Tag Archives: comfort

The Heights Flags Dare Not Fly

Posted on by
1

purelyspeculationAside from writing, a significant portion of my week is comprised of driving to and from schools. As a result, I’ve recently made a disturbing observation. It seems to me there is seldom a day which goes by that the school flags are not set at half-mast.

I’ve noticed it far too often to chalk it all up to an observer or expectation-bias, and ever since noting the strange trend, the evidence has only mounted. Truthfully, I can quite accurately make the call as I head out in the morning—I can go through my entire day, and I won’t see a single flag flying at its full height.

For a while, I would try to play recent newsfeeds through my mind, sifting through the long lists of tragedies to try and pinpoint the precise reason why the flags might be lowered. Another bombing in a far off country? A videotaped execution becoming a number one hit on YouTube? Missing indigenous women? A recent school shooting? It’s hard to keep track—and that’s likely one of the most cold-hearted thoughts that’s ever crossed my mind.

Sadly, the fact is there can hardly be a day that goes by when it would be appropriate to fly the flag high. Tragedy is abounding at every turn, and we need never look too far to find some reason to keep the flag at half-mast, and our hearts shrouded in mourning. Indeed, even the briefest purview of recent events will surely be enough to convince any feeling human that to hoist the flags to their full height would be an act of callous audacity.

It made me wonder; has it always been like this? It seems that no matter how far back we look, the world has been mired in a constant string of atrocities and calamity. Are they more common now? Is our instant access to world-wide media making the situation seem more dire than it is, or could we truly be approaching the so-called ‘brink’?

For years uncounted, people have felt that society is falling apart and the world as we know it is coming to an end. Plato famously criticized the youth of his day (~340BC) by lamenting that “The children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise.” It remains a familiar feeling to this day. Every generation grows to worry about the future, and fear that the youth set to inherit this fragile little ship of ours will not be up to the task. Doomsday prophecies, threats of revolution or decay, and predictions of cataclysmic environmental disasters have maintained a place beside weather and work as some of the most ubiquitous topics for daily conversation.

But if the flags these days are any indicator, such anxieties don’t seem far off the mark. Our environment grows worse by the day, and those working to save it are embattled from all sides by those who seek only profit. So too with human rights, fights for equality, and pleas for representation. Gun violence runs rampant—challenged for the crown of ubiquity only by poverty and the failing light of hope in the hearts of the needy. Explosions rock the world hourly, cold-blooded death-cults call for our heads, and here in the ‘free-world’ the echoes of long-forgotten jack-booted feet and beer-hall bravado once again eke their way into our political conscience.

Those naïve few who proclaimed that the age of racism and hatred were behind us now hang their heads in shame, and once again the shadow of ignorance spreads across the map of our future. Standing as we are on the brink of such chaos, sky-lining against the half-lowered flags, one can’t help but wonder how close we are to that brink, and what it would take to finally shove us over?

Will it be like the most recent financial crisis? One panicked businessman making a knee-jerk move over night? A chain-reaction of self-serving backroom deals that sell the rest of us down the river? Will it come like daggers in the night, or will it come, as the old adage goes, wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross? Will there be martial law? Riots in the streets? Baffled TV-reporters mumbling through static-filled screens? Smoke and strife, or stony silence?

That I cannot say. It may be all, or more likely none. It may well go unnoticed, as it has for so long already. One small change, then another, all wrapped in the propaganda and misinterpretation so definitive of our times. But none of that concerns me. The road ahead is already laid, and I look not to how its course runs, but rather to who will travel it.

Again, my thoughts turn to Plato, and the defiant children he so sorely lamented. They are still around, and indeed it is them who we should be watching most intently. But perhaps that’s another issue entirely, and one we’ll cover in greater depth next week.

-Brad OH Inc.

A Shameless Plea for Virtue

Posted on by
Reply

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

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 Political Participation

Posted on by
1

purelyspeculationWhat does it really mean to be politically involved? As the fortunate (if primarily happenstance) citizens of one of the most free and democratic nations on earth, some level of informed political involvement seems like a given. No argument can be made that our hard-fought right to vote is an inalienable extension of our citizenship—and one that should undoubtedly be utilized in a well-considered and informed matter.

