Who Needs Peace (When We're All Dead)?

I've had the undying pleasure of encountering perhaps the most uninspiring motivational speaker of my young life in the past month. While the topics ranged from peace on earth to dealing with global emotional crises, they seemed to bear a common thread. That thread being their shared grip on reality (and just as strong too). As she graced the towering podium, I writhed and twisted and sighed with each word - each idea that cast her farther from the real world. She spoke of spreading worldly harmony. She took defiant stands in the names of justice and liberty. She was engaging, enthused, intense. She was completely and utterly out of touch with the real world. However, she did manage to bring to mind a major point that I feel needs sharing. Therefore, as I sit before this screen, bearing truth, I'll share that point with you now.

The marvelous lady who graced my ears with her visions of happiness and peace and love for everyone presented a very lovely image. Everyone wants peace, it's a given. Nobody likes war. That is also a given (my apologies to sociopathic warlords everywhere). However, as wonderful as peace and love sound - the reality of such things occurring without major changes in global structure is anything but. As I understand it, peace is nice. Peace is nice until someone cuts my head off. I'm hoping I'm not bitterly alone in feeling quite attached to my head, but I won't be surprised if such is the case. What our female speaker fails to recognize is that she's preaching the choir. Who's done more for the spreading of world peace than modern-day Christians? No one. Why then, I ask you, am I being advocated to stop the foolery and start promoting peace - in a Catholic church nonetheless? Come on, it's been over a month since I last promoted nuclear war, genocide, global famine, injustice, and hatred. Seriously people, if there's any demographic that needs the peace talk, it's radical Islam.

Radical Islam is the enemy of the world. Yes, the walls are shaking, the ground is quaking, and your liberal eyes can't believe what they've just read. But, sadly, it's true. Radical Islam is the root of global terror. And no, President Bush's supposed "oil lust", neither explains nor justifies Abu Masab al-Zarqawi's longing to sever my head. Why doesn't that peaceful speaker travel to Jordan, Syria, Sudan, or Mosul and tell radical Muslims that they need to "cool it"? Why doesn't she call that Bin Laden fellow and finally set him straight? I can tell you why. 1) She'd be laughed at. 2) She'd be killed. That, my friends, is why she calls for peace in all the wrong places. It's a simple equation, really: subtract radical Islam from the globe, keep your head safe.

America's a rather safe place. America also makes a damn good enemy - especially for proponents of global peace (including the naive ones). What better target than a nation which crushes families, bombs civilians, and discriminates against pretty much everyone who's not white. That's the problem here. My peace speaker fails to see the enemies for what they really are - enemies. To her they're just fun-loving, average people (who also happen to be brainwashed psychos itching to destroy the West). In this perpetual rationalization and justification, America isn't the glorious nation it once was. No no, it's just as a good, if not worse, than the cesspools of terror that seek to destroy our way of life.

It's our way of life that allows these people to operate and murder and terrorize the world. I simply cannot understand how that speaker can fail to accept America's defense of her own ideals, sanctity, and honor. There's no honor in humiliation - out and out defeat. Radical Islam wants to annihilate you, me, the Cookie Monster, and yes, Mrs. Peace herself. So let Mrs. Peace preach and dance and hide behind the American Flag she publicly burns. Let Mrs. Peace connotate my American brothers and sisters to the radicals who want to cut my head off. Let Mrs. Peace spread her word to the people who need to hear it.

I don't.

Anyone Seen The Bridge?

I'd like to express a hearty 'thank you' to all who've spread the word of My Infinite Wisdom . If you're wondering why I linked my own site to my own site, I'm not quite sure. I suppose it just makes sense. It is, however, greatly appreciated (your commenting efforts, that is). All of us here at SeanJM Incorporated (it's just me, secretly) offer our sincerest showings of gratitude. Sincerely, we do. We really do. Honestly, we do. And no, we'd never dare ask for more. We try and avoid biting the hands that have so graciously fed us - but, some might say we're teething, and if we bite, we apologize in advance. With that said, I can't help but ask for more. I've tantalized by in depth comments and responsive attitudes from a once flat-lined readership. Look at me, I'm freaking desperate. Just help me out.

