As a single childless woman, I share the fear of my readers [she quotes a few] and no amount of financial preparation for a prolonged old age calms me. For sure, my long-term care insurance policy will buy me a home health aide and pay to retrofit my house if I’m able to remain here, or contribute to care in another setting. I have the luxury of savings and a mortgage that will be paid off by the time I’m 70. If I need a geriatric case manager, I’ll probably be able to afford one. I count my blessings.
But, having witnessed the “new old age’’ from a front-row seat, I’m haunted by the knowledge that there is no one who will care about me in the deepest and most loving sense of the word at the end of my life. No one who will advocate for me, not simply for adequate care but for the small and arguably inessential things that can make life worth living even in compromised health.
If this person is single and childless because she chose to live her life that way, I do not understand her sudden fear of the consequences of her choice.
Dying alone? Is there another way out (if you’re not a jihadist)? Everyone dies alone, even those surrounded by a caring family. Our death is but a logical extension of how we have lived our lives. If we have lived them focused on the things that will not be present when we are very old — youthful exuberance, independence, travel, freedom to move from this place to that on a whim, etc. — then we haven’t prepared.
It’s difficult but not impossible to face the fact of getting old. American culture does not honor that part of life. Movies or books about old age are the exception rather than the rule. Thus it’s understandable that one could overlook mortality if one severely limited the channels of information to, say, the current media. No old people there, just sudden death like, say, Tim Russert’s.
And our culture is particularly ill-suited to contemplating for very long things which cannot be “fixed.” Throw all the money in the world at the problem of age and what you have is antiquity covered with dollar bills. Not much help, is it? Next problem, please.
Diana West’s book, The Death of the Grown-Up could as easily be called “the dearth of the grown-up” because there are darn few mature people in public evidence. It is painful to see adults dressed like children. Men in baggy short pants barely reaching their knobby knees and women in that universal uniform, denim jeans. Both of them sport T-shirts and all their clothing have labels in plain view, just so you’ll know that what looks like something from a consignment shop is really quite expensive. Both of them tread the sidewalks in shoes that resemble puffy biscuits while shouldering backpacks more suitable for school children. In cold weather they don some version of long-sleeved sweat shirts — the kind of clothing one would wear to chop wood or rake leaves.
- - - - - - - - -
As Ms. West says, it’s a case of “arrested development.” However, even the most juvenile among us eventually age out. The notion of mortality hits as hard as if they’d stepped on to an unseen board and been thwacked upside the head.
“What?? Me?? Mortal?? No way, José.”
Each age has its particular struggle. When you’re a toddler, your job is learning to walk. When you’re a little older, it’s learning to decode language, both to read and to write your mother tongue. You learn to lie, and you learn the importance of truth. Eventually you have to traverse the minefield of intimacy with the opposite (or same) sex, and to invest your sense of industry or initiative into being a productive part of the larger community.
Job, marriage, and children used to be the usual order but that particular part of the railroad track has been torn up for repairs. People still make their way tentatively, often on foot, through this part of life. Sometimes they are so busy looking at the path in front of them that they fail to notice the sign ahead: “Old Age is not for the Faint of Heart”.
That’s where you can get thwacked by the board — it’s that sign warning you what lies ahead. For some it comes as a complete surprise. Old age? They rush off to science, begging for answers, for a note to bring to teacher excusing them from this part of the journey. In the note will be the secret to immortality.
No one tells you, except the brave few elders who are willing to speak up, that the real struggle of old age is not bad health or reduced circumstances. The real struggle is with Despair. This is a confrontation which cannot be dispensed with, and to it you will bring the same characteristics you brought to those earlier struggles. Our encounter with old age will be no different from the way we navigated earlier uncharted territory, except…
Except that some of us — those who have accumulated enough inner wealth to accept what cannot be changed — will simply go into that good night with the same grace they lived through the earlier rough spots.
The writer of the essay in The New York Times has convinced herself that if she is surrounded by enough people who really care about her in her infinite individuality, then she will not have to face full on the rigors of old age or the rigor mortis of death. What a dreamer. All her life, she’s done it on her own and now she wants to reverse course and hasn’t a clue how to begin. Wait till sales clerks begin calling her “honey” or when the traffic light changes and other adults around her offer to help her negotiate the curb.
Perhaps when she stops running in place and calms down she will notice that the gate out is much the same as the gate in: we enter one by one and we leave the same way, no matter how many people are gathered around for the event.
