibility.  To be fair, though, he also doesn’t do much leading of UNSC forces in previous games aside from leading Blue Team in Halo 5.  If that precedent has to hold, then there should have been another character to take on Sergeant Johnson’s role.  The Master Chief needed someone to organize the disparate forces and FOBs he liberates on his merry way chewing up the Banished.  A few cutscene conversations with that character across the game would allow the Master Chief to lead the UNSC forces without new game mechanics, giving the player a solid connection to the Marines around them.

The Master Chief has always suffered from a lack of connection as a character.  That’s why the super soldier without facial expressions needs others to shore up connections to the game’s world.  Losing Captain Keyes in the original was painful, because he had established himself as your commander and you thought you could save him.  Losing Sergeant Johnson in Halo 3 was worse, because he treated you as a human being and tied you into the otherwise faceless mass of the UNSC across three games.  There’s no similar loss in Infinite with any of the Marines, so they exist only as a map icon for completionism purists.  Give me a reason to care and I will, but leave it at the mercy of checking a box and I’m going to ignore it.

I recognize I just spent 1700 words to bash a game I said I enjoyed, so please don’t take this the wrong way.  It’s a fun game!  The gameplay is snappy, I enjoyed the relationship between the Master Chief and his small cohort, and I’m a sucker for mysterious alien threats that threaten humanity.  Heck, I even enjoyed all the villainous monologuing from the arch-baddie given exclusively in two forms: sinister growling or thunderous yelling (BAAARE YOUR FANGS, SPARTAN!).  This entire piece is less a spear thrown at the game designers and more an attempt to recognize potential story pitfalls to improve my own writing.  I am grateful for that lesson, just as I am grateful for the example they set with their willingness to try something new.  Here’s hoping they continue to do so.

Lifts of Historical Figures

I lift weights as my workout of choice.  This isn’t driven by some desire to set personal records or yell like a wildebeest in the weight room.  I just recognize the need to marry up my understanding of physical fitness’s benefits with my palpable hatred of running.  My years invested in the activity, however, have had an effect on me.  The ancient art of picking things up and putting them down impacts us all in different ways, with one interesting facet being which lifts one prefers.  Being a huge fan of gross oversimplification, I firmly believe that one’s lift of choice can and does say volumes about an individual.  With that in mind, here is the definitive guide to some well-known historical figures’ lifts of choice and what that says about them.

