The Secret of Life (Part 2)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

                         BEWARE THE (INTELECTUAL) DARK WEB

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve the problem and access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you've got it made." -Groucho Marx 

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

I revealed the secret of life in a column published on 8.6.16 -- so-called real life is high school with money. I don't want to say I told you so, so I won't.

I submit, however, that the current kerfuffle concerning the Republicrats release of a memo summarizing how the Justice Department and the FBI pulled a fast one (or two) to obtain a warrant from a FISA court judge to spy on a certain Citizen of the Republic, and by extension the Trump presidential campaign, proves my point.

Dana: Oh, for the love of God! Enough already!
Marie-Louise: Non! non!

Iggy: Is in school.

Please Remain Calm and Do Not Abandon the Column   

Sorry, I do not intend to discuss the contents/veracity of the memo in question or the carefully nuanced positions of either of our esteemed two major political parties concerning said contents/veracity.

Republicrats: Un-huh! (rinse and repeat).
Depublicans: Nuh-uh! (rinse and repeat).

Or, the pending (it's probably out by now) counter memo crafted by the Depublicans.

Old school Big But

Immagine the high minded statesmenpeople as high school students and the famous/infamous memo as a mimeographed note (can you smell it?), runoff and distributed by the Committee to Reelect Amy McGillicuddy (CRAM) student council president.

It details the committee's -- which consists mostly of members, like Amy, of the marching band -- take on the recently exposed cafeteria food purchasing scandal.

What scandal? two words, one relative -- mystery meat and Mr. McGillicuddy. My lawyers advise me that I should stop there if and until the complex, multi-party litigation is resolved.

Cutting edge Big But

Replace the phrase mimeographed note above with the word text.


Now, the Dudes Onboard for Oliver Blobner (DOOB) -- Oliver, and his best bud Derwood -- are about to release their version of events, pending approval by principle Pocatello. Word in the halls is that they're going to try and implicate Amy in the scandal, indirectly, by pointing out she seems to own more shoes than Imelda Marcos.

Dana: Imelda who?
Marie-Louise: Qui?
Iggy: Is still in school.

Look 'er up on your pocket rectangles, surely you know how to use 'em for more than just... oh, never mind. Sorry, politics makes me bitchy.

The school board has been looking into the scandal for better than a year. The committee appointed to get to the bottom of the issue has stalled out over a sub-issue -- exactly what sort of animal or animals were used in the production of the mystery meat in question and what was its original source.

School board and committee member Betina Blobner (Oliver's mom) is spearheading the drive for the formation of a second committee.

Full disclosure: Ms. Blobner dated Mr. McGillicuddy when they were in high school just prior to his involvement with a girl an individual named Heather, whom he subsequently married, but has since divorced, prior to marrying his current wife the new and improved Heather2.

It seems that the purchasing scandal has ballooned into an investigation of all sorts of purchases besides mystery meat, including non-food items.

Ms. Blobner thinks another, separate committee is needed to concentrate on the mystery meat issue since it affects not just the high school but the entire school district and possibly other districts as well.

Meanwhile, Back In the Jungle (of Competitive Capitalism)...

Mr. McGillicuddy, owner of McGillicuddy's Meats and Things, denies any billing irregularities and points out that he's not a butcher. MM&T is a wholesale distributor of heat and eat meats (and related products) manufactured by a plethora of suppliers, some of which are based outside the country.

"Knowing Betty as well as I do, I'm certain she just mistakenly believes she's doing her public duty. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run and a family to feed."

He's also discretely leaked to the media the rumor that Ms. Blobners primary reason for coming after him is because he dumped her shortly after seducing her in the backseat of his '74 Nova the night of Enchantment Under the Sea dance when they were in high school.


From the Library of Economics and Liberty Encyclopedia:  As James Buchanan artfully defined it, public choice is “politics without romance.”   

In modeling the behavior of individuals as driven by the goal of utility maximization—economics jargon for a personal sense of well-being—economists do not deny that people care about their families, friends, and community. But public choice, like the economic model of rational behavior on which it rests, assumes that people are guided chiefly by their own self-interests and, more important, that the motivations of people in the political process are no different from those of people in the steak, housing, or car market. My emphasis. 


Since the distasteful topic of contemporary politics has reared its ugly head in this missive (talk to Marie-Louise, I just work here) and I'm a few hundred words under budget, permit me to dispose of another unpleasant topic currently preoccupying the Infotainment Industrial Complex. Granny panties. 

