Despicable People vs. Deplorable Acts

I’ve been debating a question for the past several days, both internally within myself and outwardly with other people. In my quest for clarity I’ve had many opinions shared and I’ve seen many different angles that I otherwise would not have seen. Some support my own opinion, and many are in stark contrast. So, this post will be laid out thus: 1) the question, 2) some faux background, and 3) my own personal opinion.

The Question: Is it possible for a good person to do a despicable thing, or does the despicable act make that person despicable? No crime of passion. I’m talking about a carefully crafted, executed, and covered up despicable act.

There is a reason why murder is characterized as the “unpardonable sin.” There is no penance for murder. An important part of penance is restitution and it’s pretty hard to restore life to a dead carcass. When homicides go to trial, motive is intently studied. Was the killer caught up in a moment of passion? Was it self-defense? Were there any circumstances surrounding the event that would take self-control from the killer, like temporary insanity? Or did the perp carefully and meticulously plan the murder, execute it perfectly, then cover it up for several years before apprehension? If the latter, the offender is totally hosed. There is no coming back from that. No amount of weeping, wailing, or teeth gnashing is going to help the guy. Not even God almighty himself, the supreme master of love and compassion, is going to help the guy. I’m sure He still loves him as a son, but that son’s goose is cooked.

My example is nowhere near as grand as a murder. But the facts (as I perceive them) line up similarly. Someone(s) in my life has done a reprehensible thing. It was cold, it was callous, it was clearly planned and well executed, then covered up for four years. The act has caused many people pain, and is nearly impossible to completely repent of. The offender(s) are people I genuinely liked and considered to be good. So, back to the question; does the deplorable act, given its calculated nature, mean the people become deplorable, or are they still good people that have simply made a monumental mistake?

My take? They’re despicable to the core. A good tree cannot bear evil fruit, period, end of story, goodbye. Mistakes are unintended. Poor judgment doesn’t involve malice. Evil deeds create evil people.

Memo to despicable people everywhere. I believe in “Kristian Karma.” I believe there is a supreme being that blesses those that live good, righteous lives and I believe that those that do evil have blessings withheld. Mr. Despicable, I would not trade places with you for anything. Not for half a fortune. You may say that your conscience is clear and you sleep at night, but I know better than that. You feel the darkness in your heart. You see the walls closing in. You hear the echo of a deep, kind, sad voice filled with disappointment. I know your sleep is fitful and your dreams are haunted. You will look over your shoulder for the rest of your days, certain that you hear soft, heavy footsteps. You have failed epically. And I pity you.

Hopefully our creator is as compassionate as we think. You’ll need it. In a time and place other than this, you’ll be able to look some heartbroken people in their eye and explain. I know two big, brown eyes that will be very interested in that explanation. And you owe it to them.

Dead Duck Delivery, Godzilla Snow Havoc, Unstoppable vs. Immovable, and Iocaine Tea.

I think it would be awesome if a tasty animal would occasionally die of natural causes in my back yard. I don’t have the machismo required to actually go out in the wild and whack the animals myself, but it sure would be neat if they would naturally travel to my back yard to die. I’d also wish they would show up already gutted and plucked/skinned, but I have tough-guy friends that I could probably talk into doing that for me in trade for a case of cookies, and I don’t want to get carried away anyhow. And if I really wanted to shoot for the stars I’d hope to have the dead animal gutted, plucked, filleted, seal-packed, and magically placed in my freezer. But hey, if you shoot for the stars and miss you might just hit the moon. I’d settle for the fresh dead animal.

What in the ever-loving holy hell is wrong with Utah drivers this time of year? People, we live in a state where it snows EVERY FREAKING YEAR. In a matter of months you tardlets have managed to completely forget how to operate an automobile in rain or snow. The first snowfall is as if Godzilla has set upon our city and mass hysteria breaks out. “What is this? *gasp* Oh no. NOOOOOO! Wetness is falling from the sky?! Lord in heaven, let it not be so. AAAAARRRRGGHHHH! God is weeping over our impending deaths! Drive dammit! Drive for your liiiivvveeesss!” And cars start maniacally swerving and spinning out of control. Then magically, one week after the first heavy rain or snowfall, people adapt and start driving normally again. Folks, this phenomenon we call “precipitation” happens every…single…year in our state. The rules and safe-driving practices that applied in January also apply in November. May through October shouldn’t be a sufficient period of time to make you forget what snow is.

