[Note: Reductio ad absurdum is not a kind of explanation… despite it’s popularity as modern explanatory tool]

It’s a rather hackneyed truth that, in order to successfully solve a problem, one has to first correctly define the problem. It’s also true, however, that knowing this has not rendered human beings any more successful (in general) at describing the former, or, therefore, achieving the latter. I think it fair to say that in somewhat well-circumscribed conditions a limited number of individuals and groups have managed to improve their “batting average”. I guess it’s also fair to admit that neither life nor history are static, and that the successful solution of one problem often leads to the revelation of another, or many other problems. The journey better be worthwhile for its own sake, because point B seems to be infinitiely distant from point A sometimes. And, contrary to Lao-Tse’s pithy (and wise) declaration, the journey of a thousand li may begin beneath one’s feet, but it often ends there as well.

Why do we fail so often to understand problems in a manner which makes their solution similarly easy to discern? I think it may be because, even before we’ve begun to address the problem, we settle upon the kind of explanation which will give us comfort. Having thus decided upon the kind of explanation we need, our perspective on the source of the problem, and our choices in terms of response, are already subconsciously constrained. Normally, as a philosopher by choice (some might say pedant by nature) and consultant by profession, I might be tempted to settle upon some sort of dualist model, but I have been applying some notions which have emerged from experience rather than theory, and have settled on four (well, three plus a catch-all for everything else): results-based explanations, process-oriented explanations, value conformity explanations, and random explanations.

Let’s start with the last of these, and quickly dismiss it for now. Random explanations are all those descriptions of the existing state of affairs, the current problem and proposed action wherein either the underlying truths, perceived issue or connection between either and the “solution” relies upon one of the following: non sequiturs, already disproven “facts”, a mechanism which cannot effect the changes it’s meant to, or an appeal to mystical powers whose existence must be asserted and accepted on faith. I call all of these kinds of explanation “random” because I view them as equal in terms of explanatory power, and equally capable of being replaced by any other random explanation whatsoever. For me, the problem with appeals to deities is not that faith is misguided or that I can prove those deities don’t exist, but rather that anything at all can replace the deity(ies) in such religious-type explanations. Even a flying spaghetti monster. The consequence being that we cannot discover any principles buried in such explanations which we could put into action to solve our own problems. These are non-explanations, or at best, ineffective explanations.

That leaves three categories of effective explanations. From a functional point-of-view, all explanations look on their face to be what I am calling “results based’, meaning, the purpose of the explanation is to provide us with a discreet course of action which will yield a measurable positive result. This includes the totality of random explanations, if one regarded maintaining comforting illusions as a “measurable positive result”; though some do, I don’t.

The Band are a great band, and so much (especially the first three) of their albums are great music that they wrote themselves. Classics. Icons. Still, what I love about their performance of what was originally “Baby Don’t You Do It” (Marvin Gaye 1964) is the way in which the performance is at once crisp, technically great, produced beautifully, but also sounds so spontaneous and unrehearsed. They manage to capture a feeling in the song’s lyrics of plaintive despair purely with the way it’s played and sung. And it’s a great song.

With the advent of the DVR/PVR, there have been many changes to how entertainment is distributed and consumed. For instance, the entire season of Person of Interest can now be watched in one marathon sitting, though the advertisements need to be watched or skipped. However, this opens up whole new vistas of entertainment possibilities.

A new game I have devised revolves around the ever present Economic Action Plan ads that liberally pepper every episode aired from September until April. (Perhaps they Conservatively pepper the episodes?) One can increase enjoyment of the story, if perhaps decreasing comprehension (the jury is out: many episodes verge on incomprehensible to begin with), by taking a shot of vodka, tequila, baileys, or what-have-you each time a commercial is aired. If the ad in question features references to non-existent jobs grants, take 2 shots. If the ad actually specifies nothing concrete at all, take three. By following these simple rules, I have found it possible to be quite inebriated before Finch and Reese discover whether the target of this week’s episode is a perpetrator or a victim.

And it reduces the amount of screaming when each ad airs.

As The Master’s writing has lately become recognized by many important, powerful people as critical to our successful future, I believe that a terrible disservice is done by keeping works hidden which were either rejected or incomplete. These include her unpublished first novel, “I Am Better Than You All” and its sequel “Now Grovel!”. It also includes her incomplete autobiography (instructions were left that it be completed upon her death by one of her acolytes worthy to do so–of course, none could be found and it remains, eternally unfinished) which she had tentatively titled “I Am My Own God”, and a last novel wherein the followers of John Galt assert control over the planet, tentatively titled “Suck It, Losers!”.

On another note, spent some time in Indigo looking at bargain non-fiction books. 27 different hardcover cookbooks dedicated to recipes for use with a crockpot. “150 Best Slow Cooker Recipes”, “Comprehensive Crockpot Cooking”, “Couch Potatoes’ Crockpot Comforts”, “Slow Down and Live with Slow Cooker Meals”, “The Slow Cooker Bible”, “The Crockpot Bible”, “The Stew and Soup Bible”… and 16 other “Bibles”. One question verified, in the Religion and Philosophy section (why are those together?) there is, indeed, “The Bible Bible”.

I meant to ask Noam Chomsky if he felt slighted or gratified that Michael Moore haters had appropriated his title and twisted it into “Manufacturing Dissent”. This is the sad truth of media today (see: shadowsofliberty.org): it is openly agnostic about truth. Question: when will they begin to question the tenets of basic arithmetic? Answer: they have, if one judges by coverage of the Occupy movement and Wall Street excess.

I think Looper is a terrific little movie. It hints at real philosophical distress, and suggests a solution, but to what exactly is up to the viewer to decide. Suffice it to say, it puts the issue of moral choice, and identity, in far better perspective than most Phil 101 texts. Again, it offers no answers… which is itself an improvement over many Phil texts.

Having lately finished re-reading Barnes’ terrific Sense of an Ending, I couldn’t help (or could I? Perhaps that is the question…) but mash up the moral quandaries of the two protagonists to find answers to human problems. I remember reading some time ago that the 40s were the toughest decade for those living in early 21st century planet Earth. There are all kinds of reasons, most notably that many in their 40s are part of the so-called “sandwich generation”–pressed between the demands of aging parents on the one hand, and of their children’s turbulent adolescence on the other. Add to this the physical and mental changes of this stage in life, the generally growing stress caused by work/life imbalance, work issues, etc. and you have the makings of a generally difficult and often challenging period. It strikes me, however, that there is another cause of some real existential angst underlying all of this: the accumulation of our choices to this point, and the increased ambiguity we must confront in the many choices we now make. Because the choices we are asked to make now are anything but clear cut, and in considering them we can scarcely avoid the baggage we have acquired as a result of all of our previous choices. It’s this that I think is shared between Looper and an Ending: the difficulty, if not futility, of trying to make moral choices today when confronted with the consequence of past (future) choices. Will this choice achieve what I hope it will, despite a multitude of evidence that suggests otherwise? Is it possible for me to be a moral agent if I can’t foresee the implications of my action? How does one come to terms with it all?

Adolescents make difficult choices when compared to the choices they confronted as children. But it is rare for them to have baggage, and the complexity of their choices is nothing compared to later in life. It’s frankly impossible to explain the reasoning of a 60-year-old man to his 17-year-old son as if their understandings were similar. I understand my father’s insistence on exercise and character development. But I am now 48 years old. I had no clue why any of this mattered when I was 17. And that is another problem with moral choice: it’s already difficult to understand our own choices, but understanding the choices of others is a truly daunting prospect.