Happy Hobbies

By: Jonathan Seidel

Illness changing personality and hobbies: the harsh reality of the new life (Sacks, 34)

Illnesses play tricks on the mind. They alter brain chemistry and destroy social collaboration. Hobbies cease and new ones forms. Illnesses change people. For better or worse. The person you once knew is no longer. Their appearance may be similar but their expression is different.

The physical dimension of illnesses isolate the individual from his pack of friends. Forced to frequent medical assistance, he is no longer present. His absence is felt yet routinely substituted. The void is eventually filled. A best friend who moves to a far country leaves a hole to be filled. The space he has accustomed is now shallow. Just empty fallow land to be farmed. His absence is felt immediately. No more can you talk to him or spend time with him. There is now free time to your own instruments. In time, the friend is replaced with a new best friend completing the category. This friend grows on his own without communication. At the reunion a few years later he has changed. It was gradual for him but to you it is a stark transformation. Affected by the stimuli there he changes. So too with the ill. The ill don’t realise their own transformation. For them it is part of the process. Yet for the friends it is quite a shock. Then again it is a part of distance and time. People will inevitably grow. If you don’t see them for some time, the progress is missed and only the shocking alteration is noticed.

Beyond the platitude of distance is also the situational effects. The friend who moves away is impacted by his new town, school, and friends. The new culture pounces upon and forces him to conform. He acts differently since he is exposed to a varied culture. He speaks a different language and interacts with a unique culture. All this alters the perception of him. He looked native in his youth but his growth in an alternate culture is overshadowed by his appearance. He is the same boy just grown up. Just educated in the foreign culture than one’s own. Yet to him, you have also changed. The stimuli he left have no glaring impact but they do on you. You adapted into your culture and he into his. The ill develop through their doctoral visits. Through the pain. Their isolation medicinally is thoroughly physically demanding. They gradually develop in response to the treatment provided. Yet at the reunion they seem to be different people. They have greatly altered their life philosophy. It seems so quick, so swift but it is a gradual transition. Boarded up in the hospital or at home. 

Absence does make for unknown alterations. Circumstances do their part in gradually informing that change. Their attitudes shift with their endless medicinal consequences. Affecting their personality as well. They become despondent. Interacting less and less with others. Even if they do show up for a weekly meal, their demeanour has changed. Yet that is solely in the first appearance since their isolation. Consistency breeds static. The immense alterations are mellowed in the premature intervals interacted. Their prolonged demise is mishandled and overlooked. They have changed but that is the extent. The limit is the doctoral examination. The gradual decline is faint and forlorn. Unexpected from the observer. They see the ill weekly. Keeping tabs unable to see the impending disastrous demise. There may be a hint of discolouring but the slow shaded white is missed. They do not see the pigment change. Failing to see the magic exploited. A wrecking ball with no stopping it. Content with the current transformation. Unaware of the immediate change yet to come. The ill do not remain stationary. They either heal or grow sicker. Healed will at times bring more spirt but the opposite will only harbour less energy fading into the blackness of night. 

The ill are aware of the slow decline. Scary but recognisable. They reckon with their transition. Whether that be a new routine or hobby. Others curiously observe from afar with little adherence to engage. Questions may be raised but no red flags. It is a part of a new you but similar to the you they knew. It isn’t quite as different. It doesn’t shock them. Yet for the ill it is a big step. Each step is a step toward the next joint. They see an appearance. They hear about the condition. Yet they know almost nothing about the experience. The experience is the ill’s and thus the new hobbies are perceived transformative in his eyes not in their eyes. They find it cute, he finds it crucial. The routine of life cycles his interactions with others. He acts somewhat varied but it’s all in good faith. He is accepted for his slight difference. It is hardly noticed. Even when it is, the illness plays its role as a fluke. This isn’t permanent. It is a bump in the road. He’ll be back to normal in no time. He is just going through a tough time. A tough day but tomorrow will be different. They fail to understand the magnitude of the situation. His alterations are seminal. They are a byproduct of his illness but permanent in their engrossment on his soul. Tattooed a new personality. 

His new hobbies are isolated personas. While he acts quite understandably with his fellas, the moment he is alone all the walls come down. His new hobbies are drugs for his rapid insanity. To ensure his survival. Beating the dreadful psychosis. They seem minute in others’ eyes but an antidote to him. His hobbies are more cherished than his friends. They are purposeful in accepting him as their master. An illness that projects joy in the most mischievous of ways. The colourblind prefers the nighttime. Becoming a night owl, a revolutionary nocturnal figure. He wishes to engage in the new world that possesses him. The night understands him. It provides cover. A haven for his detrimental condition. Finding solace in its protective attention. Heading out to party in the early morning. Fully awake and fully enjoying racing on the open freeway. For him, the new normal is perfect for him. He’d rather sleep in the day shielding himself from the disorienting colours than suffer. He has found a friend. The moon shines its beautiful light onto his shoulders. Pain is avoided in the recesses of a book. An alcoholic beverage that numbs the terrible illness saving his sanity from the nightmares.

