The Blog of Jason “Jayce” Olshefsky

I headed out to the Dryden Theater at George Eastman House (900 East Ave.) to see Giù la testa (A Fistful of Dynamite, or Duck, You Sucker). According to Michael Neault in his introduction of the movie, Sergio Leone — after having made several movies celebrating political revolution — Duck, You Sucker takes a much more cynical view of it.  It also happens to be that there are no fewer than four versions of the film, and the one we got to see was presumed to be the “original” director’s cut.

I immediate thought that as much as The Bridge on the River Kwai is a testament to the rational insanity of war, Duck, You Sucker shows war as a black comedy. In the film, John — a former Irish Republican Army explosives expert — gets paired up with Juan — a poor thief in Mexico. That is, despite John’s best efforts to avoid it. And to avoid getting roped into another revolution … sort of … it seems that getting involved in revolution is more of an addictive habit than anything. Juan, in the mean time, is also trying to avoid getting into the revolution. But he accidentally keeps saving people and making terriffic progress for the revolutionaries.

As revolutions are, there are advances made by each side, making it seem like no progress is made on either front overall until perhaps, one of the parties involved just gets too tired of fighting — or forgets what the point was in the first place.

I woke up in the middle of the night, and as often happens, the demons in my head took hold and won’t let me get back to sleep. This time it’s that I’m trying to reconcile killing someone for my own convenience.

The United States is at war with Iraq. What that means is that there are people sent by the U.S. who are encouraged by us to stay. There are a lot of people in Iraq, on the other hand, who want those people to leave. We sent our people there with all sorts of weapons so they can kill the people who want us to leave — and likewise, the people who want us to leave try to kill the people who we sent.

This will continue until our President shakes hands with somebody and people sign some papers and then the people we sent will come back home.

So switching to the concrete, there is someone in Iraq right now whose direct relative has been killed by an American. That is, there is someone whose brother, sister, father, mother, husband, wife, son, or daughter has been killed by an American.

There is no way anyone can convince me that this is a good thing.

The reason that person was killed is because the U.S. sent someone there who killed them. If that American were never there, then that person would not have been killed.

I pay my taxes and I will continue to do so. If I don’t, I’ll go to jail. My life will be disrupted in an unfavorable way, but there is pretty much no risk that I’ll die if I don’t pay.

However, those taxes have been used to fund the war. If I had not spent that money, perhaps there would be one person who didn’t go to Iraq. And because they wouldn’t have been there, then some person in Iraq wouldn’t be dead tonight. And their living relative would not have to experience the unbearable loss of their kin.

That’s the nature of the faulty logic of my sleepless mind.

However what keeps me from going back to sleep is that someone is dead — and more importantly that someone is being killed right now, and tomorrow it will happen again. And again and again.

Think about the person you love the most in the whole world right now.

Now bang: they’re dead.

Somewhere there’s a person who knew this was going to happen. What he did to stop it was to write a couple letters to people telling them he thought it would be a bad idea. But he also sent those people money — a lot of money — knowing full-well that they intended to use it to kill your loved-one. To be completely fair, that person would have his life disrupted — he’d go to jail if he didn’t pay the money.

So on the one hand, you’ve got the corpse of your loved-one. And on the other, you’ve got someone who wasn’t willing to spend a couple years in prison to stop it. Both are cases of lost years, but in one case it’s the absolute remainder of one’s life and in the other, a few years of my life.

I can’t figure out the morality of the whole thing, but I sure feel terrible that someone’s loved-one is dead because I didn’t want to stop it.

Now maybe I can shrug and go back to sleep.

The Dryden Theater at George Eastman House (900 East Ave.) showed Happy Birthday, Wanda June and Ali and I got to see it, despite the terrible road conditions getting there. It was a film based on a play by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. with a very theatrical feel, giving it a bizarre edge. It was funny and poignant, making the point that war is really quite pointless and that there really isn’t any value in the “heroism” of fighting and killing. Oh, and how incredibly silly and dangerous the idea of “heaven” is.

The plot of the film follows a woman and her son. Her husband has been out-of-contact for 8 years on some kind of heroic journey — wars, killing animals and the like. She gets a college degree and begins to piece her own life together by courting two men: a pacifist doctor and a hero-worshiping vacuum cleaner salesman. Her husband makes a surprise return and tries to retain his brazen, hero’s status.