I confess to being completely unaware this topic was a thing till I stumbled on a video on USA Today's website that informed me that indeed it is. Thongs, I was informed, are out (good). Granny panties are in (not good). I googled the phrase granny panties and was rewarded(?) "with about 9,440,000 results (0.38 seconds)". 

[Are we nearing a destination, pantyboyperson?]  

Yes, Dana. I have two important questions. 

1. Am I the only one to whom it's obvious this subject is a subconscious manifestation of the left-right debate? Clearly, thongs are a symbol of the far left and granny panties the far right. Why can't we compromise, meet in the middle, and agree on bikini or hipster?   

2. Why does Google feel it's necessary to brag about About 9,440,00 results when it's only possible to access the first 1,000?

Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.

2/24/18, 6:30 p.m. -- hmm, says I to me, I wonder what happened to the Depublicrats counter memo? Pushed to the side because of the tragedy in Florida? I need to update us before clicking on the publish button in a few hours.

I open a tab and start clicking around. Wow!, what are the odds? My enquiry is breaking news (pinky swear). Wait... on a Saturday evening? I start reading. The Depublican counter memo is, as expected, a nuh-uh... based on redacted information (but you can trust them). Well, that explains the Saturday thing. 

Bottom line. Months of Stum und Drang... and Wailing and Gnashing... and Rending of Garments and we   still   don't   know   shi... Never mind. Sorry I bothered you. Support congressional term limits before it's too late.   

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2018 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to comment — or react (way cooler than liking, and Facebook doesn't keep track) — please scroll down. 




















  

Politics (Before I Wake Up Dead, Pt 6.5)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"A national debt, if it is not excessive, will be to us a national blessing." -Alexander Hamilton

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Our story thus far. I decided to write a series of letters/columns about stuff that I wanted to make sure I told you in case I wake up dead, the destined to be famous Before I Wake Up Dead (BIWUD) series.

God and Politics (BIWUD, Pt. 6), written two weeks ago and which was supposed to be the last of the series, covered God, but only introduced politics. So, last weeks letter/column should have been: Politics (BIWUD, Pt. 6.5) and that, as they say, should have been that.

However, wanting to end the year on a high note, I wrote about an inspirational commencement speech that included my favorite Bob Dylan lyrics in a column called Plagiarism.

All Politics, All the Time

"I've put it off till last because I'm sick of this subject, a subject that at one time I found fascinating." I made that statement two weeks ago but ran out of room, time, and energy before saying exactly why I'm sick of the subject.

Saturation. All politics, all the time, is the short answer. I've got a folder on my... wait a sec', I'll be right back...

OK, I've got a folder on the bookmarks bar of my browser.

[Sorry, I celebrated my 39th birthday for the 25th time last summer and I've developed some short-term memory issues. Being unable to remember that a bookmarks bar is called a bookmarks bar, for example.]

This folder, labeled FU (short for funnies, which is what we called comic strips when I was a callowyute), contains links to a dozen strips that are the first thing I read every morning, in search of a smile, before checking out my email, the news, the weather, etc.

Now, two of 'em are editorial cartoons, one by a bitter, whiny, Trump obsessed Leftie and the other by a clever, amusing, Rightie who covers all sorts of subjects. This is because I'm open-minded and want the perspective of both left and right wingers.

However, more and more, politics has reared its ugly head in the other daily, allegedly light-hearted strips, the purpose of which, I thought, was smile generation. I'm not talking making fun of politics, I'm talking staking out polarizing positions.

One of 'em, for example, although still capable of occasionally making me laugh out loud, has taken to regularly promoting politically correct eating (among other P.C. positions). Gimme a break... 

If you're new here, for the record, I don't identify as either a Depublican or a Republicrat and I didn't vote for the Donald or the Hilliam. Also, in case you're new here or/and haven't been paying attention, I do identify as a perky, African-American libertarian lesbian H. sapien (my personal pronoun of choice) named Coco who is trapped in the body of a cranky old white dude.

Anyways...

[Wait-wait-wait. Question, is this going anywhere? Is getting lost in the weeds a side effect of that new med you mentioned a couple of weeks ago? Also, H. sapien is not a personal pronoun, it's a noun. Furthermore, it's sapiens, not sapien, you can't...]