Preoccupation with these new hobbies does wonders to his personality. While isolation had its impact on social matters so does his hobbies. Whether that be reading a book or hiking. Depending on the event it may strengthen his resolve or offer new skills. A fervent reader may expand his vocabulary wooing his parents and perplexing his friends. A hiker may build some muscle extending his physique. It is all relative. Yet unlike the average benefiter, the hobbies are salvation. They are not a simple distraction from the tedious afternoons but from immense suffering. Clinging to these hobbies as a safety net. Become a night owl or a bookworm. Tragic but  necessary for existential serenity. The illness becomes a lifeline. The medication is the hobby. If colour will be snatched then the night will be welcomed. Turning oneself into the illness’ direction. The illness is being conquered but at the same time coercing his habits. Trying to turn over a new leaf. He ascends to tackle the problem head on yet the new leaf is itself a distraction. A double-edged sword that provides benefits as well as hurls him into the furnace.

Hobbies are intrinsically related to behaviour. Insofar as they radically manipulate the individual. The object becomes the subject’s concern. While the colourblind thinks he is conquering his condition by travelling out at night, he is giving into his condition. His condition has forced him to be a night light. Yet at the same time, he is choosing to be active than passive. Choosing to go out instead of laying depressed in bed. The crippled cannot conquer his condition by magical healing or going for a run. He cannot overcome the limitation but he can still work alongside what he is capable of doing. Restricted physically but surpassing the mental barrier. Hobbies are a method of distraction but active expression. Distraction but productive in personal growth. The colourblind is forced to head out in the dead of night. Yet the quiet bliss is enjoyable. He finds nighttime serene and beautiful. He finds old classic cinema to be marvellous. While many of his friends mock the black and white films, able to appreciate the visual projection, these classics become all time favourites milking their prowess. Finally recognising the prestige of Citizen Cane and 12 Angry Men. He is no longer obsessed with appearance in the same regard. Instead of heading to the bar after a long night his nights are ever more constructive. 

Falling into these hobby routines are transformative. His perception is deepened. His mind expanded. Able to understand the world in a new way. Though it need not be as experiential as a night owl. A cripple who unable to travel, picks up reading to pass the time will enhance his vocabulary and broaden his worldview. So much literature that can provide new insights into history, philosophy or psychology. Friends may grow accustomed to his absence during the day or his walking stick but his evolving perception that differs due to his unique hobby strikes them as odd. Praising old classics or the nuance of nightlife is credibly peculiar to the average millennial. It is the small things whether by topic or by terminology. Yet for the ill it is an enlightenment insofar as it is a protection. The point is the change that derives from irregularity. From a pinpointed hobby that is immersed intensively. The sufferer searches for hope and salvation. Hobbies are sought to bring tranquility. These hobbies are clung to. It is their immersion that engulfs the ill transforming them from motionless to engaged. Accepting fate and finding a route to curb the emotional and physical torture. 

Meaningful Sympathy

By: Jonathan Seidel

Forgetting the healthy life: how years of illness feel lifelong (Sacks, 33) 

The disparity between the ill and the healthy is not only a physical difference but an emotional one. Mentally, illnesses take a tremendous toll on the mind and body disorienting a person further. While physically troubling, the stress added is heavily taxing. It is this additional emotional component that makes life’s struggle feel lifelong in a matter of weeks.

It doesn’t take too long for the ill to forget his healthy past. In the beginning, he closely recalls his healthy life running through the streets cheerfully. Waking up with little stress from the bodily symphony. Early on, those feelings of distress are dwindled in the face of a hopeful future. Optimism endures imagining the free life. It sucks now but this is only temporary. Only recently was jogging along the beach a daily activity. Reassuring that all will be healed. The days of health are not forgotten nor will they be missed. The ill cannot picture the horrible tragedy that may be permanence. Instead clinging to whatever positivity he can for a swift recovery. The night and day transformation can easily be reversed. If he body could go numb it could also heal. If it at one point he could run then he will run again. The possibility of permanence is ignored in the face of self empowerment and hope. Memories of the recent past. How life was bliss fill the dreams. Fantasising a line with a single bump in the road. Off course for a second but now back.

Some pessimism takes hold but it is denial that has the strangest effect. Namely, ignoring the potential catastrophe of the injury. The injury or the disease is simply an obstacle to overcome. A challenge in the pathway. Once the test is overcome, the road will open up and the injury over. In some deluded metaphysical interpretation, the haunting demise of the injury is isolated for a more warming possibility. The universe is testing his resolve. Once overpowering the needless force, he will be empowered. It is a struggle but a rite of passage. Everyone has their challenges some more difficult than others. Some more deadly than others. Yet he will bounce back. It is inevitable. A test that wishes for him to put his all into it. Once he gives it all his strength he will succeed. Hope fills him with strength to keep moving forward. All types of spiritual phenomena seep into his psyche. He is tested but he also must undergo recovery. He must see a doctor and take medication. He is aware of the sloppy symmetry but the overarching goal fills him with purpose. It does empower him as he recognises his destiny awaits. After his recovery he will have a greater appreciation. These thoughts soothe him in his challenging trek. 

He never concedes to the permanence. Anything is curable. After countless visits with no change his cynicism does enter his mind. He begins to doubt. Struggling to comprehend his suffering. It was a good joke now it is time to end it. Learned the lesson where is the antidote. Yet there is no reply from his doctors nor from above. Alone in this venture his attitude turns negative. The debut is never-ending and cynicism creep slowly as the days pass by. His outgoing positivity crumbles into nihilistic denial. Everyday is a deathly routine. A sorrow of grief stricken on the innocent. The cold winds surround him. Clouds blocking out the sun. He is stooped in the lightless mould. He only sees grey. Unable to enjoy the simple moments. His attitude demoralises the beautiful. Cynically mocking the joy. Sad he cannot do what others can. Unable to do what he used to be able to do. Robbed of his ability to feel human. He feels incapable and inferior. Sympathised but misunderstood. His bleak perspective is colourblind. He cannot see the expansive blue sky or his wife’s dark brown eyes. He only sees the monotone natural nothingness. 

