NOTE TO READER

The following excerpt was extracted from the ongoing, ever-evolving Afterward to my memoir, The Gold Connections Trilogy. Originally, I planned on posting this as a singular Day in the Life piece, whereby I gave a complete account of the day of November 21st, the day I attended Mark Z. Danielewski’s 2019 Book Tour. However, due to the devastating worldwide pandemic, my plans have changed. Please allow me to explain.

The excerpt you are about to read was initially conceived as a two-chapter story; the first chapter can be likened to an elongated snapshot of my mundane, daily life, with me waking up in the morning, eating breakfast, commuting to Orange Coast College in order to deliver my twice a week lectures, while the second part pertains to my experience later that evening in Pasadena, where, after all these years, (nineteen to be exact) I finally got to meet and converse with one of my literary inspirations; this being, of course, Mark Z. Danielewski.

To be perfectly honest, I simply have not had sufficient time, due to my hectic scholastic schedule, to hone and perfect the second chapter of this Day in the Life of sorts; it is nowhere near completed. Yet, this is not the case with the first phase of the story; it has been sufficiently perfected. In fact, it is this first chapter that is included herein.

In short, given our current unthinkable pandemic state of affairs, I think this first chapter is of pressing, even vital, importance, (and I am not being arrogant or presumptuous here, trust me).

As most folks know by now, the traditional modes of American education have been forced to transform, almost over night. For instance, virtually all college classes have transitioned to a remote online format. And, of course, it is anybody’s guess as to when this makeshift situation will revert back to normal, where classes are, once again, held in standard brick-and-mortar buildings.

To me, this is a type of tragedy, all unto itself. In my not-so-humble opinion, online learning is inherently inferior to that of face-to-face instruction; that visceral, dynamic tension is sorely missing. In fact, if I was America’s education czar, I would outright outlaw or at least severely restrict remote learning. Again, for me at least, that palpable, inspiration-filled connection is simply not there.

But I am afraid this is the way of the future…yet another new normal.

And this is precisely why I believe the first chapter of Fear and Loathing in Pasadena: The 2019 Mark Z. Danielewski Book Tour, is so important; it’s basically a birds-eye view into what used to be the case, but, sadly enough, is no longer (or at least for the foreseeable future). Little did I know when I was penning this piece that it would be so timely…so perfectly suited for the current catastrophic moment. As much as it pains me to say this, (I tend to be a ‘by design’ guy) accidents can actually be pretty amazing things.

And yet, it is not just the timing of this piece that is important; the actual subject matter maps on, I believe, remarkably well to our current unfortunate, sociopolitical situation. Unbelievably, we are now living in a time when white supremacy has somehow reached the mainstream…a time when young children are actually being held in cages…a time when well-established facts are no longer well-established facts…and a time when, for the first time I can remember, our sacred democracy is truly at stake.

In closing, as the death toll now stands at almost one hundred thousand persons, and well over a million and a half reported cases of the coronavirus, I would just like to state the obvious: we are all in this war together. And, in this war, we will fight, albeit not on a conventional battle field, but instead at home with loved ones, constantly washing our hands, sanitizing everything in sight, sporting masks in public places, while always maintaining our social distance. Indeed, it appears as though the old, seemingly absurd, Taoist dictum is actually the case; that is to say, by doing nothing, we will have, in turn, accomplished our ultimate goal.

Hope you enjoy.

(Memorial Day 2020)

P.S. – Included in this piece are references to Kobe Bryant. I have chosen not to extract these references, despite inevitable objections concerning convenient exploitation. And yet, I can assure you, any one of my students would testify that his name was, indeed, mentioned. In fact, every thing that follows from this point on is as close to an exact, verbatim account as humanly possible.

Fear and Loathing in Pasadena: The 2019 Mark Z. Danielewski Book Tour

Dedicated to my mother and father, both of who were life-long educators; as well as to the historical fact that my father was a purple-heart recipient in the Korean War, having almost been mortally wounded by a bomb blaast.

