The Hatred of Christmas III
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Clive T. Holmes Journal

25 December, Christmas Night.

 Oh! How I yearn to be home sipping hot tea next to the fire with my soft slippers on while snow flutters outside my window. How I would love to breathe in the great smell of pine, take a good book and wade through it until midnight. The warmth of Christmas has always been a comfort to my spirit every year. This will be the first year that I am away, and being in such a remote and exotic area obliterates any feeling I might have had of Christmas. Here, in this jungle shack, it is the same day in and day out, as if void of mirth or soul. I suppose I am being far too cynical. My objective here has always been clear to me, though the thought of being at a loss tends to gnash its teeth on my heart. In any case, I digress to more important business that must be recorded immediately.

            It would seem that while I enjoy Christmas, Volkindok most certainly does not. His utter hatred of it almost makes me squeamish; it's a large reason why even the thought of Christmas is to be totally extinguished in this place. I remember the first time I encountered Dr. Volkindok and his hatred for Christmas. It was long before this day, when I was a student at Oxford and he was my professor and mentor. While his particular field is neurology, he excels at many different fields of study especially related to science. His genius, however, has long gone unnoticed. At that time, my major was neurology with a minor in microbiology. Our encounters were frequent as we discussed my future, science, philosophy, ethics, and any other topic under the sun. He had no family or wife to call his own, but supplemented that by having many friends. It would seem that everyone knew him; it was overwhelming to say the least. However, not before long, I too became part of the multitude.

            It was Christmas during that time and one specific day I was walking to his office to ask him about my term paper. As I came to his door I gave it a loud knock. He said to come in and so I did. His office was far too dark and morbid for my taste, but it was definitely more so that day. I sat down. He never looked up at me but continued to work on whatever it was he was working on. After a few minutes of waiting for him to finish, I thought I would just give a short ice breaker to ease the tension.
             "Doctor Volkindok, can you…"
            "Clive, I think its time we stopped with this formal business. If you wish to address me, I find nothing wrong with you using my first name." Volkindok said without looking up while diligently finishing his work.
            "I'm not sure I'm comfortable…"
             Volkindok glared up at me with irritated eyes.
            "Why are you here, Clive?"
            "Well, I suppose I was here for a few reasons. The first is to ask you what you thought of my paper. The second was just a quick question about what you might be doing for Christmas?"
             This was the moment I remember most vividly. Volkindok quickly stopped everything he was doing and lifted his head staring at me in ferocity. I was taken aback by how fierce he looked, especially since I found nothing wrong with my questions. He calmed down a little bit but still looked at me that carried far too heavy a weight.
        "I understand your gaiety for this holiday, this Christmas. But I want nothing to do with it," He paused. "Nothing."
         I felt a little numb. After a few moments, he put down his pen, lifted his eyes and smiled.
         "Your paper was excellent, well researched and beautifully presented. Keep it up, Clive, and you'll be a top scholar in your field."
         "Thank you," I said getting up from my seat and walking out the door.

         I remember being irritated walking out of his office. I could tell, however, that he was not in the mood for talking. In any case, these thoughts were in my head today as Volkindok's continuing hatred of Christmas was ever present. I suppose hating Christmas was not the main problem for me. I have met several of people who did not care much for Christmas, but it was his face and sincerity that made me ponder why he hated it with such depth. My answer partially came today. My boredom was getting the best of me and I had to find something to keep me busy. Curious, I walked around the house trying to figure out where Volkindok was. His room was empty, but on his desk there was a large wooden box with its lid open. I slowly moved toward the desk and gazed inside. There was, what seemed to be, a thousand letters all addressed to a Ms. Annette Case. The further I shuffled through the letters the older the letters became. My shock grew as I wondered why he never mailed these letters out to this lady whom I have never met nor heard of before. The newest letter was written today. It was out of the box next to a ballpoint pen. My temptation grew as I reached to take the new letter. I slowly opened the envelope and pulled open the piece of paper. It read as follows:

            My Dearest Annette,

            Today reminds me of the horrors that befell me as a child. I have yet to tell you this story, though its secrets unlock plenty of doors into my life and ambitions. I doubt I will ever flee its grasp. It is true irony that this day would be my nightmare while it is a ray of happiness for millions. I hope you are enjoying this day, though I will never understand why. I have tried my hardest to stay away from Clive today. His constant yearning for everything Christmas makes me sick. I can't even look at the man today. My work here has yet to be completed. I know that you never wanted me to leave; I apologize. Clive has been recording and analyzing my situation as you know. For a long time my sanity was at stake, and even now I wonder how deep into the abyss I have fallen. I lament that our correspondence may come to an abrupt close in the days ahead. I had always hoped that one day I might see you again, though I now realize that it is a false hope. Please, give my best to Milo.