Sadly, in a world where so much is secure, people are often far less passionate about what they have. If voting were to be taken away, there would surely be riots in the street, and a full-scale political revolution to follow as people realized the worth of the vote when faced with its absence.

Yet all too often, the simple act of voting feels like a chore. In a world so blessed, it can seem that one choice is as good as another, and there seldom exists any true fear that the rights and freedoms we don’t even know we enjoy might ever be taken away.

And so voting becomes an apathetic duty—inspired all too often by a simple knee-jerk reaction. Vote for your party, or your dad’s party, or the politician with the nicest hair, brightest smile, or genitals which match your own. At any rate, for the vast majority of people, the simple act of dropping their card into the box will suffice to add a patriotic swagger to their step as they exit the polling station and turn their feet towards the nearest fast-food outlet.

But in this time of failing systems and warring factions, it may be that simply casting a ballot every few years is not enough. The political environment these days is a much more confusing and twisted affair than most people are even capable of considering, as we have covered in depth in previous articles such as ‘The Global Scale’ (Link).

Entire political parties are bought and paid for by nefarious and self-serving Corporate interests, and politicians are willing to pull off whatever sort of unthinkable atrocities it takes to keep them in office and pleasing their financial benefactors. It’s a heinous affront to the notion of elected representation, and renders the artful marking of a ballot about as effective a tool of political expression as your common soap-box evangelist’s wailing into the wind.

So the question becomes—what does it take these days to be politically involved? Based on the quagmire of modern politics, voting simply isn’t enough. The sheep has little concern for which wolf eats it in the end, and choosing the flag of the political party which will strip away your rights and sell them to the highest bidder is far from the lofty ambitions of universal-suffrage.

Similarly, loving your country blindly is also quite a stretch from any true means of involvement. It is the sort of affection a child has for a babysitter who gives them late-night candy. Affections can be easily won and are defended passionately, even when everything about the relationship is harmful. Just ask any divorce counsellor.

So voting will not suffice, and patriotism is only turning a blind eye. This is turning out to be a bigger question than we may have anticipated. So, as always, we must do what we always do when met with a difficult question—and that is, dear readers, to ensure that we fully understand the question, and can define the its terms.

True political involvement, for the purposes and intentions of this discussion, must mean to have an active role in defining the state and outlook of your nation (or perhaps more fittingly, your society in general). It means taking an active role in creating the sort of society we want to live in, rather than simply doing what we’re told and keeping our flags clean.

If this is an acceptable definition, then perhaps we can make a bit more headway towards our answer. If we want to actively shape our society, the first step at the very least must be to fully understand how it works. It thus behooves any politically involved adult (and burgeoning adults for that matter) to learn the system. We must understand the relationship between economic and social systems, between campaign donations and party values, and between our own actions and laws. This last, more than any perhaps, may hold the crux of the issue.

All too often, the process of political involvement is sickeningly circular. If you’re too young to have watched it go round a few times, or simply too ignorant, I’ll be happy to break down the basic cycle.

  1. The active political party seems to be serving the interests of only themselves and their benefactors.
  2. A movement is started to create a positive change.
  3. The movement gains traction by outlining the specific changes they would make to fix the system. It sounds great. Some people are upset—but there lingers some small hope that things could actually turn around.
  4. The party is elected, and begin to enact their promises. However, these attempts are met with opposition, and compromises are created.
  5. The finalized results don’t seem to quite work for anyone, and everyone begins to take a different approach to meeting their needs. Most of these approaches involve finding some savvy way to con the system, cheat the neighbour, and benefit—despite those shyster politico types!—off the backs of those around them.
  6. The system changes to meet these unexpected results, while maintaining a close eye on the intentions of their sponsors as the next election cycle draws near.
  7. Finally, the citizens take a serious look around them, and realize that the active political party seems to be serving the interests of only themselves and their benefactors.

No doubt about it, the situation is dire. Still, people in the scenario above have taken active efforts to change things. This may be done through grassroots awareness campaigns, in-depth political discourse (an approach facilitated greatly by our access to the internet), selective consumption (don’t like a product, don’t buy it) and many other means of political involvement which lie somewhat outside the standard ‘mark a ballot and drop it in’ mindset.