Personally, I’d like to go the same way William Buckley chose to leave: he was writing at his desk and then he put down his pen and died.
35 comments:
Modern Technology will become modernity's Golgotha when it keeps us alive in perpetual agony beyond our time, like Gray Fox's powered exoskeleton in that cheesy computer game Metal Gear Solid.
I liked it.
But I do believe, Dymphna, that the journalist's worries are legitimate.
After all, no one gave her the tools to find out that "Sex and the City" does not portray the life of four "normal" (what's normal? We're all kind of akward, right!?) New Yorker women but the story of three húkars and their mother.
People do get trapped by the society, the "occult forces" and/or the "all encopassing left", you name what you prefer.
Dymphna, that really was beautiful. You always have good essays, but you have truly surpassed yourself.
homophobic horse--
Your example reminds me of the time I was at the house of one of the Baron's customer's. He'd gone there to fix some glitch or other in a program and the customer was relieved to see him.
As the B set about remedying the problem, his client turned to me and said, " gee, when he dies, why don't we just put his brain in some kind of vat with fluid so he could keep on working..."
The guy was Swiss: ever practical, those Swiss.
Dymphna,
Wonderful essay, a little darker than usual, but wonderful in the imagery and thought.
I know you don't watch tv, but the Swiss client's comment evokes the, now canceled, animated comedy Futurama.
In processing this piece, of course I had to relate it to my personal experiences, and my departure from this world.
I have gripped my toes on the edge, and stared into the abyss so many times, that it will most likely be a welcoming trip. I am at peace with my Lord, have my affairs in order, with the biggest concern being that I will outlive my pet, and what will become of him.
Five days ago, the candle I lit in front of my dear, sweet Momma's picture, was burned down to nothing. She would have been 83. I loved her dearly, and still do. As it was late, and needed to go to bed, I sat there pondering her, and why the candle wouldn't go out, as there didn't seem to be enough wick left to support the weak flame. I reflected on how her love was always present, even when I was eight thousand miles away,and how joyful she was with the least expression of love for her, by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
I moved her in with me after she had retired, so she could be near her family, and so that I could be directly involved in her care, as she aged. She was very happy, and very healthy, until the horrific day when she suddenly became seriously ill, and died five days, and three surgeries, later.
In the intervening days, when she was alert enough to know I was there, she was unable to communicate verbally, with the respirator tube in her throat. She would try and speak, but couldn't get enough air to vibrate her vocal chords. She became increasingly alone, even though she knew I was there, caring for her, and holding her hand.
The day came, as she slipped away, surrounded by her family, me stroking her head, kissing her forehead, telling her it was okay to go, that we were fine.
Then she took her last tiny sip of air,and she was gone.
I think I felt and still feel more alone, than she did at that moment.
Will there be loved ones there with me at the end? Will I be alone? Will I know or care? I can't answer, I only know how I feel about caring for family, and how my daughters feel, as well.
Perhaps my children have learned from me, as I did from my parents, how important it is to love others, in order that we be loved.
I have always felt that connection, with family, as years ago, twenty four hours before my dear, sweet Grandmother died of a heart attack, and fell back on her bed, I penned a poem about life and love on a scrap piece of paper. It flowed as though I was only the writing instrument, not the author.
If you haven't seen this video, it was made near the end of Johnny Cash's life, and his beloved wife.
Hurt.
Dymphna, a good insight into the denial of reality, but I think consumerism and the market must also take the blame.
People are AFRAID. I know I am. So they seek to deny. What will happen.
As for dress, the loss of status makes suits and ties something now associated with salesmen and servants. If you are in some cubicle, the business casual uniform of slacks and dress shirt makes things painful and dull. But that was likely inevitable given that we have a very socially and physically mobile universe.
I don't envy that woman, I feel sorry for her. She chose not to have children. She chose her lifestyle and now has to live with the consequences.
I have a very good friend who is in the same position as that woman. She also chose not to have children, but instead is the loving aunt to 15 nieces and nephews, all of which would be there for their aunt. That must be the difference. It isn't just children, but the love you give to others.
A kind, loving aunt or elderly person will have all the help and loving support she needs.
BTW: I am getting on in years (50 next month) and still wear jeans and t-shirts. Mine don't have funny saying on them, but that uniform is very comfortable for me. Why should I dress in dowdy cloths when I want to be comfortable! I do have wrinkles and quite a few gray hairs. Oh well. I'm getting old and proud of it!
no2liberals--
Quite a video. Over 10 million views, I notice...a tribute to the iconic stature of Cash's virtues and his sins. Both were larger than life and drew people to him.