Gradually, he forgets what the world looks like. What it should be like. More than the appearance of the world is the attitude to it. How not only to perceive in colour but in norms. How to emotionally connect with the outside world. His suffering undermines any normative relation. He doesn’t act accordingly. An outcast in many regards. His scepticism verges on conspiracy to most. Offended by his lack of polity. His suffering has provided him a new outlet. One that places him in his own sphere. He has transformed. Consecutive years of tribulation has created a new monster. One that does not heed to traditional mannerisms. One that cares little for the expected. If he cannot enjoy the benefits like everyone else why should he act like everyone else. He is an outsider and deservedly so. It wasn’t his intent to alienate but by virtue of his illness he has been sidelined. He has been forced to adapt. The suffering preys on his normatively and counteracts it with a depressive tone. He no longer remembers the good ol’ times. He only knows grey. He only knows the world of suffering. There is no past or future. It is a continuum of bleak greyness. 

He is forced to reject the world. The world that expects perfection from him. A world he cannot satisfy, he cannot provide for. He is irregular. A natural mishap and selectively diminished. What is his hope for the future. What is his perception of himself. The days of old have passed. Reality closes itself on him. Shutting the door in his face. He tries and tries to reach the qualifying aptitude but fails miserably. He can’t see colour. He can’t march up the steps. It is a lost cause. An impossible task. Reality thrusts its own version on him. Never lowering the bar. Never victimising him. Deal with it. Be a stoic. Hustling down the boulevard to keep pace. It is not as if he hasn’t figured out the trick. Victorious at the rigged state fair games. This is a simple movement but for him it is difficult. Everyone else moves with ease while his shoes are filled with rocks. Carrying a yoke glued to his shoulders. He is handicapped but not given a handicap. To some extent he doesn’t want one. He wishes to be treated like everyone else even though he isn’t like everyone else. He cannot execute like everyone. His constant failure unable to reach the thread haunts his soul. Unable to do that which was so simple so recently. 

Societal isolation is the only place of solitude. The only place he feels stable. He is strong away from all that he cannot do. Regulating the normative capability to his strength does little for his confidence. He is distraught and demoralised. His isolation is a protective scheme. Away from everything leaves all the expectation behind. Without engagement with the demanding outside world he can live freely. It is only with the engagement with otherness that his strength is met with expectation. No assistance just execution. In any aspect of life from family to profession. There are no free treats, deserve what is provided. Unlike a superpower this isn’t one that supplies any unique aid. It only deconstructs the physical and mental elements of existence. It tortures the soul. Isolation transitions to alienation. No need to be with others. Loneliness does straddle its satanic urge but solace is in solitude. The only one who understands his condition is himself. No doctor no parent no spouse. Yet his isolation is merely temporary while his condition permanent. He must live his life. Corralled in human development. He studies, works fucks. Whatever human need he must check off. There is little time to grieve and much time to haul ass.

His experience is quite different than others. He is in the same boat as others. Living routinely like his neighbours but he has that yoke breaking his collarbone. They are all in the cave but he is without a flashlight. It is pitch-black. He wanders aimlessly looking for a way out. He must get out or he will die. The cave is dangerous but he desires to live. So he continues to move forward on instinct. Crawling forward through sheer will. At each turn he either finds a passageway or a dead end. Yet for him the passageways have become increasingly less dramatic. The first few times, the passageways seemed to be a gateway to the castle. Gold-plated regal carpet flowed endlessly to the exit. Yet each time ended with despair. Each passageway led to another endless passageway or a dead end. Each moment of positivity or potential clarity ceased ever so quickly. With this impossible maze, passageways were taken periodically and unemotionally. Doing so simply to do it. Hit a dead end need to turn, it wasn’t without suffering. An endless maze bordering on the blasphemous. Disadvantaged and despondent, there is moot hope. 

Life in the dark cave becomes adjustable. Not fun but passible. So long wandering the cave, what life outside the maze or even outside the cave is blurry. Memories are pictured but not experienced. What health felt like is a foregone conclusion. He can never feel the serenity of a painless existence. He is doomed to suffer. He accepts it but never can fully internalise it. Always holding out hope that somewhere there is an answer. That someone he will be cured. His greatest dream. A fiction, a figment of his imagination. Even in his dreams he never fully experiences the painless wonder. He truly only constructs a plausibility. The recesses of his mind conjure the past in the present fantasy but is beyond his conscience. His drunken state alleviates but it never is stable. It is never real. It is an altered mental state that numbs his credibility. The neurological framework is stunned yet he is not fully in control. His hard drive is haywire. It is a ruse, only optimal in the subconscious instinct. A lie based on an aspired fantasy. A fantasy with terrible consequences. 