            Love,
            Victor  

My heart pounded. I wanted to read more but there was movement in the hall. Putting the letters back in a panic, I rushed out the door and came straight to my quarters to write down what I had seen. And, so, here I am, still at a loss and left wanting of Christmas and home.

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A Funeral for Optimism II
Current mood: aggravated
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Clive T. Holmes Journal

7 December, Day.
 

It has been a week since my last entry, but this journal is meant specifically for my experiences with the mysterious Jatrick and Clyde. The days have gone over rather slow and my optimistic curiosity toward Volkindok and his creations grows by the hour. I can recall my odd excitement a few days ago when Volkindok looked as if he was going to go faint and be changed into Jatrick or Clyde; to my disappointment, he did not, but simply made a great big yawn and drank some more tea. As for today, he wished to get some fresh air as the rain had recently stopped, and it seemed like the best time. The path we walked down was simultaneously ferocious, and yet, beautiful. The plethora of greens, tall trees, and the shining blue sky above seemed to almost tame the viciousness the jungle usually portrays. We spoke of many things during this walk, old times, bad habits, and other kinds of simple conversation. Like a needle stabbing into my side, my curiosity was getting the best of me. I had to ask him more about what he remembered and said, "Dr. Volkindok, what…?"
"Clive! Before I answer your question, you must call me by my first name. We've been friends for years!"
"Terribly sorry, old habit I suppose. In any case, can you remember anything that could be of help to me concerning Jatrick and Clyde?" Here he shyed away and was in a mode of contemplative thought. It was a few minutes before he actually began.
"I can remember that I was smoking my pipe and ran out of tobacco, this was most frustrating for I could not fi…" It was at this instant that Volkindok changed into someone completely new. Almost as if one person was leaving and another entering in one quick motion. It was Clyde.

Clyde:

Good sir, certainly you are an intelligent man, please do tell me the meaning of one thing: "That which does not kill you, makes you stronger."

(My perplexity knew no bounds during this comment, the bizarre nature of his question, and the state at which he interrupted an important part of a good conversation caused me to get irritated. This irritation is the main cause for why I simply replied, "I do not know".)

 Jatrick:

How is it that such an educated man as you, Clive, could not answer such a simple question? It would seem to me that the good doctor holds you in much greater high esteem than you actually deserve.

Clyde:

Indeed!  As bombastic and turgid your cunning words are, my dear Clive, you do not know the meaning? The aphorism's meaning is simple:  Experiance with the right attitude make one a better person.  See how simple this is?  Petty fool! Though I find this to be a fanciful optimism. A far cry from reality.

Jatrick:

On the contrary, even without a "right attitude", as someone enters into hardship their character is being shaped in a way that could not come about by a mother pampering and babying her 35 year old son living in her basement.

Clyde:

Do you suppose that a can-do-it positivism actually counts for something? As Thomas Fuller put it, "He that hopes no good fears no ill."  Character, my friend, does not derive directly from attitude, but from experience, which is phlegmatic.  In all seriousness, optimism is a hope that is disconnect from reality. We should avoid optimism at all costs. Surely, you would agree to that?

Jatrick:

Nay, good Clyde, I would say that both an extreme optimism and pessimism would be clearly two ways not to travel. For delusions of grandeur will only leave you as an old man without anything accomplished, while morbid depression could already declare you dead as a person. Hope, it would seem, is the basis on which mankind lives, whether that be logical or based from reality, is another issue. Even the most infamous American writer Mark Twain once said, "Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear." Without a sliver of optimism, great things that have been done would have never been accomplished.

Clyde:

I would seem to agree! Consider the word, Optimist - "Opti" meaning "eye", and "mist" meaning fogged up, you get the idea? But what is this hope?  Where is it found? Do you suppose hope is found in religion or is it an opium of the people?

Jatrick:

I suppose hope can derive from a number of sources, patriotism, religion, family, love, and the list continues. Whether or not those sources fail you would be up to your own experience and your definition of failure. In my own opinion, however, religion, whatever that may be, seems to have a kind of bedrock for hope. Would you agree?

