The Final Facet of Globalization

Posted on June 19, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

This world of ours is globalized (Link) to an incredible degree. With every increase in technology, we have observed exponential growth in the level of interconnection and access afforded to nearly all of the world’s inhabitants. The internet alone serves an unbelievable role in making the world a truly global society—allowing the instantaneous sharing of information which would previously have taken weeks, or even months.

Planes, trains, and automobiles have provided the means to efficiently move physical resources around the globe—meaning that formerly exotic commodities can now be found as easily as a trip to your local grocery store. Science as well has played a pivotal role here—advances in refrigeration, preservation, genetic modifications, and more have helped us share the bounty of this world far and wide…for those capable of paying for it.

As a result of this process, leading nations draw labour, resources, and wealth from the poorest nations in the world, always at offset values. By outsourcing easy labour jobs to nations with lower (Read: dismal) minimum wages and few to no laws protecting workers, Corporations have managed to increase their output, up their profit margins, and generally thrive in a relationship which can scarcely be described as anything short of parasitic.

Yes, for every gain there is a cost, and despite the progress made, it would seem that the one big concept which nations have refused to show any global regard for is that of human rights and minimal standards of living.

In a world with sufficient resources and scientific knowledge to keep everyone fed and healthy, the fact that one woman may drive a million dollar car while a child elsewhere does without a 5 cent pill is entirely unacceptable. In fact, it’s downright despicable.

The exchange is rather one-sided to say the least—and year after year we may observe new wars started, new sanctions imposed, new government-facilitated coups to install more ‘cooperative’ leaders, and other such heinous acts all in the name of increasing the profit margins of large-scale Corporations. Human rights violations in much of the world are ubiquitous; from the factories which provide us our clothing, to the plantations which grow our food.

Of all the resources and technologies we have managed to import and export on a global scale—it would seem the most obvious and easily renewed is yet to meet that lauded status; specifically, I’m referring to empathy.

The atrocities which are committed in the name of profit are the inevitable result of a system which treats empathy with the same cavalier and disposable attitude we reserve for so many other resources. But this view of empathy as a resource is rather telling—for if it is to be viewed as a resource, then it is essential that we recognize it as a wholly renewable resource. As such, caring for others and striving for a new global best is not a zero-sum game in which everyone is competing for limited supplies and the gains of one must be the losses of another. No, the truth is that the gains of one may be shared unilaterally, and if one society flourishes, this should—and must—benefit everyone involved.

But this is rarely the case. We import resources from around the world and utilize the cheap labour available, but what are we offering in return? The most common answer is that we act as a force of freedom, democracy, or protection for the rest of the world—but this claim is entirely indefensible for even the simplest mind with the vaguest understanding of global politics (Link). To glean all the potentially beneficial resources from a nation yet contribute nothing to it in return is not a globally beneficial system, but rather something more akin to an exploitative, imperial domination.

As it stands, misery and despair are the most evident exports of the so-called first world.

When we deal in such unjust ways, we may be importing more than we bargain for. We’ve defined ourselves with callous disinterest and self-serving malice abroad, and now the chickens come home to roost. International resentment is growing at all times, and even the local populace is losing faith in its leadership and stirring under an ever increasing sense of anxiety and civil unrest.

So perhaps this whole arrangement needs to be revisited. Trade and grow we must, but if we continue to do so with such a total lack of regard for human decency, we will come to find that our imports tend to reflect our exports in a far more sinister manner than we anticipated.

No other outcome is possible—that’s just the nature of the deal. When we short change our trade partners on a regular basis, we soon find ourselves cut out of the loop entirely. Fair trade must be fair in all senses. Financial growth must mean human liberty, and for every measure of progress in science, technology, and resource access, there must—in any civil society—be a commiserate gain in compassion, kindness and equality.

