Hubris, Heist, or Harmartia

"Well I suppose if I'm supposed to tell you the truth I ought to start from the beginning.  But the beginning is a tricky thing to pinpoint because the beginning of the beginning is just as important as the ending of the beginning.  If I had to pick the beginning beginning, the beginning, and the ending beginning I reckon I would call them phases.  And I would name these phases the hubris, the heist, and the hamartia.  You see the hamartia is directly tied to the hubris which is a result of the former, but being as important as the first it led to the heist which is the last but not necessarily in that order.  Because if it weren't for the hubris the heist would not have occurred.  But since the heist is why you think I am here I'm sure that is what you want to hear about.  But I don't necessarily agree that the heist is the reason I am sitting in this chair in this damp room.  I think it was the harmartia which ultimately led to my downfall having been ultimately manifested post-heist but really initiating the cyclical logic vortex in which we currently find ourselves.

"You seem confused.  Let me light this butt while you contemplate.

"Ah yes, that's better.

"You see, I'm the first born.  I carry the banner of my family's name and honor.  I'm the son of the first born son to my grandparents.  And just as I carry the flame so did my father, albeit much more successfully; obviously.  As the first born you get treated with with kid's gloves quite literally and figuratively.  All of the successive brothers, sisters, and cousins had to meet the standards that were set by me.  I was the high water mark of the new generation.  I learned to talk earlier than the rest.  I learned to walk earliest.  I had the best grades, was more successful in sports, and was the first to graduate college.  And I wore the badge of my family's honor well.  I never developed a superiority complex.  I didn't lord my successes over the others.

"We once went on a family vacation to Miami.  One night we were driving back to the hotel from dinner and got lost in the bad section of town.  My parents and siblings were frightened.  However I was able to rise up and successfully navigate ourselves as my dad drove quickly and safely back to our destination; all while only eight years old and having never been there before.

"Within my family my name became synonymous with awesome or omniscient.  I was by any measurement the family prodigy.  The archetypal son.  I often imagined that the National Institute of Standards and Technology had been looking for me in order to properly measure the perfect child.

"Eventually these standards made their way into my adult life and goals and dreams were fashioned in such a way that my edge would not be lost.  I would have to score the big job first, get the advanced degree first, and make a million dollars first.  And as I met the goals and exceeded my standards the pride that as a child I had been able to suppress began to develop.  All of a sudden without the close ties to the family to keep me grounded in humility I became conceited and haughty.  Those feelings manifested themselves in my relationships.  I often tell people that I've dumped hotter women than they'll ever talk to.  I am a consummate male chauvinist.  I broke the century mark with women by the time I was 25.  It was a special occasion too because I had been keeping track.  And counting down from 90 on was quite exciting.  In those days I developed a certain set of predatory skills that to this day help in other area of my life.  Now when I see something I can more quickly decide the set of circumstances that will lead to the accomplishment of the objective.  In fact the speed at which I am able to formulate the plan gives me a sense of pride.  I am constantly computing the odds at which I can achieve a certain set of outcomes.  This conversation in fact is all going according to a plan I devised months ago.

"Sorry.  Excuse me.  I digress.

"You see the confidence that I was instilled with in childhood led to hubris in adulthood.  This became the tragic flaw that was constantly destroying my relationships with others, (not just women) and motivated me to seek more perfection which led back to pride.  As you can imagine this labyrinthine paradigm is difficult from which to escape.  You need relationships to remind you of your flaws but your flaws sabotage your relationships until all you're left with are your flaws.  It's like trying to cure a virus by injecting yourself with said virus.  It takes a delicate balance of experience and preemption that I have yet to hone.

"So as is so often the case of those with superiority complexes I figured myself to be a problem solver.  I had begun operating under the notion that I alone processed the necessary skills to improve other people's lives just as I had done for myself.  I began inventing things and processes.  I consulted people and companies.  And I tried to fashion the world around me according to the standards and guidelines I had determined for myself.  And once again the hamartia reared its ugly head and I soon began to punish those who violated the principals of which I had mandated upon them.

"For example I would sneak meat into my vegan girlfriend's diet.  I would also become obscene in front of my Christian colleagues.  At this one coworker's wedding I became massively drunk and in rebellion to the union I spread a rumor that I had slept with the bride and her two sisters previously.  Needless to say I am not generally invited to weddings much anymore.