Yet despite this, things seem to fall apart. Now…why might this be? To the savvy reader (the majority here, I trust) the answer may be obvious indeed. The missing element in the cycle described above is common decency, or personal accountability. The world may never be entirely perfect for everyone—this is a certainty—but even more certain is the fact that no law, or set of laws, can ever be written so soundly as to create positive change in spite of being enacted on a mass of liars, cheats, and cowards. No growth can happen if the citizenry harbour suspicions of their government, and feel thus justified to act in the same manner.

One of the greatest dints in our system at present are large scale Corporations cheating taxes—taking money out of social systems and leaving the public as a whole far poorer for the benefit of a small and select few.

It’s brutality—a gang of thieves running roughshod over the very fabric of society. Nothing can justify such selfishness and deceit—but it can be fought. For it is lies that breed lies, and fear which begets fear.

This isn’t a new idea by any stretch. In fact, we’ve covered this same notion in our somewhat more humorous article ‘In Defense of the Villain’ (Link). Here, we explained how the assumption that everyone else was out to hurt you (and in this discussion certainly, the government itself is the chief example) creates a sense of diffused responsibility. If you cannot trust your neighbor to be honest after all, there is little sense in being honest yourself.

But decency is not a zero-sum game, and if there is still honesty and courage in the world, then so too is there hope. Simply put, if everyone could show even the most basic commitment to living their own lives with righteousness and integrity, there would scarcely be any need for laws at all.

Now certainly, this is a high-minded, starry-eyed sort of claim. Any hair-brained child could tell you that being good makes good things happen, but what most adults forget is that the wisdom of a child is often the truest.

It has been claimed that for a political movement to succeed, it needs only 3.5% of the population supporting it (Source). If that’s true, it stands to reason that if only a small group of people committed themselves to the precepts of right-action and honesty, the world really could change for the better. Should this fall on one political party or another? Should it fall on a specific religious creed, or cultural identity? No. No, no, no, you damnable fool. It should fall on you alone.

In the end, the truest means of political participation is to be the best person you possibly can—and to call out any lack of decency or integrity with a furious and justified rage. Never forget it: We are better, we are capable of more—and we need to start acting like it.

-Brad OH Inc.

On Laughing Too Much

Posted on by
1

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

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 by
7

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green DesklampBushido: (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.

BogsToday, 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.

On Commitment

Posted on by
Reply

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

‘Commitment’ can be a pretty heavy word. To ‘Commit’ means to give in trust or charge, or to pledge oneself (Source). If we consider some of the most common uses of the phrase however, we see that all too often, it bears some life-altering implications. People may commit a crime, or they may commit suicide. They may attempt to commit suicide, and then be committed to the hospital. We might commit to one another, and then we might break that commitment by committing adultery.

Of course, we also commit sin, as duly evidenced in plenty of the examples above.

The connotations of the word are often pretty negative, and all harbour the element of causing a permanent change in the life of those doing the committing (or having it done to them).

Of course, of all the different uses of ‘commit’, perhaps the most dreaded is the interpersonal commitment of loving relationships. Many a man will balk for as long as possible when the notion of serious commitment comes up. So will plenty of women. Evidently, committing to another person holds a special place among the most terrifying committals imaginable.

Understandably so…just as our previous examples illustrate that the act of committing can have life altering implications on a person’s identity or character, so too can the commitment of a relationship—for good or for ill. In this case especially, to commit is an act of faith: not only in ourselves and the permanency of our intentions, but-all the more terrifying to many—in the consistency of our beloved other.

It’s a gamble of sorts—a bid for potential value at the cost of immediate sacrifice or compromise. No doubt, the payoff can be far greater than the cost, but it remains an uncertainty, and hence presents a terrifying loss if the gamble does not work out.

Committing to another person is an act of giving with no guarantee of receiving. Indeed, the committer may end up bereft of pay-off, exposed and humiliated by their misplaced faith, and left to crawl back jaded and bitter to lick their wounds in dismal solitude.

For a time, they may commit only to themselves. But this isn’t such a bad thing either. All the forms of commitment we’ve discussed require some element of change—whether permanent and uncompromising, or merely a change in our priorities, values, or beliefs. Sometimes, it is merely the change from safety and comfort to risk and chance. But then, this is the case with all things worthwhile in this world. Sure, commitment in all its forms entails change and risk, but we must remember that the only thing worse than changing is the alternative.