The change needed cannot be more evident—we must make the imperative shift into a trade relationship based on equity, empathy, sustainability, and virtue. Empathy—this key renewable resource, must become a staple export of our society—an example of decency and righteousness used to set the standard not only around the world, but at home as well. Until we make this crucial change, and plant the seeds of charity and kindness abroad, we can never honestly hope to reap them at home.

-Brad OH Inc.

A Brief Ode to Baseball

Posted on June 12, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Bases and bunts and broken bats,

Bullpens and secret tips of the hat.

Backstops and breaking balls,

And charging the mound after dubious calls.

Check swings, switching up, and clutch hits,

Cut offs, steals, and foul tips.

Dugouts, cleats, and walk-off hits,

Grand slams, tag ups and catcher’s mitts.

Diving grabs and 3-run shots,

Home plate and the batter’s box.

Pitching duels and pennant races,

Pinch runners and shifting places.

Mounds and moonshots and make-up calls,

Money pitches or base on balls.

Errors and bloopers and hard line drives,

Breaking up plays with illegal slides.

Cutters and sliders and throwing the heat,

South paws and road trips and records to beat.

Strikeouts and tag-ups and tough one hoppers,

Infield rookies racing for choppers.

Aces and shutouts and defending the title,

Manufacturing runs and hitting the cycle.

Pitching relief, close or starter,

Young boys with posters of Joe Carter.

Pick off throws and Double plays,

And crowds all chanting ‘Let’s go Jays’.

-Brad OH Inc.

Are Humans Really Great Apes?

Posted on May 29, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Scientific taxonomy classifies human beings within the family of hominidae, more commonly known as the ‘Great Apes’. We share this taxonomic family with three other genera, members of which include the orangutans, gorillas, and chimpanzees—all fine and majestic animals to be sure (Link).

Each of these creatures have found their niche within their local eco-systems, and have lived in a relatively balanced natural state for generations uncounted. They consume the resources available, and are consumed by the predators which are capable of doing so. They live within their means, and display a general civility to one another aside from occasional competitions over mates and territory. Meanwhile, the homo sapiens, or ‘humans’, have for the entirety of recorded history been putting on a childish display of wanton consumption and heedless destruction. If we are honest with ourselves, we must admit that this begs a pretty important question: are Humans really ‘Great’ apes?

All things considered, we’ve had our fair share of positive moments. We’ve built some incredible structures, and solved puzzles that would leave the rest of the apes scratching their furry little skulls in abject bewilderment. We’ve spread our population far and wide, and survived countless changes to the world we live in. At the very least then, we may certainly be considered alright apes.

Of course, most of the cataclysmic challenges through which we have persevered have been our own doing. We have an incredible and unparalleled ability to intellectualize our world and use ration to consider the effects of our actions. Still, we have managed to destroy much of our ecosystem, and of the many wonders we have achieved, few have been able to endure. So in truth, perhaps we are really just ok apes.

It’s true that if we really want to compare ourselves to the other members of the hominidae family, we should take a serious look at their lives as well. Doing this, we find them knuckling along the filthy earth, hurling feces and screaming unintelligibly at one another. This might often be followed up by a good chest-pounding, or perhaps even an old fashioned beat-down. Needless to say, humans are little different. Despite our marvelous intellect and incredible capacity for empathy, we resort to terrible violence no less often—nor is feces-throwing ever completely out of the question. All things considered, we might really be quite ordinary apes.

The things about this, however, is that we are so perfectly equipped to do better. It’s a matter of achieving one’s potential—the old, ubiquitous notion that one must be compelled not to do better than all the rest, but rather to simply do one’s personal best. Our cerebral-capacity alone affords us the potential to accomplish so much more than the others, and to shift beyond this base-violence into a far more gracious and well-mannered state of being. The promise we have is unbounded by anything save our imaginations, and this has been shown time and again—as numerous societies have risen to show the glory of mankind’s innate potential. But for every rise, there has been a fall, and we have proven consistently unable to maintain any serious ascension into the epoch of equality and dignity for which we are so well qualified. We may build great cathedrals, but we inevitably use them for the spread of greed and power rather than grace and mercy. We may write of utopian ideals or great societies, but we fall ever short of realizing them as we capitulate to the temptations of wealth and fame. Perhaps then, we may best be described as under-achieving apes.

