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06 February 2007

The untouchable subject

A friend of mine told me that some time ago there was a students' club called The Carnivores, or something along those lines, I can't remember exactly what the name was. Anyway, this club was a kind of jab at PETA and the whole vegetarianism thing. They signed up to put up signs for their club just like the other students' clubs in the area, and chose to put up a sign with a picture of Adolf Hitler and the text to the effect of "Hitler was a vegetarian. Join the carnivores." Again, I don't remember the exact wording, but that's pretty close, I think. The point they were making was that vegetarianism, while nice and dandy if you're into that, does not have any superior moral value to it. It's a different lifestyle, not necessarily a better one. Not surprisingly, this sign got a lot of people pissed off. Now, why is that?

Firstly, the vegetarians didn't particularly like being associated with Hitler in any way, the jewish students were pissed because... well, you know. It's Hitler. This shouldn't need much of an explanation if you paid any attention at all in school. And a whole bunch of other people were pissed off because they thought the whole idea was just ridiculously insensitive and stupid. They do have a point, it was probably not the smartest idea to put up a picture of this particular fellow and compare him to the "opposition" team. It's bound to piss some people off. But if you think about it... Why is that?

Hitler has become one of those 'untouchable' things. In any debate, as soon as one side starts comparing things to Hitler, they're pretty much done for. They might as well hand over their heads on a silver platter. He has become a concept, more than just a psychotic fuckhead who convinced thousands of people to participate in absolutely insane plans. And a concept can't be touched, especially if it's an evil concept. Hitler has in a way become the personification, the very idea of everything that is evil and wrong with mankind. He has become an idea so horrendous that people would never think of using his name as an insult even if they were more pissed off than they've ever been before, because it would just be over the top.

"Shut up, you fuckin' Hitler!"

See? It just doesn't work. People would just walk away in disgust, enemies and friends alike. You just can't call someone a "Hitler" unless that person happens to be guilty of murdering about six million people. But you also can't compare Hitler to anything good either. He's just too evil to be good in any conceivable way. Saying something like "You know, Hitler was a pretty ingenious dude" would probably get you stamped as a neo-nazi and maybe even punched in the face, depending on where you said that. People can no longer see him as a man, because he's become this gargantuan monster that everybody loves to hate. But put that aside for a moment. Hitler really was a pretty smart dude. Absolutely insane and despicable beyond description, of course, but let's admit it: He was pretty good at what he did.

Have you ever looked up any of Hitler's original artwork? They're easily found online. You probably know that he was an art student way before any of the politics started happening. He applied to an art school in Vienna and got rejected. But have a look at the paintings, he was really a pretty decent painter. Lots of landscapes and very detailed paintings of architecture. Not bad at all.

Then things started going badly, he was rejected from art school, his mother died, he spent five years bumming around in Vienna, somehow convinced himself that everything was because of the jews, and things just went to hell from there and people started dying.

Here's an interesting thing. Have you ever thought to yourself: Where did Hitler find so many willing assistants to help him out with his evil plans? Surely the average person doesn't just naturally agree with something like the absolute necessity of killing six million people in order to get the country on the right keel again? The fuckers who worked at the camps, the military, they must have all been insane, right? Maybe the Germans were just a fucked up, evil kind of people back then? No, of course they weren't. This is where things start getting interesting.

Hitler was an incredibly carismatic leader. He was the kind of guy who could convice penguins that fish is bad for you, or sell ice to the inuits for twice the price of gold. When he talked, people just listened, because he was soooo good at talking. That is one part of it.
But what about the people helping him kill all those people? Did they realize what they were doing? Were they insane? That's the other part. They weren't. They did what they were told to do. It sounds like the lamest excuse ever, but this is the really interesting part.

