Binge-watching and active passivity: short thoughts on the Frankfurt School and streaming

Is binge-watching television (particularly The Simpsons on Disney+) a form of us pursuing the path of the least possible resistance in our lives? I ask this because I think that for the last three days, this is all I’ve done. The problem with this is that it’s so hard to shake off. You get in the zone and start watching it on day one, zero hour, and three days later you’re still reluctant to turn it off and do something else. Surely, to an extent, with so much television saturating your mind, you can’t be enjoying it anymore. In fact, even when you watch, you know that you don’t enjoy it – you just can’t stop.

Here you are: three days deep in the binge, unable to get up and not even really enjoying it anymore. You get sucked in and time just seems to fly. It’s just one episode, and you cut yourself some slack because you’re not watching it for long – after all, there are no adverts or commercials – you’re making time! But it adds up and gets harder to pull yourself away from. From the time you started watching at 10:00, it’s suddenly 16:10 and you’ve done nothing but loll around. You make plans not to do it the following day, but you will anyway most likely, as it’s so easy.

So again I ask, is there an almost passive attitude cultured through binge-watching? Could one adopt and almost Frankfurt School opinion that the “culture industry” enacts it’s pacification of us in a rather direct manner? Theodore Adorno and Max Horkheimer would roll if they could see us sat in front of the box and not just acquiesce to the pretty colours and demands television forces us to obey with regard to consumption, but it arguably makes us impotent and weak too. We’re not just going along with what it tells us, by 2020, we’ve just given up all together. We’re softened and just happy to stick the next episode on – in fact, we don’t need to even select it, auto-play is our God now.

Covert Enemies (poem/haiku)

Stress and worry, covert

Enemies. Weary we are that

These foes encumber.

Covert Enemies

Lucille, Kenny Rogers: Analysis (ii) – Competing Cultures and Developing the Tragedy

In the last segment of the analysis of Kenny Rogers’ Lucille, I only moved down past the first two sentences. Yes, it seems ridiculously pedantic to hardly make it so far. At the same time, however, it felt like a worthwhile exercise to get to grips with the song. As I said in that initial analysis, Rogers effortlessly sets the scene in no less than the first two lines, and tees us up for a story of tragedy through which the narrator is still trying to find his true feelings and come to terms with how he should remember the incident in his mind. The song is a vessel through which the narrator can explore his thoughts, and we, the audience, are offered front row seats at the tragedy he produces in his mind.

At this point, however, it’s necessary to move on, to move on like Lucille hopes to do. We’re not going to go too far ahead, however; only a few lines down to finish off the rest of this opening verse. Again, for the benefit of us to dissect, here it is with the first two sentences redacted:

…

On a bar stool she took off her ring

I thought I’d get closer

So I walked on over

I sat down and asked her name

When the drinks finally hit her

She said I’m no quitter

But I finally quit livin’ on dreams

I’m hungry for laughter

And here ever after

I’m after whatever the other life brings.

Lucille, Kenny Rogers, 1977. Source: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/kennyrogers/lucille.html, date accessed 28/07/2020.

Lucille, after arriving at the bar, does not mess around in making herself an object suitable for men’s attention. The removing of the wedding ring (a fair assumption, I’d say, on what ring is being referred to) seems to take on a symbolic meaning in the song, and is perhaps a reflection of the role of women in country-machismo culture. It’s almost like there is a conflict between this country-machismo of men being dominant over women and also the idea of the Culture of Honor. I would argue that this is further complicated by the clear indication, as the song goes on, that the narrator himself is a victim of this triangulation of competing ideas as well as the realities of the situation he finds himself in. This is perhaps where I should try and define these terms a little.

Firstly, I’ll start with the Culture of Honor. This concept is a little more defined, and in the nature of this being a blog by a disinterested philosopher, it’s going to be a little loose around the edges anyway. The Wikipedia entry on the “Culture of Honor (Southern United States)”, introduces and surmises the topic as,

… a culture where people avoid intentionally offending others, and maintain a reputation for not accepting improper conduct by others. A theory as to why the American South had or may have this culture is an assumed regional belief in retribution to enforce one’s rights and deter predation against one’s family, home and possessions.

Culture of Honor (Southern United States), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_of_honor_(Southern_United_States), date accessed 28/07/2020.

The near-synonymous connection between Southern culture and country music implies that beliefs like this, if testable and provable, would potentially have an enduring effect on the songwriters from the region and could surely be witnessed in their songs, particularly those which reflect the storytelling nature of country music.