The final form of commitment is commitment to self—and this is perhaps the most undervalued of them all. It may take the most sacrifice, and force one to endure the greatest amount of suffering—be that from working physically to change one’s lifestyle or environment, or simply from facing with an honest eye the unpleasant realities of one’s life, and committing to changing them one at a time.

Commitment to self can range from changing your lifestyle or diet in a healthy way, working to further your career, changing your circle of friends, or any other means of improving yourself: physically, mentally, or spiritually. It’s such a broad topic, you can find countless blogs on this very subject, such as that of our good friends over at the venerable ‘Fitness: Fact and Fiction’ (Link).

When it comes to commitment of any sort, more often than not, it’s simply easier not to bother. There is great safety in security after all, and to remain stagnant assures that no greater harm may come. When a child is lost, they’re typically taught to stay where they are—for if they wander about looking for rescue, they are apt to find themselves even more lost. But this isn’t about children, and true commitment requires a more mature mind than all that. There come times in all lives that a person will feel lost, and it may seem that all around them is nothing but open ocean and despair. Each way presents the risk of drifting further from the invisible shore. But if one does not commit to some course or the other, they will remain trapped in the doldrums of inadequacy and isolation. To commit to ourselves, or to another, is to seek the change we need. Damn the risks, damn the sacrifice! In the end, life is change, and it behooves us all to plot our course with confidence and hold true onto the rudder. There are a million ways to go, and countless treasures to be found. First though, one must take their leap of faith, set their eyes bravely on the horizon, and commit themselves to reaching it.

-Brad OH Inc.

‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ Update #2

Posted on by
Reply

cropped-cropped-blogbanner13.jpgNot so very long ago, we let you know that the beta-reads for our upcoming novel, ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’, had come to an end, and the revisions had begun! Well, we’re now proud to share that said revisions are wrapping up, and all that now stands between you and picking up a copy at your local retailer is the small task of finding a suitable publisher!

At that time, we celebrated by sharing Chapter One of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ (Link), so we here at Brad OH Inc. thought it only fitting to share Chapter 2 with you today. We certainly hope you enjoy it!

Edgar's Worst Sunday Official CoverIn life, Edgar Vincent had always maintained one great passion—himself. A semi-successful composer, his rock star lifestyle suited him well, and his narcissistic outlook had always ensured he was a man with few regrets. Callous comments, thoughtless promiscuity, binge drinking, and excess sufficient to shame Caligula were standard Saturday night fare.

Sundays for Edgar had always been a painful haze of sickness and regret.

But when Edgar finds himself in the cloudy planes of the afterlife on one particularly bleak Sunday morning, he must put aside his ever-present hangover and try to figure out how he ever got to this point…and where he’s meant to be going now. But as Edgar traverses the spiritual realm, he comes to find that facing his death is hardly as difficult as facing himself.

However, heaven also presents Edgar with an unending smorgasbord of hedonistic entertainment, so he’s in no particular hurry to change his self-serving ways. After all, considering he’s already dead, what more could he possibly stand to lose?

 Edgar’s Worst Sunday

A Novel by Brad OH Inc.

-Chapter 2: The Local Bar-

[Text Redacted due to Contractual Obligations]

 -Brad OH Inc.

Everything is Everything

Posted on by
Reply

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

Yeah, it’s a Bruce Springsteen lyric (Link), but that’s not what this article is about. Well, I guess if ‘everything is everything’, then it must perforce be at least partially about that, but really, now you’re just being pedantic, and should be ashamed of yourself for such childish behaviour. Still, it’s a line you hear often enough—usually eliciting a stoic nod or an enlightened shrug, and little true thought is every really put into it. So, what do we mean when we say ‘everything is everything’? Well, just that in a way, yet not quite….

Certainly, everything is connected. From societal values, to child-rearing theories, to tax levels, to individual self-esteem, to war, to faith…one thing affects another in an unending and unwieldly domino effect. With clear vision and an open mind, it is all but impossible not to see the interconnected nature of all things. We’re not trying to go full ‘Butterfly Effect’ here, because we all know that butterflies affect nothing but children, but it must certainly be acknowledged that to have a serious and insightful discussion about any one topic, we must necessarily call upon and consider infinitesimal other issues.