Much of this question comes down to potential. There can be little doubt that we as humans have the theoretical potential to be the most inspiring and beautiful creatures to ever grace this earth. Our capacity for reason and problem-solving could allow us to truly be the promised stewards of the earth—watching over our hominidae brethren and all the other creatures with whom we share this wonderful planet. But where we may have spread equity and joy, we have sown only despair and intolerance. Where we may have acted as guides and care-takers to the planet we have left it barren and unstable. Finally, where we may have been exemplars of decency and righteousness, we have fallen ever to our own doubts and greed—wallowing in misery as we toil ceaselessly for more of what we want at the expense of what we really need. In truth, the homindae family and the world in general may have been far better off if humans had never climbed out of the trees from whence they came. In the end, I suppose, we really are pretty disappointing apes.

-Brad OH Inc.

Soirees and Solemnity in the Square

Posted on May 22, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

I sloshed along—weary, beaten, and soaked head to toe in Faygo. Heading back from the ICP show at the 2011 Bamboozle Festival in New Jersey, I’d taken the train to Penn Station, and was meandering, exhausted, back towards my hotel near Times Square. I barely took in my surroundings as I stumbled along; the adrenaline and unbridled joy of the event still had their hold on me. I mumbled familiar lyrics to myself, navigating slowly towards the Square.

The first thing I recall noticing was the crowd—significant even for Times Square. The hour was quite late after all—likely well into the early morning of May 2^nd, 2011. I paid little mind however, and continued on my way until I heard the chanting.

“USA, USA, USA!”

An ominous feeling took hold immediately. As it turned out, that feeling would take a long while to subside. Turning down an alley and passing out into the main square, I was met by an impenetrable wall of people chanting and singing. There were American flags as far as the eye could see. I stood with my jaw agape trying to sort out what was going on, when an errant crowd-surfer nearly took my head off.

‘Nice try,’ I thought—having spent the past few days stalking the Insane Clown Posse along their east coast tour, it would take more than a lone crowd-surfer to take me down. Still…none of this sat quite right with me.

Glancing eagerly about, I saw people climbing telephone poles to either hang flags or to improve their view. Men on benches read from bibles, and women held their children up to the open air. High-fives were exchanged, friends embraced, and a general feeling of unrestrainable patriotic glee pervaded the scene.

“What’s going on?” I recall asking a stranger.

“Obama’s dead!” he answered over his shoulder.

This news came as an even greater shock. Certainly, I recalled the controversy surrounding his presidency, but the festivities taking place around me seemed well overboard—or downright seditious—if based around a recently deceased president.

Still, the next person I asked gave me the same answer. And the next. It wasn’t until I approached a fourth stranger that I caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the giant Times Square screens. Dark skin in white wrappings, a long black beard—no one alive during the past ten years would mistake that face…and suddenly everything fell into place. Osama Bin Laden, not Barak Obama, had been killed.

Now the joy made a bit more sense, for a moment.

I turned around in awe, taking in the scene with a touch of morbid curiosity and a resounding knowledge that I was, at that very moment, witnessing history.

Everything continued as it had been. The songs were sung, the crowd-surfers surfed, and the flags were waved. For me though, the strange scene quickly lost its charm. Listening to the vitriol and barbaric revelling of the partiers, I couldn’t help but sympathize. Many were likely locals, who had been personally affected by the tragedy of 9/11. I was not.

It didn’t take long for me to decide against staying. Dancing for death had never been my forte—even when the death was so well-earned.

I dropped my soaked clothing at the hotel, changed quickly, and headed out for a quiet pint. Even that was hard to find. Most bars were filled with the overflow from the party in Times Square, and escaping the patriotic revelry seemed nigh impossible. After a tenacious search however, I found a tiny little corner of nowhere, ordered something dark, and sat in silence to reflect on the moment.