So how does this tie back to the image of Lucille removing her ring and Rogers’ narrator subsequently singing that, “I thought I’d get closer/ So I walked on over/ I sat down and asked her name…”? As the Wikipedia page goes on to state, “The Southern culture of honor also includes a notion that ladies should not be insulted by gentlemen. Southern gentlemen are also expected to be chivalrous towards women, in words and deeds.”

Hmmm. So what we’re seeing is that Rogers’ narrator sees the removing of the ring as potentially opening an invitation for her to be approached. It would be gravely insulting for a man to question a woman’s chastity and fidelity to her husband by approaching her whilst still clearly married. At the same time, the narrator, now aware that the women within his sights is not part of another man’s family or even is not his “possession”, may feel able to move in on her without fear of retribution from a husband.

But she could be still seen as a “possession” of another man, even by removing her ring. I guess this is what I mean by her being the subject of a country-machismo. There is an underlying need that she be “looked after” by a man. With the removal of a wedding ring, she is no longer the property of another man and the narrator is now able to move in. The ring is, to an extent, an oppressive instrument by the nature of its very being. With it, she is owned and without it, she is subject to being owned again.

Just by way of a side point, however, there is an almost proto-feminist quality to the action of Lucille removing the ring too. I would argue that the song is supremely feminist in its entirety anyway, although I would feel less keen on backing this statement up right now. What I will say, however, is that Lucille’s removal of the ring, despite her not having a time-out period between being single (so to speak) and being approached by another suitor, she is taking control of her destiny. Perhaps it’s the act of fleeing from her marital home combined with the removal of her ring, but she is asserting her womanhood and is making herself free. Albeit, the song suggests there is still a reduced status for women in that she is unable to stave off the approaches of the narrator, although this is more critical of the environment and the men that surround her. Furthermore, Lucille seems keen to engage with the narrator, so there is the touch of the two-way street about their interaction too.

It is important to remember, through all of this analysis, whose perspective we are getting the song from: of course, it’s the male narrator. The narrator is embedded into both the country-machismo of wanting to assert his dominance over a woman, as well as the Southern culture of honor, through which women must be respected and another man’s “woman” must not be insulted. Here, we see both of these dynamics at work almost seamlessly. On the other hand, it is important for a future analysis to lay out that these two cultural codes are the fountains through which the latter parts of the song flow. They are the origins of the significance of this song. The tragedy which spills out for the narrator later on stem from the fact that both of these attitudes are found to be built on false premises’ and conflict, and there in we see the sorrow which Rogers’ narrator is still coming to terms with.

Until next time; another enjoyable analysis about a beautiful song. X.

Flipping the Boat: Gliding over Atlantis to really see the world

Sleeping past the alarm, again. Christ, good job my plans don’t matter to me, almost just as much as it doesn’t matter to anyone else as to whether I actually follow them.

It’s funny to think that someone like me, always supposedly against the idea of “plans” and “order”, will still self-flagellate myself when I don’t follow my own plans. At the same time though, it’s not exactly the same thing or feeling. When I don’t meet my own plans, it’s frustrating, fleetingly so. But I don’t bully myself over it. After all, I know I can always set my own plans again, and once again, I could see those past me by too.

With regard to my own personal beliefs and philosophy, it’s strange. I know that when I was younger, I held myself to a high regard. I was intense with my plans and I held myself too them as the alternative was not conscionable. Although, naturally, if you’re going to be so strict on yourself, like an elastic band and you’ll snap and that happened to me. Suddenly, you’re not keeping to your plans and you feel like you’re freefalling. You are freefalling and nothing is fulfilled. The shame cycle sucks you in like a whirlpool in some unencounterable part of the ocean; you drown into it and fear you’ll never get out.

It’s only when I was submerged that actually, you realise it’s not instantaneous or even a prolonged torment from which you can never remerge. It’s more like you’ve found Atlantis. You don’t need to get out because there is a welcoming world down there, but it’s one most people daren’t ever visit. But then, it’s not totally cut off.

Keeping with the nautical theme I’m going to stretch out and hammer down in this soliloquy, it’s akin to being in this lost city but still being able to see above ground; much like those boats oceanographers and tourists in tropical paradise’s use to look down at the beautiful and fascinating fish and corals beneath, when you fall through the whirlpool, you take the boat with you, and scale across the sea from the other side. You can see what is happening on “land” but you don’t have to dive back onto it. If you want, you can pull away further into the city of Atlantis – hey, why not stop by the doughnut store down main street whilst those above the water dither and worry about something you know you don’t need about? Catch a movie in the Atlantaplex whilst you watch that pithy assignment deadline fly by, you don’t care, do you?

