Douglas Ernst Blog

‘The True Believer’: Eric Hoffer’s classic from 1951 is essential reading for Americans today

October 21, 2013October 21, 2013by Douglas Ernst9 Comments

Eric Hoffer’s ‘True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements’ was published in 1951, but its wisdom is more relevant now than ever. Hoffer, the “longshoreman philosopher,” was an intellectual giant; his observations on human nature are essential reading for all Americans. In recent years, the split between the defenders of individual liberty and those who yearn to be lost in the collective has widened. The United States of America is united in name only, and the seeds of sinister things to come have shifted the cultural dirt with germination.

While I will always be grateful for the education I received at the University of Southern California, the bulk of my intellectual growth during my early twenties occurred because I was willing to seek out books my college professors never included on their recommended reading’ lists. I learned a lot by listening to my professors, but I knew that my greatest expansion would happen when I figured out what they didn’t want me to hear.

Eric Hoffer was kept from me by the “intellectuals” who were paid (handsomely) to introduce me to the best and brightest minds of human history. Don’t let his work be kept from you:

People whose lives are barren and insecure seem to show a greater willingness to obey than people who are self sufficient and self-confident. To the frustrated, freedom from responsibility is more attractive than freedom from restraint. They are eager to barter their independence for relief from the burdens of willing, deciding and being responsible for inevitable failure. They willingly abdicate the directing of their lives to those who want to plan, command and shoulder all responsibility. Moreover, submission by all to a supreme leader is an approach to their ideal of equality. …

The frustrated are also likely to be the most steadfast followers. It is remarkable, that, in a co-operative effort, the least self-reliant are the least likely to be discouraged by defeat. For they join others in a common undertaking not so much to ensure the success of a cherished project as to avoid an individual shouldering of blame in case of failure. When the common undertaking fails, they are still spared the one thing they fear most, namely, the showing up of their individual shortcomings. Their faith remains unimpaired and they are eager to follow in a new attempt.

The frustrated follow a leader less because of their faith that he is leading them to a promised land than because of their immediate feeling that he is leading them away from their unwanted selves. Surrender to a leader is not a means to an end but a fulfillment. Whither they are led is of secondary importance. (Eric Hoffer, The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements. 118-119.)

Sounds familiar? If not, you haven’t been paying attention to the American political landscape since 2008. The election (and re-election) of the Marshall Applewhite of modern American politics — and the blithe acceptance of policies anathema to the long-term health of a free nation — have been harbingers of things to come.

Don’t believe me? Ask yourself how it’s possible for a modern Paul Revere like Mark Dice was able to get Californians to willingly sign a petition to support an “Orwellian police state” with “Nazi Germany” as its model. Any way you slice it, the “Orwellian Police State” video is a sad commentary on the state of union. A certain percentage of the population will always be clueless, but there are some encounters that should receive near-universal revulsion. A request to sign up for a “police state” is one of them.

The stage is set for America to change drastically overnight. The room is filled with the fumes of tyranny, and all that is required for destruction and pain on an unprecedented scale is a spark. Perhaps an economic crash somewhere around the $25 trillion debt mark? Iran officially going nuclear? A large-scale terror attack on American soil? Take your pick.

Perhaps the final piece of the puzzle will fall into place when Americans, now content to bludgeon each other with violent rhetoric, tire of blaming political rivals and turn their attention to external boogeymen.

The Americans are poor haters in international affairs because of their innate feeling of superiority over all foreigners. An American’s hatred for a fellow American … is far more virulent than any antipathy he can work up against foreigners. … Should Americans begin to hate foreigners whole-heartedly, it will be an indication that they have lost confidence in their own way of life.” (Eric Hoffer, The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements. 96)

If you are concerned about the nation, I suggest reading ‘True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements.’ While most institutions of higher learning these days are not interested in introducing you to men like Eric Hoffer, plenty of bloggers are happy to do so. Search them out, read their work, and together we might be able to pass on a freer society to future generations of Americans.

Flip the switch: Tap into ‘fight or flight’ for gains in the weight room

October 20, 2013October 21, 2013by Douglas Ernst7 Comments

Years ago I worked in a gym, and it was always interesting to see the post-holidays rush slowly whittle away as discouraged individuals decided that the sculpted body they envisioned in early January wasn’t going to happen — “this year.” There are many reasons why fitness goals go unrealized, but the inability to “flip the switch” is one of the more critical failures I’ve observed. When you’re tired and exhausted and you think you can’t do another repetition, are you able to find that “fight or flight” switch in the basement of your being and flip “fight”? If so, it won’t be long before you differentiate yourself from the rest of the crowd.

Try something along these lines the next time you work out. As you begin to feel the burn in your arms, legs, back or whatever other muscle group you’re working, wait until the point when you would normally end the set and then say to yourself: “I’m going to finish this set as if …”

“… My life depended it.”
“… The life of someone I love depended on it.”

You will be shocked by just how much you could lift when only moments before a little voice inside was saying “No more!” You will be amazed at how many repetitions you could knock out when only moments before a little voice inside said: “You’re done!”

“The weakness of flesh is to settle for less.” — Killswitch Engage

Indeed. As I told a friend of mine who plans on becoming a Navy SEAL within the next couple of years: Even the most prized swords had to become molten metal before they could be crafted into something legendary. While simply getting yourself into motion will often yield results if you haven’t been active in awhile, the biggest gains come when your body tells you there is no gas left in the tank, but your mind tells it to shut up and figure out a way to run on fumes.

“But Doug,” you say, “there are some pretty big guys in the gym, but I don’t really see them knocking out high reps.”

True. There are a lot of big guys who spend most of their time in the gym looking at themselves in the mirror. I’m quite familiar with them. But even in this case, a discerning eye will spot the truth.