Beside me—and quite possibly the only other patron of the joint—sat a weathered old man. He stared morosely into his beer, his eyes never moving up.

I don’t remember how I started talking to him—although my interest in strangers is naturally increased when away from home—but eventually I asked him for his thoughts on the scene outside. He said he didn’t have many, and none worth sharing.

He was an old Marine, he explained. He’d no doubt seen plenty of death in his day. Perhaps he’d danced the same dance that raged now outside many times before—for victories far more personal. Or perhaps not. Just now, he wanted no part of it.

We sat for several hours—most of them in silence. He’d ask me now and then about my home, and what I did. What I believed. What I didn’t. He seldom answered the questions I turned back upon him.

When I finally left, I remember having no clue what I was feeling. Sure, I was fine with the death of a known killer and terrorist, but I didn’t feel any safer. I had no illusion that the world would be a better place now. More bombs would be dropped, and new leaders would rise on both sides—all intently seeking further death and destruction.

The people who fought the hardest for peace appeared to benefit from it the least, while those who hadn’t worked at all for it danced as only those who’ve never known loss or toil can. The people who proclaimed most fervently the superiority of their nations seemed to be the ones who’d never left its borders.

I suppose there are a lot of things like that in life. It’s easy to be enthusiastic when we are young and foolish and know no better. For the wise and weathered—for the warriors who have seen the cycle come back upon itself time and time again, there are no songs of joy or dirges of sorrow. There’s just another day, with nothing more to say.

Every year, I feel more like that old marine.

-Brad OH Inc.

When You Arrive

Posted on May 1, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

When you arrive,

My back will straighten,

My eyes will shine,

And pace will hasten.

When you arrive,

I’ll live once more,

Not for myself,

But to adore.

When you arrive,

I’ll build my home,

Which cannot stand,

For self alone.

When you arrive,

I’ll hear anew,

The sounds and songs,

That I once knew.

When you arrive,

I’ll play and laugh,

And drink deeply,

Of all I have.

When you arrive,

My fears will die,

When you arrive,

Then so shall I.

-Brad OH Inc.

Lutra Lutra Review

Posted on April 24, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The interior of Filthy McNasty’s has been renovated—a new stage occupying the space formerly reserved for pool tables and Big Buck Hunter. The bathrooms have been treated with a dull wood finish—belying the bar’s name with an unprecedented sense of care and cleanliness.

Otherwise, Filthy’s is much the same as ever. The specially made ‘420’ menu is a sheet of printer paper with a scant line of items on it, and the familiar denizens pack themselves in tightly—with little pretension and even less sense of personal space—around the stage. They’re waiting for Lutra Lutra to perform. We all are.

But, we are told, there have been some complications with the opening act, and we will have to continue waiting as the band scurries about trying to solve the problem. The fans don’t seem to mind the wait so much, the booze is flowing, and spirits are high.

Lutra Lutra are an Edmonton, Alberta based band who members include Garreth Burrows (Vocals and Guitar), Katrina Burrows (Keys and Vocals), Will Smith (Bass) and Denis Frigon (Drums), and much like the freshly updated interior of the bar, they too have promised to bring in the new by debuting several songs from their upcoming LP.

Their self-titled EP, ‘Lutra Lutra’ is hardly old, bearing a 2016 release, but the brief, 6 song debut disc is already very familiar to fans of the band—who continue to mill about, eager for the show to begin.

This album, given to me recently by guitar player and vocalist Garreth, was an intriguing introduction to a band notable as much for its strong and precise rhythm section (Smith is an especially stand-out performance tonight) as it is for the articulate cadence of its near-literary lyricism.

