A Rain of Frogs

In the beginning, there was art. Because it was so popular, it lasted a really long time, it develped a history. And as with everything, someone decided to become an expert in this history of art.

Thus was created the first Art Historian.

He, or perhaps she, was very cool, and many admired his knowledge of the history of art. He, or she, developed a great following, and the masses demanded to be taught what he (or she, ad nauseum) knew.

Thus was created the first Art History Professor.

He was hired by a university to teach art history, and that very first year, he taught students. The number is irrelevant, but for the sake of clarity we will say there were 30 students, each enrolled for a four year program to learn this great knowledge.

Four years later, 24 students graduated as papered Art Historians, allowing for an attrition rate of 20 percent. The world was now in possession of 24 Art Historians and on Art History Professor. As everyone knows, the only things that an Art Historian can do are be a curator in a museum, pursue a marketing career, or become an Art History Professor.

Allowing for a further attrition rate of 20% lost to marketing and museums, fully 18 of these new Art Historians became Art History Professors, each with 30 students. There were now 19 Art History Professors, with a total of 570 students.

The cycle escalates, and at some point in the future, there will be more Art History students than any other discipline, and More Art History Professors than any other subject of study. Eventually, the education system will become so reliant on Art History revenues that it will no longer be economically able to offer any subject of study except Art History.

This point, which we are rapidly approaching, is called the Art History Event Horizon, a point of no return in which the entire economy of the world will be dictated not by oil, or arms, but Art History. Eventually everyone will be an Art History professor, including those in marketing and museums. This is due to the fact that museums will no longer required as everyone is already an Art Historian, and marketing will be irrelevant because there will only be Art Historians, and marketing would be preaching to the choir.

Since it’s a well known fact that those who are ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it, there will NOT be a revolution against the Art History institution, and the whole of society will grind to a halt (Art History doesn’t exactly feed mouths).

Chaos will ensue. The end will be nigh, as they say, but it will surprise nobody, as it was predicted (and elegantly documented in thousands of textbooks) by dozens of artists.

There’s been a lot of material in the blog world over the last year or so about Getting Things Done. Blogs and blogs have been devoted to it. While it’s been a bit much, it has also been rewarding to learn that I’m not the only person who has trouble getting things done.

I’ve bought the book, but only skimmed through it so far. While it does seem like an amazing way to get things done, it also seems remarkably process-heavy.

To me, the process just seems to be another thing to get done.

I have a different system, one I learned on a tall ship when I was 13 years old. The thing about sailors is that while they always have a billion things to do, they’re also the laziest people I’ve ever met. This means they’re also among the most efficient people I’ve ever met.

Why waste energy doing something, a sailor will tell you. And though they are lazy, they always get stuff done, because for a sailor, not getting something done can mean destruction, death, inconvenience, pain, suffering and a whole slew of bad things.

Like so many sailing philosophies, the work ethic of a sailor is reduced to a simple statement:

Get three things done before noon or you’ll have four things to do tomorrow.

Try it. You’ll like it.

I hold the whole of creation in my mind
its hopes and dreams
its fears and nightmares.

Every night when I go to sleep
the universe winks out of existence
and blinks back into being when I wake up.

There is no thought
good or bad that I haven’t already had
and no action that I haven’t already contemplated.

I am the grace of an angel
and the temptation of a devil.
The whole of creation rides in my mind.

An Historical Downpour is a new featurette of Rain. It won’t be common, but once in a while I will feature something I wrote on a different blog under a penname. I hope you enjoy.

Originally posted as “Buying back Goliath’s soul” at 12:15PM on July 5, 2004.

I have been called a number of things in my life – neo-hippie, tree hugger, communist… some I can’t (and won’t) list here. People like these terms applied to anyone who dares to think that the world doesn’t revolved around money. To anyone who thinks there might be a better way.

The strange part is that I am a pretty firm believer in the concept of capitalism. Few things motivate people better or faster than the prospect of making money. Money allows us to live life more comfortably, and that’s almost as powerful a motivator as starvation or survival.

If I believe in capitalism, how can I be called a communist?

It is true that a company can make it big by not caring about people or the environment. Companies have been doing this for ages. Look at Microsoft. Or Nike. Even Apple, though they are better than some. “But that’s capitalism at work!” some of you will scream. And yes, it is. And that’s cool. I just happen to believe there’s another way, an “ethical capitalism.”

It is possible for a company to be successful without exploiting its employees, its customers or the environment. I have no figures to support this, and it is possible that maybe a responsible company can’t be as successful as what I can only term an irresponsible one, but that’s a function of the definition of success.

To most companies, success means constant growth, per share earning increases quarter over quarter and increased market share. Penetration into new and untapped markets. Bigger bucks. No whammies. Small minded thinking for short term gains. But what if success is also the ability to pay employees a generous and fair salary, provide them with benefits and opportunities which encourage them to take pride in the company they work for and customers that aren’t just pleased with the product, but feel like they’ve had a part in creating it. What if success is finding a way to make environmentalism not only ideal, but profitable?

The world has to get off the constant increase bandwagon. Logic dictates that way is a dead end road. There’s only so much money, so much market, and so much karma. It’ll all go pear-shaped eventually, and then we’ll be defining success in terms of survival, not comfort.

The success of a company should not be judged only financially, but karmically as well. There are no shining examples to support the ethical capitalism model, but there are so many examples (some close to my heart) of great potential wasted and opportunities lost to the lure of the “quick buck” that it has to be possible.

Emotionally crippled
or crippled by emotion
I lay awake at night sometimes
and wonder which I am.