"But this rebellion soon affected my perception of the laws of the land.  Speed limits became obtrusive.  Gun laws were communistic. Police, Congress, and the courts were irrational.  It was only a matter of time before my sentiment towards people's money was that it was better off taken from the government and held by me.  Eventually I thought that I could do a better job managing the money than the allocation process of corrupt politicians.  And those problem solving and predatory skills I had developed earlier one day exploded into a state of spiritual disquietude.

"You see federal agencies use a program that checks bids and proposals for legitimacy and legality before awarding contracts to bidding companies.  I wanted to be able to alter the criteria for which these bids were vetted in order to steer the awards towards reputable companies and mutually beneficial contracts.  The problem I ran into; however, is that it is almost impossible to determine those criteria; much less manipulate.  Ironically it is much easier to edit the program to award the contracts to disreputable companies and it wasn't long before I had devised a scheme to open shell companies and award myself the contracts.  And being that I am such an obviously better steward of the money it is in everyone's best interests that I manage the money instead of the connected and corrupted companies that normally the country normally conducted its business with.  The real genius of the plan came when I figured that the shell companies I formed could award the bad companies the contract they were entitled to under the previous program, but with a higher set of standards and a slight haircut in price.  The program had to be discrete and discriminatory.  Only those egregious violators of my morals were targeted.

"Simply, the plan worked.  The money was flowing, the work was getting done.  Less people were being harmed.  The software and business plan were able to avoid any internal audits.  And I transitioned in thought and motivation from retribution to philanthropy.  My justification for the profit was that I was benefiting the citizens of this country through my actions.  I was making the world a better place.  And I deserved compensation for my effort.

"Had I not readjusted my motivation I would have been able to determine the impending consequences.  I eventually believed that when called to task I could defend my decisions and convince people that I was right and my processes were superior to the government's.  In fact reminiscing now I think I might have anticipated and welcomed the opportunity to give my operation a voice.  You could say that I wanted to get caught in order to expose the corruption in the system and show people what a hero I am for not only whistle-blowing but actually taking steps to correct it.  That's right, I'm the hero here.  And you should all be thanking me what I've done.

"Sorry.  Excuse me.  I digress.

"You see in the end the hamartia led to the hubris which led to the heist which led to the hubris and finally the hamartia which is why I am sitting in this chair in this damp room.  I hope you understand the steps I've undertaken to get the change underway to expose this underworld and help the underprivileged.  Which is not to say with which your witch-hunt is concluded.  By which I mean I fully and freely confess to the crimes with which I am being charged and do hereby submit my statement forthwith."

El Fondo de Ofelia se Levantó

Wrote the following while tripping on Ambien 36,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean.  Found it in a journal a few days later; no memory of writing it.

Think of a town,

A small Medieval town,

Where the villagers are depressed,

And dressed

Mainly in brown.

Now outside this town

In a vast unkempt field

Lies a young lady;

A mistress,

A princess;

Some soft dirt on which she's kneeled.

She cries out her heart,

For her lover is dead,

And she will never wear a crown;

Her frown

Channels the tears from her head.

Her king had dies,

Who promised her it all,

Now the villagers' scorns

While she mourns;

How quickly death doth fall.

But oh how she loved that king,

Their love was without bound,

And soon together they'd be,

If she,

Could eat the hemlock she'd found.

If she did not end it now,

The villagers will tear her asunder;

So the poison she eats,

And soon the beats

Of her heart cease their fragile wonder.

As she's laying in the field,

Waiting for her demise,

A blue flower she'd suppose,

A rose,

Blossoms before her eyes.

Others say it's just a story,

The fact is,

And it's true,

A blue

Rose grows there in all its glory.

Many decades have passed,

And the town is now a city,

But now it is known,

And overgrown

By a rose bush so large and prickly.

And over in the field,

Where the young maiden lay,

A mountain has come;

For some,

Insurmountable they say.

The scale of the mountain,

1 mile wide and 1 mile high,

By many to climb have tried,

And died,

And the rest just lie.

You see when the princess dies,

She vowed to return

With her love in hand;

And,

Live forever more.