Tut-tut-tut. Dana-Dana-Dana. Don't be a narrow-minded, reactionary hater. By the way, have you seen Iggy or Marie-Louise?

[They're standing in line at various and sundry stores to return unwanted Christmas gifts. Don't try to change the subject. I repeat, is this going somewhere?]

Absabalutely. (HT: Ray). How did we get to all politics all the time? A virus that has even infected sports, the true (and harmless) opiate of the masses. Get up off of your knees, win the game and then donate 25% of your money or/and time to saving the world (you'll still be rich).

Sorry, I digress.

Why aren't we obsessed with going to Mars or... or instead of turning global warming into a religion for people that lost theirs and never got over it, why aren't we working on a way to give the whole world the climate of San Diego and where/when it only snows if we want it to -- or something equally seemingly impossible?

Accomplishing seemingly impossible, dangerous things was what made America great.

[Well hell, everyone knows the reasons for that. You've written about 'em. The 24x7x365 news cycle of the if it bleeds it leads/wears its bias on its sleeve media. 

The fact that the Gummit is so large and pervasive the Swamp is like Louis the (circle one, XIV's -- XV's -- XVI's) Versailles on steroids. 

The fact that we've got a political industry! Professional politicians/political hacks/pundits and pollsters. 

The fact that...]

All true, but it's all about the money. Whether you want to spend it on a gold plated toothpick, your kid's medical bills or pass it around after the revolution, it's all about the dough.


Here are some more facts for ya', bucko.

Fact one. According to this site, in 2018 total federal, state, and local gummit revenues will amount to roughly $6.66 trillion (interesting number, huh?).

Fact two. I became interested in politics at the age of 13 (1966, hey, I've never claimed to be normal). At that point in the dim and distant past, most grups, even the ones that voted religiously, were, for the most part, not obsessed with politics. In fact, didn't pay much attention till an election was approaching.

Fact three. Right or wrong, the mid-1960s was when the current version of the American version of a welfare state started to pick up steam.

Fact four. Again, right or wrong, help from The Gummit keeps growing, "rights" keep expanding. Everyone benefits, which is why most us vote for the H. sapien that promises to make sure we get our slice of the pie, or at least redistributes the slices to our favorite designated victims.

Fact five. Since WW2, no matter the who/what/when/where/why, Hauser's law has remained true The Gummit's revenue is about 19.5% of the economy. This is why we're up to our necks in debt (and rising), as a nation -- we keep spending more than we make. Officially, we're $20,000,000,000 or so in the hole as this is being written.

Of course we're obsessed with politics. Even if you set aside the political industry mentioned above and or/and it's ability to keep us hyped via Information Age technologies the logical thing to do is fight for a slice of the $6,600,000,000 pie.


My Dear Stickies, when I told you last week I put off publishing this column because I didn't want to end 2017 on a dark note, well, (gentlereaders: click the link for a hair-raising reality check) you're on the hook for roughly $120,000,000,000. Sorry. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

God and Politics (Before I Wake Up Dead, #6)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My sublime, drop-dead gorgeous muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy." 

                                                                             -Benjamin Franklin

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

OK, let's see. Before I officially kicked off this series of columns about things I want to make sure I tell you in case I wake up dead I covered all of the Seven Virtues. Check.

In the last five columns, I've covered meaning, purpose, happiness, contentment, technical and cultural chaos, and soft nationalism. Check.

That leaves God and politics, well almost. Please bear with me while I clear the deck


Global warming is a never-ending RBFD, but I covered that here. As to economics, I've mentioned here, there, and over there that I'm a wild-eyed free marketeer. But last week, in Nationalism, I pointed out that I'm a fan of competitive capitalism (what we should have) and opposed to crony capitalism (what we often do have, frequently with the collusion of Congressional whores). Check.

If you've bothered to read through my old columns it should also be clear that I'm for an intelligently designed safety net. I've mentioned, but not in enough detail (at least not yet), that:

Social Security is a Ponzi scheme. The Gummit is spending the money faster than it comes in while simultaneously borrowing against their no limit credit card -- and you're going to get the bill. Check.

That, the welfare cliff is a dependency trap and a national disgrace. Check.

That, we need a cradle to grave social security system, like Singapore's, that maximizes the power of individuals, minimizes the power of career bureauons, and harnesses the power of free markets for everyone, not just the Cronies and their -- The Gummit -- enablers. Check.

