This Man Does Not Represent Us . . .

I doubt anyone will remember the title of this article, but it's a line from The Simpsons that always makes me laugh to think about because of the way it's delivered. The episode is entitled "D'oh-in' in the Wind" and follows Homer as he tries to reconnect with the spirit his mother stood for by befriending two of her aging hippy friends (played by Martin Mull and George Carlin). At the end of the episode, Homer messes something up as per usual, and as the police or whomever bear down on the poor older gents, Homer grabs the two hippies in headlocks and says something to the effect that they'll never back down even if they have their skulls beaten in. And then George Carlin, in one of the best deliveries ever, says: "This man does not represent us."

I don't know if there's a sound bite of that already, but there damn well should be.

I was reminded of that line after watching and reflecting on the Internet's latest orgasm - a verbal tussle between Ben Affleck and Bill Maher. For those unaware, Affleck was on Maher's show and provided what amounted to a verbal slap to the TV host by calling him out as racist for his comments regarding Islam. Maher and another of his guests were trying to argue that as liberals they should be campaigning for rights of equality and such, and that according to polls 90% of Islamic people hold beliefs that are counter to those ideals. Maher argued that this was a serious issue and essentially called for some sort of action against it. Affleck, in response (or the best he could do because barely anyone would let that hunk of man-meat speak) pulled a Batman and swooped in to defend those without a voice in the debate and said it was racist of Maher and his other guest to paint all Islamic people with a broad stroke and make claims regarding their beliefs. 

I had just watched Gone Girl the night I saw the video so I was already on a magnificent Affleck high, and God bless 'em. I normally enjoy Maher's rants and opinions, but he always felt a bit too much like a liberal extremist to me (if there is such a thing). I enjoyed his movie Religulous and thought it did a good job of demonstrating just how absurd the institution of religion can be. What I didn't enjoy, however, was that his call to action at the end of the film was for the eradication of all religion because it's essentially an atom bomb waiting to annihilate the planet.

Bit of a stretch there, Maher. Religion was only ever an excuse for war - people will still find reasons to destroy one another without that calling card. Not to mention that he completely ignores the benefits that religion has had for many, many individuals, and the positive nature of spirituality as a whole.

And he pretty much did it again on his show, and thankfully there was a giant, beautiful man with rippling biceps and a chiseled chin of the gods to oppose him. After reflecting on the incident, I came away with two points:

1) Bill Maher is a rich, white, liberal male. As such, he only has authority to make claims on the beliefs of other rich, white, men. He's at his best when he's criticizing congress because he's attacking people in his own demographic, but he in no way has any authority to comment on the beliefs and practices of the world's second largest religion and the people who follow its ideologies when he is so ridiculously far removed from them economically and culturally. I felt a little disgusted listening to the audience applaud his rants because it felt akin to an evangelist declaring a moral war on (insert conservative phobia here) and his followers with no minds of their own clapping in agreement. 

2) Maher is essentially declaring himself the thought police. His main point (let's just ignore how ridiculous it was for the sake of argument) was that 90% of Islamic people hold counter ideologies to the liberal west, and we should therefore develop some sort of strategy to contend with that. My big takeaway from this was that he was declaring war on their beliefs. You can criticize actions (violent or otherwise) all you want, but the moment you start declaring a moral war because of the way people think,  then you've become a villain of Orwellian proportions. Islam is a religion with close to a billion followers. It doesn't matter what they believe - having a late-night talk show doesn't give you moral authority to break into their clubhouse and tell them how they should be running things.

Which brings me around to The Simpsons quote. As a white liberal male myself, I just kept thinking that someone should throw that line out there somewhere in the debate, both because Maher doesn't represent me or my beliefs even though we technically fall into the same political spectrum, and also on behalf of Islamic people everywhere to say "It doesn't matter what polls or studies this white guy has his hands on, he doesn't represent us."

As Batfleck tried to point out, you can't associate the actions of a small percentage of violent extremists with the culture as a whole. He also tried to remind Maher that historically Christians have killed a hell of a lot more of their people than they us, and also we kinda invaded two of their nations with less than probable cause and they sorta have a right to be a bit pissed about that.

Many years ago I was at a family dinner and one of my relatives remarked something that didn't quite sit well with me. One of my cousins is in the military, as was her boyfriend. My relative thanked him for his service but then added "Better we go over there and get them before they come over here and get us." Maher's position strikes me as very similar; we divide the world into us and them, which therefore makes it easier to declare moral war because we are right and they therefore must be wrong. Justifying our own acts of violence because someone somewhere might be harboring ill thoughts against us is like slaughtering deer with the excuse that without thinning out their numbers they'll all just starve. That sort of mentality has caused more damage to the human race than any single religion or set of beliefs; I would go so far as to say that mentality is at the heart of every conflict - big and small - in the history of the human race: you are different and I don't like that.