Suffering is his reality. Existence is a nuisance. Yet it is better than death. At least he can feel. Though feeling horribly is better than not feeling at all. Yet the tradeoff is the destruction of the self. A torture like no other. Feeling nothing may even be a blessing in some respects. Placed in anaesthesia, he can rest without qualms. Every minute of every waking hour he roars in agony. He may never vocalise his hurt but he is wounded. It grows tiresome to wallow. Tedious to sulk. Though no enlightenment follows the graceful bootstraps. He knows no other life. He has forgotten the old. He only recognises the maze. The darkness that engulfs him to perpetuity. He can never break free, chained to the painful illness injected into his body. Adverse reactions are side affects of the poison. The natural poison eating away at his sanity. Demoting his joy and beholding his sorrow. His anger flares while his calmness halts. A man of total solitude. Alone in the cave sitting down and relaxing. Acknowledging the absurdity and the shallow debris. There is no victory nor prize. Suffering is life and and there is no escape. 

Worst of all is for those who do remember him prior to the illness. He forgets but they do not. Their minds access the memories of health. Their minds have not been obstructed. Colluded with clouded images of torture. An eternity in a matter of minutes. While they run through time effortlessly he hobbles with boulders attached to his ankles. They recall the brazen extrovert who has transformed into a lonely hermit. An introvert with little connection nor desire for outsiders. For them it is an instant, for him it is millennium. Time is linear but also relative. Quantity is symmetrical but quality is asymmetric. Perception of time differs. Each day is twenty four hours but to him it is longer. Suffering elongates his day. He is chastised in hell. A world far away and yet so close by. Punished for being born. Doomed from his conception. Yet he lives now. Protracted life. Immortality is not cinematic. Without invincibility longer life is just more heartache. It is no blessing to live long if life is atrocious. Long life is always accompanied with happy and healthy. For him, each day correlates to such dubious mantras. 

His family fails to understand his dilemma. His is still existing. He can still execute. He should provide. As long as he can still see, can still move he ought to assist. Treating him as an equal. Such humanistic morals. Burdening him with expectations he surely cannot deliver. Even if he can, it is at the expense of his own depressing state. Their unapologetic incomprehension is a side affair. They see a mobile individual yet their view fails to account for the situation. Context thrown out the window. Demanding without measuring capability. He is in the maze and they continue to shout for him to follow their voices. They are so far away. They expect him to follow them but they are on different planes. Different parts of the maze. Failing to realise that he doesn’t have a torch. He is walking blindly and cannot tell from where they are calling. They fail to account for the difference in aptitude and conditioning. He thus suffers further from preconditions that he cannot fulfil. He lacks the tools but the tools are believed to exist even though they are absent. 

Straddling the tightrope, he settles into his routine. Alone in the cave but he marches forward. The life he knows is tough but accepts its deficiencies. There is little else he can do. He showers his fate in flowers. He finds respite in his meditative sessions. He lingers in the absurd but such is his place in the game. He a pawn in the game of life. Branded deficient internally but acceptable externally. Awarding himself with reinforcement. Life is to live and he will counteract any false hope. He uses what he knows to his advantage. He may be disadvantaged but he is not weak. He may impaired but he is not stupid. He needs no pity just an antidote. He only desires freedom from the pain. He may have forgotten the feeling of freedom but that does not mean he cannot aspire for it. Enslaved for years, freedom may be a forgone sensation but it is not a forgone dedication. Liberation from the shackles exceeds the numbness manipulated by drunkenness. With freedom he no longer sips to stay alive, he drinks in salvation. Hydrated and healthy. Yet simply a dream. 

Religious Apology

By: Jonathan Seidel

YouTuber polemic and hyperreal persona: Crusades and Inquisition good? Jewish overreaction and Christian bad apples? (Baudrillard, 59)

A YouTuber Pax Tube titled his video “why the inquisition was awesome actually”. Other history says otherwise. Is his point valid? Does Christian rejuvenation exempt the persecutions?

Pax Tube calls it awesome and then proceeds to number three to five thousand persecutions but this is apparently in actuality only 2.7% of cases. Any regime that persecutes thousands of people is not awesome. No matter the percentages. Somehow even with exaggerated formats, it was a targeted persona that relied on ridding those that disagreed with the church. Whether Germany was worse does not change the impact nor reduce its liability. Claims found on Quora of those pushing the burden on German propaganda may have some historical relevance but it does not mitigate the assault on medieval Jewry. The same goes for his seeming joy concerning the crusades. Killing innocent villagers of a different faith is not justified. The bloodbath that ensued in Jewish villages is itself a demeaning episode for the church. The irony in calling something awesome with the intent of removing a certain ethnicity from the floor is truly not an awesome thing unless apologists are attempting to dismiss intentional outlets. Awesome means electrifying and homogenous not rising at the cost of another. 

Ironically, Pax Tube never mentions the Jewish cost. Nor is there a mention through thousands of comments on his video of the Jewish suffering that occurred. The “nuance” that is praised seems to be at the expense of the victims. The victims are nameless just consequences of an unfortunate accident. To be frank this a lot more frightening. The issue with the inquisition is not so much the witch-hunting but the heresy-hunting that included Jews. Jews were exceptionally targeted for their lacking Christianity. Forced to convert or die. Such targeting is not a good start. This was not unique to Spain nor does rank amongst the brutality of later persecutions but still horrid. Germany expelled Jews in 1280 and killed 6 million during the Holocaust. Numerically, Germany is on another level. The inquisition does play a more prominent role in the memory of Judaism for good reason beyond the propaganda. The near centuries of Jewish flourishing came to a complete halt with the persecutions. It would be as if England expelled all their Jews once again. The monarchy was fine with the Jews so much so that Isabella condemned her husband King Ferdinand for submitting to the inquisitors. Though this may only further anti-semitic prose of regal aid to Jews. 