The more we experience the deaths of those we love, the lighter our attachment to life becomes.
The morning after my daughter's death I woke to hear her laughter as she said "Good morning, Mom. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life without me."
Was that harsh? Probably. But my children have that dark Celtic humor running through their souls. If it occurs to them, and they think it might make me laugh, they are impelled to say it. I laughed, at least until the reality hit.
My mother's great fear was dying alone. We all gathered around her during her last hospital visit. Her pneumonia had improved and the doctor came by to check on her (his own father was dying down the hall). Listening to her lungs, he told her she could go home soon.
On the trip out to the car, my daughter told me that my mother was dying. "She's not leaving the hospital," she said.
My mother took the doctor at his word and died the following 3:00 am -- by herself, as she had done with most of the difficult passages in her life. Why should her death have been any different?
Here is *my* poem after that...
THERE IS A MIDNIGHT
There is a midnight waiting
For all of us. A particular one,
That if we knew, we could put
On our tombstones now.
It will be labelled our last day,
But not by us. We will not
Be there to mark its going.
Many people die at 3:00 a.m.,
Exhausted at the prospect
Of yet one more passage
To be gotten through.
My mother did this. She died
At 3:24 of a fine May morning
Having gone to East Three
To celebrate my birthday,
She was probed and prodded
Into her mortality.
Her last meal was ice cream.
It was sudden, her flight from us.
The doctor had told her she could
Go home soon.
Perhaps she misunderstood
Where home was.
Or perhaps she really did know.
It is like that with the very old.
They listen between the lines
And then do as they please.
Yes, old age isn't for wimps, yet almost everyone has to face it, and sadly in our culture without the veneration for experience that could smooth the bump somewhat.
Imagine a society where the young bowed to the wisdom of graying heads instead of looking through them as though they're invisible. Youth is its own reward. Why not be generous to those whose world is narrowing while yours is expanding? You'll long for that generosity yourself sooner than you think, as spring and summer turn to autumn and winter for everyone.
I would add that the despair Dymphna describes eloquently is a feeling of running out of time and realizing whatever we have not yet accomplished will likely not come to fruition.
A loving family may mitigate things but cannot entirely remove this face plant into our own limitations.
In general, those with religious faith make the transition to old age and death with more serenity and in a way that is less hard on their loved ones.
To those who commented about how we dress:
I have always believed that different occasions demand different types of clothing.
As a quick, proven example, when they put rowdy kids in ghetto schools into uniforms -- the girls in skirts and blouses and the boys in shirts and ties --conduct in school improved radically and absenteeism dropped.
Another example from my own experience: for many years, the Baron was a landscape artist. Not only did he wear jeans and a t-shirt, he was often covered with paint dabs.
Two decades later, when he had to return to the work world, he decided to dress the part. It was just a costume, after all. What surprised him most was that he was treated more respectfully by sales clerks, secretaries, etc.
For those who insist on being comfortable, I'm curious: did you get married in jeans and a t-shirt? Do you go to funerals that way? Would you show up in court casually dressed?
Poor you, if comfort is the summum bonum of your existence. Sometimes decorum takes precedence over comfort. And sometimes not inflicting our slobby selves on one another is a kindness.
I intuit that were people to begin to appear in public dressed as adults, with more care given to their appearance, public manners might improve. They sure have gotten worse and one of the reasons may be the way we've become accustomed to dressing.
It's important to differentiate ourselves from the children and one way to do this is by our manner of dress.
I didn't get married in jeans, but in a nice skirt and jacket. I did go to a couple of funerals in jeans though. I knew the deceased very well, and their last wishes was for no formal funeral but for their friends and family to gather together in their favorite restaurants and celebrate their lives. And they demanded that everybody come in jeans and shirts. We all did. But there are other funerals in which I did attend that the family of the deceased wore jeans and shirts and I was in a decent black dress. I dress for the occasion, not always for comfort. But my daily "uniform" is jeans and shirts. I work out of my home so what I wear doesn't matter. Comfort does! Plus my favorite sushi place wouldn't recognize me if I wore a dress.
Homophobic Horse said...
"Modern Technology will become modernity's Golgotha when it keeps us alive in perpetual agony beyond our time, like Gray Fox's powered exoskeleton in that cheesy computer game Metal Gear Solid."
15% cheese
85% awesome
Back to the topic,
Keep watch on this aging generation. Many have rejected the true afterlife and instead are working to construct their own utopia here on earth. As mortality creeps up, their fear will turn to desperation.
