Frankenstein Revisited

I was thirteen years old when I saw my first horror film. The movie was “It” and I was living in a children’s home with nine other boys. Most of us were terrified. Ed, our cottage parent, snuck out of the cottage after the movie and waited until we were getting ready for bed. In the same moment that John turned out the light in our room, Ed slammed his hands on the outside of our window and let out a noise that was quickly drowned out by the high pitched screams of John and myself. Later that night John and I laughed about the event and to this day that memory is a fond one.

It’s so hard to say exactly what it is that I love about horror. Some of it has to be the fantastic nature of it all. Whether it’s Freddy’s ability to exist within our dreams, Jason and Michael Myers ability to live through anything, or good old Dracula’s ability to violate us with so much ease and style. I even like the Twilight series, even though I think that what’s happened to the vampire message is a tragedy that I’ll devote an entire later post to. Still, Twilight is a unique modernization of vampires and I can’t deny that they have supernatural powers and who doesn’t like to watch that?

I know that some of these powers are pure fantasy, although some creative horror even turns pure fantasy into believable fiction, like Scream. They did a superb job of turning faster than possible movement into a realistic story simply by suggesting that horror monsters can work together. This added a level of realism to Scream that made it unique. Other horror tries to make these steps into reality by using a quasi-logic where they take familiar themes and use them to explain fantasy. Vampires fit into this category by using sacreligious explanations. Classic religious themes become weapons such as the cross and in doing this the cross is revealed to possess magical powers of its own. If the audience is religious, these themes seem more real and within the audience’s minds the entire nature of the vampire takes a step into reality.

Recently, I’ve been introduced to a whole new horror monster by Texas’ own Louis Gohmert. His new monster is not actually a new one, but a modern retake on an old horror story. What can I say though, I’ve already admitted to liking Twilight so I’ve got to at least give his new horror monster a just consideration. This new monster is the legendary “Terror Baby”. In his horror story, terrorists are sending pregnant women into America, giving birth in order to grant citizenship to their children and twenty years later awakening these babies like a magical sleeper cell of terrorists. I loved reading Frankenstein, maybe I’ll like his new story too.

First, Frankenstein’s monster was created by Victor Frankenstein. The father’s bad parenting left the child to be raised separate from Victor’s society. Similarly, Gohmert’s monster was created by pregnant middle eastern women and left in the wild America to be raised by our society.

Next, Frankenstein’s monster had little or no contact with Victor for many years while it grew and learned. Similarly, this is classic sleeper cell ideology saying that a terrorist agent can sit in another country for many years before it’s awakened.

Frankenstein’s monster was not inherently evil. He became corrupted as society and his own father pushed him into obscurity. He became violent when he was confused and later when his father refused him a wife. Frankenstein’s monster is a classic example of how society can confuse and corrupt an innocent life. This is the part of the story where Gohmert’s monster becomes a problem for me. You see, Gohmert’s monster would have to be perfectly corrupted by American society and trained by active terrorists in order to become a realistic sleeper cell terrorist. In this way the existence of Gohmert’s monster becomes invalidated by its very attempt to exist. We know that America already watches those people who take regular trips to the middle east and any irregular activities would send up red flags. Likewise, terrorists coming into this country to teach these children would send up similar red flags. (not to mention that if they could get into the country to train the terror babies, they could skip the entire task)

Of course, if we’re talking about the horror genre then we can answer this question through supernatural powers. If vampires can move faster than thought, werewolves can turn into wolves, Freddy can live in our dreams, then certainly Gohmert’s monster can get their terrorist training through magical means. Perhaps through a telepathic link to their magical terrorist leaders that could also be used to awaken them when the time is right.

Oh well, horror stories are meant to scare us. They’re meant to make us hug our loved ones and give us fond memories like the one I have of John and myself terrified of Ed outside our window.

Occasionally a really well made horror story is even meant to teach us something. Perhaps Gohmert’s monster is meant to teach us something too. Maybe we can learn that we don’t need to give terrorists magical powers to make them scary. Maybe we can even learn to believe that if a child grew up in America they would be immersed in our culture and see who we are as a people. Perhaps they would come to realize we’re a nation of varied ideals and just as varied passions. You see, the real point of the Frankenstein story isn’t to make the audience feel sad for the monster or to convince them to hate the monster. The point of the Frankenstein story is to convince the audience to take a look at itself and try to show how it touches the lives of those foreign to it.