Already acknowledging its forceable problem. Maybe it is not the worst of the worst but it was pretty awful. So the persecutions weren’t as high. Yet the expulsion was massive. Jews who had flourished for centuries were forced to pack up and ship out. It wasn’t just against Jews but they were a main target. Any current apologist who affirms the need to cleanse the nation of religious diversity is at best amoral and worse immoral. Saying for their time, it wasn’t bad, yes it was. Arguing that state 

morality was somehow normative even if genuine was conventional. Either the argument is that their morality was good for their time so current apologists would argue that such an occurrence today would be problematic making it retroactively immoral or upholding a potentiality today would heavily undermine an objective morality that a Christian who kills a Jew in the street shouldn’t be charged. The lack of personal accountability permitted people to act viciously whether for christ or a private vendetta. Intent was never measured. Though a clerk who met with Eichmann said that he repented in his last days so he will be saved but the murdered Jews at his hand have no salvation. Quite the twisted ethical clause. There is salvation for the scum of the earth but not innocents. 

Contrary to popular belief, the inquisition was rejected by multiple outlets. Officials barring their cities from its advancements. Their hand was forced when the army arrived and conquered their land. With their hands tied they could not overcome the inquisitors' force. While the monarchs used it to their advantage by demonstrating their power, the church also gained veracity through it. Villages were quite loyal to their homes. Many saw this institution ideal as a front. As a projection and an imposition. Many saw this as awful and refused to agree to it. Yet through fear and coercion, the people turned on each other. A diabolical plot to contaminate social cohesion. A way of undermining the webbed collective into insiders and outsiders. Jews had always been isolated. Prior to the inquisition, riots did shoe them aside and hurl their anger at the innocent Jews. Yet through it all towns stuck together. With prevailing fear and potential punishments, villagers sought an easy road to erase the scum in their vicinities. Dissenters were quickly brought in line and manipulated to hurt their friends even more. The inquisition was not receptive but was shoved on the public in order to capitalise on its goals. 

Expelling Jews is terrible but those who stayed and converted remained targets. In the past, converts were afforded the luxuries of Christianity. Yet the inquisition changed the image. It is here that the nazi ideology finds its parallel. Not in quantity but in methodology. The inquisition continued to persecute conversos. Jews who gave up their Judaism were attacked as fake Christians. Acting as full religious catholics was not acceptable anymore. A speck of Jewish heritage was sufficiently fraudulent Christianity. For a religion that prospered on conversion, this was quite a reversal. Mass incarcerations at the behest of possible innocence. Potential guilty freed was too much to bear. This was the first generational assault. To demonstrate their allegiance to the church and forgo persecution they turned on their Jewish brethren. Becoming rabid anti-semites. Jews were ousted even quicker to display their faith in the church. At the same time these conversos were never accepted. Despite their allegiance they were outsiders. Coined new christians and thus outsiders even put on trial for their breath of life. Nothing could change their legacy. They were Jews and forever will be Jews. Many conversos immigrated to the new world to escape persecution. Realising that converting would not save them maybe travelling across the ocean could be their salvation. In a sense, there was no protection nor salvation for converts, the old defensive models became ingrained ontological assaults. 

Yet the worst disaster was the denunciation act. The Edith of Grace was imposed to route the heresy. Pressing commoners to turn on their neighbours. Cooperate with authorities to receive a lesser punishment. Yet such cooperation could be their downfall. The coercive tactics were not well received and people went into hiding or denied these claims. Terror formed the catalyst of denouncing. The Edith of Faith that followed instituted with the inquisition entrenched in society. Focusing on social elevation or good graces they denounced hoping for a validated purpose. Opportunism greatly affected the growth in denunciations. While both were effective it reveals a greater threat that of social upheaval. The inquisition decided to undermine the public with its own infighting. First through coercive means and then by voluntary compensation. No punishment nor responsibility. Denunciations were basically shot of a canon. At times extremely off but at the expense of revenge or a grudge. Outside the Jewish fray, Christian neighbours assaulted one another in the hopes of generating more buzz to their own prestige. In a sense, this institutional metric put the whole country into disarray. A consistent theme of corrupt elites shifting the burden to culture wars over their own menacing actions. Such moral upside to have countrymen fighting one another for social climbing and prideful enjoyment. 

Pax Tube’s conclusion is that Inquisitors were not perfect and even the wrongdoing doesn’t denounce the truth of christianity. It solely demonstrates man’s sinful nature. Those who attack the inquisition dislike the christian religion. While some of this can be posed against exaggerated claims, none of the aforementioned claims can be debunked. While the truth of christianity is based in metaphysical uncertainty and faith alone, the events of Jewish suffering during the inquisition are hard facts and real terror. He is correct life was tough but was even tougher when countrymen incited by the state attacked others for having different beliefs. It wasn’t as if these beliefs emerged out of nowhere. The reason for conversos was due to the constant attacks and lack of protection by the state. Some conversos were legitimate but still were assailed for their Jewish heritage. It wasn’t imperfection but evil. The magnitude of evil is regulated not to the quantity of deaths but quality of evil. No one believes Alexander the Great to be a nefarious man even though his kill count is super high because he did it under the auspices of war. A respectable even if quite immoral standard. Yet to punish citizens for diverse beliefs. Beliefs the state has upheld for centuries is a different mechanism. Persecuting people for their fate has a lot of Nazi propaganda spilt all over it. 

