A Spring Silence
Moishe Antloffen2010[Story]
“I totaled my truck last week,” he said. “These two Mexicans and a black guy, they came around that gas station down on 11th,” he said, motioning vaguely behind him, “and turned into me and hit me almost head-on.”
Roland, my next-door-neighbor, a 60-year-old who looked like a cross between Bill Clinton and Billy Graham, was standing in my driveway, having just haggled with me about what he’d be willing to pay for my ‘96 Ford F-150.
“I’m sorry you lost your truck,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, and they didn’t have any insurance. If they want to be in this country, they should live by the laws.”
“Thank goodness, though,” I said, giving him a quick once-over, “it looks like you weren’t badly hurt.”
“Only some problems with the neck,” he said, “but I’m okay. These two airbags came out,” he said, drawing his hands back quickly toward his face, “the Lord was good to me.”
He shook his head slowly: “You know I dreamed I was going to get into an accident with that truck. I prayed to the Lord not to hurt me.” He shuddered, then turned his attention to me.
“What about you Michael, you been okay?”
I told him the truth, that I’d been battling disruptive reflux and GI problems, among other serious symptoms, and being unable to eat had unintentionally lost significant weight over the previous weeks—and I had started out thin. The medical tests—blood panels, ultrasound, laryngoscopy, CT scan, HIDA scan, endoscopy, colonoscopy—revealed, after many weeks of agonizing worry and preparing for dread possibilities, no life-threatening condition. But I was far from recuperated.
“Drink some wine,” he said, “it’s good for the stomach and other ailments.”
He gave me other health advice—go to a place, he knew of one on Sheridan Drive, where they juice carrots, or better yet have some Aloe Vera juice—and then we went our separate ways, he to his house, and I, after putting on boots and spraying myself with Off and tucking my jeans into my socks to protect against ticks, headed toward the fields to begin mowing.
I was several hundred feet along, almost at the barn where I keep the tractor, when Ranger, my German shepherd who was accompanying me, barked and raced back toward the driveway. I could see Roland, standing at the fence waving to me. I trekked back that way, and as I came closer saw that he was holding a clear plastic cup containing an inch or so of dark red liquid. He extended it to me and said: “Here, my wife prayed over it.”
I guess no matter how far one runs, one can never outdistance the kiruv< brigades—and the rebbe always has a rebbetzin.
“Thank you,” I said, and took the cup. It had been thoughtfully covered with plastic wrap.
Roland’s eyes shifted off to the side, retrieving a memory, then he looked at me and said: “He says, ‘Drink no longer water, take a little wine for thy stomach and often infirmities.’”
“Who says?” I asked gently, still feeling awkward and not sure how to respond to the generosity mixed with something vaguely intrusive and odd.
“It’s in the Bible.”
“Oh,” I said, not recognizing the passage, “that’s interesting.” “Do you happen to remember which book?”
“It’s in King James.”
“Yes,” I said, “but I mean where in the Bible is the verse?”
“It’s in King James. Do you study the Bible?”
“I wouldn’t call myself a scholar,” I said, “but I do read it sometimes.”
“We study not for the eyes of men,” he said and pointed his finger to the sky, “we study for Him.”
“Well, thank you again for your kindness,” I said, “and please extend my thanks to your wife. “I’ll bring this inside and have it with dinner.”
He walked off toward his house again and I, entered my front door, turned into the kitchen, lifted up the plastic wrap on the cup, tilted the wine toward me and touched it with my tongue. It tasted like the sweet Kedem Concord grape wine, or perhaps Malaga, we used to have for Kiddushall those years and miles away. I put the cup in the refrigerator where it would wait until I decided what to make of it and what to do with it. I went back outside, this time reached the barn, got out the tractor and set about tending to the grass.
*****
A sharp whistle cut through the air, loud enough to be heard over the din of the tractor engine and cutting blades, and through the barrier of my earplugs, too. He was at the fence again, and it was only fifteen minutes since we last spoke. I disengaged the mowing apparatus, and drove toward him. At the gate between the yard and acreage I turned off the engine, got off the tractor and walked toward the driveway fence where he was waiting…with a big red Bible in his hands.