With anthemic songs such as ‘Fall Out of Love (FOOL)’, ‘Miser Remedy’, and the energetic closer ‘What We’ve Lost’, the album, despite being only just over 17 minutes, is packed full of catchy riffs and memorable lyrics which do much to showcase the band’s wry humour. Many of these songs will be guaranteed crowd pleasers tonight. It will be interesting to see how the new, untested material will hold up to these old standards.

There’s action on the floor now, and we’re told the band has managed to line up not one, but two replacement openers—both buskers pulled off Whyte Avenue and offered a spontaneous opportunity to perform. These openers, Drew Donald and Paul each performed brief but impassioned sets, riling up the audience and setting the stage for the main act.

As Lutra Lutra take the stage and offer a congenial greeting to the close-knit crowd, there is a surge of excitement on the floor, and attendees push to the front, settling into place for the show.

The set opens with several new songs—each maintaining the spot-on precision and witty lyrics the band is fast becoming known for. When ‘Miser Remedy’ hits—the first familiar song of the set—the audience is moved by a fresh energy—eagerly bouncing their heads and swaying along to the tenacious and contagious beat. This was followed shortly by ‘FOOL’, and ‘Culture and Wine’, and the crowd’s enthusiasm continued to grow as the band delivered their signature blend of technical expertise and indefatigable swagger.

The newer songs in the set showed great promise, and as I gazed about the bar, I got a sense of eager anticipation—the fans taking in each note and word with the enthusiastic attention of lovers long sundered.

While the new songs may not have brought quite the same energy to the set as the older, more familiar ones did, it was clear that Lutra Lutra’s new LP will be hotly anticipated as the band continues to deliver stellar live performances and hold true to their unique signature style.

-Left to Right: Will Smith, Denis Frigon, Katrina Burrows, Garreth Burrows-

The penultimate song of the night, the EP closing ‘What We’ve Lost’, was a special treat. The infectious tune is a natural showcase for front-man Garreth’s easy-going charisma, and the audience was quickly whipped into a raucous fervour as the band brought the show to a closing crescendo.

Lutra Lutra put on one hell of a tight show tonight. The older songs from their debut EP garnered a great deal of enthusiasm from their dedicated fans, and if tonight’s performance is any indication, their upcoming LP is sure to be a treasure of new classics. Just like the bar they played in, Lutra Lutra proved that the charm and style they’ve become known for will not be lost as they head into the future.

If you’ve yet to catch Lutra Lutra live or want to grab their EP for yourself (and you should, on both counts), be sure to visit their website (Link) for more information.

-Brad OH Inc.

A Fool Not Just in April

Posted on March 27, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

There’s a funny thing that happens right around this time of year. On the first of April each year, we observe a weird little day called ‘April Fools’’. This glorious day is a long-time favourite for pranksters and mischief-makers the world over—as jokes are played, tricks enacted, and terrible deceptions perpetrated by one friend upon another all in the righteous pursuit of naming another as a fool.

The possibilities are endless! Saran-wrap over the toilet seat? Check! Sardine Paste in the toothpaste tube? Check! Brutal lies about the health or general well-being of distant loved-ones? Yeah, even that might pass. But recently, one phenomenon has illustrated an especially troublesome habit of humanity—and shown us perhaps that the day of fools is a boon for the few wise people among us.

See, one irresistible opportunity for news pundits and bloggers alike is to post semi-believable yet entirely unreal stories for public consumption on April Fools’ Day. The writer will let the speculation and doubts run roughshod until noon, then coolly—and doubtless with an air of overplayed coyness—reveal the truth: namely, that it was all a ruse.

This all seems harmless enough. The thing is, it’s been going on for a significant enough stretch of time that anyone with half a clue and access to the internet for more than a year knows just what to expect, and rises each April 1^st donning the armour of suspicion, and brandishing their sword of rational-inquiry. Each article they see is taken in with a discerning eye. Facts are weighed against probabilities, and anything doubtful is cross-referenced against other articles.

Dates are checked, names researched, local obituaries are pored over for accuracy, and for one day, all sources of information are taken in with a critical eye, hell-bent on sussing out the truth from the trash.

