Tag Archives: misanthropy

More Morning Meanderings of a Madcap Misanthropist

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SmalfutLately I’ve made reference to Bigfoot—that legendary creature that people occasionally claim to see in the Northwest forest, but who have yet to be physically proven—as an analogy for the oft-cited but never really sighted mythical character the “ethical hunter.” The latter, of course, is a contradiction in terms. How can a person make sport of killing of animals in the prime of their lives and call themselves “ethical?”

But aside from the myth factor, the comparison is flawed. Bigfoot are said to be peaceful, self-sufficient vegetarians who live in harmony with the rest of life around them. ( Naturally, they avoid humans like the plague.)

The idea that a human-like creature can fit in with their environment and not destroy it does seem far-fetched these days. But for hundreds of thousands of years, our earliest ancestors lived alongside Australopithecus robustus, a plant-eating hominid who just tried to mind their own business until our direct carnivorous cousins killed or drove them off (just as gorillas of today’s world are falling victim to the bush meat trade.)

Upon reflection, human hunters, even those claiming to be the “ethical” ones, don’t deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as higher beings like Bigfoot. Although a general rule of thumb may be, the more human-like, the more destructive, Bigfoot is a hopeful exception. The notion of a peaceful, inoffensive, upright two-legger is refreshing indeed.

L-R, Bob Titmus, Jim Robertson at Harrison Hot Springs, B.C., with some of Bob's casts

L-R, Bob Titmus, Jim Robertson at Harrison Hot Springs, B.C., with some of Bob Titmus’ bigfoot casts. Circa 1980

Hot Dogs Are Gross and Baseball is a Waste of Time

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For the past few posts it seems I’ve set out to slay the sacred cows (so to speak) of American culture (and/or counter-culture). First I challenged the cow-haters—those radical anarchists who seek to extract revenge for environmental abuses by attacking the most nonthreatening (and least intentionally culpable) of all the culprits—the cows themselves. Next, I set out to re-revise revisionist history by reminding readers that all people are relative newcomers to this hemisphere and, by their very membership in the human race, destructive by nature.

Now, just to show I’m not in this for any kind of popularity or personal gain, I’m going to end this trilogy by going after two established pillars of standard American society: hot dogs and professional sports. When I say “hot dogs,” I mean the “all-meat” kind, as opposed to the “fake” ones made out of soy or seitan or some other benign, cruelty-free, plant source. “Real” hot dogs were actually an ingenious Yankee invention in response to the question, “What should we do with all the disgusting guts, eyeballs and offal on the slaughterhouse floor” (the proverbial “beaks and peckers,” according to the kid on Billy Bob Thornton’s Sling Blade)? “I know—let’s package it, give it a fun name and market it as food!”

And finally, we come to the most consecrated of American cows: professional spectator sports. Now, I’m all for people getting out and challenging themselves by hiking, skiing, weight training or the like, but sitting around jeering, cussing or cheering at a bunch of overpaid athletes while choking down hot dogs (“real” ones, not those candy-ass, heart-healthy soy dogs) always seemed like a waste of time to me. My question is, why do we need an entire section of every newspaper or ten minutes of the nightly newscast devoted to how the “local” teams did on their rigged little games? I mean really, how are the Seattle Seahawks considered local to fans in, say, Whitefish, Montana, Pocatello, Idaho or Dillingham, Alaska?

If it’s all just for a friendly wager, that’s fine. But otherwise, I just don’t get it.

slingblade

…but I’m a Compassionate Misanthropist

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Webster’s defines a misanthropist, as, “one who hates or distrusts all people; to hate man.” Well, that sounds a little harsh—I don’t hate or distrust you people (not most of you, anyway).The thing I can’t stand is what mankind has become: a bully to all other life forms.

But my misanthropy is fueled by compassion, by a love for the Earth that includes its birds, mammals, fish, reptiles, amphibians, insects, plants, crustaceans and, yes, even some people.

Still, I’m not all that taken with our rampant success at the expense of all other HumanWeapons_170things that live and breathe. It’s not that I want humans to fail as a species (although on our present course I can see no other end result). I just don’t want to watch them suffer while they go spiraling down the tubes in their single-minded obsession to live up to their collective narcissistic self-esteem.

For the good of all, human or otherwise, Homo sapiens should back off and let Nature sort out the mess we’ve made—before we fuck things up even worse.
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The preceding was an excerpt from my upcoming book, Uncontrolled Outbursts and Unsolicited Opinions of a Compassionate Misanthropist

 

The Roots of My Misanthropy

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I am not a hate-filled person by nature, but I have what I consider a realistic view of Homo sapiens as a technologically over-evolved—yet morally under-evolved—ape that supersedes any blind allegiance to the species I might otherwise ascribe to. My disdain for humanity—hereby referred to as my misanthropy—knows no borders, boundaries, colors or cultures, aside perhaps from the emerging culture of do-no-harm veganism.

I’m not so enamored by the modest achievements and advancements we hear so much about that I don’t clearly see that mankind’s ultimate claim to fame is the “undoing” of the most incredible and diverse epoch in the history of life on earth.

My misanthropy is not aimed at individuals per se, but at an entire misguided species of animal with an arrogance so all-consuming that it views itself as separate—and above—the rest of the animal kingdom.

It’s not like humans can’t afford a little resentment once in a while, there are entire religions built specifically on the worship of mankind and its father figure—the maker made in the image of man. But sometimes someone needs to step back and see this species in perspective…

Ever since hominids first climbed down out of the trees and started clubbing their fellow animals, humanoids have been on a mission to claim the planet as their own. No other species could ever live up to man’s over-inflated self-image; therefore they became meat. Or if not meat, a servant or slave in one way or another.  If their flesh isn’t considered tasty, they’re put to use as beasts of burden, held captive for amusement or as literal guinea pigs to test drugs and torturous procedures for the perpetual prolongation of human life. Those who don’t prove themselves useful are deemed “pests” and slated for eradication.

Because, for whatever rationale, the human species sees itself as the top dog—all others: the underlings. My misanthropy is not really about a hate of humanity. I just tend to root for the underdog.

Text and Photography ©Jim Robertson, 2013. All Rights Reserved

Text and Photography ©Jim Robertson, 2013. All Rights Reserved