As I approached he opened it, and both visible pages were heavily underlined and circled with different colors of ink. He ran his finger along the text and read aloud, and sure enough, there it was in 1 Timothy chapter 5: “Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thy often infirmities.”
“You found that quick,” I said. I was trying to hide my discomfort with his persistent religious outreach toward me—he may as well have stepped off a mitzvah tank and urged me to put on tefillin, or, like a former classmate, sent me Friday afternoon emails wishing me a lechtiger Shabbos—and my mixed feelings of respect and scorn for his careful reading of the Bible but apparent significant ignorance, too. “When I get a chance,” I said, “I’ll study the whole chapter.”
“Do you have this Bible, the King James?”
“Yes,” I said and, trying to find common ground, added: “It really is the most beautiful translation.”
He looked at me disapprovingly, squared his jaw and said. “It’s the Truth!”
*****
An hour and more later I was still cutting the grass out on the acreage, the first mowing of the year—and was buffeted by a mix of emotional ruminations. I felt gratitude to Roland and his wife, good simple people, for doing a good simple deed. I felt pity, too, for how simple-minded he was, and how invested in a blindered worldview. But not only pity; I felt self-pity, for having no convictions that offered abundant meaning and eternal hope, not even the untutored confidence that gives placebos their effectiveness, while Roland and his wife had such magic medicine in abundance.
I found myself wondering, too, how many romancers of the bottle had the verse in 1 Timothy 5 committed to memory. I suspected it was many, and I remembered Roland’s habitually red face…and the recent mishap with his truck. But I pushed such thoughts out of mind. Perhaps he’s just a caring, religious man, with no baser motives or habits than attempting to bring a neighbor salvation, and himself some reinforcement and a little pride of spiritual accomplishment.
Astride the rattling tractor I drove on, a picture, I knew, of busy futility, cutting the grass that stood where others had cut grass before me, and which would grow again and again, but only for a time, and then give way—like the field’s crane flies and wasps and bluebirds and voles—to the new generation, eager to reenact the same dance inevitably crowned with doom. In the over-the-top vigor of spring I couldn’t help but think of decline and mortality, of how even such green, leaping life invariably ends. And the bright sun, and the sight of majestic pecan trees and flowering redbuds, and the fresh clear wind, and the scent of cut clover, fescue, dandelions and wildflowers, though they brought to my spirit a few glimmers of delight, did not ignite in me the surge of energy and appetite I had felt every other spring. The vulnerability of illness and pain had made it harder to engage in the healthy and universal denial of death.
“Havel havolim, omar Koheles, havel havolim, ha’kol hovel.”* Thousands of optimistic seasons before this one, contemplative men tortured themselves with ruminations like mine. “And I gave my heart to know wisdom…I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” Here was unblinking knowledge wrestling with despair even in the face of abundant pleasure, and not indulging in any too-convenient faith of an afterlife. (The religious final verses of Ecclesiastes, and a few in the middle, too, I’d long suspected were added by a pious editor—and if not that, then, in a moment of weakness or misguided compassion, by the author himself.)
But I reflected in my fragile state, when even the wanderer covets fellowship, upon how beautiful people can sometimes be, how generous and neighborly, when under the sway of benign supernatural belief. And I thought of the book into which I had poured so much of myself, a gentle but passionate dismantling of supernatural creeds. And touched by the kindness of faith-steeped strangers in my hour of need, and moved to compassion by contemplating the abyss that awaits us all, and the precious little we can hold on to in attempting to shield our industrious absurdity from too much terror and grief, doubts assailed me about whether it was proper to disenchant people from religious worldviews.
And though my mind and spirit knew that the pursuit of knowledge is necessary for human dignity; that nothing justifies living a profound lie and imposing it on the defenseless young; that religion gives rise not only to kindness and brotherhood but to enmity and oppression, too; that little is as beautiful and meaningful as hard-won truth; and that life must be guided by the considerations of engaged living, not by the sentiments of tragic end…still, for a long moment there in the fragrant fields, in full sadness and romance, under the slanted rays of a setting philosopher’s sun, my heart wasn’t so sure, and my eyes weren’t completely dry.