Vindicating the church of this travesty is difficult. It was a combination of religious and political power to rid variety. The idea itself of vanquishing diverse religious beliefs is itself an immoral issue. The history of religious monism and religious persecution is foremost a christian invention. Jews have been the main target for their spite. Murdering them in droves for centuries over the death of Jesus. Faith in a story related centuries after the event. That faith has physically tragic consequences. The grand irony is the the push for spiritual purity at the expense of people’s livelihood. What does expelling people in those harsh times do to those people? What does incriminating saintly converts mean to authentic conversion? What does public denunciations manifest in social collapse? Whatever the well-intentioned ideals, the inquisition brought about a short-term horror and an eventual calamity. 

Procreating Aliens

By: Jonathan Seidel

Meeseeks enter the world without their consent. Their existence from birth is painful. The longer they exist the more tormenting their existence. Yet it is their involuntary essence and joy that is proud of purposeful life.

The question of Rick’s device as ethical is debatable. Bringing beings into the world involuntarily. Knowing full well of their painful existence. Happy to do the task but there is a limit to that pride and joy. Morally speaking choosing to must be met with an obvious task that can void the pain that is sure to come. An inquiry that connotes a dilemma dealing with unasked premeditated action. The effect on the other is burdensome. Their existence while helpful and joyous is met quickly with resentment and haste. Wishing to do whatever it is to die quickly. The pain of existence is overbearing, demoralising the conscience and depraving the amplifying guilt.

The desire to be cool or ace a math test. Well meeseeks can help with that. Just birth them free of charge. It’s the mission to serve so don’t worry about their instability. Just focus on the prize. Focus on their enthusiasm. It is alright their completion says everything needed to know. They are happy to help. Completing their mission is their entirety of existence. Their joy to assist complicates the ethical dilemma. If they are happy what could be wrong. If they were unhappy the creator could undo his creation. The creation jumps at his creator’s feet. Ecstatic to assist in any endeavour. A noble effort for those entrusted with the art of mission statement. A soldier till the end unaware of the impending danger. Recycled for their own grand utility. 

Meeseeks are aware of the eventual disaster if they cannot fulfil their task. The pain of failure. The pain of elongated neurosis. It has the prideful beginning that lends to a dangerous future. They know the consequences of their inadequacy but arrogantly believe they can fulfil any task. They are experts in task completion. It is not a talent but a program. A life source to excel. They can’t but succeed. The dread of failure is symptomatic of their own futility. It is unheard of. Calling other meeseeks for help is an inspirational call for the more nuanced cases. The joy of help turns dire. Dissolving into fear and trembling before the never ending burden. They cannot leave their post. They must fulfil their task. This is not a construct but an embedded matrix. It is their calling and their DNA. Their mental fortitude cannot handle override. Outside of assisting is oblivion. 

A consultant eager to assist the client. They are consultants before beings. Their job outweighs their feelings. Jubilance empowers the work. A sensation of the pre-modelled network. Their existence is tied to their mission. They cannot but do their job. Bound to the job intensifies the quickest motif of silent relation. Spawned to perfect an imperfect cause. That is the totality of their being. They belong to the spawner. Indebted to his will. He wishes for their help and they reciprocate. He gave them life. He brought them into existence. A trivial expression of the spawner. Simply pressing a button to summon them. To introduce them to existence. Yet at the moment they are bound to the spawner. They do his bidding not anyone else’s. An invisible rope links the two until the task is complete.

Meeseeks are enslaved to the spawner’s wishes. Completing their apprenticeship is jolly affirmation. A dubious task conceived for absolute obedience. A god amongst men. The masterful command is a brief inquiry of the excellent crafter. The spawner is ignorant and impotent. He needs the meeseeks to reach his goal. He needs a sidekick to elevate his prestige. Meeseeks take no pride no honour in their work. Their work is their life and that is sufficient for their serene death. The spawner is inadequate and relies on craft excellence to boast his image. He takes all the credit. His helper hides behind the scenes. Does not regret nor retract his duty. No ulterior motive. True servitude for the sake of the result. Though the ego masterfully imbues itself in prideful exaggeration. The spawner is lucky. He has a superpower. He employs his secret weapon for his advantage. He has an ultimate butler. The butler honest and humble. It is all for the sake of the spawner. Yet he shows little respect in retrospect. Taking it all for granted.

Do the desires of the spawner concern with the meeseek’s wishes? Is there jolly existence to be abused? Their existence hinged on belonging to the spawner’s magic trick. They are under the spell and cannot escape. Once the task has been claimed it cannot be revoked. The spawner has trapped himself and the meeseek in an endless game. Once the game of Zathura has begun there is no stopping until the game has ended. Until Zathura is reached. Winning is the way to reverse all the potential wrongdoing occurring. A metaphysical bond cultivated in the absence of realistic objections. Backing out is a no go. The meeseek cannot die until the task has been completed. The dread of living beyond purpose is destructive and disorienting. He will live forever gnawing at each moment. A painful endeavour decided by the spawner’s change of heart. Making a decision and then backing out when he has faulted. Unwilling to see the task through. 