From the corrupt emperors of Rome to Stalin and Hitler, to the Jihadists of today, every attempt by man to create a material paradise on earth has not only failed miserably, but has left thousands upon thousands of innocent people dead in its wake.
I think you're wrong, Dymphna.
In my oppinion the fear of dying alone doesn't stem from a selfish wish to have people mourn ones passing. Like the writer, I too fear dying alone. Not because I want people to mourn me or fight for me when I'm old, but because I haven't "accumulated enough inner wealth", as you put it, and fear/believe I can't change it. But then, I'm suffering from dysthymia and thus have a rather poor outlook on (my own) life.
Basically, fear of dying alone is in my oppinion (often) about regret.
"The more we experience the deaths of those we love, the lighter our attachment to life becomes."
I hadn't considered it that way, but you may well be right. All I know is, the love I felt, from those I loved so dearly, is still with me, and I am consoled with the prospect of seeing them again. Neither living or dying frighten me, and I relish each day as a wonderful new experience.
I'll make a little money, see some friends, and maybe this afternoon, or this evening, I will see my 32month old grandson "scooty-booty," and get in some good rough-housing. I love that little guy, and look at him with awe. How could I possibly be a part of something as wonderful as this vital and joyful little boy?
Your poem was touching. I recognize the despair, slightly concealed by a need to understand and express in words.
Sorry I didn't address the more meatier substance of the woman's personal dilemma, as I can't relate to her situation.
The "single childless woman" should have read P. D. James's The Children Of Men. In truth, everyone should.
Modern Technology will become modernity's Golgotha when it keeps us alive in perpetual agony beyond our time, like Gray Fox's powered exoskeleton in that cheesy computer game Metal Gear Solid.
If you believe technology will eventually be able to keep people alive in perpetuity, do you really expect that existence to be physically painful and constrained?
I can understand the implausibility argument against the techonological abolishment of physiological aging, although I consider it invalid. Whether you like it or not, the prices of many key resources such as computation power, memory, bandwidth, the miniatyrization of sensors and actuators etc. are falling by a thousandfold per decade - and have been for more than a century. I have a two-week old daughter for whom "the human condition" as we have known it will almost certainly be radically altered well before the ravages of natural biological aging will destroy her. It is less certain for my generation to escape death by aging but highly plausible, which it might be for even some boomers.
What I'd like to ask is whether anyone reading this considers aging and death desireable, that is, if anyone reading is a hard core bioconservative.
Markku, however you face it, life is a process of death. Oh I'm sure we can soon expect to extend our lives by any length we desire - and in fact I would more than likely take advantage of it if such a feat wee possible because, much as I might protest otherwise, the truth is I don't particularly want to die. Maybe I won't mind so much in the future. :)
But, death is necessary in the world we inhabit. Without death, there wouldn't be any life because, without the prospect of that cessation of life, we have no marker to define ourselves. Light can't be fully appreciated untilw e understand what it's like to live in the absence of light. Life can't be lived until we acknowledge that death is its a natural conclusion. Once you accept that you will one day die, and reconcile yourself to that fact, you can live your life to a much fuller extent because you are no longer afraid of death. And death will come one day, as inevitably as the taxman, because no matter what we do we are operating in a world that is ultimately driven by the slow and steady progress toward absolute death.
To paraphrase the laws of thermodynamics:
You cannot win
You cannot break even
You cannot get out of the game
Quite so, death and taxes.
Except in Kuwait, where there are no taxes.
One who is a samurai must before all things keep constantly in mind…the fact that he has to die. If he is always mindful of this, he will be able to live in accordance with the paths of loyalty and filial duty, will avoid myriads of evils and adversities, keep himself free of disease and calamity and moreover enjoy a long life. He will also be a fine personality with many admirable qualities. For existence is impermanent as the dew of evening, and the hoarfrost of morning, and particularly uncertain is the life of the warrior…
Dymphna:
I think that the NYT author may be waking up to the fact that she has made a choice without realizing that she had done so.
Shoulda-woulda-coulda, n'all that.
Man, but those are the bitterest pills to swallow.
As I asserted in the other thread, I think certain forms of feminism are selling to women the belief that they are entitled to be loved without the burden of being lovable.
It's a sucker play.
You cannot "have it all", and anyone who tells you that you can is probably reaching for your crotch or your pocketbook,(or both).
