Just like the stomach, the human brain needs nourishment.
There is a variety of fodder for an individual of the 21st century. Advances in technology have provided a bountiful supply of all sorts of foods, some rich in nutrients, others not so much. Though it is true and good that fewer people starve because of this, more and more of them are inclined to ingest food-stuff devoid of sustenance. The ersatz for nourishment has grown more abundant and proliferous in the diets of many. So, too, have these trends shown true for mental fodder. And while the movement to ensure every average American has access to a truly nutrient-rich, poison-free diet does exist, the same cannot be said of the average American’s intellectual provisions.
A little junk food is OK. In fact as an epicurean, it should be encouraged. But if one were to eat nothing but junk food, one’s body would incur a heavy amount of damage. The same goes for the mind, which incurs similar damage whenever we eat up the incessant tabloids at the grocery store checkout line in lieu of well-written newspapers. Likewise, when we flood our ear canals with vapid commercial music, we not only allow ourselves to glamorize and encourage a thoughtless party mentality, we simply become more stupid. I do not absolve myself entirely from this message either, for we all need to listen to a little more Beethoven. Rather, it is important to take a step back from this saturation of empty entertainment in which too many Americans take part.
There actually are mentally impaired people in this country: people whose IQs are the reason for their illiteracy and unfounded phobias. Therefore, it is a momentous sin for a person with the potential to be educated — whether through institution or through individual means — to forego that path in favor of temporary pleasures like a season of Fuller House and “dropping E” — taking Ecstasy — at the latest, hottest, sexiest, coolest music festival.
That’s another thing. Let’s stop pretending every music festival in America is akin to the magic of the Woodstock Music & Art Fair and start understanding what they really are: a bunch of kids who want to do drugs and leave heaps of trash in their wake while pretending to care about the environment in their daily lives. Imagine if instead of all of the time one spent eating mushrooms and seizing to Skrillex, one strove to understand the history of our country or the philosophies of Kant, Confucius and Kierkegaard.
Now, I don’t personally understand the latter, but it’s not my job to do so. It’s my job to spend my time telling you to stop giving Michael Bay your unfettered patronage and open up a damn book. How about the King James for starters. No, not the basketball player, I mean the book that likely inspired your tattoo.
Read this and look up words you don’t understand, as well as work from the aforementioned philosophers. There is hope, however, for if you put in just enough time — though not too much — you can become a rambling pseudo-intellect and confine your simple-minded pleasures for the weekend.
Justin Ford is a Santa Fe College journalism junior. His column usually appears on Tuesdays.