 

Finally! The day I had been waiting for, for nearly twenty years, was here at last. Finally, I would meet my literary hero; that guy who broke all the literary rules so brilliantly, so frighteningly; the creator of arguably the greatest experimental novel of the 21st Century; that manifold monument to darkness itself, residing abysmally within the impossible labyrinths of the serpentine mind, House of Leaves, penned by perhaps the greatest living writer of my generation, (of course, David Foster Wallace is no longer with us, thus leaving Franzen and…?) namely, the tricky enigma – Mark Z. Danielewski. Or simply, The Dude.

 

.   .   .

 

So I got up at my usual time, around 8:30, and had my go-to breakfast – steel cut oats topped with pecans, walnuts, blueberries, and apple squares sprinkled with cinnamon, as well as two large cups of coffee with a smidgen of sugar-free caramel creamer. Afterwards, I performed my mundane morning rituals; that is, I brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower, got out, dried off, got dressed, and made sure I had all my teaching essentials, such as textbooks, USB drive, etc. I then grabbed a blueberry protein bar and a couple bottles of Gerolsteiner mineral water, (where would we be without Trader Joe’s?) and finally I was out the door.

On my way to Orange Coast College, I still felt terrible due to yesterday’s Pipeline rejection letter. Yet, fortunately, in my first class, Contemporary Philosophy, which was now delving deep into existential theory, particularly Husserl, Heidegger and Sartre, I didn’t actually have to stand up and teach. Instead I was scheduled to show the Netflix documentary – What the Health – as a way to support my stalwart stance that our Western animal-based diet is perhaps the greatest existential threat of them all; one we can actually do something about, (immediately!) unlike nuclear proliferation or the mass production of fossil fuels. In fact, if we truly want to address the root cause of the current obesity epidemic, as well as the imminent threat of global warming, we must start by changing our diet, plain and simple. While many activists are quick to point to the harmful effects caused by the petroleum-powered automobile industry, and consequently call for the rapid transition from fossil fuels to electric, few emphasize our equally destructive diet. Indeed, if we really want to save the planet and not go the way of the dinosaur, we must adopt, almost exclusively, a healthier, plant-based diet. Or so I professed.

 

.   .   .

 

So, after showing What the Health, I headed to my next class, Introduction to Philosophy, which has turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and rewarding in recent memory. Today, I handed back tests, went over them briefly, and then embarked on the third and final phase of the course – ethical theory.

As always, I began this series of lectures by saying, “Now, when you first entered this class, a lot of you probably hadn’t heard much about metaphysics or epistemology before,” (this being the content of the first two tests, respectively). “But when it comes to ethics? Now that’s an entirely different matter. I mean, doesn’t everybody think they’re an expert in these matters…like they have two or three PhD’s on the topic?”

Then, in order to engender an immediate sense of sympathy, I go on to say, “We’ve all been there. Every one of us, at some point in time, has seen or heard of some horrendous misdeed, and said to ourselves, ‘That’s just plain wrong.’ Right?”

I then proceeded to define ethics as the systematic study of morality, which, in turn, entailed the question, “So what exactly is morality?” Resultantly, I stated that morality, at its most basic, deals with the distinction between good and bad, right and wrong.

“Essentially, what makes a good guy, a good guy, and what makes a schmuck, a schmuck? It’s these simple types of questions that lie at the very heart of morality,” I submitted.

“More specifically,” I continued, pointing towards the corresponding PowerPoint presentation, “according to Mary Midgley, who is very highly regarded when it comes to these moral matters, ethics is about interacting successfully with others. Since we humans are social creatures, we naturally tend to want to interact with one another. However, when we interact with our fellow human beings, this generates an enormous amount of ethical concern. Why you ask? Well, just think…what happens when we interact with other peoples, or cultures, or ethnicities…what’s ultimately inevitable?”