I’ll let Ronnie Coleman explain:

“To build more strength, I have to concentrate on using more weight; more weight requires harder work; harder work takes me beyond the level of my previous workout, which pushes the muscle to further growth. In short, an increase in size results only from my commitment to increase my strength.

Hardness, on the other hand, is built by repetitions. Just as steel is hardened by intense heat, so a muscle is hardened by pressurizing it with blood. Higher reps mean a harder muscle. That’s the reason most of my reps are in the 12-15 range. A huge muscle is worthless if it isn’t ripped and steel-hard.” (Ronnie Coleman, Muscle and Fitness, Oct. 2013).

There are always big guys who could “sling s**t” in the gym. I think of them like catapults. They can throw up a lot of weight a couple of times, but their base strength is actually pretty weak. There are “big” guys, and then there are “strong” guys. There are guys who have muscles that look nice, and there are guys who have muscles that work well.

Are you a show horse or a work horse? One is not necessarily better than the other, but my personal opinion is that I’d rather be a work horse than a show horse.

Next time your muscles start to burn, just close your eyes, wander around in your inner darkness, find that switch and flick it to “fight.” You’ll be glad you did.

Guy Delisle’s ‘Pyongyang’ — a comic can become essential reading

October 15, 2013November 15, 2014by Douglas Ernst40 Comments

A comic book can be more than just a comic book. In fact, some are essential reading. Guy Delisle’s ‘Pyongyang’ is one of them. For those unfamiliar with Mr. Delisle, he has a number of graphic novels under his belt (all of them excellent), but perhaps the most illuminating is ‘Pyongyang.’ In 2001, the artist was sent into the North Korean police state to work on a project for a French animation company. ‘Pyongyang’ is his first hand account of a country that comes straight out of the Twilight Zone.

Did you guess who the spy was? The answer was #6, because he wasn’t wearing his official Kim Il-Sung or Kim Jong-Il pin.

In America, people who wear American flag pins are sometimes laughed at for their patriotism. In North Korea, citizens wear pins of the “Dear Leader” because not doing so might get entire families a one-way ticket to the gulags.

If Shin In Geun’s “Escape from Camp 14” showed the free world the bowels of North Korean police state, Guy Delisle’s ‘Pyongyang’ is the skin — more specifically the dermis — the middle layer that is more authentic than what the majority of the outside world is allowed to see (the epidermis), but also not the inner workings of the Communist regime (the subcutis).

Before we move on, let us briefly revisit ‘Escape from Camp 14,’ if only to appreciate a bit more just how close Mr. Delisle was able to get to the belly of the beast:

Shin’s story revolves around his life at Camp 14, a “total control” camp, which meant he was born there and he would die there. His earliest memories were of watching executions—mouths filled with rocks and bound tight (we can’t have anyone criticizing the Dear Leader in their last moments) before rounds of bullets blew their heads off. Camp 14 had a prison camp within a prison camp (where Shin was tortured). Sons and daughters are taught to snitch on their parents, snitch on their peers and to live in a constant state of paranoia. Women are raped and then executed when they become pregnant. Starving kids like Shin find themselves picking undigested kernels of corn from animal feces…to eat. In short, the North Korean regime seeks to strip every ounce of humanity from its citizens, and they have shown that they are willing to go to great lengths to succeed.

Not everyone in North Korea was born into a “total control” camp; some of them have a modicum of freedom. They use that to … buy red or blue shoes. Sadly, no white at the department stores Mr. Delisle was given access to.

The entire book is fascinating, from the stone-faced translator “Mr. Sin” to movies like ‘The Destiny of a Member of the Self Defense Corps.”

Guy Delisle’s ‘Pyongyang’ manages to be informative, funny, sad, irreverent and incredibly frightening all at the same time. If you have a know-it-all teenager or relative who takes their own freedom for granted, slip a copy under their door one night. If you want to know what it might be like to live in another dimension (or perhaps the United States on a long enough time line if we continue to erode the pillars of Western Civilization?), head on over to your local comic shop and purchase it for yourself. You’ll be glad you did.

Dan Slott: I love Peter Parker so much I turned him into a ‘meat puppet’

October 13, 2013January 16, 2014by Douglas Ernst122 Comments

The New York Comic Con is on, which means that comic fans get to view internet photo galleries of beautiful Cosplay ladies dressed as Power Girl, and Peter Parker fans get to read Dan Slott interviews where he inadvertently telegraphs to the world what he really thinks of the character.

Caps-lock abusing Dan teased things to come for Superior Spider-Man this weekend, and his state of mind couldn’t be clearer. ‘The Superior Freaky Friday Spider-Man’ takes on the Green Goblin in the months ahead, but before they clash Dan Slott wanted to set the record straight for posterity: He is the guy whose editorial judgment was so sound he decided to let a megalomaniac use Peter Parker as a “meat puppet.”

From CBR News:

CBR: We know what the Green Goblin meant to Peter Parker, but what does he mean to Otto Octavius?

Dan Slott: I don’t want to give stuff away. You’ll have to wait and see, but one thing to keep in mind is Doc Ock killed Spider-Man, took his life, and carried on. So he’s had the ultimate victory over Spider-Man.

When you look at the rankings, I’m sorry but everything he’s done from the “Dying Wish” arc of “Amazing Spider-Man” on moves him up in the rankings. Norman Osborn is like, “Ha! I threw your girlfriend off a bridge.” And Dock Ock could reply, “You know what? I RIPPED HIS BRAIN OUT OF HIS SKULL, PUT MY MIND INSIDE, AND WORE HIM LIKE A MEAT PUPPET! TOP THAT!” [Laughs] So at some point you go, “You know, I think Doc Ock might just be the #1 Spider-Man villain of all time.” It’s like, “Suck it Goblin!”