All things considered, it’s a pretty wonderful day!

But then something unfortunate happens. The sun rises on the second of April, the bathroom floors are disinfected, toothpaste tubes replaced, and loved ones are given a brief check-in call with a pre-arranged excuse to hang up after a few minutes small-talk. Then, everything returns to normal. People eat their breakfast, kiss their spouses and children, go to their jobs, and then sit slack-jawed and dumb-founded at the torrents of bullshit flashing across their screens in the name of ‘news’.

‘You won’t believe what…’

‘What happened next will leave you speechless…’

‘Local mom makes $900,000,000 in one hour, when you learn how you’ll…’

‘THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!’

They sit with eyes glazed over as they work their fingers along their mouse, taking it all in, following the currents of their newsfeed like Job waiting on fairer winds. It’s all accepted, all welcome, and none of it is ever second-guessed.

It’s a sorry fact that when not actively warned by our calendars that the news just might not be as accurate as it’s purported to be, people forget the concept entirely. But rational thought is not a novelty to be toyed with once a year, only to be dusted off and returned in mint-condition to its little glass case marked ‘Open April 1^st’. Rather, it is a tool to utilize daily, to ward off the perils of misinformation—deliberate or not—and exercise the full potential of our humanity. As rational creatures living in an often irrational world, the onus of critical consideration of news media is on us as consumers. It is a matter of education, of self-protection, and more importantly, of intellectual integrity.

So let us not forget, good people, that there may be but one day a year where we are free to name each other as fools, but that leaves 364 days each year where the names do not fly so readily, and we are left simply with an opportunity to prove the fact for ourselves.

-Brad OH Inc.

A Shameless Plea for Virtue

Posted on March 19, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

I work and hone and search and seek,

To find those things which I would keep,

Within my heart for times ahead,

When I make good the things I’ve said,

I’ve heard the call to love and grace,

But still I train to take my place,

For charm and fun I have my knack,

But my true calling I still lack,

Good Captain help me set my sails,

And teach where my own lessons failed,

To raise with wisdom, strength and heart,

To tend the light that now grows dark,

For what is strength and decency,

When shorn from faith and purity,

For pride and lust and greed and wrath,

All tempt me from my given path,

And when lost deep in the forest,

One path seems as good as the rest,

But still to make it right I know,

There are yet saplings that must grow,

And bring to blossom charity,

And set within me clarity,

That I may hold to what is right,

And cower not at fall of night,

So at the closing of the day,

This one and final thing I pray,

Of vices I have had my fill,

And wait with baited breath until,

Good lady take me by the hand,

And guide me to that Promised Land.

-Brad OH Inc.

On Laughing Too Much

Posted on March 6, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

I’ve often been accused of laughing too much. It’s a charge I can scarcely deny. No matter what situation I find myself in, laughter tends to be my most ubiquitous means of communication. Sometimes, it may even be my own jokes I’m laughing at, which I’ve been told is especially distasteful. I’ve always argued that it’s just a matter of having good taste in comedy, but I’m not sure that’s really it.

The fact is, laughter is my favourite thing to do with pretty much anyone. To be fair, I may often claim that my favourite activity is drinking with good friends, or more simply enjoying a lively conversation, but the real crux of it is the laughter. Many of my closest friends and I will often exchange very few full words in the course of a long shared laugh. That’s bliss to me, that’s a connection, and I believe that it’s worth celebrating.

Sure, it can be construed as insincere. When the length of a conversation is marked by incessant joking and laughter—or sarcasm, most dreaded of deceptions—there are many who consider this to be a lack of honesty. ‘Why can’t you ever be serious,’ may come the cry from a pleading compatriot who feels that anything honest must be a solemn and stoic exchange.

But what could possibly be more honest than laughter?

