Limits of Free Speech

More and more frequently, usually from more liberal-leaning folks (but sometimes from the far-right as well), I hear of the need to limit free speech. I am not in favor of greater limitations on free speech by legal means in any way. Rather, I think that speech should be regulated by social pressure.

Pornography is a kind of free speech that is regulated by social pressure. There are heavy social and religious stigmas (stigmata?) against the production and use of pornography. Unfortunately, in our day, it is ever easier to consume it in secret, but at least it isn't often publicly promoted.

On the other hand, I think that there's another kind of speech which is often equally as sinful as pornography, but its consumption is widespread and done without shame. Even devout Catholics participate in its use, or even its production, without any qualms, and the Church seems almost silent on the matter. This kind of speech is, in most cases, called "journalism".

Now, as I said above, I think there should be very few legal restrictions on speech, and journalism is included. Rather, I think the more pernicious journalism ought to be stigmatized, both socially and in religious institutions. Unfortunately, not many Catholics see journalism as being as pernicious as it is. So, I will compare it to pornography. For short, I will use the term "media" (so as to include what is often shared on social media as well.)

Pornography: presents human beings outside of the context of their full humanity for the purpose of eliciting passions contrary to charity.

Media: presents human beings outside of the context of their full humanity for the purpose of eliciting passions contrary to charity.

Pornography: objectifies and degrades human beings for the sake of profit.

Media: objectifies and degrades human beings for the sake of profit.

Pornography: violates the privacy of individuals for the sake titillating and gratifying the curiosity of an audience.

Media: violates the privacy of individuals for the sake titillating and gratifying the curiosity of an audience.

Pornography: substitutes real action with the illusion of action. (Viewing nudity or sexual acts replaces authentic fulfillment of one's sexuality.)

Media: substitutes real action with the illusion of action. (Following the minute-by-minute actions of politicians and institutions replaces one's duty to be active in one's community's affairs.)

Pornography: wastes time with something damaging to one's soul and spiritual progress. Addictive.

Media: wastes time with something damaging to one's soul and spiritual progress. Addictive.

Pornography: diverts ones thoughts away from noble, beautiful, generous things and toward degrading things unworthy of attention.

Media: diverts ones thoughts away from noble, beautiful, generous things and toward degrading things unworthy of attention.

Pornography: harms people's lives, divides communities and families, threatens peace and harmony with one's neighbor.

Media:  harms people's lives, divides communities and families, threatens peace and harmony with one's neighbor.

And so on...

These are undeniably true, but I wonder if anyone has ever confessed their consumption of media as a sin? Or ever considered that it may be a mortal sin to consume these things, just as pornography usually is? 

Not only is there little or no stigma against this kind of rampant objectification and dehumanization, but often its consumption is promoted as a kind of patriotic duty. I think the Church ought to consider a "crusade" against it, for the good of society. Or, are sexual sins still the only serious sins ordinary Catholics ought to worry about?

If you think that consuming the news media is not as sinful as consuming pornography, why do you think so? Are my comparisons unfair or invalid?

My Dog Has Fleas

I don't know if I've ever introduced Luc on this blog. Luc Ulele, that is, my ukulele. Yesterday I changed his strings and recorded before and after. I played everyone's first ukulele song, "My Dog Has Fleas".

This is before restringing. These are the original Aquila Nylgut strings that came with the ukulele. They're about 12 years old and still are doing fine.

This is after the restringing. I added the new technology from Aquila, called Super Nylgut.

Honestly, I can't tell much difference in how they sound. Maybe the Super Nylgut sound a little mellower/richer. The Super Nylgut strings are stiffer and less elastic. They also have a harder, glossier finish. Apparently these qualities improve playing, durability, and keep the strings in tune longer. 24 hours in, and the strings still need to be retuned every time I play. Hopefully they'll stabilize soon.

Life Lately

A lot has been going on lately. On Monday night, just before bed, I read something in a book that really disturbed my thoughts. It's one of those things you encounter from time to time that makes you wonder if your whole life is an illusion and fake. I was hoping to go to bed early, but my thoughts were racing all over the place. I like what I heard from Jordan Peterson (I know I mention him a lot; I'm reading his recent book and I listen to him on YouTube while I'm working). He said that the surprising thing is not that some people suffer from anxiety; rather, it's a miracle that anyone ever isn't anxious. 

Rather than try to suppress the thoughts and go to sleep, I sat up in bed and began to think without resistance. I thought, "My brain is telling me I have mental work to do, so let's do this shit." And I sat up in bed thinking for about an hour. Then I spent thirty minutes writing in my journal, and another thirty minutes reading through last year's journal entries, then some more time thinking, and a little more writing. By that time, it was midnight, two hours after I planned to fall asleep, but I did the work instead of putting it off, and I turned off my light and fell asleep.

***

I have been doing a lot lately. I'm hopefully going to buy a house in the next few weeks. I'm going to look at one today. I'm doing it without a realtor, but I've researched it and I think I can make it happen. I'm also going to do a 20-mile bike race on Saturday, Bo Bikes Bama (with Bo Jackson). On Friday night I'm going to a silent auction with my friend who's coming down to stay with me this weekend. After the race, we're also going camping in Georgia! Oh, and I have a ukulele lesson on Friday, too, and I'm supposed to learn the intro to "Here Comes the Sun". So, maybe it's normal to feel anxious, when you've taken on so much at once. But, it's also kind of exhilarating.

