From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael Rigler)
Subject: Settling for Zero
Organization: IFA
Date: Sat, 5 Sep 1992 08:42:09 GMT

Assorted macho wit on a Friday night:

> ...and her mother-in-law, together: one can only fathom so much, but
> how much menstrual smegma must be swirling around in that bubbling slush?

> she wants it, badly.

> oh, you are a kinky little mink.  you need to be spanked.

> carasso "she needs it from a *real* man"

This is getting downright primordial.  If I wanted to witness an 
exchange like this one, I'm sure I could probably get a live full-color 
version at the construction site across the street.  But you have 
a brain while they don't, and that's why I'm fascinated by you.

You represent the dark side of my nature.  The side that *wants*
to say things like this because it represents what is perhaps the 
easiest way to cope with the challenging world.  But I'm different.

In my childhood, I too encountered things which lurched out of the 
shadows at me, bringing a bittersweet taste and an aura of The Exotic, 
The Naughty, The Wondrous, The Taboo...

It was the same for all of us.  We all tasted that mystery of life.

The list of forbidden items is very personal and for you might include 
people and customs from far away lands, ideas contrary to your parents' 
teachings, members of the opposite sex, and even your own sexuality.

For me, as I explore my world, as I begin to catch a glimpse of the 
nature of any given thing, the piquance of mystery I originally associated 
with it fades and is lost forever (to be recovered only briefly during 
dreams and acid trips).  But that loss turns out to be a trivial price 
to pay for the feeling which replaces the mystery:  when I peel back 
the outer veil, the inner nature of a thing shines with a power and beauty 
that drowns out all previous considerations.  It becomes a Thing.  And 
when my awareness expands to include the essential interconnectedness of 
my newfound Thing with everything else, including my own Self, then I am 
at once enlightend, empowered, and supremely satisfied.  Another piece of 
the puzzle of existence has slid into place for me, and nothing, nothing 
can compare to that sense of personal triumph.

For me, the only tragic part in all this is that I only gets 80 years tops 
to learn-taste-explore-probe this world before I am recycled.  I cry to 
think of the bizillion things I'll never learn or experience, and all the 
truly interesting people whose paths wont cross mine, but if they only 
had...who knows what magic...?  Ah, but now perhaps I'm just been foolish.  
Expressing my deepest wish.  Grasping at Infinity itself.  But I will 
maintain that "Striving for Infinity" is the best way to live one's life.  

Too bad that the pathetic majority of humans choose the opposite path:  
"Settling for Zero."

In your early childhood, if instead of seeking to probe the mysteries, 
you continuously close your eyes and lash out at them, you can prolong 
their spicy flavorings indefinitely, past the years of childhood, through 
adolescence where the flavors sharpen, and on into life as an adult.  You 
will eventually have the satisfaction of dying with the taste of those 
spices on your lips.  

By stoking the dull flame of your ignorance, you will have stumbled 
onto a fairly effortless way to assemble and maintain your personal 
cosmos.  What's more, you can place your self-esteem near the top of
your scheme of things, like a tacky star atop a Christmas tree that 
is hung with an incomprehensible assortment of icons, tinsel and junk.
Through constant teasing, you will have kept the conceptual scabs open 
and bleeding, and spared yourself the deeper wounds of truly living.
You may even live longer -- ignorance can be a useful survival trait
-- but in the end death will take you just the same.  And your life 
will have been a total cop out.

To illustrate, let us take the "Mystery of Women."  As a man, and as 
a human, I gladly assume the daunting task of learning as much as I can 
about women, both as individuals and as a class.  For in doing so, I 
know that I am actually learning about myself.  My body is packed with 
the genes of both men and women, generously donated by my mother and 
father.   This represents a tremendous storehouse of information which, 
through the arbitrary last-minute flipping of a few bits, has caused 
me to be manifested as a male.  In other words, in the genetic coin 
toss, I came up 'tails', but I also have a 'heads' side facing downwards, 
and like the other coins around me, I am made of copper and I have three 
sides in total (male, female and neither).  When you think about it, 
women are actually amazing creatures, as are men, as are humans in 
general.  People are precious individuals, and it is a waste of your 
own life to reduce them to less.  I think you and certain others are 
totally squandering your access to living breathing interesting minds 
on the other side of the net.  

What do you *really* know about menstruation, that leads you to criticize 
it at every opportunity?  What exactly, are you afraid of?  Is it that you, 
born a male, have been deprived in the sense that you will never experience 
menstruation, or child bearing?  (Though you could instead choose to share 
in them through a quest for understanding.)  Is it that you know that you 
are nothing but the transient product of a long line of women stretching 
back through time, and you seek to escape the pounding of their blood through 
your temples -- the same blood that once flowed down their legs?  (Ah, but 
is that not the same blood which has made you what you are?)  Is it that you 
hear the voice of Mother when a woman speaks, and for that reason alone, her 
ideas must be denied, lest you lose your fragile grip on authority?  (Yet, 
you demonstrate your weakness every time you do this...) 

When a man hates women, he is actually hating himself.

I'm not afraid to admit that I sometimes feel all these things, and other, 
darker things.  But I face them, laughing, because they are natural feelings, 
and I am curious about myself.  And I like myself.  My self is all I have.

Rigler

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