Sunday, October 03, 2004
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FROM THE CRADLE OF CIVILIZATION
TO THE GRAVEYARD OF BARBARIANS
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What if Saddam Hussein understands his own people better than the ablest American expert advising Bush? What if the only way to govern Iraq is by being a ruthless dictator willing to conduct genocidal war against unruly tribes? What if this is true of all tribal people, including Armenians? Hence the often-heard line: “We are not yet ready for democracy.” Is it conceivable that the cradle of civilization prefers a political system worthy of murderous barbarians?
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In his book on Stalin, Montefiore writes that Mikoyan once delivered a speech in which he said: “Every citizen of the USSR should be an NKVD [later KGB] agent.”
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Censorship is book burning without smoke and fire.
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The only way to make money as a writer, Flaubtert once said, is by flattering the public. Zohrab put it more bluntly when he said, anyone can engage in prostitution, including lawyers (he was a lawyer). Which reminds me of the American joke: “Please, don’t tell my mother I am a lawyer. She thinks I am a pimp.”
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An authentic charlatan knows instinctively that if he wants to deceive others, he must begin with himself. In other words, he consents to being his own first victim.
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The incomprehensible nonsense of a charlatan will be the highest wisdom to another charlatan.
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Charlatans operate on the assumption that they can fool all the people all the time. This false assumption limits their horizons, condemns them to mediocrity, and leads them to disappointment and defeat when they are finally and inevitably exposed.
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When I write about charlatans I don’t expect their agreement; and sure enough, out come the cloven hooves.
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Monday, October 04, 2004
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SOLUTIONS.
ON POLITICS AND POLITICIANS.
WHAT IS HAPPINESS?
A PROBLEM OF IDENTITY.
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As for solutions to our problems, it is not easy finding solutions in a tribal environment dominated by jihadist leaders who will automatically reject all solutions that do not require the unconditional surrender of the opposition.
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Do you really know what I think of politicians? I think the world would not be a much worse place if it were run by cab drivers and barbers.
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I suspect the honesty of chauvinists whose patriotism finds expression only in verbal abuse.
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About the word happiness: I consider it to be an untrustworthy word. Happiness for a sadist means someone he can torture. The problem is, what if, unable to find a masochist, he victimizes someone who may not be in a position to defend himself?
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To think in terms of, “If he agrees with me he is smart, and if he disagrees with me he is a fool,” is to condemn oneself to learn nothing from others.
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The search for identity, about which one hears a great deal today, is a luxury only people with full bellies can afford. To the hungry, there is only one legitimate search, that for food. The hungry may find what he is looking for but I doubt if a man without identity will ever find one, perhaps because you can find only that which exists.
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There is a type of Armenian whose primary concern is to prove he is a better Armenian, as if Armenianism were a contest that he must win at all cost.
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Tuesday, October 05, 2004
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FROM MY DIARY
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On the Bush/Kerry debate, a Canadian pundit comments: “Kerry made more sense but I would vote for Bush. Kerry is an intellectual who seems to be talking down to people. Americans are suspicious of intellectuals. They prefer presidents who are more like themselves.” What about Wilson, FDR, JFK, and LBJ? It seems to me, what one expects from a leader, or for that matter, a doctor, a lawyer, or any professional, is not companionship but competence.
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On the radio, the haunting slow movement of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, which deserves to be heard as often as Dvorjak’s and Haydn’s. And I don’t even remember when was the last time I heard Khachaturian’s Cello Concerto. Was it ten or twenty years ago?
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When asked if she had ever considered divorce, an English lady is said to have replied: “No, never. Murder several times, but divorce, never.” I read this in Jeffrey Archer’s PRISON DIARY, not a masterpiece but eminently readable.
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Why is it that a silent woman looks wise, but a silent man dumb?
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Unbelievable but true: Suleiman the Magnificent once wrote a poem in praise of a contemporary Turkish poet.
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Is the word mogul related in any way to the word Mongol?
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Wednesday, October 06, 2004
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ANOTHER PAGE FROM MY DIARY
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Overheard: “Lost my wife ten years ago. Run over by a car. Best thing that happened to me.”
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Nothing gives me more pleasure than a volume of good cartoons. A definition of heaven for me would be a set of good cartoons that stretch to infinity; and a definition of hell, a set of bad translations of German metaphysical philosophers.
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Schnabel playing Beethoven: He makes even the most tedious passages (and there are so many of them in the G Major Sonata) interesting.
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Perhaps one reason we feel guilty when accused of a crime we did not even contemplate committing is that, at one time or another, we have probably committed the most unspeakable crimes in our dreams, most of which we may not remember.
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At the funeral of an elder relative I am introduced to quite a few out-of-town Armenians, one of whom tells me: “Your name sounds vaguely familiar.” I am reminded of an old English joke that goes something like this: Two Englishmen meet in a pub.
“My name is Porter,” says the first.
“Mine is Shakespeare,” says the other.
“A familiar name,” comments the first.
“It should be,” replies the second. “I have been delivering milk in these parts for 35 years.”
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Is it possible to be a political or religious leader and not to engage in some form of propaganda? — which also means, to mislead people into believing that half-lies are whole-truths?
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