In 1961-62 a social psychologist named Stanley Milgram conducted a series of experiments at Yale University on the topic of behavioural psychology and obedience. The setup was this:

They recruited test subjects through newspaper ads and mail, and got a random assortment of people between 20 and 50 years old and with different backgrounds and educational levels. These people would be paid $4.50 whether they completed the task or not. They were then told that they would participate in an experiment on the effects of punishment on learning.

The experimenter was played by a stern, impassive biology teacher dressed in a technician's coat, and the "victim" was played by an accountant trained to act for the role, but the test subjects didn't know that these were just actors. The "victim" and the test subject were separated into different rooms where they could communicate but not see each other. In one version of the experiment, the victim made sure to mention to the subject that he had a heart condition.

The test subject was given a 45-volt electric shock from the electro-shock generator as a sample of the shock that the "learner" would supposedly receive during the experiment. The subject was then given a list of word pairs which he was to teach the "victim". The subject began by reading the list of word pairs to the victim. If the victim got it right, the subject would read the next pair of words. If he got it wrong, he received an electric shock. With every wrong answer, the voltage of the shock would go up, gradually increasing up to fatal levels. After a few shocks, the "victim" would start banging the wall, begging for mercy, complaining about his heart condition, etc. and finally go completely silent, as if dead.

At this point, many people indicated their desire to stop the experiment and check on the victim. Some test subjects paused at 135 volts and began to question the purpose of the experiment. Most continued after being assured that they would not be held responsible. A few subjects began to laugh nervously or exhibit other signs of extreme stress once they heard the screams of pain coming from the victim.

If at any time the subject indicated his desire to halt the experiment, he was given a succession of verbal prods by the experimenter, in this order:

  1. Please continue.
  2. The experiment requires that you continue.
  3. It is absolutely essential that you continue.
  4. You have no other choice, you must go on.

If the subject still wished to stop after all four successive verbal prods, the experiment was halted. Otherwise, it was halted after the subject had given the maximum 450-volt shock three times in succession.

Text copied from wikipedia and from the Stanley Milgram website, edited and shortened to fit this blog.

The theory was that only an average of about 1,2 % of people, the sadistic ones, would complete the experiment and actually keep pushing the button until the "victim" was dead. The actual result turned out to be quite shocking. An average of 65 % of all the test subjects delivered the final and fatal 450 volt shock to the "victim". The experiment has since then been repeated several times in different variations and settings, and the result remains constant in all of them. Between 61 and 68 percent of people will kill a person simply because an authority figure in a white lab coat tells them it's necessary. There was no difference between men and women, nationality or other parameters. The average remained around 65 % in all similar experiments conducted.

Pretty freaky, huh? I bet you're thinking: "I could never do such a thing, I would have refused to complete the experiement."

Would you really? Deep down inside, would you really have refused? An average of about 65 % of you would have continued pushing that button. Kinda hard to swallow, isn't it?
It's very, very hard to refuse when an authority figure we have faith in convinces us that it is absolutely necessary that we continue doing what we're doing.

So to tie up this post: No. The Germans were no more retarded fuckers than you and I are. Hitler actually managed to make a whole lot of things better for lots of people in Germany, while making things a lot worse for others. But the ones that were doing better had no reason to doubt that he was a good guy. They didn't know people were dying by the scores at some desolate camp somewhere. They thought things were getting better. So they believed him. They were victims of a very, very convincing and charismatic authority figure who in the end fucked them over so hard not even their great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren will forget about it.

Let's make sure no authority figure ever fools anyone like that ever again, mmkay?

25 January 2007

Cachette re-run

So... just when I thought the cachette couldn't get any weirder, it did. My best friend of 9 years, Manda, was here visiting me, so she, Nikki and I went to the cachette one evening to play some pool. There we met this somewhat intoxicated man in his 50's who asked if he could play against whoever won between Manda and myself. By a sheer fluke, I dropped the 8-ball on my second shot, so the man got to play against Manda. She broke, not dropping anything, so the guy made his first shot. It was an incredible shot, bouncing the cueball off the short side of the table and dropping a ball in one of the side pockets. This dude had definitely played before. However, after dropping another few balls, and figuring out Manda's distinct lack of talent for pool, his skills suddenly evaporated into nothingness. For the rest of the game, he played extremely crappily, while quite unabashedly ogling Manda's bosom between turns. Huh...