That, Socialism is a seductive dead-end that has only ever worked in Scandinavia. It requires a vibrant private sector to generate the cash and a willingness of everyone to pay high taxes and submit to more rules and (legal and social) regulations than I suspect the average American would be willing to swallow.

That, there ain't enough rich people in the USA to fund the utopian dreams of Bernie and Fauxcahontas. Roughly 1.7 million evil rich people are currently picking up the lion's share (roughly 70%) of the tab for all 325,000,000 of us. (This includes the $22,000,000 the Pentagon gave to a billionaire buddy of Harry Reid to study UFOs.) Check.

And now, on with the show.

God

Follow your heart and act as if God exists regardless of what you believe. This is a no-brainer. Even recovered/recovering drunks and druggies understand this. God, or your "higher power," is simply what you would be like if you were the person you would like to be/should be/wish you were. Strive to be that person and fake it till you make it. Start today.  

Unfortunately -- militant/aggressive atheists, a group that includes some stunningly brilliant people -- understandably, don't understand this. 

They've been kicked in the crotch by life and/or are acutely aware of the fact most of us are nursing tender, damaged crotches. They've noticed that no shortage of crotch kicking has been/is being aided and abetted by organized religions. They take refuge in reason. Applied reason, after all, has led to indoor plumbing (among a few other conveniences).  

I'm not much of a fan of organized religions myself. I don't think we necessarily need a mediator betwixt ourselves and God. 20 minutes of daily meditation, certain books, certain selections of Beethoven and Duke Ellington, and recently, certain videos of Jordan Peterson lectures serve as pathways to transcendence for me. 

Your gonna' have to find your own path.

Big But 

Be wary of well-meaning, big-brained, big-hearted people who are good at creating carefully reasoned heavens on Earth -- on paper. The more verbiage and carefully constructed graphs/equations/statistics/etceterics the better the chance people will wind up dead.

Politics

Hoo-boy. 

I guess there's no way to postpone this any further. I've put it off till last because I'm sick of this subject, a subject that at one time I found fascinating. 

As I understand it (I could be wrong, I'm wrong with disturbing regularity) the idea behind this country was maximum freedom facilitated by minimal government. This is the fastest way for a new country to get rich, and we did. 

Many sins were committed along the way. Two biggies come immediately to mind. Although the vast majority of Native Americans were killed off by disease, genocide was regularly employed to reduce a tiny remnant to a tinier remnant so we could steal their lands. We enslaved as many Africans as we could get our hands on and treated them like high functioning livestock.

We fought a civil war over the latter issue which still holds the record for most Americans killed in any given war. But in short order, the land of the free adopted Jim Crow laws and practices and African-Americans endured nearly a century of a government-sanctioned boot on their necks.

Unfortunately, genocide, slavery, and rigid class systems -- globally and historically speaking -- have been the rule, not the exception. In fact, all three still exist, just a little less so at the moment. However, with a few carefully placed weapons of mass destruction here, an economic collapse over there... well, let's just say our Snowflakes will have much more than global warming to worry about.

[If any of 74% of 16 to 24-year-old Callowyutes in the UK happen to read this and are traumatized by my use of the S-word above, please accept my insincere apologies. Fortunately, you have free healthcare so make sure you sign up for mental health counseling ASAP.]   

Anyways... In spite of ourselves, we've become the richest (and fattest) country the world has ever seen. We elected the African-American son of a single mom to be president, twice. At the moment, a former reality show and fake wrestling star is running the country. The unemployment rate (well, officially anyway) is 4.1% as this is being composed. What a country.

But we all hate each other. Well, not really.

But imagine yourself as an undergrad and gullible anthropology major from the planet Tralfamadore, with dreams of becoming Tralfamadore's leading America expert, and spending your junior year abroad visiting Earth.

Suppose that a doctoral candidate/teaching assistant with a huge chip on its (it's complicated) gidermp (sort of like a shoulder, also complicated) and a vicious sense of humor had conned you into believing that watching cable news channels was an excellent way to understand American Earthlings.

Now, it's common knowledge on Tralfamadore that America, in the course of the last seven or eight decades defeated (with a lot of help, of course) attempts by murderous fascists and then even more murderous communists to take over the world.

It's common knowledge that America specifically, and a good bit (and rising) of the planet in general, have achieved an unprecedented level of prosperity.


Unfortunately...
[Gentlereaders, I know you know what's next. My Dear Stickies, here's hoping that you're still here and/or not living in caves and huts and the like.]