* The second verse of Ecclesiastes: “Vanity of vanities, said Koheleth, vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”
50 Responses
The site counted 84 responses; 50 survive in the archived copies.
Great writing michael, although I must admit it was unfamiliar to me, since I grew up in an urban setting I’ve never had a chance to experience those feelings, but I was able to relate a little, I thrive to one day live on a farm with only nature surrounding me, no people, no peer pressure and no one to have to answer to.
Wow. Beautiful take on the life is banal theme.
“cutting the grass that stood where others… eager to reenact the same dance inevitably crowned with doom.”
Makes me think of Sandburg. “I am the grass. I cover all.” We and our kids and our grandkids will be dead, but there’ll be someone mowing the grass in your field.
Great writing. Your neighbor is right. The KJV is a great translation.
Farchapt: Yes, living in nature with fewer people and less peer pressure surrounding one has its upsides, especially for those of certain temperaments…and I number myself among them.
Bethany: Thanks for your comments. Living on the land enables one to reconnect with nature’s basic metaphors–grass/fields, trees/roots/leaves, mammals/birds/insects, skies/earth/water, etc. Urban metaphors change quickly–the typewriter and fax machine and 8-track player come and go quickly, were not visible to our ancestors and will again be invisible to our descendants–but the grass remains.
JR214: Although my neighbor–and many Christians of certain denominations–believe that the KJV (and not other translations) is the inspired word of God, I see all Bibles and scriptures of any religion, as well as all their translations, as human, and I see the KJV as the most aesthetically pleasing of the Bible’s English translations.
“(The religious final verses of Ecclesiastes, and a few in the middle, too, I’d long suspected were added by a pious editor—and if not that, then, in a moment of weakness or misguided compassion, by the author himself.)”
Your doubtful and non-accepting thoughts expressed in the above referenced sentences, exposes your, and many other OTD’s, fallacies and shortcomings when it comes to arguments about accepting any Bible literature as being Prophetic or authentic. One cannot pick and choose parts one wishes to accept and others to discard. Well, one can, but that is not being intellectually honest.
Some Guy from BP,
Sometimes events take place exactly as one would expect. The comments of “Some Guy from BP” are perfectly consistent with the identical, reflexive opinions held by throngs of similarly sheltered and similarly indoctrinated BP boys and men…most of whom could on screen and do in real life take on this conformist, unthinking identity. And, of course, “Some Guy from BP” defending traditional religion and accusing another of intellectual dishonesty is…rich.
On a more substantive note, if you really think you’ve studied widely, with an open and courageous mind, the best arguments of those who disagree with you on matters of biblical authorship, and yet you still believe what the yeshivas teach in BP, then you’ve done your existential duty. But such searching is rare among those who remain in BP, and almost non-existent among those who would make the self-satisfied, flippant comments you made above.
Also, I’m puzzled as to what you mean by, “One cannot pick and choose parts one wishes to accept and others to discard.” There is no part of the Bible I “accept” as being from God. I assume all of it is written by men. And such a conclusion only seems shocking or misguided to those raised to believe in a supernatural origin for the Bible—and have not stretched their minds or their souls to reconsider such dogmas.
And that an editor or editors would include a few changes to Bible passages originally written by others is not only plausible, but is explicitly taught by Jewish tradition in various instances.
So not only does the average “Some Guy from BP” not know the best arguments of the opposition, he’s apparently not even familiar with his own tradition’s sources.
But this post is a short story, not a philosophical treatise. And I don’t intend to get dragged into a debate in the comment section. If you really want to know the views of those like me, there are many easily accessible places to find them well argued, in detail. If you’d truly like some “mareh mekoimos” let me know and I’ll provide them.
I’ll be happy to give you the last word in our non-debate, and I won’t respond further.