Let’s start with an example. A popular issue these days is gun control. The argument in its shortest form is whether allowing easy access to guns creates a safer or a less safe society. Proponents of easy access to firearms, when not ranting about the constitution, focus on the old adage that ‘if you make guns illegal, only criminals will have guns.’ Well, that’s a tautological truth to be sure, but does it get to the heart of the issue?

Opponents of easy firearm access take a different route—claiming rather that by increasing access to guns, we allow for a more violent and reactive culture. That, combined with the ease of access, leads to greater gun violence.

Both sides have some relevant points, but to focus on the limited standards of these political movements alone is to miss the nuance and depth of the issue—and this is the case with most anything that is debated towards a specific, pragmatic end while lacking due reverence to the holistic ‘big picture’.

This article is not about gun-control per say, but rather the ways which we currently discuss the hot-button issues of our times. By keeping on the blinders and considering major topics within the narrow confines currently prescribed to them, it is easy to entirely miss how our decisions affect the world around us—and conversely—how they are affected by the very same.

In our recent article ‘The Key to Improving Our Collective Future’ (Link), we discussed why we consider education to be among the key factors in improving the world for all its sorry inhabitants. This notion remains a prescient topic in our current considerations. We’ve now established how everything is affected by everything else, but perhaps the single most impactful factor of any era is the reigning attitude of its people.

Humanity is a malleable lot—able to adapt not only physically over the long term, but also mentally, emotionally, and intellectually in the much shorter term. This is why our decisions must be more universally informed. From education, to taxes, poverty, war, governance, media and more—it is all connected, all around the world. The way we fashion our society is the way we raise our people. So what do we want humanity to be in the long run, and what is sustainable for us? Greed and envy and violence? Likely not, but this is what our present society breeds.

To have a culture predicated on the pervasive tenets of fear and greed, and then act appalled when its citizens turn feral and succumb to vice is disingenuous. People are the product of their environments, and we must arrange for a society which fosters the sort of people and values we claim to hold dear. Everything is everything, after all, and it’s imperative we take this idea wholly to heart.

It is a broad picture to consider, and certainly no easy solution will present itself. It is therefore beholden upon us to engage in open dialogue—and not just among our own familiar peer-groups. We must consider the worldwide implications of our values, and reflect honestly on how the standards we set, and the systems we create, work to shape the masses of humanity around us. It is, like it or not, entirely on us to make these decisions, for fate is an unreliable guide, and apathy the surest source of misdirection.

The considerations are vast, but not insurmountable if our will is harnessed in common cause. From improving our economic and fiscal balance (Link), to fully accounting for the vast potential of our nature (Link), we must give due consideration to what sort of culture we truly want to be, and then explore the most effective holistic steps to achieving it.

For in the end, the goal of a society must be finding and realizing the best way to raise the human animal in its masses. How we are raised is what we become, after all. What must humans be to thrive and to live in harmony with the planet? It’s a lot to weigh, but tell me what sort of people you wish to be surrounded by, and I will tell you what sort of world we must devise.

-Brad OH Inc.

The Corporate Path is Clear

Posted on by
Reply

cropped-cropped-blogbanner13.jpg

Recently, the Corporate World achieved another outstanding victory in the passing the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) deal, and this is just cause for every little Corporate boy and girl to celebrate! This deal—passed with exceeding secrecy and underhanded tactics meriting great praise—has cleared the way for the final stage of Global Corporate takeover! The world for too long has stood on the crossroads between the old values of equity and access, and the new inroads of exclusivity and dominance. With this ruling, we can finally put boots to asses, and send this listless planet down the fast-lanes to true Corporate greatness!

The TPP is a Trade Agreement between 12 Pacific Rim countries, and was passed on Oct. 5th, 2015 (Link). With the aim of clarifying complex international trade protocols similar to NAFTA before it, the passing of the TPP represents one of the greatest moral victories of our time, and a true recognition of the inherent worth and global merit of your friendly Corporate Citizens. With it, the shackles of injustice have been cast away from Corporations around the world, and finally we will be allowed to flex our full power without the heinous hindrance of being answerable to ‘the people’. We’re one too after all, and it’s due time they answer to us!