Well, now that I've completed my plea, I figure it's about time to get to the point. But you all know me, hopefully, and if you do, then you know that it takes me a while to warm myself up. What you're reading right now has little to do with anything in particular - including the point - and should only be considered as a small work out for a select few of my fingers. I'm typing this with my pinky only. I'm typing this with my thumb. I'm typing this using the home row. Ok, so I'm not. I don't even know how to use the homerow, why the hell would I warm up with it? I don't know either. Anyway, I'm starting to guess that I've annoyed most of you by this point, and it might be a good idea to get on with things.

I've always been a self-advocate of crossing bridges when I get to them. I've crossed bridges that have taken me from Mrs. Stapleton's kindergarten extravaganza to halfway through my senior year. I've crossed bridges from Canada to Detroit, from left to right, from here to there. I've crossed bridges only be greeted by friends with anxious eyes and open arms, and I've crossed equally as many into foreign lands with clouded eyes and folded arms. But, regardless of where the bridge has led me, it's always been there. I've never lost faith in the bridges I've crossed and have yet to cross. But, as we age and cross divides that deepen and widen (much like some of our torsos and midsections) bridges become sparse. Bridges become absent. If it doesn't strike abject fear into your hearts, well, it should. With every passing moment we eliminate our own possibilities. We cut down and abolish our bridges. It's this truth that makes it hard for some people to live their lives - but I'm certainly condoning such behavior. Hiding from decisions and ignoring the bridges doesn't solve the problem, it causes it. Our mission, prospectively anyway, isn't just mere survival - it's life. I can easily survive life in the bubble of my choosing. In fact, I found a fairly livable one with a practically nonexistent mortgage rate. Very acceptable. But, unfortunately, acceptable isn't always best - or at least easy. Avoiding the watershed decisions of our lives leads to regret, remorse, and nothing less than misery.

For most of my natural life these crucial decisions had been made for me. Sure, I walked across the bridge, but my hand was always held, and I knew exactly what I'd find on the connecting side. As the days of our youth slip and crawl away (faster than any of us can deal with), so does the comfort of abstaining from choice. We have to choose. Friends, there's no way around it. And, this choice, these choices, could be the end of everything I've lived so far to accomplish. Or, they could reaffirm and reconcile my current course with the course of desire and success. While we all ask for help, help that we're more than entitled to, we fail to see that help isn't always there. Sooner or later, for the sake of living a life with the possibility of happiness, I'll be faced with a decision of unprecedented magnitude. But, while sometimes we ask for help when there is none, we're all guilty of refusing the help that's offered. We've built our defenses to secure what we know, to what we're accustomed. Why should we, the proud people that we are, need help crossing a bridge that we ourselves probably built? I can't answer that question, nor can I answer the questions that people refuse to ask.

The last thing we need now is sympathy - or, better yet, pity. I have no pity for people who find themselves faced with crucial decisions, but sometimes it's rather tragic. In a world where the smallest choice could balloon and grow and explode into a life-altering experience, it's our duty to be fully aware of each and every consequence. I refer to "consequence" with both a negative and positive connotation. There should be nothing but faith instilled in every one reading this. If you've been reading for this long, you've probably learned something (I hope so, anyway). And, subsequently, if you've learned something from me, then you're the sort of person who has a firm or flaccid grip on life. Yes, firm or flaccid - not exactly the same thing. My point exactly. Who can tell what life has thrown at you, certainly not me. Who can tell how you'll react when the decisions you've made continuously erase the bridges you wish you could cross? Nobody but you, I'm afraid. It's sad, but true, that we don't notice our entrapment until it's much too late to do anything about it. But, the decisions we make build or break the bridges we cross later. I just hope it's not too late for me, and for everyone else out there.

Remember, there's nothing wrong with asking for directions.

Just make sure they point you towards the right bridge.