And to clarify, I have nothing against you personally—in fact, I assume you experience yourself as being sincere and honest, and I do understand the natural inclinations of the average “Some Guy in BP.” I used to be one. But I do have to stand up for important matters, especially when they’re flippantly dismissed.
I don’t think that’s what he meant at all. I thought he was saying, from a literary perspective, that there are discrepancies between some of the verses, that some of them don’t seem to fit with the overall theme or style of Ecclesiastes. Kinda like when you read Beowulf. It’s a Norse story, but here and there the Christian god is mentioned, almost as if a scribe in a Monastery, while copying the text, decided to just add his beliefs in there.
Sorry. I must have been writing my comment at the same time as Michael was writing his. He said it better.
Michael, it’s a waste of time, I personally believe in not defending the norm, I would let the dogmists, be on the defensive instead.
Great article and very touching.
1. Seems like you can’t turn away the brain from nurture. The more anybody tries to escape the more they believe that everybody tries to get you back to the starting point. Why wouldn’t your first thought have been “hes trying to help. Ill make him happy and take the wine”. Had you not been nurtured with religion you probably would have not felt attempted recruitment.
2. The article is way to overwritten. Simple words would have been more powerful. Reads like a research article.
“2. The article is way to overwritten. Simple words would have been more powerful. Reads like a research article.”
Nothing research-y about it. Obviously my subjective opinion, but this story is beautifully written. Beautiful descriptions, details that bring the setting to life, and wonderfully thoughtful and reflective.
I agree with HR. Speaking from someone who has a degree in English literature, whether that counts for anything, this did NOT read like a research article.
Sarah, you’re right: It was the incongruity, of content and style, between the few religious verses in Koheles and the great majority of a-religious, tragic verses, as well as the placement (especially the convenient religious summing up at the end) that struck me.
Farchapt: I probably do allow myself to be drawn in to more give-and-take than is necessary or in my best interests. Still, as above, I can put a fairly early end to non-productive exchanges. And with some comments, which speak for themselves in ways their authors do not see and did not intend, such as the one following yours above, I succeed at restraining myself from offering any direct response.
HR and Sarah,
Thanks for your responses to the above critical comment. Though I may harbor insecurities in various arenas of life, the quality of my writing isn’t one of them. And while I recognize that people have different tastes in literature as with other things, and while I welcome any informed critique, the comment to which both of you responded speaks for itself.
I don’t know how to say this without coming across as elitist, but anyone whose literary approval I might covet would do nothing but roll their eyes or smile in pity at that particular critical comment–and then, perhaps, register their protest with comments as you did.
Thanks again.
Sorry. I reviewed the article. its the last quarter of the article that left the ovewritten impression in my mind. It was discriptively well written up to that point.
My apologies.
Michael, from your responses I can tell that you don’t seek any validation for your writing.
Usually when I say things on the internet it is for the following reason-
http://xkcd.com/386/
Sarah,
Thanks for sharing the cartoon; it was funny and all too true.
And to be clear: Because the two dimensional, largely anonymous, forum of a comment section gives everyone’s opinions equal billing; and because silence is often interpreted as agreement; I think it’s often appropriate to protest. And as an emotionally aware human being and artist, even when it doesn’t seem necessary, I do appreciate support.
Shloimy, I appreciate your latest comment, and that’s why I’m responding. If one looks around them at life, overall, one will notice that on anything from houses to furniture to clothing to coffee to chulent, and yes, to words, people’s tastes differ.
If a person doesn’t like an exotically flavored beef dinner, but prefers instead a burger and fries, they’re entitled to their taste; indeed, many share their taste. But it isn’t helpful or intelligent to say, “The beef is overflavored. It should just be made into a burger and served with fries.” Or if someone likes coffee without sugar and cream, they’re entitled to their taste. But it wouldn’t be intelligent or informed to say, “The coffee’s too sweet and creamy.”
The fact is that some people like the coffee precisely that sweet and creamy. The same applies to all matters of taste.