Hundreds of years have passed,

And all can see the rose on top,

But no one will seek it,

They think it,

Quite the inconvenience and stop.

You see if anyone did manage

To pick the flower on high,

They would find their mate,

And wait,

With them until eternity's nigh.

Still no one will risk the venture,

To climb that mountain of strife,

Even though,

They know,

It would lead to everlasting life.

Kurt's Stomach

Kurt's stomach was in knots as he sipped his coffee; his excitement ready to explode. It is 3:00 am and Linda is upstairs finishing up with the preparations. The children still sleeping after a long night of anticipation and family activities. Kurt's plan to keep them awake and busy long past their bedtimes so that they would sleep through the morning had apparently worked. Warming his hands on the coffee mug he reflected on all the planning that had went into this day: six months to be exact. The hours of internet research, the copious interviews, and the many phone calls and e-mails had all finally come to fruition and his carefully planned scheme was about to be executed.

The plan was actually hatched more than four years ago when the kids were still toddlers. It was a Saturday morning and Kurt and Linda had finally gotten the boys to settle down with the babysitter: the TV. As well intentioned as they were at the onset of their parenthood, the television had been a God-send and served to give them rest at various times throughout the day. Watching their boys react to the kids on screen dancing with purple dinosaurs and unfortunate men in tacky green sweaters, they devised an arrangement to where they could get the kids off their back for a whole week and relax with some time to themselves. Having the first child less than a year after their wedding, the couple did not get much time to spend together unburdened. Their jobs had taken them to the other side of the country, thousands of miles from their relatives. Pursing their careers, the last time they were able to vacation together was on their honeymoon to the ice hotel in Sweden. This time, they longed for a warmer climate; perhaps tropical.

Kurt had to pee. He had been up for over an hour now as his anticipation had kept him from sleeping. On his third cup of coffee, he soon realized that drinking so much before a long road trip was perhaps not the best decision. He resigned to hold it in until just before they left to make sure he was completely empty. Knowing Linda hates leaving behind messes, he finished off his drink and rinsed the mug in the sink. He grabbed the luggage near the garage that he had placed there the night before and loaded them into the van. He could still smell the cleaning solution from when he had shampooed the carpet just hours prior and remarked at how the van had not been this clean since the day they bought it: kids are filthy animals. Like a pilot exercising a pre-flight check, Kurt examined the vehicle once more for leaks, tire pressure, fluid levels, and anything else that might catch his eye. Finding nothing, he grabbed the cooler out of the garage and went back into the kitchen to load it with snacks for the long journey ahead.

The designated departure time at four o'clock was rapidly approaching, and Linda, finished with her packing and last minute dramas kissed Kurt on the back of the neck as he entered the bathroom. Without saying a word, she continued down the hall to the boys' room and proceeded to wake them and gather the things they had not packed the night before such as their clothes for the day and a few toys. Linda carried the younger of the two and Kurt; with his recently washed hands, picked up the oldest and the day bag. They piled into the van and opened the garage door. 4:00 am. – perfect.

"Are we there yet?" The kids are awake.

"No, we still have a long time to go. You have to be quiet so you don't wake Mommy." Kurt glanced over and saw Linda's face still stuck to the window. "You guys want to watch a movie?" Already cued up, he flipped down the monitor and pressed play on the DVD player. Satisfied, he resumed his position in the captain's chair as commander of his ship. The morning had been perfect. Everyone asleep, soft music in the background, the gentle drone of the tires on the asphalt: everything was going according to plan. He took great pride in commanding and expertly executing such a profusion of independent variables. He expertly weaved around the various potholes, chunks of rubber, and the catseyes in the road making sure to maintain a certain speed and stability to keep his family resting comfortably. Over to the left, he had the best view in the van for the sunrise. It was spectacular, probably one of the top five he had ever seen. He could not get enough, he had to keep looking; even snapped a couple pictures for later. If only he could paint it. His thoughts wandered ahead to tomorrow morning; where upon the balcony of the cruise ship, he ought to see an even more beautiful sunrise coming up over the ocean horizon. The imagery washed over his mind and was as refreshing as a cold drink of water on a hot day. He marveled at how astounded he could be with a simple yet glorious sunrise and how virtually identical it is to the mundane and commonplace sunset.

