Leave No Ass Behind

Donkeys are domesticated members of horse family. In certain regions of the world we see donkeys among men and women. Ass, is another name for donkey. There is an estimate that there are more than 46 million asses in the world, mostly in underdeveloped countries. There are many asses in the US as well.

A male donkey or ass is called a jack. Jenny or jennet is the name of a female donkey. Jack donkeys are used to mate with female horses to produce jackasses or mules.

It was around eighteen century when the word donkey gradually replaced ass, and jenny replaced she-ass.A she-ass is non-emotional and lazy. A she-ass is normally pregnant for twelve months. She-asses rarely give birth to twins and they dismiss jackasses for a long time after their pregnancy period is over. But jackasses still manage to fuck she-asses every once in a while.

The ass is not a kosher or halal animal. So they can’t be eaten in some countries. In Abrahamic religions, if an ass pass in front of men in prayer, men’s prayer is voided. Jesus!

Asses have an unbelievable reputation for stubbornness and stupidity across many cultures. There aren’t many studies about behavioral aspects of asses mainly because asses pose a strong sense of self-preservation by quietly eating shit around the corner. No one knows what the fuck asses are up to behind the barn. That’s why domesticated asses could turn into wild asses.

There is a charity in Britain called “Safe Haven for Donkeys in the Holy Land”. The main cause for the charity is to make sure no ass is left behind. There was a rumor flying around that the charity has been able to raise no more than $1,500 in sixteen years. If true, it seems generous and kind-hearted people don’t give much of a fuck about asses.

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Yoga Moms

It’s sheer shock. Me talking about the veracity of an argument from a republican writer, is like Ron Jeremy talking about celibacy. It’s like a kiss – something that serves no evolutionary purpose but it feels good. It simulates a conversation that doesn’t go longer than a hallway “how are you”.

An old Greek’s saying suggests that we suffer our way to wisdom. And I am suffering my way through realizing that David Brooks is incredibly wise about how he frames the role of emotions in our interpenetrated life (his twisted politics aside).

I live in a city that’s famous for its scenery, blithe lifestyle, and liberal mindset. Here, everyone sounds like an accountant. In San Francisco, people are really good at reason, but really bad at talking about emotions. They are really good at talking about technology, skills, safety, and health and really bad at talking about character.

In San Francisco, you can decode people’s entire decision framework in the way they raise their kids. The kids leave school at 3pm with 50-pound backpacks and get picked up by yoga moms who are highly successful career women. These moms have usually taken time off from their high-jobs to make sure their kids go to Stanford. And you can usually tell the yoga moms because they weigh less than their own kids. They’re elegant and slender. They don’t really have thighs, curves, or boobs. They just have one elegant calve on top of another.

What’s missing in this world of high life is that emotions are at the center of our thinking. Science and reason don’t make us super smart. In fact, people with those tools are quite helpless and alone. Emotions are not separate from reasons. Emotions are the foundation of reasons because they tell us what to value.

French enlightenment royally fucked us. They shoved it down our throats that reason is the highest of the faculties. David Hume research proved who we are, however. He proved that reason is often weak, and our sentiments are strong and trustworthy and we should let go of the dehumanizing bias of reason.

In San Francisco, we hunger for success and prestige. The true self however, granted it’s not lost, hungers for transcendence and those moments of human connection. IQ does not measure the greatness of a human being. Greatness is determined by how well we communicate, and how often we take turns in conversations.

Crippled by Procrastination

The publishing zen-masters claim: the mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying place. Isolated, neurotic, dark, crippled by procrastination, and consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing judgments. And that’s on a good day.

I write what I feel, and I’m certainly no writer. Yet, I can relate to all those characteristics on a bad day.

People write from and for different places and purposes. The zen-masters suggest one should never write from a blue place. Or, everything will end up coming from that place.

I’ve never given too many fucks about views of someone whose social status includes a word like ‘master’. Sadly, there is some veracity in this view.

Ostrich

For a long time, Ida believed in the permanency of her happiness. She also believed that she deserved happiness more than others because she’s dazzling and elegant. During discussions about the topic, she talked like a know-it-all Ostrich. For some reason, saying, “you don’t know everything” consistently felt like a sufficient response to all of her arbitrary entitlements.

Recently, there has been a stall in Ida’s infamous views. Unfortunately, the perfection of her happiness seems to have dwindled. Though I appropriately understand her circumstances, I’m unable to be empathetic. The reason has to do with what lies beneath the chronicles of our timeworn discussions.