  • Abraham Lincoln
    • Noted Accomplishments: 16th president of the United States, led the country through its vicious Civil War, wrestled for 12 years with only one recorded defeat
    • Lift of Choice: pull-ups
    • Reasoning: Having the carry the team on his back for his entire presidency, Lincoln understood the importance of broad shoulders and full body exercises.  Also, his late nights in the office likely kept him from the gym, so he would need a lift he could do around the Oval Office
  • Mahatma Ghandi
    • Noted Accomplishments: One of the greatest national and civil rights leaders of the 20th century, popularized satyagraha (non-violent protest) to achieve Indian independence from British rule, five time Nobel Peace Prize runner-up
    • Lift of Choice: yoga
    • Reasoning: Ghandi recognized the need for flexibility in his efforts against the British Empire.  Non-violence also takes plenty of focus on the inner-self when the other side may not share those lofty ideals.  And given some of Ghandi’s more nationalistic stances, India as the birthplace of yoga probably checked a few political boxes
  • Napoleon Bonaparte
    • Noted Accomplishments: Conquered most of Europe in four years, established numerous government reforms that served as inspirational elements for many other nations, fabulous portrait posing
    • Lift of Choice: lateral lunges
    • Reasoning: Napoleon’s brilliance as a commander stemmed from his understanding of mobility.  He maneuvered around his opponents in ways people had never seen, and his armies marched circles around Europe’s best and brightest throughout the Napoleonic Wars.  If only he had worked more long-distance training into the schedule prior to his misadventure in Russia
  • Alexander the Great
    • Noted Accomplishments: Created one of the largest empires the world has ever known, conquered the Persian Empire, named more cities after himself than many people at the time visited in their lives
    • Lift of Choice: Squat, but with poor form
    • Reasoning: Alexander knew he needed a strong foundation for his conquest hobby.  He did manage to pull of eleven years of undefeated campaigning, but his poor form came back to haunt him in the end since all that he built couldn’t be sustained
  • Marcus Aurelius
    • Noted Accomplishments: Emperor during Rome’s Golden Age, authored a timeless work on Stoicism and life, pulled off the perm look centuries ahead of its heyday
    • Lift of Choice: visualization
    • Reasoning: Marcus’s Meditations has sat on the nightstand of many successful people in the millennia since he put nib to paper.  Through his reign as one of the Good Emperors, the Roman Empire could see itself as a triumphant force far into the future.  It’s a shame his son couldn’t keep it going
  • Suleiman the Magnificent
    • Noted Accomplishments: 10th Sultan of the Ottoman Empire that expanded its territory into Belgrade, Rhodes, and Hungary, talented poet and goldsmith whose works are still read today, tremendous hat style
    • Lift of Choice: deadlift
    • Reasoning: Deadlift is the king of lifts, and a ruler doesn’t earn the title “The Magnificent” without being able to back it up.  Between his consolidation of Constantinople into Istanbul, the multiple administrative adjustments he made to the Ottoman Empire, and his talent with a quill, Suleiman was the whole package
  • Marie Antoinette
    • Noted Accomplishments: Queen consort of Louis XVI of France, lavish party planner, terrible situational awareness
    • Lift of Choice: admiring herself in the gym mirror
    • Reasoning: Marie knew what she liked, and what she liked was an extravagant court life.  Putting in the work for that was someone else’s problem.  And if they didn’t have the bread to support themselves?  Well, let them eat cake!
  • Vladimir Lenin
    • Noted Accomplishments: Founded the Leninism school of thought, led the Bolshevik coup that overthrew the Russian government and won the Russian Civil War, famously poor choice of followers
    • Lift of Choice: doing one set of a dumbbell lift before talking to you for 30 minutes
    • Reasoning: Lenin knew the importance of being in the gym, but not for the same reason most did.  No, he valued the captive audience who would listen to him rant about the threats of the bourgeoisie.  Too bad he didn’t see Stalin getting his reps in behind him
  • Pharaoh Khufu
    • Noted Accomplishments: Second King of the 4th Egyptian Dynasty, builder of the Great Pyramid at Giza, target of some of the world’s first documented haters
    • Lift of Choice: tire pulls
    • Reasoning: Khufu saw an empty plot of sand and thought to himself, why not build the largest building in humanity’s existence?  To fulfill the sheer audacity of that power move, the stone blocks used to build Egypt’s largest pyramid came in between an average of 2.5 and 15 tons.  Seeing as it remained the tallest structure in the world for 3,500 years, his plan seems to have worked out
  • Queen Elizabeth II
    • Noted Accomplishments: Served in multiple capacities during World War II, helped pass the 2013 Crown Act for gender equality, immortality
    • Lift of Choice: long distance cardio
    • Reasoning: Queen Elizabeth II has outlived every one of her contemporary leaders and remains the head of state for fifteen countries.  Her long service to the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth will continue for all time and eternity, and her subjects look forward to the many fun hats she’ll don over the coming centuries

Remember, lifting is the great equalizer—gravity and mass don’t care who you are or what you’ve done.  Don’t skip leg day!

All Is Lost: Search Engine Optimization Is a Sign of the End Times

I have looked into the jaws of the future and beheld only fear, guilt, and anger.  From fortified homes and fiber internet connections, forces will sally forth to wage their culture wars.  We will click ourselves into oblivion one rage-inducing link at a time, and we will love doing it.  So the most important question to ask yourself is this: how do I make a buck off it?