Clyde:

I am not sure.  Is hope a virtue? Could it be described as static or objective?  Or is it relative? Is it existential, conjured up in mankind? A fantastic emanation of the mind?

Jatrick:

Ha! My dear Clyde, hope is the antithesis of existentialism!

Clyde:

I think you need to heed the words of Nietzsche: "Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torment of man." Do you suppose hope is a real thing?

Jatrick:

Naturally, hope is a real thing and it is that thing that have kept people living, pursuing, and accomplishing whatever they have set to do.

Clyde:

I suppose it is true that fear can hold you prisoner and hope can set you free. Please, do not see me as jaded and skeptical for I would never underestimate the power of hope. I just deny it any ontological value unless you place it in something real such as yourself, the government or Buddha or Jesus. 

Jatrick:

True, and as I said many people find hope in these things, but what kind of hope is it and in what way might it shape the way they face life itself?

Their final words ushered Volkindok to heave for breath and faint in dire need of care and assistance. This time he was left unconscious, leaving it up to myself to carry him back to shelter. As he awoke hours later, he asked me what Jatrick and Clyde had said. After I told him, he looked off into the distance and muttered, "Interesting." I must get to the bottom of this ever growing madness. If I am to speed up this process, I have to create a plan and figure out a way to force Jatrick and Clyde to talk to me about issues other than what they usually speak!

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Nottingham I
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Clive T. Holmes Journal
 

30 November, Night.

It has been weeks since I found Dr. Volkindok in this deep, violent jungle bereft of humanity. Very rarely do I see him, as he locks himself away in his underground laboratory. The rain has been pouring for days. I fear the beasts will grow hungry and hunt us as their prey. It was only recently that Volkindok allowed me to speak with him. I became aware of his-condition-approximately a week ago when he began to speak in two entirely different manners, as if he was erased and brought back again. The first voice called himself Jatrick and the second Clyde. While most would flee in fear, I felt a great sense of sympathy for my old friend, Volkindok. He later told me that these are his creations and that he wishes to record what they say as a kind of science experiment. I was obliged and flattered, but the dialogue, as Volkindok likes to describe it, had yet to be recorded until today. It was quite random actually; I was reading an article on Stephen Hawking's theory of "Matter/Antimatter Annihilation" to launch spaceships into another galaxy taking 6 years to get to their destination. Hawking believed that with the greater threat of world annihilation, man should be seeking to reach other planets to survive. Volkindok was in front of me as I told him of this. I asked him what he thought of it, and instead of getting a reply from Volkindok, Jatrick piped in as casually as if he had always been there.

Jatrick:

My dear, Mr. Holmes! Volkindok knows nothing of this matter. It would seem to me that Hawking brings up some interesting predictions of nuclear annihilation and asteroid collisions. While I am in no place to attack Hawking's IQ, I wonder if traveling in space to other planets would actually be a wise decision. On another note, how might we actually go about colonizing such a planet?

(Before I could reply, Clyde quickly took control of the conversation)

Clyde:

Just as we have before. We conquered the New World, enslaving the Indians, and intellectually entered the Brave New World, haven't we?  Why, brute force and slavery shall do the trick!

Jatrick:

It would seem also potentially dangerous to send humans to another planet so far away from control and connections. A type of escapism would form causing many rich people to take the trip to the greater beyond, but every other poor soul would be stuck to face their eventual doom. It would be best to stay put and deal with the problems at hand, not flee from them.

Clyde:

I reject the entire proposition. I have grown a bit tired of the gloom and doom prophecies. If the world is collapsing like the Jack Van Impe national broadcast and Stephen Hawking proclaim, then I would request just one bit of a sign. "If only God would give me some clear sign! Like making a large deposit in my name in a Swiss bank."  Surely then I could make the flight.

Jatrick:

Dear Clyde, you have a Swiss Account? I would have never guessed. In any case, I digress. If we actually did send humans six years away, we would practically be sending men to create their own nation. The New America, New Russia, or New Brazil, it would be called completely separating themselves from Earthly humanity. What am I saying? It's all completely preposterous!

Clyde:

Indeed! In your continuous babbling and obsession with the beloved Mr. Hawking, you have made some kind of a point. Please do tell me, what should be the role of the rich in regards to the poor, then? Are they entitled to their own Swiss Accounts or is an altruistic philanthropy a requirement in order to be noble? What shall I do with my Swiss cheese?