Kurt took notice of the homes alongside the highway. Miles of farmland dotted with single family ranch homes were all southern Alabama could offer to view. As the rose colored sky faded to blue, Kurt noticed a rather odd looking house. Painted in a faded lima-been green with a rusted tin-roof, junk strewed about the lawn and a sagging porch laden with old lawn furniture and an antique refrigerator with the cooler on top. The house struck him with an old southern charm hinting back to the depression. He could imagined a man sitting in a rocking chair, whittling on a stick with the wife inside baking a pie and the kids out front climbing on the tree. He wished to take a picture, but it was soon gone from view and in the past. The kids still quietly watching their movie and Linda still sleeping, Kurt reached into the cooler for a soda to help stave off his drowsiness and maintain his languor. Sipping the drink, he notices a familiar sight out of the corner of his left eye. Turning, he sees the old house again. The chipped green paint, the refrigerator, and this time red and white checkered draperies in the windows. He thought to himself how odd it was that two people living a few miles apart would have the exact same house. He shrugged it off as it was only a passing glance.

A few minutes later and finished with the cola, he turns to place it in a rear cup holder. When his eyes look back to the road, he spots the house again. Weird; same paint, same fridge, same curtains. He spots the mile marker: 192. Intent, he concentrates on scanning the area to see if there is another. Sure enough, a few minutes later; the same house. Mile 187. In fact, every five miles the house would appear. Not trusting himself, but not wanting to disturb the peace either, Kurt resigned not to wake his wife for something that was probably his imagination. Nor did he want the kids to think it was okay to start making noise. The car-ride so far has been tranquil, albeit a little more interesting now.

At mile 147 a scrofulous boy stepped out onto the porch. He looked as if he had been pushed but Kurt just figured he had tripped on the jam. He looked closer and passively noticed that the boy's eyes were encumbered with anguish. Kurt got excited and adjusted his position in the chair. If the boy is not at the next house, then he is not crazy. The next five miles seemed to stretch out for thirty. Eventually, Kurt rounded the bend and standing amongst the browned grass was the old house. As it came into closer view, so did the boy; now crying. At this time, a more aware man with full control of his faculties would have taken a picture, or at the very least roused his wife and called attention to this apparent phenomena. Such is not Kurt at this time, seemingly in a transcendental state watching the events unfold as mindlessly as his children watched their movie.

This time, the front door opened and a woman in a white dress appeared. Not a nice dress, but the kind with pockets in the front for a woman to place her sewing needles and recipe cards in while she cleaned the house. Nor was it clean. He noticed her eyes were burdened too.

Another five miles and again on the porch, door still open, the two embraced and held each other.

Another five miles and a man steps out. Boots, red trucker hat, and overalls without a shirt: deliciously white-trash. His eyes are red with hate. A chill ran down Kurt's spine as he sensed something fearful. He did not make eye contact, but the seething hatred emanating from the man's spirit was enough to beget trepidation into Kurt. It was like the feeling you get when you see your kid running out to a busy road or when you suddenly wake from a dream in which you are falling. He increases his speed.

The scene appears again with the woman and child on their knees and the man stepping into position behind them. He raises a shotgun. Impossible. The house disappeared from view again behind him and he shakes his head. In disbelief, he increases his speed again now writhe with anticipation.

He could not get to mile 117 fast enough. Engine racing, everything else was lost: the wife, the kids, their movie, the vacation. His own movie was developing before him. The porch in view again, the woman lay face down in a pool of blood. The boy trembling, looks up and makes eye contact with Kurt. His heart stops. The van, the road; time itself stops as he peers into the child's eyes and experiences ultimate fear. Fear so deep it causes his hands to atrophy and his stomach to turn out. He sees himself as a boy. He remembers the time at the lake with his family and touches something with his foot. Grasping it, he raises it to the surface only to discover a human hand. The terror experienced in that moment had suddenly emerged and began to terrorize his heart. Blood rushes to his head as his body silently screams to end this torture. Fire – blood – smoke. Snuffed out. A life ended as Kurt struggles to remember to breath. The van swerved and he is violently awaken to reality and a startled wife.