As an immigrant, I never believed in permanency. Permanency never lasts. Any concept that promises permanency in human experience is doomed to disappoint. Much worse, an orthodox belief in the permanency of delicate concepts is one of the main causes of its failure. The simple problem of any rigid belief is that it imprudently discounts change.

I agree with Ida that marriage is on old tradition, but change is an older one. For many years, the crawling changes were there for Ida to see but she preferred to look away. Ida continued to like her own world, and he changed to like the world.

Ida, you asked me to write an honest post about the topic before we meet. Here I am, fulfilling the promise with a snappy disposition.

Happiness can be found in ordinary moments where we lose ourselves in extraordinary ways. This involves renunciation of the notion of perfectibility of man. Man can be perfect for five minutes in extraordinary moments but we can’t stay perfect.

You must give up the notion of permanent heaven. We can get into heaven, but for five minutes. Then you have to come back to the world again” –- Abraham Maslow

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls

Technically, San Francisco is not a valley. The city doesn’t consist of a flat and low area between mountains. No river runs through the city either. Albeit, add people to the mix, and suddenly, this beautiful city fits all aspects of a valley. The city homes many flat dolls surrounded by a few mountains of iconoclasts. For the dolls, the name of the game is indifference, which manifests itself by a false sense of confidence and lack of care.

There’s absolutely nothing confident about indifference and vanity doesn’t count for confidence either. Indifferent individuals make no choices because they can’t bear the possibility of being wrong. Failure becomes too personal of a thing that fucks with the depth of their being. These dolls stray away from this burdensome thing called life. To them, life is a game everyone is playing. In this game, if you screw once you’re already Casanova.

Lately, a friend of mine decided to back away from these transactional beings. So there is still hope beyond the valley of the dolls.

Rotten Tomatoes

Steve is an engineer. I mean that in its fullest sense of the word. Steve wears washed up jeans and t-shirts with funny quotes. One of his t-shirts has his phone number on it. He works for a very, very important company that has been in its pre-IPO stage for four years. He doesn’t drive a car, but when he does, the car must be a big truck that can move many cows. In discussions, Steve is officious, narcissistic, and driven with an extraordinary ego. Steve goes to burning man every year and hallucinates with Jack Dorsey. He thinks he’s very smart because he talks fast and doesn’t leave any room for give and take during the course of conversation. He works long hours and has very strong feelings about alternating current. Steve believes grooming for men is a sign of moral weakness but he thinks it’s adequate to smell like a goat. Steve also drinks lots of coffee.

San Francisco is a city where people, both in lore and reality, can be hard to understand. San Francisconians are famously outspoken about their grievances. Obviously, there’s plenty to complain about when you live in a big city: overcrowding, potholes, high prices, train delays, cyclists, homelessness, and rotten tomatoes. In San Francisco, add the existence of hipsters to the equation. Those who act like little cute dictators -with no intellectual substance and a bloated sense of self. These guys portray all that’s gone wrong with our socio-economical standards. With their transactional behavior, short attention span, and a trendy sense of fashion that’s next to tacky, hipsters aim to shape the future.

By definition, future is defined as an accumulation of events and facts that are yet to come. We don’t know what happens in the future, but we know that any permutation of the future has two characteristics: (a) it’s a continuous tail of the present and (b) it’s different. If true, chances are low that trendy hipsters are the ones who will get us there. Shaping the future requires serious intellectual intake, focus and persistence, and the ability to see the present differently. That inherently assumes you’re connected to the realities of the present time beyond the shackles of ego and vanity.

What a Mess

If all goes according to plan, I will eventually turn out to be a person who has sufficient experience to deal with the idiosyncrasies of this lifelike dream. So far in my adult life, I’ve never managed to grasp the main point of each decade until long after it was over. For instance, I was not supposed to spend my 30s anxiously trying to adhere to Cindy’s article of likeability and conformity. According to my friend Zach, I should have spent my 30s learning how to be a rude man in the short term, and a responsible man in the long term.

It seems as if each experience invited its own brand of self-divided personality to the party. You find yourself feeling compelled to do things you would rather not do. For example, you feel compelled to socialize with people you would rather not see because you have been influenced by peer pressure. Or, you feel compelled to hold back and not express interest in others because Zach said so.

What a mess!

What are all these experiences aimed toward -with all the contradictions and twisted logics? Are our experiences supposed to make us indispensable? Well, the graveyards are full of indispensable men and the bible is full of innocent ones. I’d rather let someone else filling those roles.