Ever since "The Dark Knight" I’ve been giving an awful lot of thought to the concept of The Unstoppable Force and the Immovable Object. By definition, an unstoppable force is just that…unstoppable. Nothing, no matter what, in any circumstance can keep that force from continuing on its path. Likewise, an immovable object is equally impossible to manipulate. No matter what force collides with that object, the object will remain unmoved. So what would happen if the unstoppable force were to meet the immovable object? Would it be an epic battle worthy of Neo and Agent Smith in the final Matrix movie where the shockwave and subsequent fallout of the event would destroy everything in its path? Would the entire Universe collapse onto itself? Would an alternate reality spawn from the epicenter, creating a bizarre yet familiar existence with purple skies, orange seas, and razor-edged cliffs on all sides? Or what if the event were entirely anticlimactic and absolutely nothing happened? This is the kind of spacey concept that can keep me thinking (and drooling) for hours… a force that can’t be stopped meeting an object that can’t be moved. One would have to win, effectively negating the entire existence of the other. Or would it?

I’ve also been thinking a lot about the familiar analogy of the half-full or half-empty glass. We optimists tend to look at the glass as half full. Every cloud has a silver lining. You pessimists see the glass as half empty. Every silver lining has a touch of grey. But how do we know the glass even exists? And what if the glass were full of iocaine powder juice and a large enough swallow would kill you right where you sat? All of a sudden the optimist becomes the pessimist and the pessimist the optimist. Less is more and more is less. But regardless of outlook, pessimist or optimist, never get involved in a land war in Asia and never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

Random Thoughts on Election Day

I voted today and it was the most anticlimactic experience of my life. For more than two years we as a nation have been upended over this election. I’ve learned there is nothing more divisive than a presidential election. I’ve seen candidates’ religions, ethnicities, families, character, age, judgment, and fashion called into question. Seriously folks…who the holy freaking hell cares about Sara Palin’s wardrobe? I realize John McCain can’t lift his arms past his chest. Yes, I know Obama’s middle name is Hussein. Mitt Romney is a Mormon? Where are his horns then? He must file them down. We’re told to get out and vote because the future of humanity relies on our voice. It is our god-given right and DUTY to vote and American civilization depends on our hitting the polls. The universe will collapse on itself if it doesn’t happen! Yet such a crucial event consists of giving my last name to the guy in the flannel shirt and handlebar moustache, taking my voter card from the lady with the glass eye and floral-print mumu, and touching a computer screen for 90 seconds. The culmination of two years of irrational arguing and mudslinging was a grand total of 4 minutes of my time.

Dell Schanze ran for governor on the Libertarian ticket. Somewhere in the galaxy a star has imploded, a baby seal was clubbed, or an angel had its wings ripped off. This man is hardly fit to BELONG to a society, much less govern one. It's ironic that the only person in the state that craves media attention and photo op moments more than Superdell is our current governor, Huntsman. Bring back Norm Bangerter dammit.

I’ve decided once and for all that I WILL NOT read Twilight. I know I know, ladies, I told you that I would. I bought into your whole, “you can’t bash a book you’ve never read” bit. I figured I would read the book with a highlighter in one holster and a .357 in the other one (in case I actually started to like it) and would call it “research.” This author was being compared to Jane Austen and even Dickens in one discussion I had. But the more I think of it, the more I know that I most certainly do not have to experience something firsthand in order to understand it. I’ve never swallowed shards of broken glass, but I’m pretty sure it would be bad for me. I’ve never lit my head on fire, but I’m relatively confident it would suck. Likewise, I don’t have to read Twilight to know that it is a book for women. It totally misrepresents the true nature of vampires and werewolves and insults their ferocity and hatred for humans. And that freaking Edward is making it impossible for millions of men worldwide to meet the new expectations of their lovers. No, no, no, no. I’m sticking to my guns and moral compass on this one.

All rules are off when driving alone in a car. Propriety and decency mean nothing. A 90-year-old Asian woman just cut you off? Let the bird fly. The more lush and flowery the vocabulary the better. Frustrated? Put in some Tool and bang that head or fire up Dr. Dre’s “The Chronic” and let loose the F bombs. If you’re with someone else, normal societal rules apply and you need to be courteous to your fellow auto drivers with the gentle tones of Karen Carpenter soothing your soul. But when alone, give in to your inner badass.

Taco Bell boycott begins today. I have resolved to not touch my lips to Bell food for one year, starting right now. A very large group of us went there for dinner on Halloween night and the Mexican teenagers running the joint must have wanted to trick us instead of treating. Orders were messed up and the food was terrible. “No duh” you might be saying, but I’m not comparing TB to other (better) GhettoMex restaurants. I’m simply holding them to their own standards. I usually know what to expect when I walk through those doors, but on this particular night they really went out of their way to make our experience suck. Tables were sticky, floors were dirty, chips were uber-stale, meat tasted like cat, etc. Barf.