The Problem with Symbols

symbols_edited-2It’s a good thing that Google doesn’t judge (I hope Google doesn’t judge), because I can’t imagine what a sentient search engine would think of me after the search terms I used to find my source images. It paints a very particular, but not accurate, picture.

Sometimes we have to touch on uncomfortable subjects, because uncomfortable things are happening.

A lot of people have objections to certain parts of the Pledge of Allegiance, primarily the “under God” part (and the fact that we don’t all enjoy equal access to liberty and justice), but I’ve long been troubled by the idea that we indoctrinate school children to pledge allegiance to a flag. Beyond the problem that the vast majority of elementary kids have zero idea what they’re actually saying, and are in any event too young to understand the implications of pledging themselves knowingly to any system, the concept of promising to follow a flag is, if I may be blunt, utter bull, as panel 2 illustrates. You can put a flag on a moose; that doesn’t qualify it to run for public office. We don’t need kids growing up believing that they’re obligated to honor that symbol wherever it’s found.

If you’ve read this far, you’re probably familiar with the quote about Fascism in America arriving wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross, and we’re watching this prediction unfold before our eyes right now. (I’m not a person who throws around the word “Fascism,” but when you’re spewing rabid nationalism, and talking about closing the borders, and trying to justify a belief that your neighbors are different and don’t belong here, with you, in the greatest country on earth, that’s more or less the textbook definition of Fascism. Ergo: le mot juste.) I love America, but my America is the First Amendment America. My America is the one where people use their freedom to think, not to espouse blind jingoism.

I’ve never understood why people would swear on the Bible when we have the First Amendment. I just read about a public official swearing on the Constitution, which I’ve long thought should be the standard, and various public officials through the years have thought the same thing, even though it’s not a standard. The Bible doesn’t even agree with itself. (I know. Unlike many people who believe in it, I’ve actually read it cover to cover.)

What the stars and stripes means to me is most likely not anything like what it means to Sarah Palin, just as Mother Teresa and your average white supremacist obviously would find very different meaning in the image of a cross. The swastika one might be less obvious. The symbol of the Third Reich is also known as the whirling log in Navajo culture, although my understanding is that most Navajos don’t use it much anymore, probably because most Navajos are more culturally sensitive than Sarah Palin. The Buddhists also use this symbol to mean, “all is well,” although it’s usually reversed. But the point still stands. You can’t follow a symbol, because a symbol is a cultural construct, not an actual idea. Wrapping Fascism in an American flag does not make Fascism patriotic.

As for the Statue of Liberty, it’s almost too stupid. It’s hard for me to imagine the person so tone-deaf that they created this meme explaining why new immigrants were dangerous to their way of life using the most inappropriate symbol available. Presumably, the person who created it was not Navajo. (If they are, I apologize, because unregulated immigration did mess up their world.) Speaking as a 5th generation American, I feel sorry for the non-native person so blind to reality that they feel it’s possible to draw these lines. In defense of the person whose Facebook page I saw it on: she’s very young and uneducated. It’s not a very good excuse, but that’s hers, I guess. If you think the Statue of Liberty should be holding a giant “Keep Out” sign and you’re not indigenous, you’re actually not thinking.

The last panel is about the Japanese internment camps of WWII, one of the more shameful chapters in our country’s history, at least on American soil, at least in the 20th century. And yet certain people have been making noise in this direction, that the only way to protect American citizens is to imprison certain demographics of American citizens. If you don’t see the ridiculousness of this proposal, try to imagine that it could be your demographic one day. After all, the vast majority of terrorist attacks in America are perpetrated by straight, white, Christian men. Chew on that.

Keep Mum Mandala

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Some mandalas are too big for the paper to hold them. 

Just putting the finishing touches on tomorrow’s comic, which is a big serious one that I spent all weekend on. The artwork is top notch. And if you disagree, I’ll try not to take it personally. Some people don’t appreciate awesome, and that’s OK for them.

This mandala is kind of crazy. Not sure why it’s so difficult to center them on the page without metrological help, but the size of this one really highlights how askew it is. Not really wild about the colors, either. What I do like about it is how much it resembles a chrysanthemum.

Well, happy Monday. It’s the last week before winter break for the kids. We have Star Wars tickets for Friday and our 4rd holiday event of the season Saturday. I’m too cold to really plan things. My body’s instinct is to curl up and hibernate until Groundhog Day. And yes, I know that 43° isn’t that cold in the grand scheme of things, and yes, it’s better than 21°, or -2°, but I’m still cold and ineffective.

