…that reminds me of something that happened only a few years ago. By the way, isn’t that a great way to get some press for this site? Jason will be so proud of me… No, I’m not speaking of the Holocaust itself; after all, that was more than a few years ago. However, it does remind me of an incident which involved the topic.

A few years back, I was invited to contribute humor pieces for an independent publication in its nascent stage, and given that it had a philosophical theme of which I approved (i.e., Objectivist), I considered it an honor to be offered such an opportunity.

After some discussion about possibilities, we agreed on the first piece to be my Agree to Disagree piece, with the condition that I might need to alter the piece in some way. I gave my consent to these requirements, aware that some of my pieces can be lengthy and sometimes (dare I say it) longwinded. So, as we began to converse about these supposed revisions, the proposed changes began to be less innocuous and more noxious. As I listened with patient restraint to a list of revisions which would render the piece brackish (or, in the best case scenario, stale), the turning point arrived when the focus became aimed at the inimical conversation within the piece regarding the Holocaust. I inquired as to the nature of the problem with this particular segment, and the response came back loud and clear: I was being cavalier about the Holocaust.

After rolling my eyes so far back into my head that one could mistake me for enduring an epileptic seizure, I finally came to terms with what just happened: Diablos conocidos. Except in this case, these “devils that I know” don’t exist in my head; they exist in the heads of others with whom I have become acquainted over the years (especially within the Objectivist community). Of course, one could attribute the source of grief in this situation to the possibility of miscommunication. If one was prone to make excuses, the argument could be made that the parties involved were a council of humor-challenged people who, if driving depended on the understanding of satire, would crash into the first tree due to mistaking it for a parking garage. Unfortunately, I don’t think they are so deranged as to suffer that huge mistake, and that notion would more than likely be a complete denial of the true culprit. Rather, unstated (and likely unknown to themselves), my most egregious offense was being cavalier… in my style of expression favoring an objective morality (which subsequently was to mock the shit out of anyone who happened to cavalier about that particular subject). On this count, I am most guilty as charged. I would never deny my involvement in that which induces discomfort in those who favor convenience over conviction; in fact, if anything, I’m rather proud of it. And since I voiced such opinions (along with the decline of such alterations being made to the piece), the détente never happened, and the two of us went our separate ways.

Nevertheless, the meaning of that event stayed with me. Even among people who I consider to be my philosophical allies, one can never get away from the pervasive notion that philosophical conversation has to “gentrified” so that it resembles a scene from 18th century England, where we sit with powdered wigs and personalities as dry as the sherry being imbibed. In fact, it’s deemed as almost offensive to invest your sense of values and their accompanying passions into the conversation; I suppose that they consider such conduct as a potential “obstacle”, since it might intimidate the other person. Okay, I’ll give you this: it’s possible to convince people of philosophy through the sterile route. You can sit across the table from someone who might be interested in the topic being discussed and impress them with your ability to present a rational position. You can become emotionally detached from the conversation and appear to be the paragon of enlightenment as you explain the virtue of your argument. However, with most people, I’ll take the bet on the way you do come across: a dry, petulant asshole.

Now, here’s a crazy notion: how about being living proof of your touted morality by integrating what you say and how you feel about it… and if you don’t experience love for it, then you have no business in espousing it. I’m inclined to think that in most situations, the best form of argument happens to also be the most sincere form of argument. To be honest, I have never been truly moved by sound arguments as when they are spoken or written with that implicit fervor which hangs in the space between the words and yourself, where one can see the shaking in the hand of the writer or hear the quiver in the voice of the speaker. Beautiful and elaborate, it’s the very portrait of integrity, as someone defends their values by unleashing the emotions which are loyal to them. I think of that person with the utmost respect, and I have no doubts that such a person would stand by their ideals. On the other hand, those persons who discourage such a dialogue that drips from being immersed in devotion… well, how can I say this without being too vulgar or too cavalier…I tend to think that such people don’t have very much in the way of integrity.

I understand the plight though… how can one defend anything with profundity when there is no love of it to begin with. Instead, let’s indulge our recidivist tendencies by writing tripe which carries a sparkler instead of a pulsating torch. Let us not think of delivering our portion of a debate as like music, where an expressed viewpoint should have a tempo which encompasses a certain sense of life. Addressing in particular my Objectivist brethren, let’s just focus on the repetition of topics and their content without any particular fondness or moxie. Hey, how about another article where the Iraq War is described as altruistic? (Not that a set of bureaucrats would be conniving and shrewd enough to invoke its name as a means of selling a foreign policy to a public.) That’d be great… And just to be clear (Objectivist and otherwise), let it be known that there is neither satire nor sarcasm in this paragraph. Also, in conclusion, let it be known that I have attached no feeling whatsoever to this last comment dedicated to those who oppose my particular style of commentary. Push that fuckstick in your ass up into your lower bowels, you twats.