The Problem With Karma

Karma is supposed to be an overarching force of justice in the universe, which basically says that any act of dickishness shall be paid back with interest. It’s a concept that those of us with a conscience choose to believe in because it affirms our worldview, providing balance to an intensely unbalanced world. However, there is a rather large flaw in the concept, in that it is just that: a concept. Karma is  no more than an idea; albeit, a charming and optimistic one, but an idea nonetheless. It resides solely in the mind, and is subject to individual perception, meaning that it can very easily be discounted or ignored when it doesn’t serve our purposes.

Therefore, karma only holds influence over people who believe in it; people who already understand that they are flawed; people that can recognize when they’ve done something vindictive, hateful, or just plain inconsiderate. The problem with this is that the individuals who are unable to accept that they’re flawed, i.e. people deserving of a good beating, are too deluded to understand that the bad things that happen to them are what they’re due. Take assholes, for example. Assholes come standard with a complete lack of self-awareness. According to Harvard Psychology Professor, Aaron James, assholes allow themselves to enjoy special advantages, they do so out of an entrenched sense of entitlement, and that sense of entitlement makes them immune to the complaints of others.* Or in layman’s terms: they do what they want, because they don’t give a fuck about you or what you have to say.  Now, whether this defect in their thought process is something they’re born with, or a product of asshole parents, is still up for debate; however, the asshole’s ignorance to the plight of every other human being on the planet makes them immune to the concept of karma.

Instead of seeing the bad things that happen in their life as cosmic payback for their misdeeds, they see these events as undeserved, believing the universe is screwing them over.  Now, due to an inflated sense of entitlement, assholes think they’re owed one, which only causes them to be bigger assholes. That, in turn, attracts more bad karma, and so on, and so forth, thus creating a self-sustaining cycle of misery from which death is the only escape. And that would be all well and good if the asshole was the only one suffering; but as I noted before, assholes are incapable of self-awareness, so instead of coming to terms with their own douchery, they opt to distribute their exponential levels of gloom evenly amongst anyone and everyone with whom they come into contact.

This is where karma fails. While it might have positive influences on most of humanity, it will inevitably create these sporadic pockets of despair around these assholes, acting like black holes feeding off the fabric of rational society. Especially considering that rational society typically tries to avoid confrontation with assholes in the vain hope that the universe will reach out and backhand them like the moral arm of Newton’s Third Law. It’s a vicious, self-sustaining cycle, and while I don’t have a solution, I do have a suggestion. We, as a society, need to collectively agree that when assholes arise, regardless of the circumstance, we must viciously beat them into submission. Be the change you want to see in the world. Gandhi would want it that way.

 

 

* James, Aaron. Assholes:  A Theory. New York:  Doubleday, 2012. Print.

It’s Just A Game

One of the best days of my life, was the day that I stopped pretending to care about sports. I never truly cared, but when you grow up in a large athletically oriented family, you kind of feel like you have to. Imagine yourself as an impressionable child, desperate to fit in and be accepted, and your whole family is gathered around a T.V., shouting encouragement at the men on screen. What are you going to do? Go in the other room and read a book, thus marking yourself as the black sheep for all to see?  No.  You’re going to yell at that fucking T.V. — “Woo hoo! Go Brown Team! Throw that ball fellas.” — At that age, you’re a follower. It doesn’t matter what you’re heart tells you, you are caving to peer pressure, almost instantly.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy sports. I just don’t understand how people become so emotionally invested in the outcome  that it actually effects their mood. It confuses me to see angry Facebook or Twitter posts when the Indians lose a game. A bunch of millionaires, who don’t give a shit about you, lose a game that is virtually meaningless, and this upsets you?  And upsets you so much that you feel the need to whine on a public forum? Beyond being a vague cry for attention, I don’t get it. And believe me, I totally understand vague cries for attention. What do you think this blog is?

Honestly, why should I care about sports? Pride for my birthplace? Like a territorial dispute? I’m pretty sure that sort of logic has been the basis for every war and/or genocide ever started. Think I’m exaggerating? Then you’ve obviously never been to a Browns tailgate when two guys in Steelers jerseys come walking through. They may as well have swastikas tattooed to their faces. They would receive no worse a welcome if they did, I assure you that.

If I’m truly going to care about sports, they’re going to have to up the stakes a little bit.  Have our athletes play like the Ancient Mayans used to: losing team gets executed? There’s an intense Super Bowl. I can promise you that game isn’t ending 43-8. Peyton’s gonna be legging a few more out.

You wouldn’t hear any complaints about concussions either. The quarterback’s in the huddle, like “I don’t care if there’s a ringing in your ears, Brian. I don’t care if there’s a whole god damn marching band in your head. If you don’t start picking up your blocks, we’re all going to get shot in the face. Now, put your back in to it.”

Athletes are basically modern day gladiators anyway, right? They just happen to be born in a century that doesn’t glorify murder…well…not openly, at least. Guns have made it unnecessary for people to be big and fast in order to excel in combat. Two thousand years ago, guys like LeBron or Dwight Howard weren’t meeting at center court. They were meeting in the middle of a battlefield, and one of them was leaving with an ax buried in his skull.

I’ll allow your imagination to decide which one…but I bet I can guess.