Bread and circuses

Turns out it was the Roman satirist Juvenal who coined the expression panem et circenses to describe the imperial Roman policy of keeping the rabble mollified and placated by keeping them well fed and well entertained. As evidence that the American rabble are well fed, one need look no further than (even if one cannot see around) the multitude of disgustingly lard-assed hippos waddling around the supermarket aisles. More and more public seating which used to be built for human beings now has to be redesigned for these hideous monstrosities, and we all know that morbid obesity has now become a major health problem. Mind you, I’m not a swim-suit model myself, carrying about 190 lbs (85.5 kg) on a 5'7" (167 cm) frame, but God help me if I ever get as revoltingly blubbery as these specimens. And there’s certainly enough evidence that the American rabble are well entertained, too, now that even the “newsertainment” on television is delivered by nitwits who have learned to laugh and joke while telling us about the collapse of civilization; and an increasing proportion of the “news” itself is devoted to the shabbily vulgar, stupid shenanigans of imbecilic mannequins who get lavish, breathless coverage for something like showing their snatch while getting out a car.

But every once in a while, usually on major holidays, the level of “celebration” has to be elevated to that of mass hysteria, to make sure that no illusions can be harbored about how civilized the rabble can be expected to behave under mob dynamics. Due to an unusual set of circumstances, I suffered the (for me) rare ordeal of watching New Year’s Eve at Times Rectangle NYC, and I still haven’t gotten over the depression it caused. As circuses go, an estimated million primates crammed into this and adjacent spaces was a pretty scary spectacle, which we were given many views of from circling copters. But more frequent, and more scary, were the close-ups of the revelers, among whom the dominant emotional tone was hysterical ecstasy—hundreds of faces aglow with the unbearable thrill of being part of this just absolutely glorious event, so exciting, just look at these people, so much energy here, blah blah blah. I found it scary and depressing because it reminded me of footage of brainwashed cult members, or movies of smiling zombies—no discernible individual consciousness or intelligence, everyone just melded into the mob mind, the anthill collective. And so far as I know, there were no mind-altering substances, legal or illegal, involved (although I’m willing to accept the possibility that some were involved without my knowledge); it was all mob dynamics and adrenaline. Once or twice I tried to imagine a million people chanting “No more war! – Out of Iraq! – Bring our troops home! – Impeach Bush! – Save Social Security! – Reduce global warming! – Affordable health care for all! – ” etc. etc. But the image didn’t compute, mainly because such an event would have required at least a minimum of individual consciousness on the part of the primates. No, nothing here but mindless yelling and screaming—tens of thousands of people hysterically screaming. Eerie sound. Direct throwback to the Roman Coliseum.

Ironically, perhaps the most heartening part of the circus was Dick Clark. Knowing nothing about him, I kept thinking while watching him, “He’s talking funny; I wonder if he’s all right.” Then I Wikied him (“Wiki” doesn’t make as good a verb as “Google,” does it?) and found out he’s 77 years old and has been hosting “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” since 1972; also that he had a stroke in 2004, and after missing only the 2004 show, made a quasi-miraculous comeback in 2005, but with his speech affected. As cynical as I am, I have to admit a certain respect for something like that. (In the same vein, one of my few cultural heroes is Stephen Hawking.)

It seems like every year here recently, people add, after wishing you a happy new year, that they hope this one will be better than the last. And each one is worse than the last. And we know they’re going to keep getting worse until at least 2009. Does anyone have any realistic hopes that they’ll ever get any better even after that? I don’t. I don’t even have any realistic expectations that we’ll last that long. So it is in this light that I refuse to wish you a happy new year. In fact, I’ll do everything I can in this blog to help make it even more miserable.