When I was a kid I had a flair for making good rock and roll bands better. I guess that's what a producer does, but nobody ever clued me in that I might make money on what I did for free. So we hung at a certain bar on off nights, or at the baseball personal injury generation field on Sundays, or in, of course, the studio, where I served as the spirit of production. This spirit business was kind of the case at my day job, but they paid me.
All that was before I lit out for the monastery -- "left home", as they say -- started hangin' with the ancients full time. Now that I'm thrust back into the world to help save your sorry asses, I am at it full time dropping -- shedding -- the habits I'd evidently only left outside the monastery gates... taking umbrage with this twit who calls herself me with each inhalation. Each exhalation is her banishment.
Lately, I've been left agape by quite a lot of what is passing for activism out there... people shooting themselves in both feet left and right; being so focussed on getting attention that they miss crucial opportunities to prevail or to further their cause greatly; being so impressed by a public document they think is exclusive to them that they make asses of themselves, which really is the death of their efficacy if they don't reverse that impression fast enough; crying wolf so many times they become background noise; waxing patriotic, or revolutionary, when they have no intention of doing more than socializing with people who interest or entertain them or make them look better by association; sticking to side issues, getting lost in those intricacies and, of course, squandering their usefulness by growing more timid in step with their rising Technorati authority and/or offers of MSM punditry. A big part of the problem, of course, is that most people believe saying something is so is the equivalent of it being so.
That ain't so.
So. I'm thinking of starting a school for activists.
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