Invariably, even in the worst of classes, at least one person will respond, “conflict” in a usually dour tone, (this is, no doubt, due to the fact that the correlative PowerPoint slide says in big black letters – Conflicts of Interest; thus, the students have been sufficiently cued). Today, however, several students, rather resoundingly, replied in unison.

“Correct,” I swiftly replied. “Here, consider this example,” I promptly continued, as I proceeded to draw a cheesy child-like sketch of a mansion on the board.

 

“Now, we’ve got his huge six-bedroom McMansion,” I say, as I’m still in the process of completing my sketch. “And what we’re gonna do,” I explained after completing the sketch, “is randomly pick-out six people in this classroom, all of whom will have to live together for the next six months. Now,” I inquired, rather rhetorically, “does anybody wanna speculate on how this is all gonna go?”

Almost always, someone will say something like, “horribly” or “terribly” or just plain “really bad.” In this present setting, the former was the first descriptive term used.

In which case I replied, “Horribly, indeed!”

Quickly, I expounded, “As it turns out, folks, we humans simply can’t get along with one another. Heck,” I inquired, again rather rhetorically, “has anybody taken a history class before? Just think…when you take a history class, what do you spend most of your time studying?”

Almost without exception, at least one brave soul will reply, “WAR” in a sturdy, sullen voice.

“Precisely,” I always eagerly agree.

“And, of course, I don’t have to tell you that conflict is everywhere you go these days. Whether you’re talking about immigration, or gun control, or abortion, or global warming, or economic equality, conflict is sure to abound. In fact, these days, regardless of whether they’re right or left on the political spectrum, everybody is angry.”

 

.   .   .

 

Next, I present the definition of a moral context: this being a context in which persons can be either harmed or benefited by a particular course of action, law, or policy. Simply put, helping someone is a good thing, while hurting or harming somebody is a bad thing. “For instance,” I offered, “when you get up in the morning and decide whether to put your right shoe on first, or your left shoe on first, this does not represent a moral decision; that is, nobody is being harmed or benefitted by your actions. However, if you wake up in the morning, and you’re deciding on whether to have oatmeal with blueberries, or bacon and eggs for breakfast, this may very well constitute a moral choice. This being the case, of course, because in the former instance, no lives were taken, no sentient creature had to suffer.”

Therefore, the moral stage has been appropriately set.

“Now we’ve been thinking about ethics for roughly twenty-four to twenty-five hundred years, give or take,” I explained. “And in the process of thinking about these moral matters, there is now a general consensus that certain operative assumptions can, and should be made.”

At this point, nearly half the students in an average, ordinary class either stiffen up or slightly roll their eyes, as if to say, “Come on, man, where are you getting off making these assumptions?”

Yet, pleasantly enough, on this particular occasion, nearly the entire class appeared to be all ears.

Still, to address this natural skepticism, I continued by saying, “Now I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression here. Clearly, we humans have been thinking about ethical matters for far longer than two thousand-plus years. Past civilizations, dating all the way back to the ancient Egyptians, almost certainly had a conception of what constituted good and bad, right and wrong. So, when I said roughly twenty-four to twenty-five hundred years, I really meant to say that it was during this time, by way of the ancient Greeks, but specifically Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, that ethics became systematic. Or rigorous, if you will.”

It is at this juncture in the lecture that I refer to an example I gave earlier in the semester in order to justify these ethical axioms. “Remember the meta-math example I gave you guys earlier in the semester?”

Today, several students answered in the ardent affirmative.

In which case I went on to reiterate this example in highlight form. “Remember, mathematics is based on set theory; that is, based on what properly constitutes a legitimate set. But set theory itself is based on eight axioms, which are, by their very nature, not subject to proof or demonstration. Rather, they are simply taken as givens in order to get the whole numerical show up and running in the first place. Hence, even mathematics – that conceptual superstructure consisting exclusively of necessary a priori truths – must make operative assumptions. So, strictly speaking,” I concluded with the arched eyebrows of stage majician, “Even in mathematics, there’s bit of majic,” while twinkling my fingers.

 

.   .   .