And if you like dialogue and action and sensory description more than stretches of philosophical prose poetry, you’re not only entitled to your taste, but your taste is in line with most people’s. But there are those, I among them, who prefer writing seasoned with a generous handful of lyricism and philosophical prose poetry. For this reason I actually prefer the later parts of the piece to the earlier parts.
Again, taste is taste. Confusing your taste with a categorical critique is simply uninformed. And writers legitimately intend different styles, and different readers appreciate different styles. If you like soccer, and then watch a game of basketball, it’s better not to say, “They’re using their hands too much. Feet would be better.”
“would do nothing but roll their eyes or smile in pity at that particular critical comment”
Exactly my reaction. Ha.
With all due respect, validation or approval is a very important aspect in life, it motivates and encourages people to invent create and research. There is nothing to be ashamed of, this is how homo sapians evolved. Michael as always, great job! If someone considers it a…licking, he can lick my….., it’s sick to have to resist compliments because of some un-evolved aslickphobic individuals.
Micheal.
I accept your words and explanation.
My issue with the article is exactly as you stated. (I paraphrase) you like the end of the article better then the rest. If that is your taste, then why not write the entire article like that?
I’ve been reading this journal, (I know, its not a blog) since its inception. Mostly I like what’s written here. Though I disagree with the “frustration” that some writers present in their pieces, I still like them. Your article went from an easy read to a more “poetic style?”
I did loved english literature in undergrad. I allways scored well for my short and to the point style.
Please excuse the current writing for its typed with two thumbs from my cell.
FYI. I did like your last piece. And my apologies that you were offended.
Bethany: thanks, and I’m glad you could relate.
Farchapt: Thanks for the unrestrained approval; I appreciate you.
Shloimy: In truth, it’s not a matter of being offended, but of wanting to be addressed with relevant and informed dialogue. Your current comment I appreciate. Your first comment confused your subjective taste with objective quality…by stating in categorical, objective terms that, “The article is way to overwritten. Simple words would have been more powerful. Reads like a research article.”
You do point to a legitimate observation, that the later parts were of a different flavor than the earlier parts. For those with a strong need for symmetry, that can be seen as a flaw; for those who appreciate some variety and progression, that can be seen as a welcome and enjoyable model. But again, I’m not offended, and “No hard feelings.”
Michael – why is the life of truth the overriding value. If living a lie to leads to more compassion, love, pleasure, etc then why does truth win out.
To be clear – I understand your other point that you say that religion can lead to oppression as well. But you seem to be making 2 separate claims. And on the claim that searching for truth is what is most important and leads to most dignity – on that I ask you – why? What objective value does truth have that overrides all else?
What a pitiful descent into unmerited elitism, topped by a pungent whiff of schoolyard bullying.
I say this out of respect for the people responsible for this descent, for otherwise I’d simply shake my head in disgust and walk away. Guys, I truly (and sincerely!) value your contributions here, but please, this behavior is unbecoming of rational adults.
What is the value of pointing and laughing at someone (and encouraging others to do so), presumably because they dared make a critical comment that contained some grammatical errors and spelling mistakes? Proclaiming that someone is unworthy of response without explaining the reasoning behind this conclusion amounts to the very worthless criticism that was so justifiably decried just a thread or two ago.
If you feel a given criticism is unworthy of response or not worth taking issue with, just… don’t respond. Shouting from the rooftops that you cede your right to the last word or that you consider the given comment beneath you is highly unproductive, impolite, does nothing to stimulate constructive discussion, and makes you seem a bit of an elitist bully besides.
In my view, Shloimy’s comment contained: 1) a simple observation, not a criticism of anyone or anything, and 2) a legitimate, if not an elaborated, critique — one I am inclined to agree with. No, not because I lack the ability to appreciate “philosophical prose poetry,” but because philosophical prose, too, can be written in annoyingly long and needlessly complex sentences, with cloying sentimentality doing nothing to sooth the senses so assaulted.
However, I did not set myself up as an arbiter of literary taste, and of course, as was rightly pointed out, taste necessarily varies from one person to the next. I would not presume to tell someone to change their style to suit myself. Nevertheless, such criticism (especially when it is elaborated upon) can be legitimate, and the snobbish response exhibited above was boorish and uncalled for.
