UNCONVENTIONAL THINKING BLOG

So here we are, men and women, inexorably linked to one another, fascinated by the differences that make us polar opposites and that leave us struggling to decode the mysteries of our genders.

“Why does he do the things he does?”

“Why doesn’t she do the things she knows I want her to do?”

“Why do we love each other? Will it last? Does he love me? Do we both define love by the same standard?” Am I being played for a fool? Am I playing her?”

I’m laying on a chaise, broiling in the July sun, listening to the thunderstorm called Bad Romance.

Gaga is blasting through, out of her surreal world, wailing into my headphones, reminding me with every verse, line, lyric, riff what naked talent sounds like when it takes off its top, bares its breasts and goes on
a music rampage that makes average rockers look and sound like the timid copycats and also-rans that they are.

What will happen tomorrow? There isn’t a single person in the world who knows for sure. As humans, we fly around in the fog, hoping for the miracles, praying to avoid the plagues.

We laud ourselves as intelligent creatures but in reality we know hardly a thing. And yet day after day, meeting after meeting, I talk with people who want certainty. Even worse than demanding and expecting it, they delude themselves into believing they can have it.

What the hell does that mean? I have no idea, but the words popped into my head and I had to go with it. You know, figure it out on the fly. Like in the course of writing this post.

Let me start by saying, this is no 60-second Super Bowl spot for fascists. They are all scum and well, they don’t make the best anything, except genocidal murderers.

We all, even the most skeptical amongst us, like to tell ourselves fairy tales.

Like the fact that even in love and war and business (which is a fusion of the first two theaters) everything is fair. In the end, it all balances out. There are no bad people, only evil deeds. Everyone is imperfect and blah, blah, blah.