"In cold weather they don some version of long-sleeved sweat shirts — the kind of clothing one would wear to chop wood or rake leaves."
Hey. I resemble that remark! But then again I do chop wood. : ) On the flip side of that I knew a guy when I was a kid who used to mow his lawn in a suit. Now that was strange.
Alright Alfonso, its is not nice to use a word - húkars - and have your very statement the become the Google reference.
What is an húkar?
I am a little more sympathetic to this then some others here. Granted, if someone chooses to be childless and alone they reap what they sow. But even that view is a little harsh. As Dymphna stated "Each age has its particular struggle." and what was good for this person in their 30's may not be in her 40's or 50's. We are all entitled to a change of heart.
I would also say to those of you out there with a wife and kids should count themselves darned lucky. To some people out there it just didnt work out that way. Not for lack of trying. Meeting potential spouses in todays society has become harder not easier for reasons too long to go into. Dymphna touched on some of the reasons in her earlier essay the other day about the neutering of men.
Do we all leave this world alone? Of course. But I think wanting to be surrounded by loved ones isnt too much to ask for. In the end I think Laller's comment said it all.
"Basically, fear of dying alone is in my oppinion (often) about regret."
At 59 today I have been living on borrowed time, by the grace of God, since age 23 when I almost died from died from advanced ileitis. God has kicked me in the butt and given me rough spots often enough to build up that "inner wealth" -- it is Jesus Christ friends.
Yet, I will die alone, and, there will be none to lean on in my old age : despite that my presence and sacrifice is allowing my 92 yr old mother to grow old and soon die with grace; my brethren will not be there to return the favor.
I was one of those men who grew up nice and finished last: one should not become a nice guy or a Christian before one is married: or a least late enough to become rough enough or gain a good income; one begins to wonder - too late - if Christianity was ever meant to be held to in the dating game as some hardcore preachers like to declare: do they even understand that they are married not for Christian reasons but because they have social power and status.
I will have a difficult time feeling sorry for the women of my generation as they die alone. One woman I dated told me she was married to her business: her retirement will be a divorce and her business won't show up at her deathbed.
By the way Dymphna, your husband wouldn't be married if he chose to remain an artist: this is the decision that has to be made by straight, male artists: women and gays don't. If you had been the artist, you would still be out doing landscapes. One of the reasons women bailed on me was that I was committed.
Two fellow artists died in this past year: one died alone in his garret the other in a hospice bed. The work of the first was photographed by his nephew then thrown out. The latter at least died surrounded by friends: his belongings and art were divided between tow women who had befriended him in his old age; the last he wanted to marry but she wouldn't have him. And the attending Episcopal ministers were women. What an effing rip.
When I die, my work will be put to the curb: my brethren understand nothing.
------------
This conversation reminds me of the time I worked in the SEARS garden center, in Greensboro, back in the 70s. I got a phone call from a Methodist minister who wanted to replace two shrubs at his church because they "had passed away." I had a difficult time restraining my laughter but I did.
Blogger Homophobic Horse said...
Modern Technology will become modernity's Golgotha when it keeps us alive in perpetual agony beyond our time, like Gray Fox's powered exoskeleton in that cheesy computer game Metal Gear Solid.
8/10/2008 7:02 PM
I disagree. The situation you just described is where we currently are, and the new technologies that are in development are finally going to bring some relief instead of the usual postponement of death.
Just a side note. If you want to see an interesting documentary of death and dying I recommend "Dying at Grace". It follows the last days of several people in the last months of cancer in a Canadian hospice. Some die alone and some surrounded with loved ones. It is not for the faint of heart or those easily depressed. You actually witness these people draw their last breath on this planet. It made me realize that dying is no easy business.
I just checked and it is only available from Alan King (director) website. Too bad. Here is a link if you want to see the trailer.
http://www.allankingfilms.com/
Dymphna's essay and the discussion here remembered me about one of the not so many American movies that deal with death. The movie is Magnolia and here is the scene about the desperation that the old guy feels on his dying bed after a live of not thinking about death. I'm quite young and almost never think about death. It's not the time for this yet, but this scene made a shocking introduction into the subject a few years ago. I recommend the movie to everybody hear that hasn't seen it. It is long (3hrs), very alert, layered and it's best viewed in times of desperation.. to be able to watch it all in one session and appreciate it, you have to be, i think, in e period of intense pain.
Death is not the end. There is life after the grave. For most it's a horrible life, but for a few it's a joyfull life.
Death is only a problem is you don't know what happens next. If you know where you're going, death is not a problem.
