Raising the bar

I have been assailed for raising the bar so high for my release this weekend of my Darfur-themed work. Sorry, I can't accept that lament.

In politics it is a good idea to set the bar low, as most politicians are mediocre human beings, capable of only a fraction of what they promise and hamstrung by the inherent flaws in a contention-ruled system where consensus is more often than not the tool of the hack. Excellence makes you a target. Ask Bill Clinton.

In the arts, I don't believe in promising little. I need a goal lofty enough that forces me to engage all cylinders, and even find new ways to wrest energy from new sources. You don't get a date with the prom queen by saying "You will probably find me boring and we'll have a so-so time". You get it by promising an evening she'll look back on with fond memories from the nursing home, then meeting or exceeding that vow.

Guys who show up for first dates in idiot shorts and t-shirts with ballcaps on are examples of this tepid stagnation of the human drive for accomplishment. No wonder so many women turn lesbian (joking...a little) when guys spray themselves with bad cologne or "body sprays" rather than bathe.

I am a creature who demands much from himself, because I know what I am capable of. God did not want me to be a failed experiment. And, in the end, I seek more to show gratitude for the gifts I have received, including my life and my talent, than the pleasure of anyone person or cluster of persons, lacking in insight and perception.

Otherwise, I would've curled into a ball and died the first time someone, reacting to a misinterpretation of my works or a rumour of my words or actions, spat at me.

The money is still running even as to whether or not I am ever going to die.

(Laughing) I won't tell you what my wager is.