Inventing necessities

I need an I-phone.

I need a 42 inch HD ready flat screen telly. I need two hundred channels of crap. I need high speed internet access. I need to see the latest blockbuster. I need faster ready meals, to drink cider with ice in it, to worship celebrities, get antibiotics for that deadly virus, holiday abroad, holiday at home, lose weight, gain weight, to be buff, be more masculine, be more feminine, to have 32 blades on my razor, to express myself and to suffer in silence. I need to go out, to get drunk, drink nothing but water, to ignore modern medicine, have a tattoo, have at least three hundred Facebook "friends" and get my eyes lasered.

I need to respect the stupidest of ideas for fear of upsetting someone. I need to be right, left, liberal, extreme, gay, straight, inclusive to some, racist against others, insular and extrovert. I need to love fat women, but vilify fat people. I need to be patriotic, to hate my country. I need to listen to that single, but not that album, to read that magazine but not that book, to hate that regime but not that country, to hate that leader but not that party. I need to know what's important.

I need to be told.

Programmable microwave - need.
Fridge that tells me it's out of milk - need.
Nightscope - need.
Playstation and Wii - need.
MP3 - need.
Robot vacuum cleaner - need.
Robot lawn mower - need.
Robot - need.

I need to be self-sufficient, to be a productive member of society, to argue, to toe the line. I need a small-holding, a city job, anti-depressants, white teeth, plastic surgery, no plastic surgery, herbal "medicine", counselling, to be breastfed, to complain about breastfeeding in a restaurant and to call an ambulance for a cough I've had for the last week. I need to be famous, infamous, overly nostalgic, to dread the future, to lock 'em up and throw away the key, to complain, to never offer a solution, to distrust scientists and call them "boffins", a man-bag, a red-top, a glossy, gym membership, a mountain bike, a racing bike, retribution rather than rehabilitation. I need caffeine-free, fizzy pro-biotics and gel that makes my hair harder than a tiger with a flick-knife. Yet malleable.

I need to earn twice the average wage like everybody else.

I need a four-wheel drive, 500 horsepower, hybrid diesel that drives like a petrol with in-car DVD, sat-nav, self-stopping and parking sensors. I need a bigger drive to park it on. I need to win arguments by shouting, to phone my vote in, to see my doctor immediately, to be loved even if I'm not lovable, to have three credit cards, to spend what I don't have and blame someone else.

I need Umi:


Or so I'm told.

Of course, what I really need, more than anything, is air, closely followed by water and then, occasionally, food.

I also need to make up my own mind.

Parenthood and the evolution of society.

Being a father is something I quite enjoy, and after a couple of years I'm fast coming to the conclusion that, when the trial period ends, we're not going to send him back.

I think he'll be pleased with that. The Orphanarium is cold in the winter, even with the new candle.

I think, as parents go, we're not doing too bad a job. The main evidence I have for this (apart from the fact that I've rarely accidentally sat on him) is that my son takes us utterly, utterly for granted.

Sit down, and I'm a climbing frame.

Stand up, and I'm a pair of shoulders to sit on. This desire is indicated by him simply standing in front of me and lifting his arms up, fully expecting - no - knowing that he will be lifted on high to take his rightful place.

My dinner is his dinner.

My snacks are his snacks.

My computer blog time is his YouTube Pingu time ("Wanna watch Pingu on the 'puter!").

He is Emperor of all he surveys, so I'm glad he's only small.

Now, I'm one of those kerr-azy Englishmen who would prefer not to have a monarchy, or a House of Lords, and thinks that democracy is, out of all the bad ways of running things, one of the less horrendous ones that we currently have.

Being a father has convinced me that I'm right.

Hereditary power is wielded by those who haven't earned it and really don't know what to do with it. My son has complete authority over me. Just about everything I do is for his benefit in some way, but he hasn't got a clue. He wanders through life oblivious to our protection and efforts to provide for him, ignorant of how to act for himself, and in return he swans about like he owns the place, which he will one day.

I have enough hereditary impedance in my life without having to put up with it running the society in which I live in as well.

My little boy will one day become a big boy, and he will rebel and earn for himself the independence he will so desire. He will stick it to The Man, unaware that The Man in this case will be behind him every step of the way, letting him make his own mistakes without falling down too hard if I can help it. Maybe, one day, he will experience the same genetically driven pseudo-altruism that we call parental love, and then he will be truly rewarded with the shackles of independence.

I expect that society will, eventually, follow similar lines, and that we will outgrow the perceived need to have our decisions made for us. I'm not expecting, nor indeed want, revolution through extreme acts, unless they are extreme acts of wisdom, but I'm not counting on that. We will, however slowly, move away from that overly-paternal attitude that has developed to control us, and will one day reach the point where we can control ourselves.

We will, in effect, grow up.

It won't go easy. These systems are run by those who get a lot out of running them, who benefit substantially from the wealth, the notoriety, the power and the glory. Old fashioned notions that have no place in benefitting the individual member of society. Autonomy is a scary prospect for many, and not just those who would lose their status. Imagine being responsible for your decisions. Imagine being accountable for your own mistakes.

You can see it happening already, albeit in embryonic form. Despite desperate attempts to appear relevant, like denouncing Facebook, religion is gradually, but definitely, moving away from being a power in society to become a sort of hobby for those who wish to dabble. The old fashioned paternalistic idea of medicine has long been replaced by a more inclusive paradigm of including patients in their decision making processes. Politicians get beasted by a warped media so biased against everyone that any suggestion of wrongdoing is examined with a scrutiny usually reserved for serial killers.

Good thing?

Maybe.

Are we ready for such levels of self-determination though? Will democracy be able to evolve into something that would cater for general autonomy, where decisions are made from evidence, where rationality is valued above hysteria and loud voices?

Possibly.

These are not thought for a whimsy-heavy blog which I have on good authority is not read by the Prime Minister, although I've got a funny feeling that the Queen may be one of my followers.

You know who you are, your Maj.

So, instead I will limit myself to what is truly important, and carry on allowing my boy to steal scraps of cheese from the kitchen:

Look at that! Like a cross between a ninja and a cat-burglar!


Nom nom nom!