You're a funny guy Maher, but you should probably limit yourself to just being a late-night entertainer and stop calling for action in your personal war against things that oppose your personal values.

And Affleck . . . please, don't ever change.

The Creative Grey Area

Being an artist and being frustrated seem to go hand in hand. In my experience, you can't have one without the other; it's a mutually exclusive relationship, like a roller coaster that constantly goes up and down with a depressing ebb and flow; you stroll down the street holding your lover's hand, and then as a joke they push you in front of a bus.

All of this is to say that I've been plagued with self-doubt lately regarding my creative projects and the direction I should be taking with them. It probably doesn't help that I'm also facing a professional quandary as well. There was a long stretch of time when I first started my current job where my work life left me feeling creatively fulfilled (I work in the television industry) and so my personal projects took a back seat. I always knew that if I were to work in a field that didn't allow me to express my creativity in some way, I'd probably be working much more feverishly in my downtime.

My current contract expires in a few months, however, and right now there's a big fat question mark sitting at the end of that road. I can't expect to stay on at my current place of business, and the desire to formulate a plan of action that would see me build a career on my writing and other talents has been on the rise. I don't expect to suddenly become a best-selling author in a few short months, but it's certainly a shit-or-get-off-the-pot moment for me, where I've realized that if I want to make a living as an artist creating their own work then I gotta get this gravy train rolling and on its way out of the station. 

There's just one nagging question: where the hell do I start? 

Where the hell does any artist start? There isn't a handbook for this sort of thing, and this is where the relationship with frustration starts to pick away at your confidence and withhold sex. You can train to be an artist, go to school to perfect and practice your skills, but making your way in the world? That's a different story entirely. Almost all of the artists I admire (which includes those who work in film, literature, and other mediums) all had a different recipe for success that seem one part talent and three parts pure damn luck. There were those who went to school and made connections which led to subsequent employment, and they simply climbed the ladder from there; there were those who simply created with no better intention than to make their work available for free until people finally noticed; and then there are those who fell somewhere in the middle, who created the right thing at the right time with the right people watching.

But where does that leave the rest of us? 

I currently have multiple projects on the go, and I don't know what to do with any of them. I feel like I'm one of those people who should just create without worrying about the business side of things, because I swear the business aspect of the artist-driven industry sucks every last morsel of fun from the creative side. I love to sit down and write a story, but I dread thinking about submitting it to publishers, which is why everything I've done is almost available exclusively through this blog. 

As it stands, I'm currently writing a new novel, which I'm releasing episodically. Writing novels is my bread and butter; I wish I could do that and nothing else and just be allowed to survive comfortably doing it. I'd love to only write and think nothing of what needed to be done afterward, but there's this niggling doubt in the back of my head. It says things like, "what's the point of writing something if you can't market it so people will actually read it?" and "maybe you're just not good enough to make a living as an artist, and that's why nothing's happened yet."

Those are paralyzing thoughts, and they're strangling the creative spark in me. I just want to create, but I (like every artist before and all of those still to be born) realize that unless I have a means to support myself, I won't have the freedom to create the things I want. And because the world doesn't owe me a damn thing, the only outlet I have to vent is this blog.

I've spent the last few days researching literary agents, and I think I just need to come to terms with the fact that I absolutely suck with the business side of things. For all the creative spark in me, there's that voice in my mind that likes to rear its ugly head to cut down the enthusiasm. 

For every blog article posted, there's: "Only the same four people will end up reading it."
For every book written, there's: "You've already written a bunch and they weren't good enough."
For every song played, there's: "Now you just have to compete with everyone on YouTube."
For every film idea, there's: "You don't have the resources to do it properly."
For every screenplay, there's: "You don't have the right connections, and the Canadian industry sucks anyway."

I'm starting to think my mind is my own worst enemy (a hypothesis I've been contemplating for awhile now) but I get the sense that every artist - or at least everyone who considers themselves an artist - experiences the same crippling self-doubt at one point or another. It's the line between wanting to create and wanting recognition, or at the very least wanting the means to continue creating comfortably without wondering how you'll afford food next month. Perhaps it's fueled by ego and greed. Perhaps it's an aspect of human nature. 

Perhaps it's my mind indicating it might be best to take a break and clear my head for a bit.

Or perhaps it's time I stop complaining and just keep creating without giving a fuck about the rest.