Slow clap for Dan Slott. He is actually proud of allowing Peter Parker to be treated like a “meat puppet.” If you take to blogs, twitter and other comic forums to voice displeasure with his Peter Parker meat puppetry, he mocks you. Question for long time Peter Parker fans: Did you ever think things would reach this point?

How do you top that? In Dan Slott’s mind, one would assume that making Peter Parker into The Green Goblin might be an option. There are probably all sorts of dastardly things one could do to Aunt May that could “top” it, but do we really want to go there? Anti-heroes are still, on some level, supposed to be heroes, and if Dan Slott thinks Doc Ock can exist as one in Peter Parker’s body for such an extended period of time, what now constitutes a villain?

Read the full interview and you can’t help but notice that Mr. Slott seems to have concluded that if he can’t generate sales by uniting all Spider-Man fans (those who love Peter Parker and those who really just want to see someone in the costume swinging around the city with spider-powers), he’ll do so by creating events that a.) have far-reaching implications for the entire Marvel Universe, and b.) tormenting readers. People filled with anger and people filled with inspiration can be moved to action, but it is much easier to upset readers than to uplift them — hence, Superior Spider-Man.

Again, the question becomes: Where do you go from here? At some point in time Peter Parker will have to come back, and a poor writer will have to figure out a way to undo the damage. Dan Slott’s work on Spider-Man is reminiscent of the woman who tried to restore a 19th-century fresco of Jesus and turned it into an abomination. The finished product isn’t popular because it is beautiful, but because it is so incredibly weird and bizarre.

Dan Slott is the Celia Gimenez of the comic book industry, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.

NPR fresco — Dan Slott’s work on Spider-Man can be compared to the Spanish woman who took the 19th-century fresco of Jesus (Ecce Homo or Behold the Man) and turned it into something so strange people had to notice. How will anyone return the fresco to its original beauty? How will a writer return Peter Parker to his rightful place of glory in the Marvel Universe?

If you are a fan of Peter Parker, I high suggest taking to social media platforms to let your voice be heard. There are few comic book characters that can be considered American cultural icons, but Peter Parker is one of them. When the history books are recorded, it should be a mark of shame upon the creative team that allowed him to be treated like a “meat puppet.”

Tales from Basic Training: Roster Number 144 speaks

October 13, 2013April 15, 2014by Douglas ErnstLeave a comment

As regular readers know, I spent a few years in the late 90s as an infantryman in the U.S. Army. The experience in many ways molded me into the person I am today, and for that I will always be grateful.

To give you a better idea of what Basic Training was like in the 90’s, I’ve decided to post an excerpt from my memoirs. They were written when I was 21 years old. I am now 34. Basic Training has changed a lot since 1997, but hopefully you’ll find my experience educational and, perhaps, entertaining.

“Douglas Ernst” goes to Basic Training and becomes “Roster #144”:

The lights were turned off and Drill Sergeant Piper exited the room. A red hue poked out from underneath a few bunks. Writing letters was the last thing on my mind. My first official day of basic training, a dizzying blur of agitated authority figures armed with extremely durable vocal cords, had gone rather smoothly.

“Is this what my life will be like for the next three years?” I thought.

I sat and listened as an intricate symphony worked its way through the darkness and into my ears. Roster number 299 was already fast asleep and snoring in the exaggerated manner of a Saturday morning cartoon. If I listened hard enough I was able to make out young men crying into their pillow — probably some of them high-school football standouts. Long drawn-out sobs, short rhythmic sniffles, and a variety of other cries filled the air. There weren’t many, but they were definitely there. God only knows how many others were internally wrestling with their tear ducts. Somewhere shortly after thoughts of my older brother’s experience at West Point and how good a glass of Gatorade would have gone about then, I fell asleep.

“Will you shut the fuck up! Fucking crybabies! I don’t need to hear that shit now!” somebody yelled into the night, waking me up. The multiple “smoke sessions” we had during the night were pushing (literally) a few people to the breaking point. I laughed hard into my pillow. I wished I had the guts to say it first, but only for a fraction of a second — one of the Drill Sergeants had heard the noise.

“Damn it,” was my last thought before the onslaught began.

“What the fuck is going on in there? Oh, you wanna talk in my barracks? You must want some push-ups. I see. Just get down! Oh, you don’t want to say ‘at ease’? All right, I got a joke for that ass.”

The lights were flicked on and I didn’t have time for my eyes to adjust to the light before noticing everyone doing push-ups. I looked down at my watch. It was 4:00 a.m.

“Who gets up at 4:00 a.m.?” I thought. “And how the hell am I supposed to yell ‘at ease’ while I’m half asleep?” I didn’t understand, but I figured I better start doing push-ups like everyone else.

Drill Sergeant Piper paced the length of the room. When he wasn’t looking, some people decided to lie on their stomachs, a futile attempt to save energy. Whether or not one cheated mattered little. Before he was done with us, every ounce of energy would be converted into a puddle of sweat and left to evaporate on the barracks floor.

He slithered across the room like a king cobra set loose in a chicken coop. He darted between bunks and around corners, and before long the stomach-slackers were brought to justice. Their beds were torn apart and they were instructed to continue with their exercise in the middle of the aisle.

A flustered fat kid to my right lay sprawled out on the tile floor. He had given up on push-ups with the short-breathed exclamation, “Muscle … failure.” For a moment he caressed the cracks in the floor with his fingertips. A mantra of “Cold, cold floor. Cold, cold floor” dribbled off his lips. I briefly cracked a smile, and the muscle contractions I was experiencing weren’t due to oxygen starved muscles ready to burst at the seams, but laughter.

“You think this is funny, funny man?” said the Drill Sergeant. “That’s good, because I got a bag a jokes for that ass! Keep pushing!”