Um . . . I’m a little confused as to which of the above statements you thought elitist and boorish. I didn’t think anyone was being bullied, and I’m not really sure what grammatical errors and spelling mistakes you’re talking about either. I really don’t notice those kind of things. I don’t remember any one else mentioning grammar, either.
BD, I’m not exactly sure why you felt what you wrote about, I hope though that it’s not a rebutal for the comments of two weeks ago.
Wow, BD, totally out of left field. There is plenty of infantile bullying on this site, but this comment thread is not where it’s at. One person leaves a comment criticizing a piece that most other readers seem to enjoy and appreciate, so they take issue with the critical comment. Did the initian critical comment seem a bit ridiculous? Yes, it did, to some. Why is that elitist and boorish? (As an aside, people who read literary “journals” tend to have elitist taste. So what?)
initial, not initian. What happened to the editing button, HR?
Yitzy: “If living a lie to leads to more compassion, love, pleasure, etc then why does truth win out.”
This is an excellent question. It’s an issue I explored in a paper I once wrote for school, and I think I’ll revisit that thesis to elucidate some new thoughts I have on the topic.
At times the paternal or condescending tone can be more off-putting than outright criticism.
Even belligerent bullying is much preferred. At least in those instances I’m perfectly entitled to get all worked up. And fight back. Or give in. Whichever way I go, I’m being allowed to engage.
On the other hand, in the case of the passive-aggressive and placating (and yes, elitist) tone – it actually brings out that most juvenile response in me:
I stick my tongue out at the screen.
Gigi, you’re hilarious lmao.
Why is that elitist and boorish, Laura asks.
Why am I so unattractive, the hook nosed, obese, pimpled face asks.
OMG. what have we become here??? A kindergarten??
would do nothing but roll their eyes or smile in pity at that particular critical comment
Exactly my reaction. Ha
Exactly my reaction too… to most of this thread here. Actually, I am sitting here, literally laughing out loud, just shaking my head at this whole scenario. All I’m waiting for now is one of HT’s *snide* remarks to just sum it up cleverly. (Mmmmm, that was a**lickin’ good! I think I’ll get soon another helping of that!)
Chaim, you are saying it should be apparent, but it obviously isn’t to some people. So, can you please explain why the comments were elitist?
Dr. Posner,
I’m wondering if in your esteemed practice, do you deal with people suffering from Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
BD: You made several points; I’ll respond to them:
1. You claimed people were pointing and laughing at someone due to spelling and grammar errors. Along with Sarah, I haven’t seen anything of the sort. Please enlighten us.
2. Had you carefully read the continuing thread, you’d see that the person’s critical comments were initially not directly addressed because, unlike what you suggest, they did not express a critique so much as personal taste not recognizing itself as personal taste and presuming to be objective fact. If you feel that me alluding to that makes me a bully–as opposed to the inappropriateness lying with the one who presumes to takes the initiative to criticize another’s work without knowing or caring that he’s expressing his taste as objective standards–so be it. I think you’re reaching.
3. You write: “In my view, Shloimy’s comment contained: 1) a simple observation, not a criticism of anyone or anything, and 2) a legitimate, if not an elaborated, critique — one I am inclined to agree with.”
BD, it appears that you, too, are mistaking facts about which we can make objective observations, and matters of taste about which we can only intelligently speak about our preferences. Because S. did not speak of preference or taste but rather stated categorically and definitively that, “The article is way to overwritten. Simple words would have been more powerful. Reads like a research article,” therefore his comments were justly seen by me and others as inappropriate.
If you can’t see that those are 3 claims stated as fact when at most opinion is warranted…there’s not much more to say.
That your taste is less lyrical than mine, and is closer to S.’s on such matters is perfectly fine. Someone as logical/confrontational as you would be highly unlikely to share my aesthetic tastes in words or much else. And what you find great writing is likely, to me, to seem overly analytical, harsh, or boring and lacking in soul. None of us can write, or do anything else, in such a way as to meet the tastes of everyone. My writing will not satisfy everyone; and I don’t attempt for it to do so.
