As though someone at this university might actually read
Treks On the Beach
by the Placeman
I am on the beach after a storm. The tempest itself is far out at sea now, but still it makes waves. I am currently releasing tension by screaming at these waves that tower over my head as they crash into the sand.
This is magic. Just me and mother nature hanging out, talking in a way that seems to come with the lunacy of the full moon. A "sensible" modern person might say this is a waste of valuable stock market time. This brings me to something that has been troubling me (e.n.> what doesn't bother this guy?). What if the things that happen in our lives that seem like "coincidences" are really the little things that balance out the good and bad in life. They are too often overlooked.
Perhaps they are important. Luck, or is it chance? Or what if it is actually the
energy of an individual causing the tides of events to change. Most of us don't
feel these are important. Indeed everyday, modern life doesn't have time for such things. When was the last time you saw a face in the leaves of a tree (or even saw a real naturally growing tree for that matter--not one of those fake landscaping things that frown at you because they don't like being the only tree on a
lawn treated with harsh chemicals to keep it green) and dismissed it as a trick
of the eye? Sure, magic to most people is focusing one's will to effect one's reality. But what is the source of this power we use? Perhaps it is in the universe and perhaps it's in the individual, perhaps it is a vitamin that we take from
our daily foodstuffs --something in the methylpropylate in our shampoo. Or maybe the only real magic is a stage magician doing tricks. So what does one do? I say pick a belief and have faith. If magic isn't real, so what--you lose nothing
if it was never real. But, if it was real.... abracadabra! The magic has worked.
If you would like, this same principle can be applied to gods. I feel it has become "cool" to deny the existence of gods/God. Some say the age of miracles occurred 2000 years ago and it is gone, with no need for it remaining. What if miracles are the coincidences that we brush off so easily? It takes more courage to
have faith than to deny the existence of gods, God, faeries, honest politicians,
virtuous lawyers, jumbo shrimp.Think for yourself for goodness sake, never give
that up, for anything. But remember, this means questioning both Christians and
atheists and televangelists and Bill Clinton, and Newt Gingrich, and the hippie
down the street who answers every question with "what?" What if we all worshipped that same gods? What if they are all wearing different masks? Wouldn't that mean that we're not all as different as we think we are? Jesus, and Mohammed, sons of the same father? The bible could be just the selfishness of man coming through as usual, especially where it says that Jesus was the only begotten son. If
we try to see similarities instead of differences, They could bring us closer
together. We could all arrange a "shave Newt Gingrich's head" drive, or a throttle Sadam Hussein bake-a-thon. Always seek a balance: a happy medium, my father would say.
--From the desk of Just Some Guy
Take a moment before you read the rest of my introduction to my world, and look around you. Finished? Good. The world we live in is full of stuff that...well, for lack of a better term, just plain sucks. The
trash of the world is everywhere, and I don't
mean just litter. People, places, things; animal, vegetable, mineral. Life can
be so much easier and simpler and more fun if we acknowledge this trash and stay away from it. However, I have taken it upon myself for the good of the world,
to find all of this trash and point it out to everyone. I don't want to tuck it
away in a corner of the world and forget about it. I want to put all of the trash in a big heap on your doorstep. I want to put neon signs all over it and paint
it obnoxious colours. I want it to smell bad so when you walk down the path of
life and see this stinky bright, huge, conglomerate of every facet of our society you will steer clear of it. You will tell your friends to stay away from it.
That's where I come in.
I am Just Some Average Guy. An average Joe. A commoner just like you. I'm going to get the ol' hip waders down from the garage and get right to work putting this stuff where it belongs: In The Dumpster. It will not be
an easy task. Like any crusader for the good of the common man (or shall I say
good of the common person? Good of the common organism? Yes, good of the common
organism. Anyway) I will face adversity. Some of you will not agree with what I
put into The Dumpster, and you are entitled to your opinion. I am not here to use this space as a forum for my opinions, but rather to show you the correct opinions. I am merely showing you the correct path to take at certain forks in that
overly-cliched highway of life. If you choose to take a different path, that is
your decision. Just don't come crying to me.
How do you thank Just Some Guy for taking on such a monumental problem of our world? No need to. Knowing that I am ridding the world of the things that clog the
pipes of our social contentment is gratitude enough for me. But feel free to write me and say "Thanks Just Some Guy." When you see me with my rubber yellow gloves cleaning life's toilet bowl, give me a pat on the back. When you see me on the side of the road with my bright orange jacket and my little stick with the point on the end picking up trash, honk your horn and wave to me. If you see me in your neighborhood doing whatever, feel free to buy me a cold one and just say "thanks." Just don't make it a Coors Light, please.
The Iconoclast, brought to you by andrea, anthony, bruce, and nicole with inspiration and financial support from Rebecca is now available on the internet...check us out at http://clam.rutgers.edu/~p00h/iconoclast/icon1.html. To send contributions, email@example.com, or The Original Iconoclast c/o P.O. Box 2133, Cinnaminson, NJ 08077. Thanks for your support.
Issue II side 2 "Talk Show Addiction..."
Back to The Iconoclast Page