My smile returned to its original, more “drill-sergeant-friendly” grimace, and I resumed the exercise. At this time two more Drill Sergeants shot through the door and into the fray. Drill Sergeant Piper was free to turn his undivided attention toward the mysterious mantra-boy beneath him.

“What on God’s green Earth is going on here, Private? What’s your name?”

The heavy kid shook free of his altered state and looked up. A black strand of sewing thread and a piece of lint stuck to his moistened cheeks. Again, I turned my head and smiled. The lactic acid was stockpiling within the cell walls of my chest quickly, and the energy used to muster a smile was better suited someplace else. I bit my lip and focused on locking my arms. A full push-up was now definitely out of the question, but I’d be left alone as long as I gave the impression I was trying to hold myself up.

“Roster number 138. Private Duke,” said the soldier in a Southern draw.

“Where you from Private?” said the instructor. “You a Southern boy? Down with Dixie and shit?”

“North Carolina, Drill Sergeant.”

“Figures,” said drill Sergeant Piper. “All you Southerners are dumb as a box a rocks. I knew it.”

“Yes Drill Sergeant.”

“Shut the fuck up! You take the little yellow bus to school or something? I didn’t ask you to talk. Damn.”

I couldn’t take it. The “little yellow bus” remark sent me reeling. An insult on that level was completely unexpected. For four years I had waited for an outburst like that from one of my high school educators, but to no avail. There must be a finite number of times high school history teachers could deal with students still lacking our 16th president’s name from their memory bank before snapping. I had probably just missed the occasion.

Unfortunately, my sudden outburst of giggles soon had me gasping for breath at the hands of a disgruntled instructor. Drill Sergeant Piper left Private Duke and ordered him to commence with “the side straddle hop,” known to the rest of the civilized world as ‘jumping jacks,’ before directing his wrath in my direction.

“Funny man again?” hissed the Drill Sergeant. “Wrong answer, Private. That’s a ‘no-go.’ I gave you a chance and you blew it. And I never give second chances. Wrong motha-fucking answer. Now let’s see what I got in my bag of tricks. Roster number…”

“144, Drill Sergeant.”

“Roster number 144, when I say ‘front’ you will perform the push-up. When I say ‘back’ you will immediately flip over and begin knocking out sit-ups.”

“Yes Drill Sergeant.”

Drill sergeant Piper hurled my bed to the right, almost taking off roster number 145’s head in the process. I glanced at the nearly decapitated soldier for a brief second before experiencing what was, at the time, hell-on-earth.

“Front!”

I didn’t plant both my hands before a succession of orders spewed from Drill Sergeant Piper’s mouth.

“Back! Front! Back! Front! Back!”

I looked like an exotic insect performing a mating ritual for his camouflaged counter part—or a break-dancer on crack.

“Front! Back! Front! Back!”

I gasped for breath and caught a dizzying glance of my fellow soldiers. The scuff marks my combat boots were leaving behind as muscle failure set in were unavoidable. I should not have left them on after a previous smoke session. Within minutes I had somehow managed to trap myself within a circular shoe-polish enclosure. My comrades didn’t look happy. The amount of time we’d have to rid the floor of the black blemishes would be miniscule, and our inability to do so would more than likely end up in another feeding frenzy of Drill Sergeants.

“Front! Back! Front! Back! What’s wrong funny man? You’re slowing up! You ain’t laughing now! Laugh, funny man! Laugh!”

Needless to say, I never laughed. I didn’t cry either. I was probably just too tired. Crying would’ve involved stomach muscles to contract and expand with my sobs, which meant feeling the after-effects of our pre-dawn smoke session. Crying involved wiping away tears, which meant raising my arms. I had a hard enough time wiping my butt after a bowel movement, let alone having to deal with tears. My muscles were just too sore. Any amount of quiet time I gained wasn’t going to be spent wallowing in misery. It was going to be spent sleeping.

Late that night I was finally “ordered” to sleep. I contemplated the effects my hair-trigger laughing attacks had spawned earlier that morning. I decided that I’d have to work on my self-control if I were to have any chance of making it out of basic training alive. If the Drill Sergeants didn’t kill me for the constant schoolgirl tittering, my fellow soldiers would.

For a moment the thought struck me that Private Duke might seek retribution for mocking his “Cold, cold floor” mantra, and I tensed. Instead of peering through the darkness for my would-be attacker I drifted off into deep sleep filled with nightmares. I woke up the next day with the realization I wasn’t going to have sexual dreams involving Sports Illustrated swimsuit models for at a long, long, time.

Sometimes I think back on this period of time and wish I could go back there, if only for a few days. If I ever met Drill Sergeant Piper again there’s really only one thing I’d want to say to him: “Thanks.”

Virginia under water ‘many times’ since the dinosaur age — to the dismay of the climate change crowd

October 7, 2013by Douglas Ernst67 Comments

Since Monday is my day off, my wife and I decided to take a trip down to Virginia Living Museum in Newport News Va., hoping to learn a few things. Mission complete.

After reading up on all sorts of wildlife that can be found in the beautiful “Old Dominion,” talking to sweet old ladies and the other kind staff who volunteer their time to care for the animals, I ran across the following placard:

“Since the end of the dinosaur age, eastern Virginia has been covered by ocean water many times. Beneath these seas, layers upon layers of shells, bones and teeth from abundant ocean life accumulated to form fossil-bearing sediments. Coastal river bluffs now display these ancient sediment layers, in particular, a 3.5-to-5 million-year-old fossil-rich band called Yorktown Formation,” (Virginia Living Museum).

You mean to tell me that long before the internal combustion engine was invented that the planet was in such constant flux that much of eastern Virginia was submerged underwater “many” times? Answer: Yes.

Douglas Ernst turtle 1 — Here is me and my buddy the Loggerhead Sea Turtle. These guys are the only sea turtles that still nest in Virginia.