What You've Been Waiting For

In my acquired trend of alternating (not quite regularly) between politically orientated posts and philosophically orientated posts, I've concluded that I'll try some of the latter. It's been a rather long time, friends, since I've felt the need to share some deep-seeded views on life and love with the rest of the intelligent world. But, as always, the time of necessity has once again come, and here we are - you writing, me reading - or vice versa , whatever. For as long as I've been alive, I've always expected tomorrow to come. Whether that be good or bad, depending on whom you ask, isn't predetermined by any means. Quite the opposite, it flows and ebbs with the passing of every hour, every day. It's impossible for me to say that I'll be enjoying my life fifteen years from now, on the day. However, I'm much more willing to make an educated guess at such being true than not being true. The deciding factor, through all the messes life and choice and dark and night, is hope. Yes, I can remember a recent post in which I'd unnecessarily gushed on this exact topic, and I'll try my best in avoiding such from happening again. But, as overused as it may sound, hope is all we have. Please understand me though, hope is certainly not profound and foolish. And it very well shouldn't be. I simply can't take seriously my hopes of becoming the next standing president of Croatia. They're simply unreal. I can however, hope that my life continues in a manner that pleases everyone - particularly myself and the standards on which I stand. That's hope. Hope is realism, for better or for worse. Hope is what we need.

I'm surrounded by youths who constantly damn their own existences. How so, you may (or may not) ask? I'll tell you (even if you don't want to know). They constantly damn their own existences by refusing to accept the fact that their lives just aren't that bad. Yep, I've said it. People enjoy misery, and so does, as well all know, company. There's plenty of company for miserable people. I don't condone it, but I acknowledge it. It's easy to be miserable, let's face it. It's not a daunting task for me to sit and rant about the tragic, losing hand that God has dealt me. I could mention my grandmother's recurring battle with cancer and attempt to evoke some unneeded sympathy - but I won't do so. Why won't I do so? Because I have a realistic hope that every day gets better as we go along. If you're a pessimist (ironically, I consider myself to be one), there's no reason in looking forward to another sunrise. With tomorrow comes another bruising opportunity to alienate someone else, to end a relationship, to choke on an m&m, or to die. This person, whom I like to call Exhibit A, has no hope. There's no hope that his m&m will melt in his mouth (or throat) and not in his hand. There's no hope that tomorrow could bring the strengthening of relationships, and the genesis of friendships with others. There's no hope that life could be won, not lost. And, the sad part is, it's painstakingly obvious. People choose to be hopeless. It's the easy way out.

It's difficult for me to imagine living without some sort of hope. I wake up every morning hoping for a chance to set things right that I may have wronged the previous day. And, because I've been granted the opportunity to merely wake up at all, I automatically hope for the ability to capitalize on the chance. This is where people with no motivation, no determination, and hardly any hope seem to flounder (or flourish, depending on your point of view). A hopeless person, in my situation, would see the new day as another 24 hours of affirmation. Affirmation of just how bad one's life can truly suck. They see not an opportunity for which to be thankful, upon which to capitalize. They see the new day as simply another chance to reconfirm their own pitiful existence. The saddening part is: they're not pitiful. But, as the saying goes, you make your own corn flakes, soggy or not. Ok, maybe that's not the saying I was thinking of, but you get the point.

While I don't want this to become a personal testimony and endorsement for living in the time we've been given - I want it to be exactly that. I want my entire readership to know that we're all extraordinarily lucky to live past the moment's of our births. Any time beyond that is entirely out of hands - and that's something we've got to respect. However, respecting the fragility and uncertainty of life isn't exactly beneficial to the hopeless - as they see it, anyway. There's nothing to come of it but despair. And who wants despair? Certainly not the hopeless. As I meander to the conclusion of this meandering message, I'm not really quite sure with what to leave you. A beacon of hope would all too appropriate, but I'm not exactly in the mood to get quite that sentimental. So, I've decided that I'll end this with a passage from the venerable book of Luke. I hope you've all read it.

