There Is No What, Only Duck

[from 8/11/10]

I’ve found over the years that an awful lot of people are not at all amused when I ask them the difference between a duck. They’re supposed to say, “One of its legs is both the same,” or “Why is a mouse when it spins?” or at least, “Huh?” Instead they scowl at me and say, “What’s the difference between a duck and what?”

There is no what, only duck. Anyone who isn’t amused by this surely is in for a hard life. Apart from there being no what, what else is there to laugh about?

Sometimes people refer to the Existential Choice. The thing that’s important to understand about the Existential Choice, the thing that makes it of note, is that there is no Existential Choice. It’s usually presented as a choice between being animate or being inanimate. That isn’t it. The choice is: You are, or you are.

Yesterday, a Real Change vendor was at the office and wanted to know how to get somewhere by bus. She used one of the Real Change computers to access the so-called online Metro trip planner, and entered a starting location and destination to get an itinerary. The so-called Metro trip planner then asked her to select which of one possibility she might have meant her starting point to be among.

It’s like being at a Chinese restaurant, and there is no column A or C, there is only column B. But the menu still says “choose one from column.” You can ask, “One from column what?” Sorry, there is no column what.

Most Americans are used to choices. If anything, they’re used to being inundated with choices, to the point of being unable to make decent decisions. But in reality -- that is to say, in the ordinary world away from the fairyland-Disney-World knockoff we’ve made of this country out of all the wealth we’ve grabbed -- in reality, there is no what, there is only duck, and you should laugh.

There are few choices, and few differences, in a life lived to the bone, which is the kind of life most people live on this planet. And those differences as there are, are choices between window dressing, and colors of tinsel and wrapping.

We forget that Hamlet was a stinking Prince. It isn’t “To be or not to be” for the majority of us non-Princes. It’s to be woke up on just another cold wet morning, and it’s not even my rooster to strangle, and it’s not my land, and it’s even not my morning, my cold, nor my wet, and “move on, buddy.”

When Americans think luxuries they tend to think of things. Yachts, Lamborghinis, champagne, stuff you could get in principle if only you could afford it. But the real luxury is the luxury of going to war against anyone you want, any time you want, just because you’re afraid of them.

“There is no try, only do,” said the toy of a rich director. In the real world, there’s no do, either. There are no roads there, the spaceship don’t fly, and you’re not endowed with the ability to channel the power of all life.

America, on the other hand, can kill and kill and kill, and not even be required to tally the innocent dead children that result. That’s luxury. That’s making a difference in the world, one that you don’t need to make.

When Wikileaks released the Afghan War Diary I braced myself for the predictable counter-attack. I knew the government would say that the information compromised the security of our soldiers and allied soldiers, agents and informants.

Isn’t it nice though, to have the luxury of a security to be compromised?

Isn’t it nice, to have so much security that the prospect of other nations dropping cluster bombs on our citizens is almost nil? America has the luxury of continuing to manufacture, sell, and use cluster bombs, in the face of a world-wide ban that our government refused to sign.