"You okay?" asked Linda with sleep still in her voice. "You're driving like a maniac, slow down!" The speedometer read 86. She tilted her seat back further and turned to face away from her husband and catch a few more minutes of sleep. A long day awaited her. If she had only seen the lifeless, pale, and sweaty countenance of her mate, she may have been able to comfort him. He checked the mirror to inspect the kids and they had fallen asleep again. Thank God, they had not seen the carnage. He glances at himself; what a wreck. Pasty and wet, he had forgotten to close his mouth still open in shock and disbelief. Closing it, he feels his heart begin to slow and feeling return to his extremities. A biting cold swept across his skin. He slowed back down to the speed limit and a new worriment filled his heart. He did not want to see that porch again; but slipping back into his insensibility, he felt he had no choice but to watch. Again, a reasonable man would have called 911 or at least woke up his wife; but Kurt just sat there and continued to drive toward a vacation that once seemed like a good idea.

Mile 113; dread. Soon that horrid house will appear and the atrocities on that porch will be realized again. And as they did, Kurt beheld the man again; standing solely amongst the bodies, shotgun draping from his right arm. His expression as lifeless as the two at his feet. No more anger, no remorse; nothing. And as quickly as it came into view, it was gone again not to be seen for another five miles.

This time, the distance was traversed in only a few seconds. Time was flying by like the time between dream and wake. Again, the same display, frozen now: three lifeless bodies; two on the floor and one standing in the middle. The scene repeated itself for the next hour until mile 42. The man had disappeared.

The boys were awake and occupied with their video games, Linda was up and making sandwiches, and Kurt was driving with a heavy heart and welling with sorrow. He knew that the occupied passengers would never notice the recurring house and the bloodshed that took place upon it.

Mile 37: Still gone.

Mile 32: He was on the porch again, this time on a short ladder and affixing something to the roof. Kurt squinted his eyes hoping to clarify just what the man was holding.

Mile 27: The man and ladder missing, a hangman's noose draped from the support beam. Kurt knew what was coming. He had already seen two deaths, another would antagonize his soul. He looked to make sure the family had not noticed.

Mile 22: The pain was overwhelming. Sorrow had turned into grief. His throat had constricted and his mouth had gone dry. The anticipation was building. No one else knew.

Mile 17: The man, again on the porch, stood atop a old dining room chair. The noose wrapped around his neck, the same blank expression on his face.

Mile 12: Still standing there. Kurt could not think straight. His body continued to drive, but his mind was a thousand yards away on that damned porch. He did not know who was in more agony; himself or the man. Their eyes met and instantly Kurt was transported into a swirling vortex of misery and torment. The tortured spirits had somehow connected and their affliction laid bare. Without seeing a physical manifestation, Kurt still acknowledged the presence of demons. Grasping at his soul, they struggled to pull him and the man down into the fiery darkness. His lungs vanquished of air, his muscles locked, and his eyes open and trained onto the man's. Kurt was lost for what seemed like hours. Hopelessness drenched his being. However, it soon passed as the house disappeared behind the van and Kurt once again regained consciousness and breathed heavy. Now, he hoped that the man would end their shared misery before the next time so as not to reconnect with that horrible man. He can not bear to stare into that bleakness once more.

The next time the house came up over the horizon, Kurt checked to make sure everyone was busy. The porch came into focus. The man had kicked the chair away and was apparently dead. Three lifeless bodies: two on the floor, one hanging from above. Kurt had never wished anyone to die before, but he knew that man could not continue to exist under the weight of the desolation they had shared and the only way to vanquish the pain was to kill himself. Knowing that his suffering was over, Kurt took in a deep, wholesome breath and exhaled all his stress. He was not ready to re-enter into reality just yet; he needed to make sure the man was dead.

The house appeared around the corner again and contentment poured into him as the man was still dead and now gone forever.

"Look honey, only two more miles to go until we reach Florida. Are you excited yet?" Lucky Linda. Lucky, naïve Linda. She could never begin to understand the complex emotions or the tragedy that had befallen that family just yards from her beautiful head Kurt would not consider telling her and risk corrupting that untarnished soul with the evil he had just experienced. His soul will forever be damaged and his heart blackened, but hers will remain pure.

He never saw that house again, or spoke of the horrors of that day. After their vacation, he took the interstate; his family none the wiser.

Don't Drive Angry

I was chatting with a person recently about the Bill Murray movie and asked if they could guess how long Phil Conners was stuck in Punxsutawney; to which they replied "What's Groundhog Day?"