The next time someone warns you that unless we hand over more power to politicians in Washington, D.C., that the eastern seaboard will be underwater in a decade or two, ask them the following question: Did dinosaurs literally drive themselves to extinction in really big gas-guzzling trucks made for reptilians with tiny arms?

There is no doubt that the climate “changes.” The question is: How big of a role does man play? Is it big enough to warrant the redistribution of wealth — to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars — from the private sector to a bureaucratic Leviathan? Answer: No. Is shaving a few degrees off computer models that even the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change now admits are flawed worth the price in individual liberty? Of course not.

The IPCC is in full damage-control mode after it leaked advance copies of an upcoming Summary for Policymakers to what it assumed would be friendly journalists. The journalists, however, quickly realized the IPCC Summary for Policymakers contained several embarrassing walk-backs from alarmist statements in prior IPCC reports.

Two of the most embarrassing aspects of the Summary for Policymakers are (1) IPCC’s admission that global warming has occurred much slower than IPCC previously forecast and (2) IPCC is unable to explain the ongoing plateau in global temperatures. IPCC computer models have predicted twice as much warming as has occurred in the real world, and virtually none of the IPCC computer models can replicate or account for the recent lack of global warming.

These days, instead of admitting that they used fear mongering to try and consolidate power and enrich themselves, the Climate Change crusaders (formerly the Global Warming police) are doubling down: global warming is hiding … at the bottom of the ocean, but will return sometime in the future. How convenient.

If you're swimming in Virginia, be careful you don't get too close to the Stinging Sea Nettle Jellyfish. They've been around for 650 million years, and will likely be around long after humans abandon earth to explore the rest of the cosmos. — If you’re swimming in Virginia, be careful you don’t get too close to the Stinging Sea Nettle Jellyfish. They’ve been around for 650 million years, and will likely be around long after humans abandon earth to explore the rest of the cosmos.

Want to increase the probability of causing a climate change disciple to go into a fit of rage? Visit museums. Talk to the staff. Read the literature. Learn some science and write about it on your blog.

Dan Slott, absent a superior argument, now sics Twitter followers on critics

September 30, 2013October 28, 2014by Douglas Ernst125 Comments

Superior Spider-Man writer Dan Slott has a reputation for not taking criticism well. His online behavior is well known, but now that he has issued marching orders to his followers like Mole Man to his troops, I will calmly and coolly dismantle his online rant for posterity.

An online critic is trying to weasel out of the time he implied that I (a Jew) was adding an antiSemitic element to my book.

Actually, no, I’m not. I’ve always been right here. The problem is that Dan Slott has never commented on my blog, sent me a direct message or asked for my email address to discuss his grievance. Instead, he’s followed me around the Internet demanding that I talk to him to about a blog post I wrote in May titled: Is Dan Slott’s ‘Superior Spider-Man’ really a Superior anti-Semite?

In Dan Slott’s mind, analyzing a character who wanted to transcend Hitler, Pol Pot and Ghengis Khan in terms of evil perpetrated upon the world is the same thing as accusing or implying Dan Slott of being anti-Semetic (as if I knew or even cared about his heritage before he brought it up). Reasonable people can separate the two, but Dan Slott can’t. What Dan Slott doesn’t get — in some sense because moral relativism has warped his mind — is that it doesn’t matter what his intentions are if the end result is that a monster worse than Hitler is in Peter Parker’s body.

His first attempt today: Why was I still talking about it? It was “months ago.”

Seriously, why am I so upset that he took one word balloon out of context and built up an entire FALSE blog entry about it? In his mind It shouldn’t matter to me that he ran that REPREHENSIBLE piece and then punctuated his point with a picture of Jewish remains being removed from a concentration camp oven.

Dan Slott was the one who made Doc Ock say he wanted to transcend Hitler, Pol Pot and Khan — at the exact moment he was on the brink of causing an extinction-level event. Not me. That context is important. There are certain critical moments in history where a man says something that reveals his true character. Doctor Octopus did just that as six billion lives were on the cusp of experiencing the apocalypse, and I wrote about it. I’m sorry if Dan Slott doesn’t like it, or if deep down he knows I’m right.

C’mon. I should drop it. Even though the article is STILL up at his site and he has NEVER apologized for it.

Dan Slott’s demand for an apology is based on the false premise that I thought or wanted people to think he was an anti-Semite.

His latest attempt today: The title of his blog raised a QUESTION. It ended in a question mark. It didn’t say I was promoting antiSemitism in a comic book. It only ASKED if I was. Therefore… It’s okay. I mean, don’t we live in a society where anyone is free to broach ANY question?

I don’t think he understands what the word “implying” means.

Poor Dan, the title was posed as a question — and then I answered the question: “Otto didn’t want to kill millions of Jews — he “merely” wanted to kill six billion people, which would just so happen to include all the Jews. Silly me. The guy who “just” came within inches of an extinction level event because he hated all of humanity is now housed in Peter Parker’s body.”

Yes, it’s pretty clear to everyone but Dan Slott what I did. He just doesn’t like it, so instead he’ll follow me around the internet demanding that I apologize to him. He’ll make it personal by invoking his Jewish faith over and over, and when a moderator doesn’t like what he’s done Mr. Slott will sic his 39K Twitter followers on me.

That blog entry, with the one word balloon taken out of context, the bizarre semantic gymnastics he makes to posit his “question,” and the graphic photo of the remnants of people I share ancestry with being shoveled out of an oven in Dachau– was put together by this unscrupulous person for NO other reason than TO imply I had antiSemitic leanings.

Again, I never did that. “Semantic gymnastics” is Dan Slott’s euphemism for “writing that doesn’t lend itself to Dan Slott’s personal attacks.”