Described as creating a ‘hybrid government-Corporate structure’ (Link), the TPP is nothing short of the Liberty Bell sounding throughout the lands/ boardrooms—declaring to all Corporate people to go out and do what they will. No longer will we be held back by weak-minded considerations such as ‘environmental concerns’, ‘fair wages’, ‘fair’ copyright laws, ‘affordable’ medications, ‘worker’s rights’, ‘domestic job creation’, and ‘privacy protection’ (Source).

It’s a stunning accomplishment to say the least—and directly reflects the world’s gestating acknowledgement of its true leaders. For it is Corporations which build society, and by unburdening us from the wasteful confines of ‘global responsibility’, we are freed to continue to do what we are made to do—maximize profits!

Could it get any better for your beloved Corporate benefactors you ask? Well, we’re happy to say it can! Not only does the TPP grant us the Inalienable Right to ignore the ‘inalienable rights’ of private citizens, it also provides Corporations the ability to challenge foreign laws in so far as they impact our acquisition of Capital, and to have a greater (and well-deserved) role in writing and voting on government policy!

Clearly, this is a lauded day in the history of the Corporation, but as the small, merely ‘human’ individual you are, you may well be wondering how this affects your pitiful existence. Have no fear—the passing of the TPP soundly ensures that those concerns are no longer in your domain. The Global-Corporate takeover is now nearly complete, and that only means that for every fear and each doubt you may harbour in your fragile little minds, Corporations are already working on the answer. We hold the reigns now, and your complete trust is the only rational response.

Not sure what to eat? We’ve got you covered! Confused about Environmental debates? Leave it to us! Sick? Save up! Out of work, destitute, and stricken by an unconscionable sense of ennui? Fear not my child, for we the Corporations will always ensure there is just enough to go around—how else could you possibly continue your unconditional support of our governance?

Face it—this is only the culmination of a long-entrenched reality. We the Corporations have everything well in control. So sit back, let your ‘Genius’ playlist tell you what to listen to for a ‘relaxing mood’, and trust that everything will be ok.

After all, we’re here for you™.

-Brad OH Inc.

The Fiasco on TuffPuff Mountain

Posted on by
2

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

The peak of the mountain was still a ways off when everything started to sour.

Earlier that day, the world had been filled with all the resplendent promise of nature, and I, along with 2 friends, decided to scale the peak of TuffPuff Mountain, under which we’d been camping for the last few days.

The rock was warm and rough under my hands as I pulled my way inch by inch up the sheer face of a small cranny, my back wedged against the stone behind me as I picked my handholds and made my way along. The air was warm, and the sun on my face sped my way towards the small enclave of light shining above me.

With a final surge, I heaved myself onto the shelf of the mountain, panting and exhausted, yet thrilled with the excitement of my progress. Turning, I stopped to take in the vast distance I had come. Below, I could see my campsite, a tiny dot beside the shimmering green lake, so far below me now.

DSCF2924‘From the Top Down’

Exultation—I’d never been a climber, so this tenuous foray brought a sense of inspiration and pride to me I had been sorely in need of. But the view brought something else as well, and as I watched the great black thunderheads rolling across the valley, I knew immediately that the journey down would be far different than the way up.

There was no hope in climbing down the cliff-face with the rain so close—that would surely mean a terrible plummet and tragic conclusion. Three of us had journeyed up from our campsite, but one had split off just before the cliff-face—unwilling to risk scaling this potential hazard.

He was the smart one.

The plan had been to reach the peak, take in the view, and enjoy a meandering wind back down through the wooded slopes on the further side. Any ideas or detours along the way were to be welcomed with the sort of earnest glee inherent to the free-wheeling voyages of vacationers out in the elements. Now, all that had changed. Where moments ago the potential of the day had been wild and boundless, now we had only one goal: Get off the mountain.

We turned east, hoping to intercept our wiser friend on the trek back to camp…but first we needed to find a safe means of getting down from the heights we’d climbed…back down to the somewhat gentler slopes on the side of the mountain.

I remember the first crack of lightning—loud like nothing I’d ever heard. Like the wrath of God smiting down upon the cold stone all around us.

Then came the rain.