Everyday Beauty

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There is a roof on this porch now; art to mark the passage of time.

I had an idea for a really deep comic; it took me about 45 minutes to write the script and another 30 to just figure out the storyboard, which source images to use. Since the comic itself is about symbols, there were a lot of choices to make. Most of the text would make sense with a variety of images, but the meaning would shift slightly depending on which image paired with it, and I wanted to draw some very straight lines, so to speak. Sometimes it’s easier to make an appeal to the present by talking about the past.

Now the concept of the comic is locked down, but it’s past midnight, which means this interesting idea won’t see the Internet until Tuesday. And all I have is a couple artsy photographs of all the construction work we’ve been doing around this place. That’s one great thing about photography; it helps you small the small, everyday beauty of things to people who haven’t got an artist’s eye.

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They came off the roof, and they’re going back on the roof.

These pictures aren’t color corrected or anything. The second one could probably benefit from a little red boost and some judicious cropping, but it also has some merits without any help.

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A little slow on this one; it could have been a picture of 4 hands in the window, one of which was holding a hammer. So the meaning changes a little. Perhaps it’s more ambiguous.

Everything has its lovely details if you know where to look, or if you’re compelled to look for small beauty because the ugly details are huge but hard to focus on.

Friday is the kickoff for the 4th Ave Winter Fair, which means I will see the Bear! And maybe buy some new prayer flags for my new porch.

Happy Birthday, Foxy!

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Foxes like chickens, according to cartoons I have watched in my squandered youth. 

It’s Fox’s birthday! Happy birthday, Foxy! I made him this Foxy play set, which includes 1 fat little fox, 1 splendid otter, 1 roast chicken, 1 green salad, 1 mushroom pizza (he was so confused last week when I sent him an email that just said, “What’s your favorite kind of pizza?”), 1 gallon of whole milk, and 1 birthday cake. We’re going to have a real life picnic of Jamaican takeout and I will give him this present and maybe even bring 3D Dragon with me, so our alter egos can have a picnic too.

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I probably could not ice a real cake so beautifully. My real life chickens look a little bit better, though. 

Normally I wouldn’t post pictures of his present online until after he received it, so as not to spoil the surprise, but the odds are against him reading this blog before I see him.

Dragon Comics 119

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I’m not naming any names, but we all know who’s been saying the worst mean terrible things about people they don’t know on the Internet.

It’s about a few things, but in the end it’s mostly about how my stepdaughter is sort of weirdly saintly, especially for a little kid. I’ve never met another human being so naturally full of empathy and love for her fellow organism. Everyone is her friend; everyone is worthy of her friendship. She’s easily the nicest person I’ve ever met. Her secret eludes me, but any could take a lesson in kindness from her open.

Some people could take a lot of lessons.

You know what I mean.

Now it’s 5:01 pm, and this comic is precisely 17 hours late, because last night I accidentally went out and partied like it was 1999, or at least like I had the stamina and endurance that I did in 1999. Must post, make dinner, and then get cracking on tomorrow’s post. Cheers! Hope you enjoy.

#notallhumans

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I promise, this comic has a porpoise, and it’s a good one, too. 

I’d like to believe that dolphins and whales don’t judge all of us on the behaviors of some of us. You can find plenty of videos of cetaceans in some sort of anthropogenic trouble–usually being bound up in plastic trash we’ve left in their habitat–approaching humans as if they hope we might be able to help. And of course there are stories of dolphins rescuing humans foundering at sea, helping them to shore or boats.

And if they know we come from boats, they must know that some of us are dangerous.

Some of us are dangerous: to dolphins, and to ourselves. But most of us are OK. You can’t tell from the outside, though.

Probably, dolphins aren’t bigoted. You never hear about dolphins attacking humans, and there are certainly times when they would have cause to hold a grudge or feel that they might have to defend themselves.

Anyway, you can’t judge all of us by the actions of some of us, or even a large group of us. You sort of have assess us on a one by one basis, because we’re all individuals. At least, we should be.

Broken Pieces Mandala

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You break it, you buy it.

Ooh, menacing mirror reflects all-seeing evil in shattered shards. And that’s about what there is to say about this mandala. It’s really deliberately off kilter, smashed fragile things not tending to break in really reliable ways.