Ignorance: let's talk about.

At The Impudent Iconoclast we strive to maintain political and religious neutrality.  Our goal is to address popular arguments and draw attention to the ignorance and fallacies that overwhelm post-modern rhetoric.  By abstaining from affiliation we hopefully avoid interjecting commentary to allow the reader to unemotionally receive and understand the argument quickly and without internal distractions.  Unfortunately ignorance is prevalent and rampant and there are many challenges to be addressed.  

All too often ignorance surfaces and it is almost impossible to identify, much less control.  It is by its own definition unrecognizable.  One must proactively take difficult and challenging steps to determine and correct their own ignorance.  Compounding the problem there are several kinds of ignorance.

Some types of ignorance include external ignorance, empathy ignorance, and self ignorance.  External ignorance is one of the easiest to identify and correct.  For example current events: today one of the biggest and most destructive cyclones ever recorded made landfall in Australia and yet in America the news of it was confined to a few seconds long blurb.  Hundreds of thousands of people across the globe are protesting government leadership in various countries, most notably Egypt, and yet politicians, pundits, and average people all seem to have clear and defined opinions as to wrong and right in each of these situations when it is likely they themselves have never been to these countries, met a citizen of these countries, could identify these countries on a map, or could name a single person from these countries.  And while we at II cannot claim superiority on these matters nor claim that it is improper or unhealthy to form opinions on world events, we beg that you recognize and remember that your knowledge on these matters is ignorant and simplifying or closing your mind on the matters is unacceptable.  

In the Egyptian debate we would like to think that the protests stem from a purely pro-democracy movement when in reality there are also pro-theocratic, anti-establishment, and others with large reach, influence and power that confuse the situation.  In which case it makes blanket solidarity unwise because it reflects one's ignorance.  We sometimes frown upon ignorance because it can; in some instances, stem from judgement.  And there is a mechanism in the human psyche that immediately recognizes and disdains injustice.

Injustice is often the result of or connected to empathy ignorance.  I once had a friend that was kidnapped and raped at gunpoint.  Due to my own external ignorance I did not know that for many years after.  While I considered them a friend I often passed judgement in the course of our interactions that unfairly distorted my perspective.  I once passed along to them an invitation to an unconventional Christian church.  In my mind I had judged that person to be as open-minded as they had previously professed and knowing they had a history of attending church I thought it would be great opportunity for the both of us to experience something new and address some ignorance of our own.  When the invitation was refused I judged it and the manner of the refusal harshly.  When my external ignorance of my friend's background was corrected I started to understand some of their decision making processes.  But it was not until I was able to address my empathy ignorance that i was able to understand my own judgments and then work to correct them.  I had sometimes attributed chemical imbalances or hypocrisy to some of their decisions or the opinions they had.  And this injustice of opinion to my friend has led to feelings of guilt and shame; the same feelings one gets when they recognize their own external ignorance; and slightly less traumatic than recognizing one's self ignorance.

Self ignorance is the most difficult to recognize and exponentially difficult ignorance to correct.  The longer one views the world from a single perspective the thicker the lens grows on their rose-tinted spectacles.  It is sometimes referred to as a comfort zone.  We hardwire into our brains a flow chart for which our decisions are made.  

Eat Fish? -> Do I like fish? -> No -> Don't eat fish.  

Is Obama right about healthcare? -> Do I like Democrats? -> No -> Obama is wrong.  

The trouble is our objective framework attempts to categorize and classify things that lead to wrong decisions.  Why?  Ignorance.  

Will I like sushi? -> I don't like fish -> I hate sushi.

For decades I denounced sushi and vehemently passed judgement on those who ate it and enjoyed it before I had ever tried it.  However I identified the ignorance and have tried it on several occasions.  It has proven hard and seemingly impossible for me to come to accept it which shows that battling one's self ignorance is not simple or quick.  

Self ignorance often manifests itself in fear.  A common tautological adage is the "fear of the unknown."  Fear leads to hate; and hate leads to injustice.  Examples include racism and misogyny.  And yet we are all guilty.

Therefore:

If there is one thing that II would like to communicate via this post or throughout the whole blog is that ignorance is curable.  It is altogether necessary and important to develop internal and objective frameworks in our minds to assess situations, form opinions, and judge people.  This allows us to make timely and critical decisions. 

