[kaltura-widget wid=”b9ad1d5xn0″ width=”410″ height=”364″ addpermission=”0″ editpermission=”0″ /]
Archive for the ‘Weirdness’ Category
No need to elaborate 🙂
Just check the left side bar for the darnest search entries that found their way to this blog!
I’ve somewhat belated reading the truly amazing book, “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat”, by Oliver Sacks, and halfway through it, I must say that wrongly so, too. Apart from the delightful insight on human behavior, neurology and neurobiology, I found a most staggeringly terrifying idea.
Sacks speaks often about patients who are, due to one neurological deficit or another, lost. I say “lost” because it optimally describes their condition: a part of them, due to a physical injury that directly triggers their personality and convictions, is gone, never to be seen again, or in some cases, artificially restored, to a greater or lesser extent.
Sacks poetically and nobly described a myriad of neurological disorders, some of them pertaining to aged patients and others, sometimes simultaneously, afflicting poor souls with no hope for ever surviving their illness.
To me, though, the most striking and terrifying aspect of neurological disorders is the fact that a part of you, a Platonic and essential part of your very being, can be lost because of an injury. I find it most terrifying that it is possible, either by injury or by congenital inclination, to actually lose the person you are, while at the same time be perfectly aware of this loss occurring. Amnesiacs seem to be gradually aware that all that they are, their professional training, the emotions they attribute to their loved ones, their past and their entire lives, are, inch-by-inch, fading away. Some people with “disembodiment” feel that a part of their body does not belong to them, and can no longer acknowledge their own organs.
In short, the physical lump of matter that is the brain can actually, if injured, be responsible for that which we consider our essential selves, and that, bluntly, gives me the creeps.
I find no scarier death than the death of the aware mind. If I was ever actually still alive while knowing that the things that constitute my personality and my my essence are dying, it would probably feel much more sickening and worse than death: true death at least has the consolation of true nothingness – the premature and gradual dying of the self is scarier, because it actually allows the person to be aware of his own “spiritual” (for want of a better word) death. There is nothing worse than dying, except the awareness that you are, in a very real sense, already dead.
I always puzzled over what is it that Americans call “the holidays”. In Israel, it’s usually a phrase denoting the rather ghastly period at the end of September and throughout October in which an Israeli has to endure Rosh Ha’Shana, the Jewish new year, Yom Kippur, the day when you just HAVE to be sorry in, and now, last but definitely least, Sukkot.
See, it makes some sense to have a somewhat arbitrary date and base your calender on it, and commemorate in one way or another the first day in it. Of course, us Jews (speaking of those who actually buy into Jewish mythology) often sprinkle it with rituals, occult meanings and last but definitely extremely least: horrible traditional songs.
It also makes some oblique sense to have a day in which everyone in the land says “I’m sorry” and pretends to mean it simply because this day was (now definitely) arbitrarily made up by some acolyte more than 2,000 years ago.
But, as so happens in the slippery slope (read downward spiral) of the rational mind inflicted with ancient and non-amenable religion, indeed we gradually become to the most ridiculous celebration of all. Sukkot is by far a senior-ranking instance of the stupidest holidays ever to be canonized by an entire people.
The reason I’m saying all of this is because no serious archaeologist has any doubt that there was never, not even once, anything even remotely similar to the exodus event. I think the only time in history where a really large population of Jews trekked the desert areas from Palestine to Egypt was actually the other way around, when the IDF crossed the Suez canal and kicked modern, Arabian Egypt’s ass on the 6-days war.
It is, actually, far more likely that the ancient Israelites were just another bunch of desert tribesmen, and if there’s one thing that tribesmen like to do, is to make up amazing bullshit stories about their legendary past.
Sukkot is actually a still-used word in Hebrew that means “huts”. Well, not exactly huts, more like makeshift oblong yurts. Obviously, since no ancient Israelites ever built real “Sukkot” while trekking an unlikely 40-years period in the desert, no one actually ever built “the right kind of Sukkot” like the Israelites did.
This is because Exodus never really happened and it’s just a stupid, ancient myth.
As I am writing this, a Suka (singular for Sukkot) is standing erect about 15 meters away from me (I live on the first floor). I was able to witness its 30-minutes-long erection (that is the only thing I can find enviable in a Suka). It’s outlined, like most modern-Israeli-variety Sukkot, by steel or iron thin bars, nailed to each other to make a completely bare skeleton of a hut. The Suka is covered with canvas or some cheap synthetic substitute, usually adorned with Torah verses and filled with mystic artifacts with silly symbolic meanings.
The Sukkot are, as Christians and possibly even Muslims as well might know, a homage to the jerry-rigged huts the Israelites built in their non-existent flight from Egypt, making it quite staggeringly a nation-wide effort to build quasi-replicas of structures that never existed in the first place.
This past month is just one national insanity after another. I love my country, but sometimes I really wish I could just get out of this madhouse. The fact that millions of fellow countryman are happily conducting one stupid, inane ritual after another without even for an instance questioning or doubting it really, really gives me the creeps..
Okay, I know my job takes me to odd places at times, but this… THIS is just TOO FUCKED UP
I had to transcribe THIS PARTICULAR GOAT:
This guy’s mad as a spoon. I wonder what the fuck he’s on about. 😐
At least this is work I’m finally allowed to talk about.