The point of the piece was to show that Dan Slott’s “anti-hero” is in fact a monster worse than Hitler, Pol Pot and Khan. Want proof he doesn’t get it? Dan Slott used a Newsarama interview to compare a character who almost wiped out the entire earth to … Hawkeye.

“At his core, he’s someone we don’t really think of as heroic. But is he any more annoying than [former villain] Hawkeye used to be?” (Dan Slott).

That is how steeped in moral relativism Dan Slott is.

He used Godwin’s Law, the laziest and most offensive “debate” tactic, to compare someone you don’t like to Hitler & the Nazis. Why? Because he’s upset over Spider-Man comic books. IT’S SHAMEFUL. And to try to semantically weasel out of it is DOUBLY SHAMEFUL.

What is more offensive: Dan Slott’s indiscriminate use of incendiary names or my reminder of the implications of his indiscriminate use of incendiary names?

Dan Slott drops the Hitler card in his comic book as a throwaway line, and then gets upset when someone doesn’t take it as a throwaway line. Dan Slott takes his Jewish ancestry seriously, and yet he just casually has Otto say he wants to transcend three of the most reviled men in history? Interesting…

If you follow my feed and wish to show support, please block @douglasernst. And please do not give his blog ANY hits.

If you follow @douglasernst and are offended by this entry, please let me know so I can block you. I don’t want anything to do with anyone who feels fine supporting a person who would do this, leave it up on his site for months– and worse– try to walk it off as nothing wrong.

The internet can be a wonderful tool for meeting people around the world and sharing thoughts and experiences with them. It can also be a way to spread hate and distortions.

Hate? Dan Slott has called me “a bad person” multiple times now. I generally reserve that term for people who abuse their children, rape women and murder people. You know … guys like Hitler. Dan Slott? His moral relativism allows him to put me in the “bad person” category with the rest of them because I wrote a blog post he disagrees with.

Using Dan Slott’s logic, I should go ballistic on all of my friends over the years who have made Catholic jokes. My faith is incredibly important to me, but yet I don’t go around calling people “bad” because they occasionally jabbed at a part of me that I hold dear. I deal with it like an adult. He should try it sometime.

One of my most prized possessions are antique clay pipes from Masada that my uncle, a rabbi, gave me for my Bar Mitzvah. I may not be a diligent or observant Jew as an adult, but I look at those pipes and it reminds me that for the grace of my ancestors overcoming great hardships and prejudices, neither I nor my family would be here today.

That’s touching, but it does nothing to change the fact that one of the most iconic superheroes ever is now a character who wanted to exterminate humanity.

The thought of someone trying to tarnish my reputation by DISTORTING one line of dialogue I’d written– and using it to portray me as someone who would promote antiSemitism SICKENS me. The fact that same person won’t own up to it– and worse– would try to rationalize it away– just fills me with sorrow that someone who could do that even exists. And when it’s all done to score internet-points over a comic book? That just makes it even more pathetic.

Sad? Dan Slott doesn’t realize that a comic book can be much more than a comic book. When I was a kid my brother let me read ‘Maus’ by Art Spiegelman. I suggest giving it a read right now if you’ve never heard of it. Mr. Spiegelman — unlike Dan Slott — would never have Doctor Octopus just casually mention Hitler in one line of dialogue. If Doctor Octopus was moments away from exterminating all of humanity and he uttered Hitler’s name, it would mean something. Every word would be there for a reason.

Dan Slott doesn’t feel sickness and sorrow because I’m wrong; he feels those things because the truth can cut deep. Every word is precious to a good writer, and “one line of dialogue” is never just “one line of dialogue.” It is not my fault that Mr. Slott chose to use Hitler’s name in such a careless and haphazard manner if his ancestry is that important to him.

I’m taking an internet break for a while and talking to real people– people I can look in the eye. Sorry for the long vent. Had to get that off my chest.

Cathartic, isn’t it Mr. Slott? It’s kind of like someone venting after a writer kills off one of the most culturally significant comic book characters of all time and replaces him with a megalomaniac.

Here's a screenshot of Dan's tweet to his 39K followers with his re-tweet of my blog entry (which has since been deleted). But here's the rub: the internet is forever. — Here’s a screenshot of Dan’s tweet to his 39K followers with his re-tweet of my blog entry, which has since been deleted. Here’s the rub: the internet is forever.

And finally:

Dan Slott, the guy who chases people around the internet demanding they apologize for ... an implication ... writes notes to himself that he should never apologize to anyone. Classic. — Dan Slott chases people around the internet, demanding they apologize to him for perceived slights, and never stops to think that maybe (just maybe) the notes he writes to himself are subconscious attempts to clue him in on some serious projection issues.

Now Dan’s fans are taking a cue from him, where they can attack me over at Comic Vine because they don’t want to come here. You’d think if a guy was going to go to all the trouble to Photoshop my name into a panel, then he’d at least spell my name correctly. ‘Doulas’? Seriously?

The poor guy couldn't even spell 'Douglas' in his little personal attack panel that he posted at Comic Vine. Sad. — The poor guy couldn’t even spell ‘Douglas’ in his little personal attack panel that he posted at Comic Vine. Sad.

Big Bang Theory delivers punishing blow to Superior Spider-Man; Dan Slott feigns delight

September 28, 2013September 30, 2013by Douglas Ernst49 Comments

Do the writers of The Big Bang Theory read this blog? If not, it appears as though we’re on the exact same wavelength when it comes to Dan Slott’s Superior Spider-Man.

Here is what I said on February 1st after Dan Slott stalked “The Main Event” and got intellectually body slammed:

“It was only a few weeks ago that Dan Slott thought long-time Spider-Man fans would be okay reading a rip-off of 2003′s “Freaky Friday” starring Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan — only with Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus. (Or was that 1988′s “Vice Versa” starring Judge Reinhold and Fred Savage?)“

Dan Slott’s general response to me over the course of Superior Spider-Man has been to call me an idiot multiple times while abusing the caps-lock button, to call me a “bad person,” and to try and link me with some guy I don’t even know who writes fan fiction Spider-Man porn.