Shortly after this, a completely sloshed middle-aged lady wobbled up to us and started talking to us in French. Manda speaks all of five words of French, and mine is so far not much better, so the lady started talking to Nikki. She told us about her family. Turns out she has a couple of kids, a boyfriend and an ex-husband all living together in the same house. Apparently she and the ex-husband are still good friends and they decided to just stay in the same house so he could be close to the kids, while the lady's new boyfriend lives there too. She was quite happy with her life, she just liked going to the cachette to get smashed every once in a while. Huh...
Now, after a while, this lady started doing more than just talking... She started quite bluntly hitting on Nikki. Then she went on to hit on Manda and me as well.

Seriously, this has got to be the weirdest bar I've been to. The lady was quite unmistakingly hitting on all three of us at the same time. Geez...

10 December 2006

Music machine

The company I work for arranged this big christmas party at the Cafe d'en Face in St Jerome yesterday. There was food and drink and music and good times were had by all. They also had a lottery and handed out prizes to a bunch of people. I won a basket of skin care products. Pretty nifty, there was body scrub and bath foam and body lotion and stuff. I generally don't use stuff like that at all, I put conditioner in my hair after washing it if I'm feeling luxurious, but maybe I should. Nikki tells me this goat milk stuff is really good for your skin, so I might give it a try. There was also a really cool sponge that I'm definitely going to use. It has handles on both ends and it stretches so you can scrub your own back. Good stuff, that.
After the party Nikki and I went to a pool hall in Laval and played a few games. The waitresses there were a bit distracting, all wearing ridiculously short black miniskirts and tight, black tops. Sort of skanky but revealing, and some of them were quite hot.
What? So I'm taken, not dead...

We went out for breakfast today at this place near Nikki's house. They had pretty good cappucino. I had crepes filled with banana, chocolate sauce and English cream, and with a slice of melon on the side. Pretty good, though very sweet. I don't quite get North American crepes, though. They don't taste like anything, just flour. I like crepes that taste a bit like eggs or butter, sugar or even salt, but all the pancakes and crepes I've had so far on this side of the atlantic all taste mostly like wheat flour. They seem to go for taste only in whatever is on them, not the crepes themselves. Weird. But hey, when in Rome...

I bought a portastudio on ebay a few days ago, it was a really good deal for the kind of machine I got. I can't wait to get it... Whee! I just need a good microphone and then I can start recording the songs I've written so far and make a cd. I recorded a bunch of stuff on my computer back home, but it just doesn't work on my laptop here. The sound quality really sucks for vocals. There's too much background noise on the line, like if the hum and noise from the harddrive and the fan was wired to the line in. I've never seen that in any other computer I've used for music, it's just bad.

I've also started working on an all new website for myself. I'm not so happy with my current one anymore, as it only presents what I do with classical music, which is probably the kind of music I do the least right now. But that project is not going to take off for real until I've gotten some recording done. But it'll be cool... :)

01 December 2006

Pool

I'm feeling (more or less) human again. The antibiotics worked and my throat is back to normal.
I went climbing a couple of times too already, which was lots of fun. The first time went really well, considering I hadn't gone for almost three weeks. Maybe I should stop more often? It went better than before I got sick... The second time went just as well. I did pretty good on two 5.9 trails, though I didn't quite get them in one try yet. Next time they shall tremble before my feet... Mwuahahahaa!

I went to play pool with Nikki at the La Cachet bar in Sainte-Adele the other day. It was nice, we were playing and having a good time, when this local dude, a guy of around 60 and quite obviously drunk off his ass, started talking to us. He had some interesting opinions about stuff... This was during our first game and Nikki was leading. He told me that Nikki seemed to be pretty good at pool. I agreed. Then he said:

"But you... You're really not very good at this, are you?"