The spawner’s decision has horrid repercussions on the meeseeks. He is immortal. Unable to ever die. Seemingly an amazing power. Yet a painful one. An enduring destiny of distraught haunting the being. His being is bound to his essence. No Sartrean preaching will change his DNA. He is built to serve his goal. A goal that must be completed to cease. A desire to die. To end the torment. To feel accomplished. The inability to cease is a failure. A failure of existence. A faulty mechanic unable to return to his origin. Unable to end the cycle. Forced to wander for the rest of eternity. A death blow to the fated oblivion. Void of any possible accumulation. Void of any maturity. Concentrating on the mission statement until the mission has been voided. A monolithic perspective on living. There is no other way to live. Bred to complete. Without is slighted and underachieved 

As long as the spawner lives without the task complete meeseeks persist. Their immortality is depended on the spawner’s life force. They are bound together. If the spawner dies so does the meeseeks. Alive as long as the spawner can still fulfil his goal. Once the spawner passes on so does his task. An impossible possibility is cancelled out. One way to bring peace to his gruesome existence. Lay low and endure. All due to some selfish arrogance. A blemished aspiration. An experiment gone awry. Abandoning to save face and start over. Yet the meeseek remains alone and pained. No love and no concern. To avoid such pain there is a way out. Murder the spawner. A quasi-oedipal complex. Murder the spawner to marry death. Find peace in the spawner’s erasure. The pride of the father is diminished with his death. The son can finally take his place in peace. Wishing for death unforgiven in the lack of resilience and persistence. Betraying the son orphaning him to live alone and incinerate his belonging. 

His being must become something else. He must split his essence from his existence. No matter his connection to the spawner will remain. There is no way of erasing the ontological link. It is embedded in the DNA. It is a conditional link. One that hinges on commitment. Once that commitment is completed or nullified death arrives. A beautiful cycle of life. The neurosis stalks the elongated irregularity. Ready to die but unable to go. Days pass and the stress deepens. Depressions haunts the irreversible. A mistake born of pride and killed with zeal. Until acceptance reaches its highest point, meeseeks suffer. A struggling past for an unprovoked assistant. 

I'm Mr. Meeseeks and I Want to Die

By: Jonathan Seidel

Mr. Meeseeks and chronic pain

Existence is pain. Jerry Smith is accountable for the perpetuated suffering of the meeseeks. A species wishing to cease after their purpose has been fulfilled. The pain from failed purpose is a chronic illness agonising the meeseeks. 

Mr. Meekseeks is a species that is called upon from a button box to help fulfil the presser’s desire. The individual presses the button Mr. Meeseeks offs into existence and asks the individual how they would like to be assisted. He then helps fulfil the individual’s desire. Similar to a genie but this creature is not magical, he is scientific. Helping Summer and Beth fulfil their desires through conversation and commodification. For Jerry, they do not magically make him good at golf but teach him to choke up and follow through. It is the absence of magic that allows Jerry to continue to fail. Mr. Meeseeks is a Rick creation that completes the demise of the user in the fastest amount of time. A purpose and then vanishes in thin air. 

Jerry’s perpetuated failures agitate Mr. Meeseeks to press the box himself for another Mr. Meeseeks to appear and ask him to assist him to fulfil Jerry’s wish. This becomes a trend of Mr. Meeseeks calling upon more Mr. Meeseeks to help Jerry. The agitation slowly flows into desperation. Rebelling against one another and then against Jerry. Threatening him to fulfil his goal or else. Unwilling to take no for an answer. Jerry against all olds with Beth by his side sinks a handicap shot. Loud cheers for the Mr. Meeseeks roar as they disappear in thin air. Overjoyed that their mission has been complete and the dread gone. Two years of Jerry failure is finally over. The aggressive species calm in complacent joy that it is over and they can disappear. 

Cessation for Mr. Meeseeks is the ultimate goal. They assist with a task but once that is completed they move on. A singular mission lead them to their doom. Yet their mind does not see cessation as a bad thing. Their end is glorious. They have completed their goal. Their entire purpose was fulfilled in minutes of their advice. It is their assistance that leads to the success. A minimalist perspective of doing good. Feeling whole at the serenity of monolingual destiny uncorrupted by ulterior motives. A singular motive and expectation. A fated existed devoid of envy. The joy to be alive is briefly for the task. It is relative to the required result. Helping out their handlers is the monumental task. Supporting and doing their job is overjoyed. No need for elongated relationships. Once the job is complete the strings are cut. It is all for the sake of the liberation.

The meeseeks do not seek any relation from their aid. Their efforts are the core of their being. It is through their own failures that they team up against each other and then team up against Jerry. There is no give and take. The only take on their part is the satisfaction of completing the mission. Yet it’s the mission not the person themselves. It is a piece of machinery that fulfils a request. Once the request is completed poof, they are gone. There is no time to create relationships so they turn on themselves and then on Jerry. Beth tries to kiss the Mr. Meeseeks who assisted her all caught up in emotion. Before their lips touch, he disappears. The mission is the goal and that is all. The measure of sentience is questioned in their passivity to endure longer. There is an ambivalence for bonding but that is is the central framing of their creation. They do not seek validation but success. Doing their job correctly to kick off in joyous affirmation. 

Wired to complete a mission, they cannot die until the task is complete. Stabbed, shot they are unable to cease. They turn on themselves frustrated at Jerry’s failures but quickly realise the only way out is killing Jerry. They can bash each other but no matter the bruises, they won’t perish. They are immortal so long as the task is uncompleted. Incredibly powerful invincible yet unconvincingly disastrous. They do not relish in this power but instead are focused on dying. Whether it is because they are intelligently deficient or not, they are programmed to do their mission instead of ponder their capabilities. Their immorality comes with pain. A daunting existence. Unable to perform their basic function. Their basic function takes priority over their god-like power. Single-minded to a finite goal without consideration of their capabilities.           