A wall of water and hail, it hit us hard, and head on. A ceaseless tempest moving into us—as if to drive us further up the mountain, away from any hope of safety.

Hurrying along the stony precipice, scouting for potential paths, the storm only increased. With each ear-shattering crack of lightning, the wet hair on my arms rose from the charge in the air.

But with every potential path we spotted, we were met with disappointment alone. Our approach proved each to steep, or too wet. One would be rocky and near vertical, the next slick with snow and ice. And all were hazardous—with new-formed streams rushing down their lengths.

We’d lost sight of our other friend now, and the palpable tension between my companion and I was already reaching a crescendo—the unspoken words between us driving home but two clear ideas: one strike of lightning would kill us up here, and there was no safe way down.

With all hope exhausted, and the storm worsening by the minute, our desperation peaked, and searching about us for deliverance, we were only met with damnation.

Before us stretched a long plain of ice—a sharp slope of about 40 feet that ended in a rocky cliff face…then a long drop.

Beside the ice was a steep incline of rock and mud, and the water washing down it had turned it into a veritable waterfall. All the while, rocks dislodged from above came tumbling past us, threatening an early end to our faint hopes.

He went first—inching and sliding his way down the ice—planted on his ass and clawing to maintain his grip.

Then it was my turn.

DSCF2918Would this be my Gravemarker?

My instincts raged—the same way they had when I’d went skydiving the summer before. Standing upon the lip of the plane door, looking out into the endless blue, a wordless voice had spoken in my ear, telling me it was a dreadfully bad idea to jump from a perfectly good plane.

The voice was louder now. ‘Sliding down a snowy mountainside in a lightning storm will not end well.’

I had no doubt the voice was right.

But some of my friend’s panic about our imminent lightning-death had spread to me now, despite my earlier sentiments that it would sooner be the decent that brought about our end. Besides that, he was already down past the point of return, and I was loathe to part with another friend in such dreadful circumstances.

And so I went.

It started slowly enough. Clutching my heavy wooden staff in one hand, I inched along. My empty right hand dug into the snow, and I slid bit by bit as the freezing water soaked into my pants.

But I was going faster now. Then faster still. I knew what was happening…my mind processed the math of it faster than it could articulate the threat. Faster and faster. I dug deeper into the ice, tearing my skin and cracking my nails as I slid along.

I could see the rocks below, growing larger with their approach. My friend had nearly reached them.

I was sliding far too fast to stop now. With a final, desperate effort, I clutched my staff in both hands, and slammed the point into the ice, hoping to create an anchor.

The staff broke, twisting my wrist and sending its two halves scattering down the mountain.

Everything after was too fast for conscious thought, yet I remember vividly the bleak sentiment which settled immediately into my conscience. ‘That was my only shot’.

The pull of the staff before it broke had set me spinning, and so I sped down the slope—20 feet, 30 feet, 35…the rocks were close now, and I fully understood what was coming.

Before I hit the rocks, I glimpsed my friend just below me. Colliding with him would surely send us both tumbling over the edge. As a matter of instinct, I jammed my left foot out to brace against the impact.

It hit hard.

Hard like nothing I’ve ever felt.

In the din of the tempest, I couldn’t hear the bones shatter.

Three of them, I later learned. My ankle utterly destroyed.

Despite the effort, I slammed into my friend. Then we were both rolling. Tumbling head over feet, like a child somersaulting down a peaceful summer hill.

End over end I fell, stone and sky blurring together—an all encircling tomb.

The voice was in my head again. ‘So, this is how it ends.’

There were other thoughts too—wordless but present.

A lonely dog.

A mourning family.

A touch of humility, a touch of pride…plenty of regret.

Then peace, and the thrill of adventure, bouncing and rolling down the ice-slick slopes of the mountainside for who knows how many seconds.

…Then curtains. Faster than thought, there was no doubt in my heart that the end was only a blink away. ‘One more rotation, maybe two.’ Then my skull would hit some rock and pour my brains into the torrent of water, down the stone, and finally into the lake—about two kilometers below.

The bruises I discovered later bespoke the force of my fall. But I felt none of that just then. One final thought came to me—‘It’s not a bad death.’

Then a hard thump, and I slid to a stop against a dark brown rock. I saw my friend roll over once more, then back flip over the ledge. ‘Dead,’ I had no doubt.