The point, in a way, is to ask, “what the fuck is so heroic about killing?” It really resonated with me. I had been asking more-or-less the same question for a while. For instance, it’s common knowledge that you thank soldiers for defending the country. But given our eternal conflict in Iraq, it’s become … unsatisfying … for me to do so. When you fundamentally disagree with the idea of war in the first place, and then add on that further fighting is only inciting existing enemies and creating more then how can you thank someone for making America less safe? It gets to the point of patronizing — like thanking the neighborhood cat-murdering idiot for keeping your house safe from cat infestation.

In fact, it’s more about fear. I feel compelled to thank a soldier for the sake of not getting in trouble, yet my opinion of the situation is so bad that I want to tell them, “stop fucking volunteering!!!!” [With extra exclamation points, even.] Please.

And what scares me more is people who believe in an afterlife — especially those who think it’s the promised land of 57 varieties of virgins. And before you think I’m bashing Islam alone, ask a Christian how much they’re looking forward to meeting Jesus and how lucky people are whose miserable earthly existence is cut short. It’s really quite scary. I really would like it if people believed like I did: that we get one shot at life and that we should make the best of it and help everyone else to make the best of theirs too.

But that makes me some kind of Godless monster, right? I mean, true evil in the world comes from the Others — the people who don’t read the Bible and don’t go to church and don’t hate gays and don’t believe women are just baby incubators.

Sorry … I digress …

The response from war hawks is always the same: “your pacifist beliefs are all well and good, but what happens when someone sticks a gun in your face?” Well then the rules change, don’t they? If you believe in the value of life — especially that you only get one go around — then you’d better believe I’m going to try and avoid kisses from bullets rushing to show me the love.

The trick is this: “peace first”. Or, if you must, “war last”.

In other words, if you come upon people who say, “we hate America,” figure out why first. At present, the only reaction is to blow the fuck out of them. You see, we can talk and understand and resolve for a long time — even have an ebb and flow about the whole thing — but you can’t un-blow the fuck out of someone. So save that for last.

Then the response from the hawks and jingoists is, “what about 9/11?” Oh yeah — what about that? We need to get “them”, right? And who are “they”? Why Osama bin Laden of course. Haven’t heard that name in a while, have you? Of course not: if you watch 9/11 Press for Truth or read The Complete 911 Timeline or the related book, The Terror Timeline: Year by Year, Day by Day, Minute by Minute: A Comprehensive Chronicle of the Road to 9/11—and America’s Response, you’ll find that the Bushies carefully herded bin Laden to safety in Pakistan.

You’ve been had, America.  Wake up!

I started thinking about how it’s the start of 2008 and what I can be hopeful for. And by “hope”, I’m referring to a “belief that things will be better in the future”. Not necessarily a specific time period, but I guess “in my lifetime” or “reasonably soon”. Something like that.

I watched this video on YouTube called How It All Ends by a high-school science teacher named Greg. In it he outlines the response to the possibility of global warming in terms of risk-assessment. Either global warming is happening and caused by us, or it isn’t, and either we do something about it or do nothing. His argument is that there are two positive outcomes: we do nothing and the threat of global warming was false, or we do something and it was true but we fix it. However, if we do something and global warming wasn’t happening then — the worst case — is that we have a large economic hit; if we do nothing and global warming is happening, then — the worst case again — is that there are floods, droughts, and famines on a scale humanity has never seen. His bet, therefore, is to just take the economic hit and not worry about it.

But remember the last “catastrophic event” that was to happen?: the Y2K bug. And what happened? Nothing. And why? Because we took the economic hit of fixing everything we could find. And what did people believe? It was all a lie to start with.

So likewise with global warming, if I’m out there saying “travel less” and “use less energy” and that becomes forced upon people and then nothing bad happens, people will simply believe that global warming was a myth. They’ll blame us “global warming freaks” for ruining their lives. And then if catastrophe does strike, they’ll blame us “global warming freaks” for doing the wrong thing and not fixing everything for them. Therefore, my best bet is to quietly go off and figure out how to live in the catastrophic post-global-warming world without being seen. But that’s not really hopeful at all — it’s just surviving disaster.

The catalyst for this post, though, was in trying to do taxes. I wanted to get my taxes done early because I’m self-employed and need to hand over checks to the U.S. Government on a regular basis. If I don’t estimate correctly, I get hit with a huge fine. But I can avoid it entirely if I file by January 31 and pay everything I owe. The only problem is that the forms I need from my bank and mortgage company won’t arrive until after January 31, so it would be essentially illegal to file before January 31. So I’ve got my fingers crossed that I won’t get in trouble.

I really wish taxes were simpler, but it’s only me and other small business owners that even see it. I remember puzzling about how bad it really was in the 1990’s — after all, the company I worked for handled all the hard stuff, and at the end of the year I’d fill out a few lines on a 1040EZ and get a check in the mail. Awesome! What’s wrong with that system?