This weekend I folded some more cranes–I’m up to 60 now–so it seems like 1,000 won’t be impossible. I just have to keep the paper at hand and can make them when I’m on the phone or doing things that don’t require my hands. Have some ideas about stringing them all together, too. Folding 3 or 4 at a time is vastly preferable to folding 37 in a row.

Photo on 12-6-15 at 7.49 PM #4The Girl liked the rainbow of cranes so I showed her how to do 1, and then she wanted to do some other things: she chose the sanbo, which is like a little tiny box, and a rabbit. She would have liked to learn the lotus flower, which is the only 1 I remembered from childhood–had to look all the other stuff up and puzzle through the directions, which, as any American who’s done origami from a book knows, are always bizarrely confusing–but it was a bit too complicated for her.

Working on one of the “pretty” comics for tomorrow, meaning using photos for source material and getting a very particular style that is still very cartoony in terms of color but maintains some photorealism in terms of shape. The comic itself is still pretty nerdy.

37 Paper Cranes

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So majestic! Watch them swoop and dive across the marsh, reveling in their freedom.

I thought I could try to fold 100 origami cranes as a sort of a symbolic intention for peace but as it turns out there’s a vast difference between doing origami as a kid and doing origami as an adult, and the difference is that when you’re a kid you can do whatever you want with your body and not feel it. When you’re adult, you might start off with, say, nerve damage in the thumb of your dominant hand, which makes it difficult to keep your creases straight, and then, after a while, your terrible posture activates the bad disc in your cervical spine and before you know it, you can barely even hold a piece of paper. And it doesn’t help that you didn’t start until 11 o’clock at night, because people wanted to talk to you before that, and it also took you a while to remember how to fold a paper crane.

So you fold paper cranes until you’re in terrible pain all over and also kind of nauseated, about 3 hours, and you end up with a rainbow of 37 paper cranes, proud and proper, if not perfectly straight.

Should have started earlier. Could have gotten at least halfway. Something just snapped, though. No more paper cranes today.

If Stock Photos Could Talk

 

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These things had to be said.

Some weird things are going on in my country. We’re having a difficult time being respectful to one another, and it seems like the value of human life has diminished in the eyes of many. People are hurting, but everybody hurts, and really, hurting other people doesn’t help us to hurt any less.

I try to answer hatred with love, but, admittedly, a lot of the time I fail at that and the best I can muster is sarcasm. At least I’m really good at sarcasm. But if I had 100% control over my responses, I would go with love every time.

For example: I saw the Dalai Lama speak in Tucson about 10 years ago. While we were queueing up to get into the convention center, we had to pass a protestor holding a large sign declaring that the Dalai Lama was going to hell. This upset everyone who read it, and no one really knew the right response. We all sort of uncomfortably shifted our gaze away from this person and tried–unsuccessfully, because he was also yelling–to ignore him.

Later, in his talk, the Dalai Lama discussed his own encounter with some protestors in Europe, carrying signs angrier and more virulent than the one we had seen outside. But he didn’t ignore them. He bowed to them. And they were so–surprised? enchanted? shamed?–that they bowed back.

That’s who I want to be. I want to be the person who bows to my detractor, because I know that their anger steals from them, not from me, but that my love builds us both, and that ultimately, there is nothing between me and anyone else on this planet. We’re all the same, once we look past the surface.

Anyway, yesterday was a difficult day. I couldn’t think of anything funny on my own, so I Googled “hilarious stock photos” and captioned the 4 most ridiculous ones.

What It Feels Like for a Grown Woman

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I’m just going to come out and say it: manstruation.

To me, it’s just another argument against intelligent design, like why would an omniscient creator build an amusement park next to a sewage treatment plant (so to speak)? This body is 41 freaking years old, and I have no desire to incubate a tiny human inside it. Why must my uterus so frequently prepare for an event that will never come to pass, and why must it be exhausting?

So here it is: period humor. Super unpopular. Inaccessible to 50% of the population and unwelcome to most of the other 50%. But when that’s all you have, that’s all you have. It’s been a pretty lousy day. And now the world knows.

The point is, if your period was a person, it would be a tone-deaf dudebro in a backward baseball cap who didn’t get that every single one of his pranks fell flat, so he just kept making them, laughing to himself and elbowing you in the ribs even as you begged him to please stop because he wasn’t funny.