Now, take the most recent episode of The Big Bang Theory:

Howard: What were they thinking putting Doctor Octopus’ mind in Peter Parker’s body?

Raj: I’ve been quite enjoying that. It combines all the superhero fun of Spider-Man with all the body-switching shenanigans of ‘Freaky Friday.’

Dan Slott’s reaction? Feigned joy.

Let me spell it out for Mr. Slott and everyone else who keeps saying “Raj likes the Superior Spider-Man”: The reality is that the writers just made a joke that cut deep — at Dan Slott’s expense.

When a character on a television says he loves Superior Spider-Man because it reminds him of the “shenanigans of ‘Freaky Friday,” it is the equivalent of a Little Mac power punch to Mike Tyson on the old school NES. Correction: a Little Mac power punch to Glass Joe.

Howard asks “What were they thinking?” and the response — accentuated by the laugh track — was that Marvel killed off Peter Parker for what is essentially a rehashed version of Freaky Friday. Congratulations. Freaky Friday grossed $110 million dollars, so using the ‘Slott Rule’ for success, we only have to wait a few more decades before people realize the genius of Lindsay Lohan’s portrayal of Anna Coleman.

As I’ve said before, I believe there is room in the Marvel Universe for Doctor Octopus to play the “Superior Freaky Friday Spider-Man.” I am not opposed to having a megalomaniac running around New York with spider-powers. I just think that executing Peter Parker (twice) so that Dan Slott could make Jamie Lee Octavius everyone’s favorite wall crawler was an error of monumental proportions.

Ask yourself this question, Spider-Man fans: Knowing what you know about how Dan Slott conducts himself on message boards, how would he respond if someone said that they hated Superior Spider-Man because it was little more than ‘Freaky Friday’ with Marvel characters? Now ask yourself why he took to Twitter to feign admiration for a joke told at his expense. Perhaps because it’s a little more dangerous to mock and ridicule the writers of The Big Bang Theory than it is to personally attack the average fan? Hmmm.

Thank you, writers of The Big Bang Theory, for delivering a KNOCK OUT blow to this abomination.

Update: Someone over at ComicVine shared my blog post. Dan Slott has decided that personal attacks and weird discussions on Trayvon Martain and Ben Shapiro would be appropriate instead of actually discussing Superior Spider-Man.

“Douglas Ernst was clearly in the wrong– and horribly offensive– in the WORST way a human being could possibly be. He has NEVER apologized for that BASELESS, DISGUSTING, and REPREHENSIBLE attack. He has stuck to his guns that he was in the right for doing this TERRIBLE and ATROCIOUS thing. Douglas Ernst is a bad person. Plain and simple. Why you people give him the time of day here I’ll never know,” (Dan Slott).

It’s good to know “All-Caps” Dan Slott dislikes me so much that he … reads my commentary on legal cases like the Trayvon Martin case.

Speaking of legal issues, Dan Slott is now making weirdly veiled legal threats in my direction. Dan Slott stifles debate? Who would ever get that idea?

“If someone, like you, who is in the habit of spreading gross falsehoods about me online, I am interested to see if any of them rise to the level of being liable and actionable,” (Dan Slott).

Side note: Here’s Slott’s tweet after (one would assume, given the timing) reading this post. All press is good press, right? Even if writers are mocking your product, who cares if the attention will bring in more sales. Sad.

What octopus camouflage tells us about the nature of reality and successful people

September 15, 2013September 15, 2013by Douglas Ernst5 Comments

Biologist Roger Hanlon took a trip to the Caribbean a decade ago and ran into an octopus on the ocean floor. The thing is, the little eight-legged guy was able to make himself look exactly like the rocks and vegetation he clung to in order to hide from predators and nosy humans. Hanlon’s findings on cephalopod camouflage may make marine biologists giddy, but anyone interested in the nature of reality should take note as well. The lesson is simple: We are in the dark. Octopus ink dark. And 99% of the people out there who tell you otherwise are simply deluding themselves.

Here’s what Mr. Hanlon and Ms. Lichtman have to say about our cephalopod friends, those “masters of optical illusion.”

Roger Hanlon: “The are the animals best known to go anywhere and camouflage. No animal even comes close to the speed and diversity of appearances of this animal.”

Flora Lichtman: “And they have a few tricks at their disposal. Octopus and cuddlefish can change their skin texture.”

Roger Hanlon: “This is the only animal group that we know of that has fine control of its skin to create bumpiness.”

Flora Lichtman: “And they match their skin dimensionality on sight, not touch, which is…”

Roger Hanlon: “…a vexing visual perception question.”

Flora Lichtman: “And of course, they change color.” …

Roger Hanlon: “So the amazing thing is that these animals are colorblind, yet they are capable of creating color-match patterns, but we don’t know how.”

Flora Lichtman: “But of course Hanlon would like to. And one way he’s studying this is by looking closely at squid skin. …

Roger Hanlon: “[Super up-close] images of live, unanesthetized a squid [reveal interesting dots].”

Flora Lichtman: “And those dots of pigment are called chromatophores. They come in three colors.”

Roger Hanlon: “Yellow, red and brown. But there are reflectors under the pigments and the reflectors produce the short wavelengths. The blues and the greens.”

Flora Lichtman: “And as you can see the chromatophores can change shape to change the predominant skin color.”

Roger Hanlon: “Each one of those little spots can expand up to 15X its diameter.”

Flora Lichtman: “And these chromatophores seem to be twitching all the time.”

Roger Hanlon: “The camouflage all night long. They don’t sleep as far as we know.”

