Why We're Fucked: Neurophilosophy, #1

By Dan Schmuland

An irreverent look at our human behaviors through the lens of neurology and philosophy, a neuro-philosophical exploration if you will. "Why We're Fucked" answers all the burning questions of the day and perhaps even of all millenia past, present and future. Somewhat autobiographical in nature but really more for relatability and word count. So buckle up and enjoy the ride. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dickwad Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Oct 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223326793

Book preview

Table of Contents

To The Reader

Introduction

Part 1: Quantum Mechanics and the Tooth Fairy

Part 2: What’s So Special About a Neuron, Anyway?

Part 3: It’s a Fair Cop, Society’s to Blame

Part 4: AQ (The Asshole Quotient)

Part 5: The Mind, The Brain, The Universe Explained

Part 6: Like a Fart in the Wind

Part 7: Consciousness in a Nutshell (I Think, Therefore I Am)

Part 8: Another Brick in the Wall

Part 9: Altruism vs FuckUism (What’s Love Got to do With It?)

Part 10: Everything is Temporary (A Somewhat Overriding Pointlessness to it All)

To The Reader

Philosophy isn’t just a place where a bunch of old, bald, white bearded, toga wearing motherfuckers sit in a circle and expound upon the nature of the universe and make up things that only they can understand just to make ‘em feel all special and shit. It’s you and the way that you think. It’s me and the way that I think. It’s us, as smart or as dumb as we are, every time we pose a question about what’s going on and why is it that the world always seems to be going to hell in a handbasket, and why, when I was a boy etc. etc. etc. Sometimes the questions go inward as we plumb the depths of our own foolish neuroses, attitudes and beliefs in an attempt to figure out what makes us tick. The good news is that the answers to some of these internal philosophical queries lie in the groovy world of neuroscience. Neuro-philosophy is a word I bandy about without much, if any, worry about retribution, challenge or debate. Mostly because, if you look it up, there ain’t much there, so I feel pretty secure in my ability to own it and use it as I see fit. Now, having said that, I still hoist it with a huge degree of respect, due diligence and care. The premise of neuro-philosophy is the concept that all things human and even some not so human can be credibly explained by neuroscience and other scientific methodologies. The mysteries of our existence, the call of the supernatural realm, the shape of our dreams and even the power of love and hate are all made possible by the inner workings of our brains.

So, dear reader, buckle up, hold on, get comfy and let’s do this shit!

Historically speaking, neurology itself is one of the newer sciences, with the most serious inroads being made well within our own lifetime (assuming that you’re alive while reading this). Understanding the brain, or at least the attempt to do so, has been with humankind since there was a humankind to figure out. It’s not easy. Firstly, early brain studies were performed on dead people and other dead species for comparison so it wasn’t particularly easy to correlate what part of the brain does what, when there’s not a lot of back and forth between patient and doctor. So, it was mostly guesswork based on how the behavior of the person, when he or she was alive, differed from what an acceptable normal dead person’s brain looked like. Lesions, tumors and other damaged goods; that’s the stuff that kickstarted the science of neurology. It was definitely crude science but it was science nonetheless and it wasn’t until we developed the technology to see a live and in-person brain functioning that neurology really got somewhere. There are a number of incredible brain imaging machines out there, from fMRI technology to PET scanners, not to mention advances in actual neurosurgery that all combine to give us a very detailed, although admittedly incomplete synopsis of brain function. Hence, the philosophy part of neuro-philosophy. Eventually, there will come a time when this is all truly figured out and the theories and hypotheses surrounding the topics herein will be accepted as fact, however, both you and I know that no matter what science can tell us about anything, there’s always going to be a nay-sayer or two, citing some kind of conspiracy theory bullshit in an attempt to raise the value of their own stock. These dipshits are important because the give us insight into our own values and beliefs, the why we are the way we are questions that full-circles us right back around to the philosophy surrounding neurology. So, raise a glass to the assholes of the world. Worthy adversaries indeed.

If this is as far as you get, and then decide that it’s not for you, well, thanks anyway. It was worth a shot. However, if you do choose to carry on, in an attempt to make sense of whatever it is I’m espousing, then, thanks even more. But do realize, that even though this is essentially philosophy at its most basic level, everything in here is rooted in and can be backed up by modern neuroscientific research and all other sciency shit. Yes, it’s irreverent. Yes, it’s funny, with the caveat that funny is totally subjective and maybe it’s just me that thinks I’m hilarious (as my wife’s comedy review will attest). Regardless of writing style, irreverence, humor or the combination thereof, all scientific information presented throughout this book is straight-up, no bullshit facts and figures and will stand up 100% to any in-depth, intelligent and informed scrutiny available. In writing this, I chose not to get bogged down by a lot of technical jargon and math-centered Nernst Equationy type corroborations and decided instead to try and keep it simple for simplicity’s sake. That’s the kinda guy I am. Not to mention how easy it is to get sidetracked by tangential information that doesn’t really have any pertinence to the point being made. So, ultimately, it’s up to you to draw your own conclusions and create your own opinions about why you are the way you are and how big an asshole you may or may not be, and maybe, just maybe, we can figure out a way to make this nuthouse fuckfest called earth just a little bit better for us all. Thanks again.