I haven't done as much gardening or photography lately, with everything else. I did do some severe pruning (even root pruning) to two of my citrus trees, and repotted them in 5:1:1 mix. They had gotten too tall and lanky, and it was difficult to water them because the potting soil was getting old.

One exercise I've taken up lately is the farmer's walk. I didn't know what it was until recently, but now I wish I'd been doing it for years. The concept is easy: pick up heavy things in both hands, and walk. I started with 25lb plates, one in each hand, and my goal was to carry them down to the creek and back, about a 1/3 or 1/2 mile round trip. Let me tell you, that first time I tried it, I had to drop the weights and rest every few hundred feet, and my forearms were bulging and burning like crazy. My left forearm, especially, felt like it might pop open. That night, it continued to be bulging, and seemed to have a slight fever.

I've kept up the farmer's walks on all weekdays. Now I'm able to carry the 25lb weights without stopping. Once my grip strength improved, my form improved, and now the exercise seems to target more my upper arms, shoulders, and upper back. Yesterday, when I did it, it didn't even seem difficult, so I decided I'd move up to 45lbs in each hand.

I don't know if I've ever seen such fast results from an exercise. Two weeks ago, I could barely handle it, and now my whole upper body seems stronger, and I'm starting to see the veins on my arms and hands better, and my sleeves feel tighter now. Even more, it's hard to imagine a more practical exercise. I recently helped with moving, and I soon realized that moving is essentially like doing farmer's walks, and I was moving heavy things for two hours with total ease, and some other guys seemed a little winded and complained about how heavy things were.

I've also been doing hill sprints on my bike. A few weeks ago, when I went up a steep hill near me, I had to put my bike in the lowest gear, and by the top of the hill my quads were on fire and I could barely gasp for air. Yesterday, I noticed, while doing hill sprints on my bike, that I had actually forgotten how many I had done, because I was thinking about other things and apparently the sprints weren't enough to distract my thoughts. My quads also feel hard as a rock now, so I've definitely grown in strength. Time for more challenging sprints?

2 Sufjan songs done better than Sufjan

I love the Carrie & Lowell album of Sufjan Stevens, but in my opinion, his aesthetic choice to apply electronic distortions to his voice did a disservice to some of the songs. Here are two covers of songs on that album which I recently found on YouTube. I think they are done better than Sufjan's versions.

"No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross"

The addition of a banjo does wonders for this song, and the first guy's voice is captivating. The harmonies only make it better as the song goes on. Being a song ambiguously about drug addiction, death of a loved one, and Christ's death on the Cross, the country/bluegrass feel just works.

"Eugene"

When I first listened to this one, I didn't even recognize it. It's slower and sweeter than Sufjan's version, and is sung by a youth choir with piano accompaniment. It works for this song, though, because it's a melancholy and sweet song about childhood memories.

I'm blue for you

My favorite spot in the woods, with Atamasco lilies galore. 

InfraRed Scenes

Last week I wrote about my afternoon adventure taking photos in infrared. I got the preliminary scans back today. They are the cheapest scans, and sloppy in some ways, so I'll have to wait until the negatives arrive to scan them better myself. In the meantime I was happy with a lot of what I saw already.

Springvilla

Springvilla, with a lot of lens flare. The lens I used is almost 70 years old, though, and I was shooting into the sun. Note how ghostly the American flag looks.

This is what I look like in infrared. Taken at Chewacla.

Creek at Chewacla

A familiar scene in Chewacla, a large projecting rock. Here it appears dark among bright foliage. In visible light it is bright among dark green foliage.

Another Chewacla scene.

Chewacla again.

This is Wauxamaka Creek, near my uncle's barn. Taken the next morning.

Wauxamaka Creek.

This is the end of Wauxamaka Creek, where it flows into the Euphabee Creek.

All photos were taken on Ilford SFX 200 film with a Hoya R72 infrared filter.

GAF

I need a Latin translator. Can anyone help me? I need to know how to say “Give a Fuck” in Latin. I need to know in the impossible event that I’m ever elected pope. It would be my motto. 

I’ll call it GAF for short. Sometimes it seems like nobody Gs AF about anyone or anything anymore. We adopt this jaded, ironic, cowardly emotional distance from people and things. Who can blame us? We’re bombarded with information, decisions, communications, stimuli. Every new thing produced by journalism has to appeal to our shock factor more than the last piece. Over time, we become numbed to it all. 

I noticed it yesterday. When I started my car, the Bluetooth from my phone immediately started playing the daily Mass readings from a podcast. Without thinking, I turned it off immediately. Being honest with myself, I realized that, in that moment, I could not GAF about the Word of God. How many people died to uphold the faith held in those words, and here I was tossing it away like garbage. It was just too much. 

Recently I did GAF. When I was in church on Sunday, I thought about my Uncle Patrick who died after trying to kill himself, which was more than ten years ago, and suddenly I began to cry. What was that feeling in my chest? What was that moisture in my eye? Could it be that I was giving a fuck? Yes, I was. I was sad. I was angry. “I have to say, Uncle Pat, I give a fuck about you. It makes me angry to think about what happened to you or that no one cares. It makes me angry that no one talks about you anymore. No one seems to think about you or miss you. No one seems to care that you ever existed. I give a fuck about you, man. And I don’t know what to do about my giving a fuck, but right now I’ll just kneel in this pew and cry.”

It was a strange, hard feeling. Giving a fuck is hard work.

So please, Lord, be patient with me as my hard heart softens and relearns how to GAF.