But worse is that I actually write a check to the government. If I don’t, I’d go to prison which I don’t want to do. I don’t want the government to kill more people in Iraq, but my voice is not represented in the U.S. Government — I still have to pay taxes, though. [And here I thought that's why we fought that big war 230 some-odd years ago against England.] My big lament, though, is that I voluntarily sign the check to pay fund the war. If I were just a regular working person, I could claim that I don’t get a choice — that taxes automatically come out of my paycheck.

And it’s not like we’re getting out of Iraq any time soon. It’s a question of “how many Iraqis do we need to kill before they believe in freedom?” The real answer is, “we are the problem,” but W. doesn’t believe in being wrong. By the way, what ever happened to Osama bin Laden? We apparently failed to hang him, so I can only imagine he’s planning another 9/11. I don’t see any hope at all on that whole situation.

It used to be fashionable to help the poor — to ensure they have food, shelter, and water. Somewhere along the way “shelter” got eliminated, so it was just to feed the poor, but lately it’s food stamps and welfare that are crippling the country. And water? Well if you can’t afford to buy the clean stuff in the bottles you deserve what you get. What’s next, air?

What about providing youth programs to keep kids off the street? Nah: just get more police to shoot them when they form gangs and start killing people. Health care? Hopeless. Public education? Hopeless.

The other day I was riding home from the Public Market — I took my bike with the trailer to get stuff — and I went to turn onto my street. I had to get into the left lane and I didn’t see anyone behind me. As I turned into the turn-lane, someone tried passing me just at that moment and broke off the mirror on my bike. I was less than an inch away from getting knocked off the bike, and barely a foot away from being killed.

But did they stop? Hell no. I was just an obstacle in their way — a nuisance. Probably some worthless beggar who’d be better off dead than alive. I mean, can you believe that I thought I was permitted to ride on the street? That’s for cars, moron!

And so goes the last shred of human decency: that nearly killing someone else is okay — in fact, it was my fault anyway for making them decide whether they needed to touch their brakes.

With that goes the last of hope.

I rushed to get to the Dryden Theater at George Eastman House (900 East Ave.) to see Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. It turned out to be quite the popular movie and it wouldn’t have mattered if I hurried or not for I just ended up at the end of a long line. I also ran into Rebecca and her boyfriend, so the three of us got together for the film.

I’ve long enjoyed it as the blackest of the black comedies — I mean, it really doesn’t get funnier than “mutually assured destruction” [perhaps save for "mutually assured self-destruction"]. The very idea that one erroneous step in the arms race and kaboom: life would be far different now than it turned out to be.

Last Wednesday I headed there (the Dryden, not nuclear apocalypse) to see The Bridge on the River Kwai. I hadn’t seen it before, but Stanley Kubrick blurs the line even further between black comedy, satire, and drama. I mean, can you really do a serious movie about war — or more particularly, the logic of war? It just doesn’t make any sense outside its absurd context, as if the rules of life were completely dumped topsy-turvy.

But both films really dismantle the idea of the romantic view of war as some kind of beautiful peak experience. The reality is it’s bat-shit fucking crazy. It really gives me, well, strange feelings toward our troops in Iraq.

On the one hand, I genuinely dish out gratitude for their actions. I get confused as to why, exactly. I mean, I’m not glad that they’re killing people. And I don’t believe that what we’re doing is making anything better — short-term unquestionably worse, and long-term unlikely better — at least from my broad, detached, ill-informed [thanks media, government!] view. But then for what? Perhaps that they believe — they believe so much in America that they’re willing to go to a far away place where people want to kill them and stand up and say “I’m an American” and shoot anyone who tries to shoot them.

I kind of envy that kind of thinking, for it’s not so simple for me. I think the Constitution was a fantastic architecture for a government, and the Bill of Rights is a stupefyingly excellent invention. But the constant attempts to leverage power — oy!, enough already! Maybe it’s inevitable human behavior to abuse power, but if so, then why permit authority in the first place?

So then the jingoist asks, “so are you for America or against it?” Let me answer this way: “I am all for my version of America.” The one that puts the individual at the head of the pack — not the judge or the President, but the individual. I mean, imagine the difference it would make to hear, “I’m your representative: how can I help you?” rather than “I’m your leader: do what I tell you.”

I’m kind of an idealist about the whole thing. I mean, I believe that, given freedom, that people will behave well toward one another. Unfortunately, I’m up against people who believe so strongly otherwise that they will demonstrate behavior counter to my ideal for the purpose of proving it false.

But hey, that’s the nature of war.