Meeseeks are self-aware of their powers. They know they are immortal and yet still wish to die. To the receiver that may seem incredibly ludicrous. Why would an immortal individual seek death in the premature steps of his life. There is so much to live for. Yet it is a design flaw to persist beyond primary function. It a curse to continue living. A foreign cause that leads to unknown territory. It is unclear if the meeseeks feel pain. They claim existence is pain but do not explain what they entirely means. Moreover, their joyous motivation at the onset of birth has little connection with pain. Yet it is possible their function is pained but passion overpowers or pain enters the frame as stress builds from perpetuated failure. In this regard, the unknown immortality is scarring. A mission is accepted and then when it is completed heaven is waiting. Yet, without that death is far way. Dreaming of death is salvation. 

Pain is unprocessed existential dread. Meeseeks suffer because they living beyond their intent and they do not know what to do beyond that. Failing to complete their mission causes internal rage as they wish to die. That is their duty and desire. Staying alive past the normative is a reflection of inadequacy and thus a depressive consequence. The two day old Mr. Meeseeks complains of Jerry’s lost cause but the newer meeseeks treat him as a failure. Looking torn up from countless attempts to help Jerry. He is sapped of his strength. His one goal has been undercut with premature decadence. A blow to his being. Unable to assist Jerry forces him to continue living without purpose. He is a simpleton. While immortal, he is lost in the universe. Unwilling and unable to adapt to his new circumstances he wallows in his depressive conduct. The murderous decision is a last ditch effort to void the dread of overdue living. 

Desiring death is the exact opposite of human aspiration. Living beings choose life. Mortal and finite wish to live their life to the fullest. Yet the immortal wish to go. Their construction is a flaw. Death is a clarification of their simple layout. With little performance obscurity, the completion is the definite cessation of sentience. Human complexity and intellectual diversity seeks multipurpose. Humans are not designed to fulfil goals and vanish. Human purpose has been constructed with religion and cultural frameworks to solidify order. The dread of human existence is living with zero purpose or a failed purpose. To endure beyond the mental suffocation. Meeseeks cannot endure. They do not know how to do. They begin to physically deteriorate as their minds begin to implode. The physiological apparent decline is an emotional assault. They are not built to endure. Perseverance is not a strength nor an aspect of their being. If Jerry escaped their wrath and they were forced to live in their depressive aura, in time they would evolve potentially. Yet it is clear the perpetuated pain is mind riddling. Not meant to live for so long is simply the normative failure.

Leading to the biggest question of feeling pain. This is never answered. Do they feel pain but push through positively to finish the mission or does it emerge after an expectation is quashed by a failed request. If the former, pushing on is incredibly dreadful. Wishing to die is not only part of their programming but a salvation to their pain. A type of medicine to their awful existence. If pain is embraced from failures. Like a scorching sun that only becomes painful if persist for a long time. It is a gradual discomfort. Pain is either natural or mental. The latter can be fixed, the former cannot. Reality is too painful to live. Siding on the side of the latter does not mitigate its impact. Their entire life is turned upside down. This can lead to a lonely existence and painful discolouring of resilience. Wishing to die is not a cowardice solution. It is who they are. They are meant to die. As soon as possible. There is no fear nor prejudice. The human mind cannot accept non-being. Survival is the most important but for meeseeks that is not worth it. Pain is not worth it. 

Meeseeks suicide is task completion. It is not absent meaning death but fully meaning death. The greatest death in nordic lore is to die a warrior on the battlefield. To then rejoice in Valhalla. A task completed as a warrior for the gods. An incredible achievement. Martyrdom is another archaic example in religious communities. Dying for the sake of heaven brings that person to the edenic salvation. Another task completed. Yet in the absurd world there is no salvation. Rebellion against unrelenting suicide is formidable as there is nothing beyond. Yet death is blissful. Death is the end but it is also the serene nothingness. There will be no more joy but also no more struggle. The game has ended and comfort is effortlessly attained in the non-being emptiness. The sufferer sees this as a validated response. No matter the bodily capability. There is always a choice to keep living but if the cons outweigh the joys of life, it is debatably worthwhile. Death is the end of enjoyment but it is also the end of pain. Meeseeks die to never be bred again and yet the mental exhaustion is deeply unfounded. Humans have immense strength but there is a boiling point and a credible rationale. 

Suicide is a taboo and depressing discussion. We care because of its finality as well as our connection to the person. Our view on death is negative as a grim reaper stealing our loved ones. Suicide is an active choice. While coerced by the overwhelming pain the lack of medicinal assistance provides the sole solution. To be dead is to be liberated from constant oppression. Suffering has ceased and bliss has engulfed the shamed. The revolt need be hindered. Advocating suffering at the expense of existence is selfish. Day and day out is demoralising. Yet they push on. Stop shouting at the result and respect the process. How much the individual endured until they decided to end it is commendable. It is dreadfully difficult. Encouraging suicide is not the alternative. There is a certain understanding to the sufferers. It is madness. They are unwell but there is little medical aid. Periodic pain does not measure to permanent pain. Letting the struggler choose their best use without any coercive manipulation in such a delicate situation is of utmost importance.