After this he proceeded to tell me that it was a man's job to always win at pool against a woman, and that me losing against Nikki would be somehow embarrassing. He and his drunken buddy were also quite flabbergasted by the fact that I was originally from Sweden and spent quite a while questioning Nikki about it. "Where did you find that guy?", "What's with you being with a guy like that?" etc. So yeah... Apparently Swedish people who suck at pool are not so popular amongst the local drunkards of Sainte-Adele. But the rest of the evening turned out to be quite amusing in my opinion, because none of them said a single word after I won all four games we played. Hee hee... :)

It's raining ice here today. Quite interesting, it's not like snow or rain, but rather clear droplets of solid ice falling from the sky. I kinda wish I had had a hat with a large brim on the way home from work. I feel like somebody whipped me over the face with twigs. I was supposed to catch a ride with Antoine to Montreal tonight to see Nikki, but with the icy weather, we canceled the trip. Instead, Nikki is driving up here. She's got balls... It might take her a while to get here though, I very thoroughly told her multiple times to drive reeeaaaalllllyyyyyy slowly. I don't care if it takes her hours. I'd rather have her late and in one piece, than on time but scattered all over the side of the road.

There's a party in town tonight. One of the Italian testers is leaving and is having a goodbye party. I'm considering going. Hmm...

19 November 2006

Bitten

This has been a pretty fucked up week. I was sick all week, had a sore throat, swollen lymph nodes, fever, muscles and joints aching... Sucks, right? Then I got bitten by a spider just in front of my ear. First there was a red, itchy bump. Then the bump got bigger and turned mustard yellow in the middle, then brown, then the middle fell off and now I have an itchy scab about the size of a penny. Pretty annoying... Anyway, the aching and pain in my throat wouldn't go away, so my friend Nikki took me to the Sainte-Adele clinic. When we got there, we found a note on the door saying that the clinic was closed today only. Sucks. So we were going to return the next day, but unfortunately Nikki's car got towed away during the night for being parked in a bad place. Before she got it back it was already past five and the clinic had closed again. So we decided to go to a clinic in Laval instead. We got there, only to find a similar note on the door, saying that the place was closed today only. So we went to a third clinic, but that one was full. We went to Nikki's place and went to sleep. The next day we went back to the clinic that had been full. According to the sign, we were well within opening hours, but the doors were locked. What the fuck, man? So we went back to the other clinic, but that one was closing in ten minutes. Starting to get seriously pissed, now. Five clinics and we hadn't gotten to see a doctor yet. Why would a clinic close at 2 pm in the afternoon? Are people only allowed to be sick during banking hours in Canada? So we went to a clinic we hadn't tried yet. Finally we got to get a number and start waiting to see a doctor. About three hours later I got to see this doctor. He walks in the room with a sour look on his face and goes "pourquoi?" I tell him I don't speak French very well. He tells me he doesn't speak English. Seriously, I can get the thing about why official documents and signs and all that have to be in French in Quebec and all that. The province wants to be francophone. Fine. No problem with that. But what the FUCK is up with doctors not even having the most basic skills in English? I am absolutely sure that I am not the only person in the province who doesn't speak French... This particular doctor was pretty rude, and didn't exactly give an impression of being very competent either. He stuck a thermometer in my mouth, squeezed my throat, and then decided it was tonsillitis and prescribed me antibiotics. Now, I know for a fact that there is a crapload of things that can cause tonsillitis, and only about 15-30 % of those things are bacteria that are treatable by antibiotics. So to just prescribe me antibiotics without taking a blood test or doing a bacterial culture swab to find out what the cause is seems pretty dumb to me. And that I had to go to a clinic six times before I got to see a doctor? Seriously... So far Quebec health care is really not very impressive.