With all this said, again, I still have a connection with this landed world. Sometimes, my boat capsizes the opposite way, and I see myself gliding across the ground headfirst into those things which keep us grounded in an existentialist world. But you know, I can sit and think and flip the boat again when I know these issues don’t concern me, or rather, I don’t want to be concerned by them. I think this is why these deadlines I set and plans I make, can be skipped or missed and I don’t blame myself. I don’t know, this could all be rationalist bollocks, but it’s a cute way of trying to understand my psyche.

There are a few big questions to all of this, however. If I can choose not to get involved and don’t always want to be part of this world, why do I still insist on being part of it? As in, why do I draw myself back to the world? And, a perhaps lesser question, why do I have an irritation, even just initially, to not following my plans? These are questions I should think about with more depth and perhaps need to supplement with some further reading. Oh definitely. At the same time though, this has felt like a decent enterprise. I’m trying to take an existentialist view to how I treat myself in society, and there is an element of Eastern wu wei too. These are themes I feel I consistently bring into my understanding of myself and the world. Perhaps, I should really expand my range of options of trying to get to grips to things. All the same, that’s all something I can meditate on.

Keep safe and crack a beer dudes. X.

An overly honest reflection on the disinterested non-philosopher

I need to sit down, at some point, and write something real. Something real to me, not these useless poems which are easy fixes to hit my daily target (of writing something), which makes me think and ponder. I need to start thinking critically again. Well, not exactly thinking critically. I think that I am thinking critically. I’m not writing critically though; it’s become a chore and I’m doing the bare minimum. I can’t argue with doing the bare minimum. I’m proud of my streak, and some say the importance is being able to write every day. Get the words down on paper, whatever they are and in whatever order they have.

I wonder how I can boost my output qualitatively? Sometimes, I feel someone who needs support like a singer in a duet. I don’t think my voice is quiet enough to be relegated to that of “boyband member”. By which I mean, I’m not like one of Take That or Boyzone in that I need the support of about three other people; but I’m perhaps more in need of a Hall & Oates or Simon & Garfunkel-type partnership. Someone to bounce ideas off of, and to react to the other.

This blog entry is surely, boring af for you. I’m just sat here moping, “oh woes me.” I do wonder if there would be the potential for collaboration on a blog like this. Maybe like a letter-writing-style exchange. Maybe I could give my ideas and thoughts as opposed to someone else, but why would I need to? I can choose anything and just start talking about it like I did before, in the good ol’ days. I just need to stick on a country song on Spotify, or watch a soccer match, or react to some news on my phone. No, I think the issue is that I’m struggling to engage at the moment. I’ve not been brave enough diving into an issue and translating my thoughts to text.

There’s a need for me to sit down and write, without restraint or fear, over something that engages me. I love the process of sitting down and translating a thought into an argument, and feeling the heat of internet arm-chair warriors seething and eager to call me all the names under the sun. I need to bring the philosophy back to the blog (if it was ever here anyway?!?), and try to make it engaging and true to what I want it to be about, not kop out of it when I can’t be bothered. So far, the disinterested philosopher is a mere half-truth. I need to find the balance where this blog can accommodate each of the components of it’s name.

Po-ception (poem)

Five line poems

Are not easy to write.

But it is important

To draw a line

And not bore the reader.

Po-ception

Runaway Train (poem/haiku)

Runaway train you

Can’t turn around to say bye.

This is what you want.

Runaway Train

Nature’s home (poem)

I’m so content.

Buttered doves depart the trees,

Diving into the soul of the day;

Not to return

Until sunlight’s patience,

Forces them back to

The old, worn, scaley,

Recognisable branches

Of their home.

Nature’s home

Apology (poem/haiku)

I am sorry to

My followers. Last night I

Had way too much fun.

Apology

Great Green Wall of Home

I had a thought about The Great Green Wall that apparently stretches across the Sahara Desert to offset the desertification of Africa. There is apparently a broader, global environmental benefit to this too: by building up these jungles and forests, it means the planet teeters an inch up the scale back towards some kind of pure equilibrium, akin to that which existed before we soiled it (pardon the pun).

However, who are the countries who consume most and damage this equilibrium? Why are they not building the forests too? Are they not? What about the people that are paid by charities or “progressive” companies to plant trees on their behalf?

Why do they do the work so these companies in the hedonistic third world can just continue raping the resources and environment in their own country, safe that there is a stockpile thousands of kilometres away, in a place they would never want to go to, to ensure they can continue? It feels like this latter point is economic: pay some labourer 1/100^th of what it would take to pay a Westerner to do the same work (or even more). The company gets the excess profit and they can sleep a little deeper at night, knowing that they’d saved the environment. Well, for that banking cycle anyway.