Saturday, July 09, 2005
"Whatever"
The rise of The W. The inimitable rise of The W; that lackluster beast, slumbering in the caves of modern apathy; the king of indifference; that forever feckless fairey queen. Whatever.Whatever seems to suggest that one's own unsprouted intellect is at the center of what matters. An egoism gone terribly cliche. More sadly cliche than Ayn Rand, as fate would have it. And, I suppose, the root of all that's wrong in today's grab. It's the me-me-me that plants us squarely between our iPod headphones where whatever more whatever we can ever hope to have is beyond the reach of our dimmed senses. Perhaps the rise of whatever is due to a case of the political, moral and heebie jeebies -- after all who could plausibly get along in an Al Qaida-centric Fox News planet? What can we care about any more? Whatever it is, it's out here, in the air, on the ground, where you can smell it, touch it, taste it and hear it. You can even see it, the king of The W, W himself, mocking us who feel and think hard about things that matter, whatever we're living for is in the here in now. For a King who believes in the End of Days and is certain Creationism has a scientific basis, how can reality unfold any more indifferent? That is, when global climate changes are proven by scientists to be related to human cause, King Whatever raises the notion that perhaps he knows science best. Whatever.
Whatever is a response to those of us who are confused, baffled, and in need of some space. The kind of space that puts us beyond reproach. It cuts off conversation carelessly. It's a hasty wave of the hand and a refutation of better endings. Whatever, its ascendancy, and the culture that bears it, may one day be in steady decline. But today it reigns. And it pisses some people off. Whatever is a war cry. Them's fighting words for sure. Russell Crowe knows this. He won't back down. While fists and fly-away phones are not the most appropriate response, can you blame him? Let's give credit where credit's due, not to those who'd sooner see science supplanted by scientology.
Fogey insurgencies have sprouted up, incited by moralists who regard the routine deployment of "whatever" as the ultimate symptom of indifference in the culture at large. (See "The Road to Whatever: Middle-Class Culture and the Crisis of Adolescence," by Elliott Currie.) James Carroll, writing recently in the Boston Globe, cited Lynndie England, who, when she was urged to take part in the torture of prisoners at Abu Ghraib, replied, "O.K. Whatever." Carroll declared, "A spirit of 'whatever' animates those much further up the US chain of command."
Let's admit it. We're not indifferent. We care. About what hardly even matters. But we feel it. Whatever it may be. The world is all mixed up and wild at heart. Or something like that. Not whatever. And we love it all the same.
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