You see, when a good joke lands, and your eyes meet to recognize the subtle meanings as they light up with laughter, there is a fulfilling moment of meta-communication similar to emotional intimacies like love. It’s a shortcut to bonding—an innate reliance on subtle body language to confirm even subtler understandings. More often than not, these understandings rely on past experiences and shared double meanings understood only by those involved. It’s a secret—and the laughter which arises from it is the sweetest of payoffs.

It’s communication and connection in its purest form!

Whenever people share a hearty laugh, their eyes open up to show a brief yet transcendent glimpse into the soul. This is a large part of why I always try to find the humour in everything; that, and the fact that life is just funnier that way.

Ultimately, I expect it’s a flaw I will always maintain—if it is a flaw indeed. To the chagrin of many, I will continue to laugh my way through conversations ranging from the frivolous to the solemn. I will hunt down the double meanings, call back to the shared experiences, and twist words in wonderful and weird ways—in constant pursuit of that glorious moment when the lips crack apart and the eyes shine like stars—confirming that some understanding beyond mere words has occurred, and that two minds have been momentarily linked in the thrill of this shared knowledge.

So I confess it, I am not likely to ever ‘grow up’ as so many call it. I will grow old, but if I have it my way, I’ll laugh right to the grave. A morbidly humorous epitaph would be ideal now that I think about it—preferably heavy on alliteration and innuendo.

Some may never understand this odd compulsion, but for that I offer no apologies. For those that find laughter an inherent roadblock to clear communication, I offer my condolences. For myself, I can only pray to someday be 100 years old, sitting in a wheel chair, hopefully next to a little old lady—laughing boisterously to ourselves. They’ll probably call us crazy. But who would I be to argue?

-Brad OH Inc.

The Bushido of Bogney

Posted on February 28, 2016 by Brad Oates

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Bushido: (武士道) literally meaning “the way of the warrior”, is a Japanese word for the way of the samurai life, loosely analogous to the concept of chivalry in Europe. (Source)

Bogney: A tiny dog, wise for his years.

Today, we combine the old and the new for a fresh new perspective on life through the eyes of our classy canine friend. This is the daily living of a small dog. This is the extrapolated wisdom of the ages…This is the Bushido of Bogney.

Lesson #1:

In seeking to train Bogney to do his tricks, he will often show less and less attention to details as the acts are repeated over many weeks. If I do not pay heed to this, his tricks will grow sloppy, and he will do the bare minimum version of his tricks so that he may get his treat. If, however, I draw the line and deny him his treat for such a lazy attempt, the next time he tries his tricks he will perform them flawlessly. This teaches us about the importance of having high expectations, and how to strive tirelessly towards perfecting a craft.

Lesson #2:

Walking Bogney on his leash, two dogs came running at us from behind a bush. Bogney panicked, and looking to me for help, began to run away from the dogs—in circles around me. He thought that to put me between him and his assailants would be safest, yet by wrapping my legs he made me less able to help him. If he’d only surrendered to my protection, he would have been far better off. We can learn much about faith and trust from this observation.

Lesson #3:

When Bogney is around people, he behaves with directness, confidence, and with complete comfort in himself. His tiny brain may recognize there are some differences between us and him, but with no other option he feels a part of all things. When other dogs approach, the illusion is shattered, and seeing the reality of his separateness, he panics. Many people feel this same panic when others interrupt their inner reflections. Within our own minds, there is a great division between the real world and our perceptions. This is easily broken.

After imparting these gems of knowledge, we regret to inform our readers that Bogney became distracted by a sunbeam, and promptly fell asleep in it, effectively ending our insights into life and time. However he is a tenacious little dog, and we can be certain that following a quick nap and inglorious plea for a treat, he will soon be back to share more timeless wisdom with us.

-Brad OH Inc.

Brad OH Inc.

Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.

Category Archives: Under the Green Desk Lamp

A Brief Ode to Baseball

Are Humans Really Great Apes?

When You Arrive

Lutra Lutra Review

A Fool Not Just in April

A Shameless Plea for Virtue

On Laughing Too Much

The Bushido of Bogney