Flora Lichtman: “That’s because cephalopods with their squishy bodies, rely on camouflage as their main protection from predators. But of course camouflage is not just color; it’s also pattern. This is one on Hanlon’s major hypothesis.”

Roger Hanlon: “We found only three or four basic patters templates that they use to achieve all this camouflage.”

Uniform: Little or no contrast in the pattern.
Mottle: Small scale light and dark blotches.
Disruptive: To interfere with recognition of what the animal is.

Flora Lichtman: “Based on lab studies, Hanlon says that the animals flash particular patterns based on a few visual cues they encounter in the environment. Hanlon wouldn’t call it a reflex because so much visual recognition is involved…”

Roger Hanlon: “But it is very fast.”

Flora Lichtman: “The palate and pattern changes in less than a second. But just why these patters work is still kind of a mystery. Let’s take the octopus video again. Hanlon analyzed this video frame by frame, but he can’t tell you why you can’t see the animal.”

Roger Hanlon: “We can’t find any true statistical matches whether it’s brightness or color between the animal and the background, so camouflage is not looking exactly like the background.”

Flora Lichtman: “Camoflauge just means fooling whatever is looking at you, which suggests …

Roger Hanlon: We’re behind the eight ball as it were, if we think the world looks like how we see it. There’s much more information there, and other animals see it very differently.”

The level of hubris it takes to believe that through the human body’s five senses we could ever fully understand the universe would be hilarious if the consequences weren’t so destructive to the soul. As I said in June, your mind can not be trusted because you are not your mind.

‘The Incredible Shrinking Hand’ experiment seemed to highlight that nicely:

Last month, researchers at Oxford University announced the discovery of a powerful new painkiller: inverted binoculars. The scientists found that subjects who looked at a wounded hand through the wrong end of binoculars, making the hand appear smaller, felt significantly less pain and even experienced decreased swelling. According to the researchers, this demonstrates that even basic bodily sensations such as pain are modulated by what we see. So next time you stub your toe or cut your finger, do yourself a favor: look away.

What does all of this mean? It means that you should have an open mind. It means that you should reject anyone who tries to put you into a psychological prison cell as it pertains to what you can accomplish while you roam the earth. It means that you need to take off your mind-forged manacles and get to work doing what you know in your heart will make you truly happy.

The octopus can not see color, and yet it becomes that which it puts its eyes on. You can not see your future self, but you will become that which you focus on — so focus on success. Do so, and you will confound your critics just as the octopus confounds (while impressing) biologists.

What if you attacked your problems like Diana Nyad attacked her historic swim?

September 3, 2013September 3, 2013by Douglas Ernst6 Comments

Sharks? Jellyfish? Storms? That’s no big deal for 64-year-old Diana Nyad, who just swam 110 miles from Florida to Cuba. Imagine what the world would look like if individuals attacked their problems like she attacked her fifth attempt at the historic swim.

The Associated Press reports:

KEY WEST, Fla. — Looking dazed and sunburned, U.S. endurance swimmer Diana Nyad waded ashore Monday and became the first person to swim from Cuba to Florida without the help of a shark cage.

The 64-year-old Nyad swam up to the beach just before 2 p.m. EDT, about 53 hours after starting her journey from Havana on Saturday. As she approached, spectators waded into waist-high water and surrounded her, taking pictures and cheering her on.

“I have three messages. One is, we should never, ever give up. Two is, you’re never too old to chase your dream. Three is, it looks like a solitary sport, but it is a team,” she said on the beach.

Diana Nyad, positioned about two miles off Key West, Fla., Monday, Sept. 2, 2013, is escorted by kayakers as she swims towards the completion of her approximately 110-mile trek from Cuba to the Florida Keys. Nyad, 64, is poised to be the first swimmer to cross the Florida Straits without the security of a shark cage. (AP Photo/Florida Keys News Bureau, Andy Newman)

The New York Times provides an important addition to the commentary:

Ms. Nyad’s success was built on her failures — the first in 1978, when she was 28, and the most recent last year at age 62. After each attempt, she improvised, learning what to adjust, whom to consult and which new protective protocol to consider.

“Diana did her homework,” said Bonnie Stoll, Ms. Nyad’s friend and chief handler, shortly after Ms. Nyad completed her swim.

1. Never give up. 2. You’re never too old to accomplish amazing things. 3. You are never alone. 4. Success is often like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of failure.

When I was a kid, there was a time where I prided myself on not falling on my skis during winter vacation. My uncle told me that I shouldn’t be afraid of falling because a.) I would push myself harder and b.) I would learn from my mistakes. Whether you are long-distance swimming, skiing or just trying to map out your life, it’s sage advice to follow.

What if, instead of blaming others for our failures, we just looked at them as just a temporary delay to a future reality already determined? What if we didn’t spend so much time assigning blame for the obstacles in our path and instead spent more time figuring out how to turn them into stepping stones to our next big accomplishment?

Diana Nyad failed multiple times — at the peak of her physical ability. It would have been easy to throw in the towel, but she didn’t. Her victory over the seemingly insurmountable swimming distance between Florida to Cuba speaks volumes about what the human spirit is capable of.

Jellyfish sting because that’s what they do. Jerks are jerks because that’s who they’ve decided to be. Whether you’re trying to accomplish a task in the middle of the ocean or trying to navigate your way through professional life, the “Why me?” approach is simply a waste of time. “Why did I have to run into those stupid jellyfish and why did they have to sting me? … Why does my coworker not like me now matter how nice I am to him? … Why did that guy appear to give me a dirty look?” Answer: Who cares?

You have complete control over your will to succeed, and it can not be broken if you make it so. An indestructible will is one of the most powerful forces in the universe, and once you realize that you are well on your way to securing the vast majority of your hopes and dreams. Diana Nyad deserves a round of applause for reminding us of this truth in her own special way.