Let’s back up a step.  I started this blog to work on my critical thinking skills and to have something of an established platform for my theorized writing career later in life.  There is no real push towards monetizing it or gaining legions of followers, but such things dazzle even closed eyes.  Combine that with how oddly forceful WordPress is on search engine optimization (SEO) suggestions, and you have me scratching my head trying to figure out how to best play the modern Internet’s game.

At first, these recommendations seemed insulting.  My sentences run on too long?  How dare you judge me, anonymous algorithm?  I wouldn’t be surprised if your coder hasn’t willingly read a book since the one about a hat-wearing cat justifying home invasion.  Since my readership consists primarily of me, I can say with certainty that the sentence structure meets audience desires to the letter. 

Insult turned to curiosity, however, and then amusement.  Allow me to share one with you (anything you see in quotations is direct from WordPress and plugins on the site designed to improve a website’s draw): “3 of the paragraphs contain more than the recommended maximum of 150 words.  Shorten your paragraphs!”  Notice the demand there, implicit in the short sentence capped with the strongest punctuation available to the English language.  WordPress does not ask for some fine-tuning—WordPress requires my submission.  All hail our website hosting platform!  Granted, can a paragraph go on too long?  Absolutely.  Not everyone can pull off a Dickens and write like if he stops the sentence, the universe ends.  And yes, readers are like runners—it takes a special sort of masochist to endure a marathon and smile at the end.  All that said, I like to think that the average reader can maintain their attention long enough to read more than 150 words without taking a breather.  (This paragraph comes in at 163 words—fight the power)

My amusement did not last.  “No internal links appear in this page, make sure to add some!”  Yes, let me stroke my ego by littering my post with links to other posts I’ve made.  But this goes beyond a creator’s craving for approval and into machinations on a reader’s attention.  If I link them to other content on my site, it guarantees their eyes stay glued here instead of elsewhere.  That means more of that sweet, sweet ad revenue flowing into my coffers instead of the competition.  Wait, when did they become competition?  Who is “they” anyways?  Ah, yes—they are the people trying to steal the finite amount of reader attention I so obviously deserve.  Keep them on your hamster wheel of content, WordPress commands.  Let it spin forever.

Ok, but is it all that bad?  A little healthy competition never hurt anyone, right?  WordPress scoffs at your naivety and goes for the jugular: “Negative headlines are attention-grabbing and tend to perform better than neutral ones.”  Ouch.  Hard to misconstrue that one.  Notice the lack of mentioning positive headlines at all?  Or how the implications of feeding into national and international conversations that have devolved into screaming matches boil down to performance metrics?  It’s like WordPress is Alec Baldwin’s character from the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, except now A-B-C stands for Always Be Clicking.  If that means you have to add to the anxieties, frustrations, fears, angers, and whatever other negative emotions you can rile up in random people across the globe to do it, so be it.

On a certain scale, that argument bears weight.  Human nature is what it is—we are wired to respond to negative stimuli to avoid potentially dangerous situations.  Why not take advantage of that?  Bring on the doom, so long as the clicks come with it.  If I don’t, someone else will.  Who’s to say their content will be any better than mine?  What if my negative headline draws someone in that otherwise would have perused a conspiracy rant?  Heck, in that light it’s my moral duty to write as negative as possible!  I am defending freedom!

Except none of that is worth the cost.  Feeding into the negativity spiral of public discourse encourages embracing our base nature.  Why would I ever want to strive for that?  Actually, a base nature suggests no striving whatsoever.  By its definition, striving for something implies work, something that I find quite unpleasant.  It’s sweaty, difficult, and prone to lasting far longer than anticipated.  But ahh, it’s payoff…imagine a world where you could leave every conversation you had, every article you read, every thought you pondered with a positive feeling?  If after every interaction you carried a desire to work with others to make the world a better place instead of identifying who to label as an enemy of whatever cause you picked up in the last five minutes?  We can be better, and it starts with not bowing to destructive subversions of the human psyche to gain attention.

Conclusion: this website is not going to do well.