If It Weren't So Funny, I Might Be Depressed

Or wait, maybe it's the reverse: if it weren't so depressing, it might be funny. Regardless, I won't waste my time (as I usually do) this time around. Because I happen to be a dilligent person - most of the time - I tend to commonly check the comments left on my posts. A side note: thank you to my loyal fan base who've noticed my lack of patience and countered by commenting like crazies. It's greatly appreciated. Getting back on track, a recent comment left on my blog, from an anonymous source (of course), displayed a keen dislike for my conservative tendencies. Before I jump to conclusions and blatantly defame this person's character by labeling them "liberal", I'll play it safe and make no assumptions. "Liberal" is a rather strong word - one that shouldn't be thrown about and taken lightly. I, for one, don't like to blame other people of being such an atrocious thing unless they ask for it. It need be said that anyone who feels my opinions to be "bullshit" - and with such respectable diction - should know that I take such feelings as compliments of my brain. If this person so happens to be a liberal, of course they'll think I have no idea what I'm saying. I expect that. I might have no idea what I'm talking about - but I'm not stupid. I read the NYTimes, particularly the op-eds, I had a free subscription to The Nation for almost a year. I know what the radical left is plotting - it's not a secret. Before I delve into a nonsensical, demagogish rampage, I should defend the sanctity of internet blogging (and my volunteering to maintain this site) and say that if evidence were required to back up everything I say, then I would accept nothing less than a regular pay check. However, the evidence is there, and if people went looking, rather than "going with their heart" and telling me I'm wrong, the world would be a better place.

The truth is this, friends, I don't speak unless I know what I'm saying is right. So when I get a notice saying that I have no basis for what I say, and especially when that notice has a horribly blue taint to it, I know I'm doing something right. In regards to my being intolerant and ignorant to the plights and messages of liberals everywhere, I feel otherwise. In fact, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the liberals of the world for providing me something to write about. And for making me feel good about myself (I don't want to forget that). You know, I've been contemplating the plethora of reasons for brash and irrational liberalism. Maybe they're so angry because they know we're right, which would mean that they're to proud to admit they're wrong. Who knows. But this I do know: every morning I wake up and blow a small kiss to my Ted Kennedy shrine. Without Old Ted, and his fellow compatriots, I'd have no one to laugh at. Of course, being in full realization of my own faults, and the faults of those within the conservative movement, I have no problem laughing at myself and others. This is a quality that liberals feel they can do without. Why? I haven't the slightest. Perhaps it's a direct reflection of the bitter lack of pesonality - expertly displayed by John F. Kerry and Al Gore. But wait, that doesn't account for the insanity of James Carville. Well, maybe there's is no explanation. Either way - they don't have it. I do.

I find it amusing how any baseless ideas, formed on my own (yes, and I can wipe myself, too) are immediately passed off as mindlessness passed on to me by my parents and family. This just proves to me how detached some readers can be. For example, my mother was raised in a family of democrats, and has never uttered a politcal word as long as I've been alive. I have great reason to believe that she voted Kerry for president. My father, who's not a US citizen, has no vote, and comes from a family in Ireland caught up in the anti-Bush rampages sweeping Western and Northern Europe. My grandparents are New Deal Democrats. One of their children is liberal brainiac who drives a Honda. Another is a retired Vet who leans to the left. I'm wondering now if my family's ideology has had any effect on the formation of my own ideas and such. My instinct tells me "no". But then again, I'm just full of "bullshit" and have no idea what I'm actually saying.

One of the more comedic passages from the comment was as follows: You don't even seem to see the other side. newsflash: there is another one, and it's more optimistic, more hopeful, and more christian than the conservative right ever will be

One: Preferably, I would choose not to see the other side. But, being the way it is, I have to, and sometimes I seek it out.

Two: Yes, the liberal message is more hopeful and optimistic. And yes, it's the packaged downfall of America.

Three: This happens to be the more absurb thing I've heard in a long time. If the left are better Christians than the conservative right, they do a masterful job of hiding it. In fact, it's almost hard to believe considering that 79% of the Jewish vote went to the Democratic Party in each of the last four elections. While I stop myself short of directly judging the Christianity of Christians, my opposition obviously does not.

While intolerance runs rampantly through the conservative ranks, perportedly anyway, it seems to be a mere scratch in the liberal persona. But, if I were tolerated by liberals, I'd be a happy, peaceful man. Since I'm not, and because conservatives are war-mongers and haters, I enjoy the bashing. Peace is overrated, as we always say.

To wraps things up here, I'd like to reverberate my gratitude for the liberal party, and to my brave, anonymous reader who decided to steer me right and show me my flaws. While I recognize that I'm full of hot air and baseless opinions, they simply have more base than yours. It's funny, but that's fitting with the "conservative philosophy", is it not? We're just better than everyone else. And apparently we know it.