Evolution

The world is constantly changing around us. This is nothing new, but what is new is the speed at which it is happening. We human beings are not accustomed to handle evolution at such a rapid pace. We like to think we are in control, that we influence the things that happen around us. And so we focus our feeble attention on global warming, endangered species, “conflict resolution” by means other than violence, world poverty, and the financial crisis, when, in fact, all these things transcend our existence – we are the only really endangered species. I have a collection of “reusable” shopping bags at home, because I always forget to take them with me, and feel obliged to buy more rather than ask for plastic bags. I suspect my collection has depleted the planet’s resources far more than the plastic bags that I would otherwise have used, and it is for that reason that, although I will dutifully recycle where I can, I think that saving the species is probably not in the best interests of the planet.

I’m not a Luddite – things have to change, and I know that. But there needs to be a reason for change. As many words do, the word “progress” has morphed into a synonym for “change”, and progress, as a result, is no longer necessarily a good thing. Realizing this takes the edge off the satisfaction of going to the mall and buying 4 shirts and a pair of jeans for $60 at the Western Wearhouse (sic), because they’re going out of business; and walking through the skeleton of Virgin Records, where even the fixtures and fittings are up for sale; and seeing any store that isn’t offering 70% discount devoid of customers. It’s evolution, it’s a natural process – the strong will survive, and the weak will not. But Western Wearhouse is where I bought my first pair of boots, and I’ve spent time at the listening stations in Virgin Records, discovering new artists. I’ll miss them both. Having said that, of course, it’s slightly hypocritical that I think GM, Chrysler and Ford deserve to go under – their arrogance is finally rewarded.

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older that I have trouble with the ground shifting under me. These days it seems more like a threat than an “opportunity.” I went to see two movies this weekend – Gran Torino, with Clint Eastwood, and The Wrestler, with Mickey Rourke. In both, the protagonist is an older man coming to grips with the human frailty to which we all eventually succumb. They deal with it in very different ways, however – one with dignity, and the other, in the only way he can. I won’t spoil it for you by telling you which is which. I’d recommend Gran Torino for “guys and gals”, but The Wrestler probably for guys only – not because of the storyline, or the acting, or the underlying morality (which are all superlative), but simply because The Wrestler pulls no punches in representing the violence of the world of “fake” wrestling.

I was upset when they decided that Black Rod no longer should walk backwards at the opening of Parliament – that’s how much of a traditionalist I am. I’m sure there’s room for a happy medium, and I’m willing to negotiate.