Tuesday, April 01, 2014

WPC Me ASAP (aka How, Why, and Absent Guys)

     If I told you that a dramatic event occurred which miraculously altered my perception of flexing one's love muscle, would you believe me? Probably not, and you'd be correct. As much as I'd love to say that an epiphany seized me by the throat and choked the love from my veins, the reality is far less romantic. Given that existence is an wondrously kaleidoscopic affair, I simply employed my professional self (without pay, of course) and envisioned a genuine concern for the collective. From this, a jubilant empathy of sorts was distilled, refined, and consumed ravenously. Love? No, but close enough, and while I suppose it could be likened to ingesting an illicit substance of some kind, I haven't the foggiest idea about such nefarious pursuits, so purge the very thought from your brain.

     Ah, yes, the $64,000 question. Put another way, anyone who has spent more than a few hours in my presence will attest to the fact that I tend to do things with nary a consideration for rhyme, reason, or consequence. A pervasive theme of this conference, however, was the capacity to effect change in the self as well as society at large; a lofty goal, perhaps, yet an admirable aspiration nonetheless. One should also keep in mind that both my accommodations and transportation had been covered by an outside party; furthermore, it must be stressed that a good number of people put in a great deal of effort to make that happen, period. All things considered, it would have been childish to allow the curveball that is the flexing of one's love muscle* (or lack thereof) to take me out of the game so early on. In other words, a convergence of variables and such.
     If that explanation fails to satisfy you, try this instead:

Absent Guys
     Given that my personality deficits adorable idiosyncrasies have been sufficiently covered, and lest you think this post is entirely about me, let's address matters of attendance at the 2014 White Privilege Conference. Approximately 2400 people made the trek to Madison last week, and while this may come as a shock, none of them stopped to view the existential struggle raging within me. Believe it or not, 2400 people came to Madison, Wisconsin to discuss the topic of white privilege - at a conference no less! To state the obvious, it was a smorgasbord of diversity: black, white, Asian, lesbian, gay, transgendered, people of mixed heritage, people of mixed heritage identifying as LGBTQ, professors, plumbers, engineers, doctors, students, dancing robots, talking cats, the Swedish Chef - you name it, and it was probably there, and in case you're wondering, the answer is yes, like a smorgasbord, diversity is delicious. Actually, I take that back, there were a few whose absence was noticed.
     I didn't see Paul Allen** there, for starters.

"Look, I came here for the cilantro crawfish gumbo, alright?"
     I didn't see Patrick Bateman, either.

"Do you like Huey Lewis and the News? I think their undisputed masterpiece is Hip to be Square, a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics, but they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends. It's also a personal statement about the band itself."
     Before going any further, it should also be noted that I didn't see actors Jared Leto and Christian Bale at the conference, obviously; more to the point, neither Jared Leto as Paul Allen nor Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman were in attendance, and quite frankly, there literally isn't enough space available on the Internet to adequately describe how ridiculously hilarious that would have been, but this is a digression, admittedly, because the conference wasn't about hilarity, though you can see where I'm going with this line of thought.
     Anyway, you know who else failed to make an appearance? Paris Hilton.

"I, like, have something to say."
      Lastly, I didn't see Robert H. Richards IV*** at the White Privilege Conference, oddly enough.

"Trust fund kids, rejoice!"
     That last one may have thrown you off, and fair enough. Here's a link to assist you. Long story short, that piece of shit is a primary example of the type of person who, somewhat paradoxically, should and yet should not attend conferences of this nature, as I remain convinced that residents of society's upper crust are so wealthy and so utterly removed from common reality that it's difficult to imagine cultural progression without their participation, willing or not. One dilemma, obviously, lies in getting said people to the relevant conferences. I don't have a solution to this conundrum, unfortunately, though I imagine that it might count as community service or something like that.

More later. Well, you know, probably.

* Reminder: I'm talking about a conference, not a porno.
** Paul Owen, if you prefer the novel.
*** Seriously, what the fuck is this, a Rocky movie?

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