Why Am I?

Introduction to my own personal set of neuronal activities:

Time: August 2023

Place: Assholes Anonymous Meeting inside my brain

Hi...my name is Dan and I’m a recovering asshole.

Emphasis on the ing.

Everyone: Hi Dan.

So here I am....writing this self-proclaimed brilliant and thought-provoking treatise on the why’s and the how’s of what makes us, us, and some other shit that I tend to find fascinating. Sort of a neuro-philosophy textbook for us non-phd types, really intended more for me to get down on paper, or rather, a computer screen, some of the things that I’ve been trying to figure out for decades. I do indeed mean decades. Six of them in fact, and counting. God dammit, I’m old!

As my time on this planet forges onward, dragging me kicking and screaming closer and closer to my fatalistic finality, every passing day I notice that I’m becoming more and more like my dad (not a bad thing, he was a good dude...but we all have our fish to fry, don’t we?). I found myself trying to reconcile why that’s so, but also, why I’m a lot more of a cunt than he ever was. So, why are WE fucked as opposed to just me or you or even someone else? It’s just my way of saying that we’re all in this together. We share enough junk between us all that I can safely say, we are all indeed fucked. Fucked up. Fucked over. Fucked around. Plain old fucked. Both as a society and as an individual. We’re damaged and broken because somewhere along the way, whatever normal is, well, we ain’t it. No one gets out alive. No dynasty, era, nation, ideology, tribe or person has or ever had the ability to withstand the forces of their own undoing. So, it all starts with me. Or you. However you want to slice it, built into our system or systems, are imperfections that force our hand somewhere along the way that will inevitably get us into some kind of inexorable trouble. Be it medical. Be it pathological. Be it ideological. It doesn’t matter. We’ll fuck it up. We always find a way but that is also the beauty of us. Our inherent imperfections allow for a unique ride on the joyful or sometimes disheartening experience that is this life. Some will embrace it and cope with it and do ok. Others, not so much. So if we can take a moment or two to accept ourselves for who we truly are, maybe we’ll fare just a little bit better than otherwise. Otherwise...well, I don’t have to tell you. Oh, wait. Yes, I do. Keep reading and you’ll pick up what I’m laying down. Trust me. I’m a trained professional.

Nature vs Nurture and other things we’ve been taught along the way is one of those concepts that is supposed to explain it all, right? Like most things, that is what I’d call a partial truth. There are a lot of pieces to the puzzle of who we are, both individually and collectively, so my innate curiosity got the better of me and off I traipsed, delving into the fabulous worlds of neurology, sociology, history, evolutionary biology and a couple other ologies in an attempt to fill in the blanks of who I am and how do I fit? Lemme tell ya folks, it’s complicated, like, really really fucking complicated. There are so many moving parts to this puzzle that it’s no wonder that unpeeling this onion is gonna make ya cry some very confused and paradoxical tears. Regardless, here it is. My attempt.

For starters, a lot of this shit I’m only guessing at, hopefully in a somewhat educated way, but if not, maybe, just maybe, it comes close enough to hit home and at least point some things in the right direction. Everything written herein is based on actual events, living or dead, no names have been changed because, well, let’s face it, no one is truly innocent. One might even go so far as to say that this is all inspired by a true story. Believe it or not.

Back in 1624, the English poet John Donne cleverly penned, no man is an island and then a bit later on in history, when I was a young rebellious dick, as opposed to the old rebellious dick I am now, I thought....no way dude...I’m my own thing, I don’t need nobody, I’m a rock, I’m an island! But what I think he meant was that because we come from somewhere and from someone, there’s an absolute interconnectedness that is inescapable. We can fight it all we want but the shit that makes us, us, begins way before we’re not only born or even before we’re conceived but all the way back to the first little jizz of protoplasm that slid out of the primordial ooze, eons upon eons ago, on its way to becoming the sapien inside all of us. So where do we go from here? And by we, I mean me. I can only go with what I figure out about myself and maybe it’s relative to what you can figure out about yourself. If that’s the case.... let’s carry on my wayward sons and daughters. If not. Go fuck yourself.