 

“So now,” I continued, “let us turn to our first ethical assumption; this being rationality. In short, we simply assume that, within any given ethical context, reasons matter. Actually, this is quite the understatement. In reality, reasons are of absolute, paramount importance. Point of fact, consider the following example,” I provoked.

“Let’s say we have two young men who have each stolen a car. Both of these young men appear before a judge in a court of law. In turn, the judge inquires, ‘Young man No. 1, why did you steal the car?”

In which case, young man No. 1 responds, “Well Judge, I actually have a really good reason. You see, my granny had this awful, sudden stroke, so I rushed her to the nearest hospital. And by some crazy miracle, Judge, I saved her life. So, that’s why I did what I did, Judge…to save my granny’s life.”

“OK,” the judge replies. “Give me some time to think about that.”

Meanwhile, the judge continues, “Young man No. 2, why did you steal the car?”

“Well Judge, you’re really gonna love this. Ya see, I’ve always wanted to go on a joyride down Pacific Coast Highway. So, I hotwired this killer red Ferrari and went on this raging Fear and Loathing road trip. Believe me, Judge, Doctor Gonzo would have been very proud. So, Judge, that’s why I did what I did…I’d always dreamt of racing down PCH in a bomb European supercar.”

Of course, the essential point is never lost on anybody. Clearly, young guy No. 2 is going to jail, whereas the fate of young man No. 1 looks much more promising.

“So then,” I say in summary, “with respect to any moral context, reasons matter. That is, when people can be helped or harmed by your actions, then you need to be able to give good reasons for why you acted the way you did. So, for instance, if you just shrug your shoulders and say, ‘Well, that’s just the way I roll,’ you’re probably being a schmuck. Because, really, what you’re saying is that you’re special. But, of course, ethically speaking, there are no such things as special people. All of us humans are in the same moral boat, so to speak. None of us, for example, are above the written law.”

 

Get The Golden Key: Gain Access to the lecture, Equality, Democracy, and Responsibility: The Case for Moral Philosophy

NOTE TO READER

The following excerpt was extracted from the ongoing, ever-evolving Afterward to my memoir, The Gold Connections Trilogy. Originally, I planned on posting this as a singular Day in the Life piece, whereby I gave a complete account of the day of November 21st, the day I attended Mark Z. Danielewski’s 2019 Book Tour. However, due to the devastating worldwide pandemic, my plans have changed. Please allow me to explain.

The excerpt you are about to read was initially conceived as a two-chapter story; the first chapter can be likened to an elongated snapshot of my mundane, daily life, with me waking up in the morning, eating breakfast, commuting to Orange Coast College in order to deliver my twice a week lectures, while the second part pertains to my experience later that evening in Pasadena, where, after all these years, (nineteen to be exact) I finally got to meet and converse with one of my literary inspirations; this being, of course, Mark Z. Danielewski.

To be perfectly honest, I simply have not had sufficient time, due to my hectic scholastic schedule, to hone and perfect the second chapter of this Day in the Life of sorts; it is nowhere near completed. Yet, this is not the case with the first phase of the story; it has been sufficiently perfected. In fact, it is this first chapter that is included herein.

In short, given our current unthinkable pandemic state of affairs, I think this first chapter is of pressing, even vital, importance, (and I am not being arrogant or presumptuous here, trust me).

As most folks know by now, the traditional modes of American education have been forced to transform, almost over night. For instance, virtually all college classes have transitioned to a remote online format. And, of course, it is anybody’s guess as to when this makeshift situation will revert back to normal, where classes are, once again, held in standard brick-and-mortar buildings.

To me, this is a type of tragedy, all unto itself. In my not-so-humble opinion, online learning is inherently inferior to that of face-to-face instruction; that visceral, dynamic tension is sorely missing. In fact, if I was America’s education czar, I would outright outlaw or at least severely restrict remote learning. Again, for me at least, that palpable, inspiration-filled connection is simply not there.

But I am afraid this is the way of the future…yet another new normal.