The ground against my hands was cold and wet as I pushed myself to my feet. I remember what I expected to see—a little black form, bouncing and tumbling down the slope so far from me now. Hopeless.

But there he was—about five feet below, springing to his feet with the frantic energy of a panicked child. “Brad, we’ve got to get out of this lightning!” he screamed. Then, turning, he fled off on his way back towards camp.

It seemed like the only logical choice, so I moved to follow.

It wasn’t until I hit the ground again that I perceived the state of my foot. Then my head was a cacophony of alarm bells and sirens.

SAMSUNGA Dismal Scene.

I rolled onto my back, pulling my knee to my chest. Touching my ankle, I knew immediately it was far too bad to walk on.

My friend was a speck in the distance now. The storm continued. I was shaking from head to toe—from the cold, from the pain, from the adrenaline.

Freezing to death in the fetal position on a mountainside didn’t promise the same vainglorious ending I’d just missed out on, however.

And so I pushed on.

A few steps here, then I’d fall again. There was no self-conscious muting of my screams. With each step, each fall, I let them come. They were between the mountain and I now, and if I didn’t get back to camp fast, my secret would surely be safe.

I cursed my friend for leaving me.

I bemoaned my ambition for taking me here.

I lamented things I hadn’t done, and regretted things I had.

But just then, there was only one thing to be done.

One step. Then another.

A hundred steps…a thousand.

Much of the journey I spent seated—pulling myself downward with my one good leg. The other slid along by my side.

My pants were shredded now, and I chuckled like a madman at the spectacle I must have been. Bloody, exposed, and broken. A damn fool human who had taken it all too far.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, and yet something was entirely different about it. Moments ago, I had accepted entirely—deep down in my bones—the fact that I was about to die. Not only that, I’d even felt that it would have been a good death. Guts, glory…all that. But when the dust settled, I found myself broken, battered, and helpless as my ‘friend’ retreated down the mountainside, flatly rejecting my pleas and condemning me to my fate. It was a complete reversal of fortunes. From a blaze of glory to a sad, pathetic, wet little thing sliding down the rocky face of the mountain. I was humbled, and humiliated. And yet, the humiliation was worth it entirely, I knew, to be able to go on with life. It was worth it in spite of—nay, perhaps even because of the suffering it entailed.

This was the crucial lesson I took of those terrible slopes—that to suffer through and persevere when faced with no alternative is no cruel fate, but a blessing rather; a testament of the human spirit and the greatness we are capable of when no easier way is afforded to us. In adversity there is growth, and only through struggle can we achieve our highest potential.

I would go on, I knew, step after step, never again to toil in the mires of apathy or flippancy.

Step after step. Ice and rock passed into trees and valleys. The lake grew bigger. The storm pounded ever on.

But there was no doubt anymore. Not since I found out that movement was possible. I would make it back to camp. I’d get off this cursed mountain if only to strangle that damn snake of a ‘friend’ who’d left me up there to die.

I didn’t in the end.

I may have actually hugged him. It’s hard to say.

When I got to flat ground, I made my way along by grasping pine branches and dragging myself forward. Pain was nothing now. The damage was already done. Survival was all that remained.

I remember stumbling into camp. The first thing I saw was the friend we’d separated from part way up—safe and sound. This was a relief. The entire journey down, he’d been in my thoughts—and I’d often considered the dread I would feel if I’d made it back to camp to find him absent. That would inevitably have meant a trip back up the mountain. Damn the storm, damn my foot. If he was left up there, I’d have to go after him.

We would both have died.

‘Another good death.’

The next thing I saw was the friend who’d left me there. But the anger was gone now.

Before that day, I’d never faced the certainty of my own death. Grudges mattered less now.

In a day, I would be home with my dog. He wouldn’t need to be lonely. My family wouldn’t need to mourn. More than any of that, I’d learned something incredible about my own potential. To look into the eye of doom and persevere is an uplifting experience.

…and that was something I needed to hang onto.

I bound my ankle with a tensor bandage, and curled up in my flooded, freezing tent with a bottle of cheap white rum.

The next day meant a seven kilometer hike down the steep, wooded slopes back to the highway and my car.

But now, I had no doubt that I could handle it.

-Brad OH Inc.