Markku, however you face it, life is a process of death. Oh I'm sure we can soon expect to extend our lives by any length we desire - and in fact I would more than likely take advantage of it if such a feat wee possible because, much as I might protest otherwise, the truth is I don't particularly want to die. Maybe I won't mind so much in the future. :)
If it were possible to keep yourself physiologically young and vigorous indefinitely, then how would life be "a process of death"?
Science won't stop at mastery of biological processes. Beyond that is something much more radical. The meaning of "self" and "identity" are questions that may be blown wide open.
But, death is necessary in the world we inhabit. Without death, there wouldn't be any life because, without the prospect of that cessation of life, we have no marker to define ourselves. Light can't be fully appreciated untilw e understand what it's like to live in the absence of light. Life can't be lived until we acknowledge that death is its a natural conclusion. Once you accept that you will one day die, and reconcile yourself to that fact, you can live your life to a much fuller extent because you are no longer afraid of death.
With all due respect, I think that is just sophistry people have concocted to console themselves with. I don't have to contemplate death to enjoy life.
And death will come one day, as inevitably as the taxman, because no matter what we do we are operating in a world that is ultimately driven by the slow and steady progress toward absolute death.
To paraphrase the laws of thermodynamics:
You cannot win
You cannot break even
You cannot get out of the game
Well, it's going to take (maybe tens of) billions of years before the last stars run out of fuel. I'd say that's long enough for us to come up with a solution to the problem.
the equal misery that feminism has created. put off the future, dont get married, dont create intimacy and a family, chase a fake gold ring for no reason but yourself.
whoops... too late!! listening to communists tends to make ones life turn out badly with little recourse, and much to their joy is your misery.
the destruction of family is the goal, profound nihilistic lonliness is the gift of the shortsighted and herd mentality.
If it were possible to keep yourself physiologically young and vigorous indefinitely, then how would life be "a process of death"?
Individual cells still die. The nutrients that keep us alive are produced from the death of countless billions of living organisms (not something the vegans of the world seem willing to acknowledge). We live in a world where life thrives in the process of death.
I think you're also hinting at the "singularity" proposition. I've seen it mooted before and it's an interesting concept but, ultimately, thermodynamics will win out. If it did come along then of course I'd be inclined to take advantage of it because I do quite like being alive - it's fun. But I would do so i the knowledge that even if I were to live for a billion years, ultimately I would cease to exist in this reality. I would die, as we all do.
I don't have to contemplate death to enjoy life.
Neither do I. I don't contemplate death. The point is that I don't deny it's inevitability and I accept that it exists, which a lot of people seem unable to do. I don't have to contemplate the rain outside to know that it's falling, nor do I have to contemplate the sun to know that it is shining. It simply is. In accepting the inevitability of death, whenever it may occur, I free myself from the obsession with death that drives many people to try and "live" and free myself to truly live my life.
I'd say that's long enough for us to come up with a solution to the problem.
A solution to the fundamental laws of the universe? Sorry mate, it ain't gonna happen. The best we can do is conserve energy and create local decreases in entropy, which is, suitably, what the process of life is all about. Life temporarily reduces entropy in a system, at the expense of a certain amount of energy.
Entropy is inevitable. Eventually all the energy in the universe wil be spread out and uniform, and entropy will be maximised - it will be dead. There i no way to reverse this process. No science we invent will be able to prevent that from happening. You can't get out of the game without leaving the universe itself.
Of course that might be a scientific possibility, but... personally I doubt the viability of such an idea. It isn't a solution, though. Any universe we chose to inhabit would have to have the same physical laws and would therefore suffer the same entropic effects. At some point there would be an end, somewhere.
artfldgr:
"...listening to communists tends to make ones life turn out badly with little recourse, and much to their joy is your misery.".
Let's not delude ourselves about where the kookier form of feminism came from.
It wasn't Communism.
Honestly, when and where have the Commies, once in power, ever given one the option of NOT listening?
Nope, "Feminism", and the idea of women getting careers outside the home, and thereby:
"put[ting] off the future, dont get married, dont create intimacy and a family, chase a fake gold ring for no reason but yourself.".
...was to the benefit of Capitalist employers because they could pay that dame cents on the dollar compared to what they would pay a man.
It was a scab scam...see?
And now, nearly our entire economy is predicated on a two-wage earner household.
I'll prepare an answer for those people who claim death will be rendered obsolete soon enough.
Death of Gray Fox
"It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
Wm. Sheakespeare
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