And this is precisely why I believe the first chapter of Fear and Loathing in Pasadena: The 2019 Mark Z. Danielewski Book Tour, is so important; it’s basically a birds-eye view into what used to be the case, but, sadly enough, is no longer (or at least for the foreseeable future). Little did I know when I was penning this piece that it would be so timely…so perfectly suited for the current catastrophic moment. As much as it pains me to say this, (I tend to be a ‘by design’ guy) accidents can actually be pretty amazing things.

And yet, it is not just the timing of this piece that is important; the actual subject matter maps on, I believe, remarkably well to our current unfortunate, sociopolitical situation. Unbelievably, we are now living in a time when white supremacy has somehow reached the mainstream…a time when young children are actually being held in cages…a time when well-established facts are no longer well-established facts…and a time when, for the first time I can remember, our sacred democracy is truly at stake.

In closing, as the death toll now stands at almost one hundred thousand persons, and well over a million and a half reported cases of the coronavirus, I would just like to state the obvious: we are all in this war together. And, in this war, we will fight, albeit not on a conventional battle field, but instead at home with loved ones, constantly washing our hands, sanitizing everything in sight, sporting masks in public places, while always maintaining our social distance. Indeed, it appears as though the old, seemingly absurd, Taoist dictum is actually the case; that is to say, by doing nothing, we will have, in turn, accomplished our ultimate goal.

Hope you enjoy.

(Memorial Day 2020)

P.S. – Included in this piece are references to Kobe Bryant. I have chosen not to extract these references, despite inevitable objections concerning convenient exploitation. And yet, I can assure you, any one of my students would testify that his name was, indeed, mentioned. In fact, every thing that follows from this point on is as close to an exact, verbatim account as humanly possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fear and Loathing in Pasadena: The 2019 Mark Z. Danielewski Book Tour

Dedicated to my mother and father, both of who were life-long educators; as well as to the historical fact that my father was a purple-heart recipient in the Korean War, having almost been mortally wounded by a bomb blaast.

Finally! The day I had been waiting for, for nearly twenty years, was here at last. Finally, I would meet my literary hero; that guy who broke all the literary rules so brilliantly, so frighteningly; the creator of arguably the greatest experimental novel of the 21st Century; that manifold monument to darkness itself, residing abysmally within the impossible labyrinths of the serpentine mind, House of Leaves, penned by perhaps the greatest living writer of my generation, (of course, David Foster Wallace is no longer with us, thus leaving Franzen and…?) namely, the tricky enigma – Mark Z. Danielewski. Or simply, The Dude.

.   .   .

So I got up at my usual time, around 8:30, and had my go-to breakfast – steel cut oats topped with pecans, walnuts, blueberries, and apple squares sprinkled with cinnamon, as well as two large cups of coffee with a smidgen of sugar-free caramel creamer. Afterwards, I performed my mundane morning rituals; that is, I brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower, got out, dried off, got dressed, and made sure I had all my teaching essentials, such as textbooks, USB drive, etc. I then grabbed a blueberry protein bar and a couple bottles of Gerolsteiner mineral water, (where would we be without Trader Joe’s?) and finally I was out the door.

On my way to Orange Coast College, I still felt terrible due to yesterday’s Pipeline rejection letter. Yet, fortunately, in my first class, Contemporary Philosophy, which was now delving deep into existential theory, particularly Husserl, Heidegger and Sartre, I didn’t actually have to stand up and teach. Instead I was scheduled to show the Netflix documentary – What the Health – as a way to support my stalwart stance that our Western animal-based diet is perhaps the greatest existential threat of them all; one we can actually do something about, (immediately!) unlike nuclear proliferation or the mass production of fossil fuels. In fact, if we truly want to address the root cause of the current obesity epidemic, as well as the imminent threat of global warming, we must start by changing our diet, plain and simple. While many activists are quick to point to the harmful effects caused by the petroleum-powered automobile industry, and consequently call for the rapid transition from fossil fuels to electric, few emphasize our equally destructive diet. Indeed, if we really want to save the planet and not go the way of the dinosaur, we must adopt, almost exclusively, a healthier, plant-based diet. Or so I professed.