Jatrick:

In an ideal world, we would like to believe that the rich are entitled to take care of the poor, but what man or army is forcing the rich to do this? In moral terms, it would seem necessary and proper for the rich to take a philanthropic approach, but will they? No, most definitely do not, and usually they do it because most pressure them to take on some kind of charity. So, they can do what they wish with their money, for what force stops them?

Clyde:

Would you dare to see G.K. Chesterton's words as truth? "The rich are the scum of the earth in every country". You are correct, there is no force.  Do you suppose it is ethical to delve in Robin Hooding? Steal from the Rich, give to the Poor? After all, the bourgeoisie won't even notice!

Jatrick:

I dare say all are the scum of the earth. Though as for "Robin Hooding", and whether the rich notice, I would say theft is wrong whether you are feeding yourself or feeding thousands.

Clyde:

But by the words of Robin Hood himself! "We Saxons have little to fatten on by the time the tax gatherers are through" I guess we shouldn't steal because the government doesn't need the competition. I find no fault in stealing for the oppressed. 

Jatrick:

To what extent then might I judge whether one is rich or one is poor? What if my little Johnny does not have the Nike's that this rich boy does? I must take them then, for my boy is oppressed.

Clyde:

Must you always flout the maxim of manner? I believe the difference here is a matter of definition. Does your boy already own shoes to wear? Have food to eat? I will remind you that the house of the rich have both. But the poor suffers to find either. The saying is true: "It is love alone that gives worth to all things." But, this too, the poor are deprived of.

Jatrick:

Who are the judges of what is needed? Besides this, I am not sure if theft qualifies under love, whether it is from a rich man or a poor man. Theft is theft and would seem to me wrong on all counts.

Clyde:

Stealing in defense of freedom is greater than taxing on behalf of tyranny and oppression. I fail to see a black and white.  Things are sometimes grey.  I suppose it trifling to discount thievery on behalf of those who starve when governments and the rich exploit the poor. After all 10% of the world's population have 90% of the world's wealth. 

Jatrick:

While I sympathize with the good of the whole, to steal for the good of them is tainted. Love demands providing for the poor in a righteous way, not using any means necessary to meet the end. Choosing between the better of two evils seems to be your absolute, though I would take the road less traveled.

Once Jatrick had finished stating this, Volkindok returned to consciousness. His face grew death white as his body lunged to the ground. As he was on his knees, he asked me what had happened, and I told him. I gather this will be the first of many bizarre dialogues. While I may fear my future, I am earnest to understand who these personalities are and how Volkindok came about creating them.  

10:31 PM - 13 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

Preface
Current mood: calm
Category: Religion and Philosophy

It was once thought that the world was flat. Unfortunately, that has nothing to do with what I am about to say. I, Jatrick, thought that it might be proper to inform the masses about this little dialogue between two personalities and what exactly it entails. It will include three subjects that we will choose: Theology, Philosophy, and Politics. There is a reason why these topics are kept away from the dinner table, when two people are in a difference of opinion the probability of anger, violence, and food being lunged across the room is very high. Thus, Clyde and I understand, accept, and encourage heated debates against ourselves or against others. However, there are some things we do not encourage vis-a-vis logical fallacies:

A good number of logical fallcies can be explained at this website: http://www.nizkor.org/features/fallacies/

I would recommend you go there if you are unfamiliar with logical fallacies or need a refresher. While in argumentation and debate, it is usually common for people to use logical fallacies (sometimes even without noticing it). It is extremely important to understand what they are so that your own arguments can be solid and also so you can spot others arguments with fallacious weaknesses.

Presuppositions are also a nasty beast that must be slain quickly. It is very easy for anyone to hear a certain argument and try to stereotype them into a certain sect or belief system. For example, if someone argues against abortion it would be an error for me, or anyone else for that matter, to argue against them as if they are some kind of republican fundamentalist Christian and treat them as such. That makes one presuppose that that person holds to beliefs or arguments that they may not and leads argumentation down a long, dirty, and barren road.

Finally, I would also state that while I respect someone who holds strong to their own opinions, I encourage everyone to keep an open mind, it can go a long way. The worst monster out in the world is pride, and it is extremely difficult to extinguish its flames. There are times when it might be best to concede to something even if you might not want to admit to it. But, these are just helpful hints and advice, take them or leave them.

P.S. To understand our story, one must read the letter written by our favorite representative, Clive T. Holmes in the "About Me" section of our page. It is recommended one read this to continue in the future.

Hope you enjoy the dialogue,
~Jatrick

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