Cows

Since getting married, my wife has tried so hard to debarbarize me. She took away my club, made me wear pants over my loincloth at the dinner table and in a few months she’s even planning on making me finally move out of my cave and to a place she calls California. I’ll admit that her struggle to introduce me to a world where people plant bushes for aesthetic purposes, instead of just to make sure that friends had a convenient place to pee, has been a difficult trial for both of us. Some of her valuable lessons have fallen on somewhat deaf ears though and I have to admit to certain difficulties following the logic.

Tonight, we had a somewhat deep conversation about the nature of the cow. She expressed her opinion about the valuable cute factor of baby cows. Personally, I’ve always been in the camp (read as diner) of people (read as hungry patrons) who tend to give little credence to the rather oppressive plight of the modern day American cow (read as burger filler). This time the debate remained light enough to likely avoid a couch night, but I can’t help but think that some of the most important questions were never really addressed.

First, I posited the thought that should our world ever reach the place where we were able to fully synthesize all of the natural resources of the cow that we would see the race completely wiped out. I suggested that cows would likely never be able to develop any real methods of protecting itself from the world if they were no longer kept by humans for their resource value and considering the amount of time that freed cows spend standing confused in the middle of southern highways, I think I won this point.

I continued by pointing out that cows really aren’t anything that people would want to keep as a pet. I mean, most pets have some pet-like value. Cats are adorable when they’re young and tend to remain so throughout their lives. Likewise, dogs are just as adorable when they’re puppies and as they grow each breed is designed to be perfect for the various preferences of their owners. Even birds have something of an aristocratic nature about them, as long as you’re not the one who has to clean their cage. These animals have pet-value. Now using these animals as my base, lets consider the pet-value of the American cow.

Cats have an inquisitive nature. They sneak through your house, hide around your furniture and playfully surprise their owners as they notice little fluffy hiding in a plant or leaping onto the table. This would not work for a cow. The first time a cow leaped onto your table you may find it amazing, but the repair bills for your kitchen floor would quickly make you rethink the beast’s pet-value. Additionally cats have an affectionate nature. Ours loves to wait until we’re asleep and then creep back and forth across our pillows for hours. If a cow tried to perform this same feat of balance, we would be far less amused and would likely not find it to be adorable in the least.

Dogs on the other hand serve many different purposes as a pet. They are a more athletic pet than cats, often able to engage their owners in their athletic play. Whether this means playing chase or just fetching a ball, dogs are interactive. If you tried this with a cow you would likely be unimpressed. I even had a friend in my younger days who thought it wise to pull off his shoe and throw at a cow while it was grazing. Without missing a beat, the cow ignored the shoe and began charging towards my slim witted friend who found himself with no better option but to sprint towards the electric fence. While this particular cow was technically interactive, somehow I think that the spirit of the game is different between playing fetch with Spot and running for your life away from an angry Bessy.

Further, dogs are affectionate. They will often find their way onto their owners laps to cuddle and spend a few hours asleep in their favorite nook. I’m finding it difficult to think of any possible way that spending the same loving moment with a cow could end anywhere other than the emergency room.

Birds gave me pause. You really don’t cuddle a bird, nor do you let it roam your house freely so as to be surprised by its playful nature. So perhaps a cow could be a pet in the same way that a bird can be. A few moments of thought on this matter changed my find. First, birds are pretty to look at whereas a cow is just a cow. Birds are often loud but in a pleasant and often musical manner whereas a cow is still just a cow. A bird can make a substantial mess on the sports section but if a cow did the same in your home, you might have to move to save yourself from the scent.

So I’m left with two conclusions. A cow would never survive the wild and would never make it as a pet. If you’re willing to accept these two premises as true, then it would seem as though the fate of the cow in a cow synthesized world would be quite tragic.

This is the point where I really found myself tripped up because this debate has just set the parameters for a classic philosophical paradox. The sanctity of cow-life is directly dependent on the decrease of quality of cow-life, or stated more clearly if we don’t cage them and treat them as burger fillers then we may be assisting in the rampant destruction of their species.

I typically love questions like this because they really allow us to consider all kinds of life v life ideals. For instance, what is the value in the sanctity of cow-life if it must be forcefully shortened in order to exist at all? If you believe that the sanctity in a shortened cow-life has value over the complete absence of any cow-life in the name of a higher quality of cow-life, then how many burgers/steaks a week would mean that you’re doing your part to preserve that cow-life without overdoing your effort and further decreasing their quantity of cow-life?

I have a feeling that this discussion will be one that she and I will be continuing in the future; however, it would not be hard for someone to void this entire discussion by simply adopting a cow of your own to have as a pet. In case you decide to go this route, make sure you don’t let it walk across your pillows while you sleep because my current readership is too low to accept any decrease.