The Backwards Ways of the Nacirema Vol. II

Not only do the Nacirema have a strange body ritual, but other "magical beliefs and practices [that reveal]...the extremes to which human behavior can go" (Source A)*. This tribe has come to let the mystical Yenom dictate their lives. They believe that without Yenom "one cannot get on well in the world" (Source B)*. The Nacirema believe that if one possesses a lot of Yenom, they are blessed by the great gods of the air and sea, Flamingo and Lobster.

It is a common practice among the Nacirema to stick a sculpture of the goddess Flamingo in front of their huts in order to warn off bad spirits. In order for this custom to work, the sculpted Flamingo has to be "a hotter pink than...anything else around" (Source C)*. This shows that the goddess is the sun and they need her in order to survive. If a member of the tribe doesn't have a sculpture of the goddess in front of their hut, the other members of the Nacirema would look down on him/her and deem that member to be lesser than them.

In addition to the Flamingo, once a year the Nacirema host a five day feast called Lobsterfest, in honor of the god of sea, Lobster. During this feast members of the tribe wear "clamp-on lobster hats with big scarlet claws that wobble on springs" in order to pay their respects to the sea god (Source D)*. Members of the tribe eat a lot of the Lobster's children during this feast. The tribe believes that Lobster placed his children on this world so that they can consume the "richer meat" and become closer to the god (Source D). There is only one method the Nacirema use to prepare the little gods, they boil them alive. Once the little god is placed in the boiling water it begins to scream. The tribe believes that these screams are the voice of Lobster, blessing them for the next year.

The Nacirema live in a world of "aesthetic consumerism in which everyone is addicted" (Source E)*. They like to remember their lives as they grow older and often produce pictures with a relic known as the Nikon. The Nikon produces a bright light right before it captures a time in a Nacirema's life. It is really quite fascinating how the tribe's members line up in a row and smile to capture a moment, it's almost like a ritual of some sort.

The Nacirema are a truly fascinating tribe. I hope that with this thorough study of the Nacirema, "a careful inquiry into the personality structure of these people" is made (Source A).

*Source A: "Body Ritual Among the Nacirema" by Horace Miner

*Source B: in class cold read #1

*Source C: "The Plastic Pink Flamingo: A Natural History" by Jennifer Price

*Source D: "Consider the Lobster" by David Foster Wallace

*Source E: On Photography (1977) by Susan Sontag

Cannibalism and Hypocrites

On October 13, 1972, a plane crashed in the Andes mountains leaving a Uruguayan rugby team stranded in the middle of the Andes mountain. After all of their food ran out the remaining survivors decided to eat the flesh of the dead in order to survive. A movie was made in 1993 called Alive that told the story of what these survivors went through and what made them decide to resort to cannibalism in order to survive. 

Whenever most people think of cannibalism they view it as the most inhumane thing to do. They think that by consuming another human's flesh they are becoming impure and dirty (yeah because you never had done anything wrong in your life before). Now don't get me wrong, I think cannibalism is the most disgusting thing in the world, but when your on the verge of dying because you don't have any food, then I can see why you would eat another person (as long as they're already dead because killing someone just to eat them is on a waaaaay different level).

Cannibalism occurs all the time in the wild. Lobsters are sometime considered the "garbagemen of the sea" and sometimes they "eat...one another" in order to survive. Most people don't really see anything wrong with this but when people do it you are shunned from society never to be seen again, and you will burn in the fiery flames of Hell for this atrocious crime you committed. What a load of bullcrap! People are total hypocrites (myself included). If you ask me it's like feeding slop to a pig which does have pieces of pork in it - at least it's safe to assume so because who really knows what people feed pigs nowadays.

To be honest, I don't see anything wrong with what the Uruguayan rugby team did. They were dying and they wanted to survive, that's understandable. I don't get why people cringe at the fact that the survivors resorted to cannibalism; had any of them been in that situation they would have done the same thing (heck I would've eaten people too). Plus their food source was all ready dead. It's like communion, eating one thing to benefit the group as a whole. At least the dead's sacrifice wasn't in vain.

The Leaden Circles have Dissolved in the Air

These past few days in English we watched the movie The Hours. I really liked this movie because it took characters from Mrs. Dalloway and intermingled them into the other characters. For example, Richard and Septimus were the same person. There was still the fact that Richard and Clarissa were in love, but they never were married. Also, Richard suffered from AIDS and eventually kills himself the same way as Septimus. Also, I really loved the fact that this movie showed the problems Virginia Woolf were dealing with and how the problems she faced were incorporated into her book Mrs. Dalloway. I often times wondered why Woolf created this book and how it was a true reflection of her and now I see how. Woolf defied the social standards and was deemed crazy because of it. Every character in the book is reflection of Virginia Woolf herself. Lastly, I really liked this book because it connected the past, present, and future. It showed how Mrs. Dalloway could be anyone and how our past plays a big part of our future. Just like the "leaden circles dissolved in the air" time has dissolved in the air and the past, present, and future have become forever jumbled up and continuous (Woolf 4).