.   .   .

So, after showing What the Health, I headed to my next class, Introduction to Philosophy, which has turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and rewarding in recent memory. Today, I handed back tests, went over them briefly, and then embarked on the third and final phase of the course – ethical theory.

As always, I began this series of lectures by saying, “Now, when you first entered this class, a lot of you probably hadn’t heard much about metaphysics or epistemology before,” (this being the content of the first two tests, respectively). “But when it comes to ethics? Now that’s an entirely different matter. I mean, doesn’t everybody think they’re an expert in these matters…like they have two or three PhD’s on the topic?”

Then, in order to engender an immediate sense of sympathy, I go on to say, “We’ve all been there. Every one of us, at some point in time, has seen or heard of some horrendous misdeed, and said to ourselves, ‘That’s just plain wrong.’ Right?”

I then proceeded to define ethics as the systematic study of morality, which, in turn, entailed the question, “So what exactly is morality?” Resultantly, I stated that morality, at its most basic, deals with the distinction between good and bad, right and wrong.

“Essentially, what makes a good guy, a good guy, and what makes a schmuck, a schmuck? It’s these simple types of questions that lie at the very heart of morality,” I submitted.

“More specifically,” I continued, pointing towards the corresponding PowerPoint presentation, “according to Mary Midgley, who is very highly regarded when it comes to these moral matters, ethics is about interacting successfully with others. Since we humans are social creatures, we naturally tend to want to interact with one another. However, when we interact with our fellow human beings, this generates an enormous amount of ethical concern. Why you ask? Well, just think…what happens when we interact with other peoples, or cultures, or ethnicities…what’s ultimately inevitable?”

Invariably, even in the worst of classes, at least one person will respond, “conflict” in a usually dour tone, (this is, no doubt, due to the fact that the correlative PowerPoint slide says in big black letters – Conflicts of Interest; thus, the students have been sufficiently cued). Today, however, several students, rather resoundingly, replied in unison.

“Correct,” I swiftly replied. “Here, consider this example,” I promptly continued, as I proceeded to draw a cheesy child-like sketch of a mansion on the board.

“Now, we’ve got his huge six-bedroom McMansion,” I say, as I’m still in the process of completing my sketch. “And what we’re gonna do,” I explained after completing the sketch, “is randomly pick-out six people in this classroom, all of whom will have to live together for the next six months. Now,” I inquired, rather rhetorically, “does anybody wanna speculate on how this is all gonna go?”

Almost always, someone will say something like, “horribly” or “terribly” or just plain “really bad.” In this present setting, the former was the first descriptive term used.

In which case I replied, “Horribly, indeed!”

Quickly, I expounded, “As it turns out, folks, we humans simply can’t get along with one another. Heck,” I inquired, again rather rhetorically, “has anybody taken a history class before? Just think…when you take a history class, what do you spend most of your time studying?”

Almost without exception, at least one brave soul will reply, “WAR” in a sturdy, sullen voice.

“Precisely,” I always eagerly agree.

“And, of course, I don’t have to tell you that conflict is everywhere you go these days. Whether you’re talking about immigration, or gun control, or abortion, or global warming, or economic equality, conflict is sure to abound. In fact, these days, regardless of whether they’re right or left on the political spectrum, everybody is angry.”

.   .   .

Next, I present the definition of a moral context: this being a context in which persons can be either harmed or benefited by a particular course of action, law, or policy. Simply put, helping someone is a good thing, while hurting or harming somebody is a bad thing. “For instance,” I offered, “when you get up in the morning and decide whether to put your right shoe on first, or your left shoe on first, this does not represent a moral decision; that is, nobody is being harmed or benefitted by your actions. However, if you wake up in the morning, and you’re deciding on whether to have oatmeal with blueberries, or bacon and eggs for breakfast, this may very well constitute a moral choice. This being the case, of course, because in the former instance, no lives were taken, no sentient creature had to suffer.”

