Never met a custom I didn't like. Just kidding, I don't like a few of them

Are all human customs equal? In our increasingly sophisticated world, it's becoming commonplace to state that, more or less, yes they are. For who can say that one way of doing things is inherently or obviously better or worse than another way? To do so would require one commit to a criteria or standard which will in some sense be arbitrary. A criteria of efficiency, happiness, health, common good or whatever, will usually reflect cultural, geographic and linguistic characteristics.

Though our individual sense of certainty or doubt about customs might fluctuate in relation to those who are similar to us, in general we tend to think what those around us think, behave how those around us behave. And though the human mind is infinitely capable of conjuring wholly new images and ideas, our individuality is highly overstated. We tend to be like those around us, like our parents and friends. It's the old parable about apples and trees, they don't fall far, indeed, they tend to stay where they are, decomposing in the sun, being absorbed back into the earth. Even if they happen to be picked up by a hungry mammal, their essence will sooner or later be evacuated, once again likely not far from their relatively personal tree, all things considered.

Customs are historically contingent, like towering kelp, they extend from time's bottom to its top and we are lucky otters playing among their fronds, or clinging and hiding among them like nervous fish eggs. They are an ordinary feature of our worlds, most of them seem normal and necessary. The tendency towards customary habits is a natural impulse, it makes the lives of living things more pleasant, hopefully. Customs mean a kind of workable status-quo is being achieved, so usually there's no great pressure to change them. My method of slouching has been moderately successful for some years now, and I'm as faithful to it as it is to me. But customs can be modern and momentary. They're always trying to be so cool, though most slip into obscurity after temporary glory, and like Marco Polo we require the patient labor of the tenacious dork to trek out to their remote bazaars, return and tell us what's forgotten but still forsale. Customs pervade us and resonate through us, lucky for us temporarily contemporary folk. We use them to make sense of the world and they serve us well. Even our inanimate comrades are at the party, they also appear to embrace customs, especially inertia. We stopped talking to them long ago so I can't really say, but they seem happy enough, sitting there.

So it's very difficult to speak in definite terms about what is right and wrong with the behaviors of people not from our own places. We are essentially outside their ways of life, and even should we somehow come to know about them, it's true when cultural relativists say that we just don't understand. Worse, many of our impressions of other people's cultures are conjured, built and woven out of stereotype and cliche. Misunderstanding and misrepresentation all around! A bit of a glimpse and a cliche to pass on to our grandchildren. Familiar canards and faithful templates. Ham-handedly wielding canned hams, I mean expressions. I'm personally full of such thoughts, barely formed, like the distant whispers of my ancestors' prejudice. No, ancestors are cool, most of them probably did their best, and we should thank them for all the things they keep leaving behind.

These stereotypes inform my most general opinions of probably anything I can think of. I'll try it. "Goat Cheese." Hmm. I know it's made from the sturdy goat which stands atop the mountain and does there hop thither and hither, ever so sturdily, wherever pleasant odors and sights might coax her. If a daring woodsman were to stalk up behind her, and her ingenious horizontal pupils failed to spot him, well then he might nab her! After, he would forcibly lead her to his trusty milking stool and there would steal her milk. After filling his bucket and releasing her he churns the hell out of the milk until it's thick and delicious. Then he cuts off a thick slice and gobbles it down. He expresses his satisfaction with an, "Ahhh" followed unnecessarily by, "That was certainly delicious." And that's about it, all cliches. I plainly know nothing about goat cheese.

I also know nothing about media reports about the abuse of girls somewhere where I don't live. Girls are probably also being abused not far from where I sit and type, so what business of mine are the abusive customs of others? Especially when there are local abuses to consider? Still, reading a bit about madness of a few lads out there, and I'm forced to heap opprobrium and contempt on large swaths of strangers. Take for instance a recently filmed teenager flogging in Pakistan. She had let an electrician into her home and the local bearded ones got to wondering about just what was going on in there. They told her father and he too grew curious: "Was the man really fixing the electricity? Soldering irons? Ruse! He was in fact sending out sexy-time vibes to my seductive and stupid daughter! Let's learn 'em a less'in boys!" So naturally the girl and local tradesmen were tortured publicly and afterward forced to marry. Alas, no commemorative wedding video to speak of, but at least the couple can relive their engagement. At a certain point in the spectacle, a valiant hero is seen reaching down and he pulls the young woman to safety. Just kidding, he held down the arm she was using to protect herself, thereby aiding the other two men already holding her.

The custom of parochial honor codes which do such absurd and unjust violence are to be mocked and spit on. From my own parochial perspective, I damn the lot, do not forgive them their ignorance and I use the custom of women abuse as a spittoon for only my choicest gobs of counter-hatred. Damn the unknowable customs of the acid tossers too.