But what you were getting at in your above comment I really don’t see, and it’s hard for me to hope for much productive in continuing this dialogue. So I will again, even if you consider it elitist and boorish, invite you to have the last word–and I will not respond.
Larry,
I’m sorry I do not. But if you’d like a referral, I’m sure I can direct you to someone who can help.
Yitzy writes: “Michael – why is the life of truth the overriding value. If living a lie to leads to more compassion, love, pleasure, etc then why does truth win out.”
Yitzy, I agree with Laura: that’s a very important question. It’s one that I’ve also written about at length. This being a comment section on a piece of literature, I won’t go into detail here. I will say that to some degree it comes down to values–but truth is not necessarily a value like any other…
Again, I understand that I haven’t explained the point here–I simply wanted to acknowledge your worthy question.
Sarah are you the German shepherd?
והשגל יושבת אצלו
“I’m sorry I do not. But if you’d like a referral, I’m sure I can direct you to someone who can help”
אין חבוש מתיר עצמו מבית האסירים
Ouch. I am sticking my tongue out at you, a lá Gigi.
And I was defending myself, and all the other commentators, that I thought BD’s comment was directed at. If I stick up for someone, does that make me their bitch?
So I will again, even if you consider it elitist and boorish, invite you to have the last word–and I will not respond.
Ha ha. What a transparent cop- out.
Gentleman, not. Chicken, hell yes.
Apparently, Sarah, there are many small-minded, witty-in-their-own-eyes, snipers who are eager to jump all over anyone with a differing opinion, or worse–one defending someone they’ve chosen to oppose. It’s a shame to see such mental energy wasted in hostility and pettiness.
What can be done about it is another matter. This level of interaction is not just unpleasant–it’s degrading and should be seen as such by anyone with any measure of maturity or class. (And, yes, those who wish to may go ahead and call me elitist for that, too.)
Above, I initially chose not to entertain seriously, indeed to mock, a critical comment of obvious subjective taste expressing itself as objective fact. Some saw that as inappropriate. I don’t see it that way; I was responding to a flippant, objectively unjustified, attack on my work.
But all this adolescent-like name-calling and bitter over-cleverness…I’m somewhat puzzled at its sources. I have theories, but I’ll refrain…
So, what to do. On the one hand, if reasonable people reasonably find this immature nonsense to be distasteful and soiling, and leave, that would in a sense give the victory to the lowest common denominator. So one might choose to stay on, and continue to fend off the jackals. On the other hand, most reasonable people aren’t masochists, and they also know that their energies are probably better put to use in more productive and enjoyable endeavors.
And so we have another fine chakira.
“and they also know that their energies are probably better put to use in more productive and enjoyable endeavors.”
Yes. I am now going to watch the Simpsons. Good night.
That’s a fine idea, Sarah. I think I’ll follow your lead.
Michael wrote “I have theories, but I’ll refrain…”
I would want to elaborate on that but as Sarah put it very well, I’m gonna watch Big Bang Theory instead, good night.
I don’t need to go watch the Simpsons, I have had enough entertainment for one day.
BD
Thanks for sticking up for me.
MP
Let me tell you what this thread reminds me of.
Remeber williamsburg?????
Anybody that makes any comment thats critiques the general accepted way is being negated and thrown out. Is being put into the dustbin. Remeber words like apikoros, sheigatz arois, men freigt nisht azoi, Di veist nisht voos di retst, etc…..
What you guys did to my comment was just that. Nobody asked me to explain, Not one question? Just attack, bullying and condescending remarks. I would have thought that being at this stage in life has taught you not to do that. Well!!! I guess what I said intially stands. Nurture at a young age remains with you. I guess all the education did not really help.
What proved my point even more was that as soon as I worded an apology,everybody backed off. Somthing like “He is doing tshuvah”.
Yes my critique was meant as i explained later in the thread. But not everybody sits in front of a computer a whole day. Thumbing a lengthy response on my centro is a little difficult so i kept it short.