Therefore, the moral stage has been appropriately set.

“Now we’ve been thinking about ethics for roughly twenty-four to twenty-five hundred years, give or take,” I explained. “And in the process of thinking about these moral matters, there is now a general consensus that certain operative assumptions can, and should be made.”

At this point, nearly half the students in an average, ordinary class either stiffen up or slightly roll their eyes, as if to say, “Come on, man, where are you getting off making these assumptions?”

Yet, pleasantly enough, on this particular occasion, nearly the entire class appeared to be all ears.

Still, to address this natural skepticism, I continued by saying, “Now I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression here. Clearly, we humans have been thinking about ethical matters for far longer than two thousand-plus years. Past civilizations, dating all the way back to the ancient Egyptians, almost certainly had a conception of what constituted good and bad, right and wrong. So, when I said roughly twenty-four to twenty-five hundred years, I really meant to say that it was during this time, by way of the ancient Greeks, but specifically Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, that ethics became systematic. Or rigorous, if you will.”

It is at this juncture in the lecture that I refer to an example I gave earlier in the semester in order to justify these ethical axioms. “Remember the meta-math example I gave you guys earlier in the semester?”

Today, several students answered in the ardent affirmative.

In which case I went on to reiterate this example in highlight form. “Remember, mathematics is based on set theory; that is, based on what properly constitutes a legitimate set. But set theory itself is based on eight axioms, which are, by their very nature, not subject to proof or demonstration. Rather, they are simply taken as givens in order to get the whole numerical show up and running in the first place. Hence, even mathematics – that conceptual superstructure consisting exclusively of necessary a priori truths – must make operative assumptions. So, strictly speaking,” I concluded with the arched eyebrows of stage majician, “Even in mathematics, there’s bit of majic,” while twinkling my fingers.

.   .   .

“So now,” I continued, “let us turn to our first ethical assumption; this being rationality. In short, we simply assume that, within any given ethical context, reasons matter. Actually, this is quite the understatement. In reality, reasons are of absolute, paramount importance. Point of fact, consider the following example,” I provoked.

“Let’s say we have two young men who have each stolen a car. Both of these young men appear before a judge in a court of law. In turn, the judge inquires, ‘Young man No. 1, why did you steal the car?”

In which case, young man No. 1 responds, “Well Judge, I actually have a really good reason. You see, my granny had this awful, sudden stroke, so I rushed her to the nearest hospital. And by some crazy miracle, Judge, I saved her life. So, that’s why I did what I did, Judge…to save my granny’s life.”

“OK,” the judge replies. “Give me some time to think about that.”

Meanwhile, the judge continues, “Young man No. 2, why did you steal the car?”

“Well Judge, you’re really gonna love this. Ya see, I’ve always wanted to go on a joyride down Pacific Coast Highway. So, I hotwired this killer red Ferrari and went on this raging Fear and Loathing road trip. Believe me, Judge, Doctor Gonzo would have been very proud. So, Judge, that’s why I did what I did…I’d always dreamt of racing down PCH in a bomb European supercar.”

Of course, the essential point is never lost on anybody. Clearly, young guy No. 2 is going to jail, whereas the fate of young man No. 1 looks much more promising.

“So then,” I say in summary, “with respect to any moral context, reasons matter. That is, when people can be helped or harmed by your actions, then you need to be able to give good reasons for why you acted the way you did. So, for instance, if you just shrug your shoulders and say, ‘Well, that’s just the way I roll,’ you’re probably being a schmuck. Because, really, what you’re saying is that you’re special. But, of course, ethically speaking, there are no such things as special people. All of us humans are in the same moral boat, so to speak. None of us, for example, are above the written law.”

 

Get The Golden Key: Gain Access to the lecture, Equality, Democracy, and Responsibility: The Case for Moral Philosophy