My Abject Failure and the Lies We Tell Ourselves

Where do I begin? Why am I doing this? I’m no expert in the fields that I’m embarking upon here. Well, from my own perspective, and that’s the only one I’ve got, I thought that maybe that’s the one thing that does indeed make me qualified to express the ideas that have been rolling around my brain during the course of my life. But first, let’s talk about why I’m personally fucked.

My ego took a massive battering a few years ago and as much as I tried to paint it as everything is comin’ up roses, I couldn’t shake the sense that I failed at the only thing I really ever wanted to accomplish. It was a hard road to travel let me tell ya, but in doing this, I feel like I’m coming out of the other end of whatever it is that I need to keep going. It’s not as dire as it sounds and that’s a major part of it. I’m not gonna off myself or anything like that but I can see how people give up. But for me, I’m just trying to scoop out my share of happiness from the ice cream bowl that is our wild and crazy universe.

Who am I? Well, I’m first and foremost a musician. No matter how I try to slice it and dice it, that was the path I chose so many, many years ago. The definition of musician takes a wider stance in my personal reconciliation of it but suffice it to say, as a retired fella, attempting to write his first book, music is what got me here. On the up side, I live by the ocean in the warmest place Canada has to offer, my bills are paid, my kids are doing well in their respective endeavors, I love my wife and I’m pretty confident that it’s reciprocal, so you’d think I’d be feeling great about myself now wouldn’t you? However, there’s an old saying that goes; Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. So technically, I never really did succeed as a musician, but instead, eked out a living as a teacher. On the flip side of the coin, I fell into teaching music back when I was 20 and I continued the self-employed private guitar teacher profession all the way through to my retirement at 60-ish. So if we’re standing on the argument that being a music teacher isn’t really being a musician, which I wouldn’t have a problem with, whatever definition of success we need to attach to my life choices has to contain a number of caveats at the very least. Perhaps that was my undoing but we’ll never know will we? Throughout the years, I played in bands, wrote some songs, recorded and produced music for myself and others and did a bunch of other musically related activities so I do think that the moniker musician really does fit. But the thing I struggled with the most as I wound down my musical pursuits, is that I felt the weight of never having any of my music heard or appreciated by a large audience, or even any audience for that matter. This is not a woe is me soliloquy by any stretch nor am I searching for an appropriate reason for my failings, there’s plenty to pick from, trust me. All I’m doing in discussing this is how I FELT about it and why I FELT that way. Now that’s the part of it that speaks to the bigger picture and ultimately what’s the point of it all if I feel as if I fucked up all the way through.

Karma, fate, destiny, God’s Will....am I being punished for something? Who did I wrong in my life enough to justify any of this? Nah. Fuck that shit. Here’s why. It doesn’t exist and it doesn’t work.

I used to believe it but just like Santa Claus, I outgrew that particular set of ideological dogma and set out to figure out what happens in the world once you remove the magic from it. I have to give credit where credit is due on that part of my journey so back when I was in my 40’s, although by that point I was a pretty solid candidate for the Atheist Employee of the Month Club, I read Sir Richard Dawkins’ book, The God Delusion and I found it exceptionally illuminating. He made sense of a lot of the things I couldn’t and filled in some of the blanks and blindspots in my own knowledge and so, that was the beginning of not being afraid to think about myself and the world in more scientific and rational terms. Now, my philosophical being has been through a number of incarnations across the span of this life and who’s to say it won’t change again? Uh....me. That’s who. What I also found very curious along the way was how obvious it seemed to me, how people behave, especially in groups and why we can be so easily led and manipulated. The conclusion being: because we’re fucked. We’re fed some lies right from the start, albeit some very well-meaning ones, many of them inadvertent and based on the best knowledge available to the ones telling the lies, and as young impressionable sponges, we believe it. And so I did. Believe it. Until I didn’t. That’s the one interesting thing about failure on a grand scale. It takes everything you thought you knew and tosses it into the smoothie blender of life and if you’re fortunate enough, what pours into your glass is something closer to the truth. Do I have all the answers? Will I fix all the world’s ills and make YOU a better person? Fuck no. Not even close. But bear with me. I figured some shit out. It makes sense and maybe, just maybe, I’m a little less fucked as a result. Then again, it’s still early.

I’ve gone through life, never having written a hit song, never being adored by millions, and never been on the cover of the Rolling Stone. Those were my dreams and those were truly my beliefs for awhile. It didn’t pan out. I’ve learned to accept that and found a different pursuit and purpose if nothing more than creating a little therapeutic activity in writing. I’ve been writing my entire life, although most of it was in the form of songwriting and the like. I enjoy it. Now, don’t get me wrong. I still make music, and I still love it. Those neurons ain’t going anywhere. They’re wired deep. But this is life and most importantly, it’s all there is. So, let me try and explain life’s ins and