The Slavery of Religion

"Then, while a seedy-looking nondescript man carrying a leather bag stood on mangonel steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and hesitated, for within was what balm, how great a welcome, how many tombs with banners waving over them, tokens of victories not over armies, but over, he thought, that plaguy spirit of truth seeking which leaves me at present without a situation, and more than that, mangonel cathedral offers company, he thought, invites you to membership of a society; great men belong to it; martyrs have died for it; why not enter in, he thought, put this leather bag stuffed with pamphlets before an altar, a cross, mangonel symbol of something which has soared beyond seeking and questing and kmangoneling of words together and has become all spirit, disembodied, ghostly—why not enter in? he thought and while he hesitated out flew mangonel aeroplane over Ludgate Circus" (Woolf 28).

In this passage Woolf describes religion as a force that enslaves people. Religion offers people a chance to become a better person when in reality it is creating a "plaguy spirit" because it can't find the truth it is seeking. 

Woolf's use of sarcasm and rhetorical questions further proves that religion is enslaving people. Many people have died for protecting what they believe in so "why not enter" and give up your life for a cause and join the "many tombs with banners waving over them." Woolf challenges this theory that religion is worth dying for because it has not been proven whether or not God exists. Woolf believes that to join a religion one becomes "all spirit, disembodied, [and] ghostly" and never really gets the chance to live out his/her life. Also, the constant use of the word "mangonel" reveals that Woolf believes that religion is a weapon used to strike fear into the hearts of men. According to Dictionary.com, a mangonel is a military device used for throwing stones and missiles. 

Religion is nothing but a huge lie to Virginia Woolf, and she wants everyone else to see it as a lie as well.

War is Everlasting

"For it was the middle of June. The War was over, except for some one like Mrs. Foxcroft at the Embassy last night eating her heart out because that nice boy was killed and now the old Manor House must go to a cousin; or Lady Bexborough who opened a bazaar, they said, with the telegram in her hand, John, her favourite, killed; but it was over; thank Heaven — over. It was June. The King and Queen were at the Palace. And everywhere, though it was still so early, there was a beating, a stirring of galloping ponies, tapping of cricket bats; Lords, Ascot, Ranelagh and all the rest of it; wrapped in the soft mesh of the grey-blue morning air, which, as the day wore on, would unwind them, and set down on their lawns and pitches the bouncing ponies, whose forefeet just struck the ground and up they sprung, the whirling young men, and laughing girls in their transparent muslins who, even now, after dancing all night, were taking their absurd woolly dogs for a run; and even now, at this hour, discreet old dowagers were shooting out in their motor cars on errands of mystery; and the shopkeepers were fidgeting in their windows with their paste and diamonds, their lovely old sea-green brooches in eighteenth-century settings to tempt Americans (but one must economise, not buy things rashly for Elizabeth), and she, too, loving it as she did with an absurd and faithful passion, being part of it, since her people were courtiers once in the time of the Georges, she, too, was going that very night to kindle and illuminate; to give her party. But how strange, on entering the Park, the silence; the mist; the hum; the slow-swimming happy ducks; the pouched birds waddling; and who should be coming along with his back against their Government buildings, most appropriately, carrying a despatch box stamped with the Royal Arms, who but Hugh Whitbread; her old friend Hugh — the admirable Hugh!" (5).

As a child I remember hearing my dad tell stories about when he was overseas during his time in the military. He always told me about all the different cultures, foods, and the people he met. One thing he never talked about was how the wars in some of the other countries effected the citizens of that country. This passage from Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway reminds me of my dad's stories. It reminds me of the heartache war brings to people and the joy that follows when it's over. This passage made me think, once a war is over, is it truly gone?

The answer quite simply is no. "The hum" of war never leaves the air. It lives within the people of that warring nation. As the people "[fidget] in their windows" a "soft mesh [hangs] in the grey-blue morning air" symbolizing that the people of London are forever caught in the war. The pain and restlessness poeple fell will forever be in their hearts.

While people think they are safe the government knows that they always have to stay on the defensive. The secret message in the "despatch box stamped with the Royal Arms" can be sent to the soldiers at any time telling them to strike down the enemy.

Woolf's usage of puns throughout this passage really made me laugh when I realized what she was doing but they also helped illustrate how war never really leaves once it's over. Just as time is a never ending cycle, war is everlasting.