There is a truck speeding towards me. -> Do I like living? -> Yes. -> Run.

However we must recognize that while our objective structures help us at times, our subsequent judgments are not necessarily objective.  The challenge is to not be lazy about it.  Once we realize that we base many of our decisions or beliefs in ignorance then can we truly begin to learn and understand; which begets wisdom.  And wisdom is the noble goal all should strive for and the impetus for The Impudent Iconoclast.  

When considering the cure for ignorance remember there is a significant difference between knowledge and wisdom.  Someone once said "Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit.  Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad."  One might be able to cure external ignorance with knowledge, but only the wise can use it to cure self ignorance.  So here are some steps that we at II agree one can undertake that will help cure some ignorance and that will lead to happy and sagacious readers:

1) Gather Knowledge:  We live in a tremendous era where information is free and easily accessible.  We have the internet, 24 hour news stations, cheap flights overseas, melting pot cultures, international cuisines, and social networks were one's exposure is only limited to one's imagination.  Incongruously there is too much information available which sometimes encourages ignorance.  As stated earlier cured ignorance precipitates guilt.  The human mind was not built for nor can handle the massive amount of information we receive.  Those that are tuned in know of the cyclone in Australia, the holocaust in Sudan, or the Taliban in Afghanistan.  What bothers some is the apathy one feels when the tragic news is received.  People are often quick to judge celebrities for picking single causes to campaign for because their mother or child were affected by something.  We accuse leaders who focus on one issue for neglecting other important issues.  As much as we would like we simply cannot address or emotionally invest ourselves into every issue we are confronted with.  It is not healthy nor does it help solve the issues we are passionate about.

2) Pick an Ignorance To Solve:  There are thousands of homeless on the streets in the city and one cannot help them all.  A person can donate money or time to a charity and while that may gratify the most superficial of desires and stave of some of the guilt, it will not satiate the hunger for justice: namely it will not cure the ignorance.  However if one were to pour their life into a single homeless person to get them a job and a home and their health then one can rest easy in the knowledge it brings and the wisdom one gains.  For myself I tried sushi even though when I have eaten cooked fish in the past I have reacted violently.  I also became a vegan for a week because I am always quick to judge them negatively.

3) Get Out of Your Comfort Zone:  I tried veganism in an empathetic attempt to break the objective decision making structures I had built in my head.  The more a person can destroy these little structures the easier it becomes to break the paradigms one operates from that was built in ignorance.  It is called broadening your horizons because if one is only staring down the road to get to the destination then one is neglecting the other routes along the horizon that lead to the same goal: in other words, ignorance.  Up until last year I had an ignorant and negative position on Korea and Koreans.  I do not think that five years ago before I started traveling that I would have been able to spend some time in Korea and alter my perception.  But because I have been able to get out of my comfort zone in graduated steps by traveling to different places around the world I assuaged the inevitable culture shock of visiting the country and was able to experience it with an open mind and correct my ignorance.  My new corrected judgement of Korea comes with great fondness and admiration.  However wisdom tells me those feelings are too probably based some other ignorance; an unknown unknown if you will.  Which leads to the last step for helping one identify and correct their ignorance.

4) Foster Honest and Open Relationships:  Gathering knowledge, picking an ignorance, and breaking your comfort zone are all shotgun based approaches for curing one's ignorance.  For a more surgical strike a wise person needs honest communication with family and friends that challenge and confront their ignorance.  For some reason I have always sought out those with unique perspectives: the redneck that loves rap, the Christian that has read Anton LeVey, or the hippie with an MBA.  Coincidentally, two of my best friends are a hardcore liberal and a hardcore conservative.  They both challenge me in different ways to view situations from different perspectives and confront different ignorances.  A person is not designed to self identify ignorance.  Only through human interaction is this achieved.  And once we are able to identify our own ignorances can wisdom be gained.

It is fundamentally necessary to develop opinions, argue them, and pass judgments.  Although it is crucial that a person understand that the method used to form these opinions may have been based on ignorance.  The only way to justify oneself is through humility and constant abrasion with one's own ignorance by gathering knowledge, focusing your energy, challenging your perspective, and fostering friendships.