Unfortunately, if our visiting scholar were to immerse itself in an intense study of cable news channels it would in short order try and return home before the second American Civil War breaks out (or Li'l Rocket Man starts lobbing intercontinental anthrax infused water balloons in our direction).

Unfortunately, although this is supposed to be the last installment of the Before I Wake Up Dead series I'm going to have to finish up next week because unfortunately (GRIN) I've gone on too long. And unfortunately, this nerve pill they have me taking in an attempt to treat my spinal stenosis without having surgery renders me sleepy and dizzy and hungry and unmotivated. I need a nap.

It's like smoking weed -- with the euphoria removed (unfortunately). I'll bet The Gummit has something to do with it. Poppa loves you.

 Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

The State of the Zeitgeist

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

We interrupt our series on the cardinal virtues to bring you this zeitgeist update.

The Donald's reality show has been running for a couple of months now -- all day, every day. There's no getting away from it unless you're a self-sufficient prepper living in the wilderness with a broken short-wave radio.

"All politics is theater." I went a-googlin' and couldn't discover anyone to attribute this to, but it's a very commonly used expression and it rings true to me. I think the expression requires updating to all politics is showbiz. The word showbiz more accurately expresses the spirit of our time. Showbiz implies cutting edge flash and fakery, with a tinge of sleaze. The word theater is too dignified.

[Warning: possible excessive use of metaphors ahead.]

P-T., (pre-Trump) American politics was, and by many folks still is, viewed as follows. Politics is hardball (again, unattributable) and most politicians can't be trusted, it's the nature of the beast. However, it's only the truly corrupt ones, the ones that are only in it for the money/power, that are a real threat.

The rest are sausage makers, and while you might love sausage, particularly the All-American hot dog, most of us wouldn't want to take a tour of, much less work in, a slaughterhouse -- but someone's got to make the sausage.

We're not naive. We understand that a sausage maker is going to get some blood on their hands. Sausage making (and democracy) is messy. We're cool with that, as long as the butcher doesn't add too much fat and keeps his thumb off the scale.

The blood, or at least enough of it, will come out in the wash, that is, at election time. Also, we pay for full-time, lean and hungry, impartial investigators, the fourth estate (what we used to call the press, more commonly now referred to as the media), to monitor the sausage makers, 24 x 7 x 365.25.

At election time, proud, well-informed Americans, meticulously prepared by a world-class education system, upon which we lavish an ever increasing amount of money, carefully and rationally choose the best man person for the job.

In my semi-humble opinion, the three paragraphs after the metaphor warning above, are accurate. After that, not so much. The media, in general (like politicians, in general), are viewed unfavorably by the public for a reason. Many of us find many of them to be biased and/or condescending. Many of us find many of them to be ratings and profits chasing infotainers.

As to why people keep (re)electing the wrong people, that is, anyone you wouldn't vote for, the reasons are legion. Schools are an easy target since overall they seem to keep getting worse. "There's too much money in politics!" is a perennial favorite. That's a good one since it enables us to not only demonize the candidate we don't like, we can also demonize the source of their money.

You may have indeed gone to a crappy grade/high school. You may have gone deeply into debt to attend a crappy college. Even if it wasn't crappy, there's a very good chance you picked the wrong major. Hey, you were 18, you didn't know, well, crap. Your parental units telling you that you would regret your choice later convinced you that you had made the right choice.

Man... if you knew then what you know now. Wouldacouldashoulda. You know, if...

BIG BUT.

Fact is, many people are not all that well informed. Fact is, many most people, most of the time, decide (emotionally, intuitively) first, rationalize later. Gut first, brain later. Not you and I, of course, but most people. This is bleeding edge science,

Anyway, not being well informed can be the most rational course of action. You constantly feel overwhelmed and exhausted because  _______ , and there ain't much you can do about that right now. And statistically speaking, your opinion/vote is insignificant anyway.

The Donald knows this. The Donald is the P.T. Barnum ("Without promotion, something terrible happens... nothing!") of politics. The Donald's not so secret secret is that he speaks directly to your heart, not your brain. Your heart may reject him, but it can't ignore him. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference.

Who do you know that's indifferent to the Donald?

[Dana, my imaginary gentlereader, speaks. Oh yeah, what about Obama? He...]

Barack "no drama" Obama was elected to be the POTUS in spite of having less executive experience than a convenience store manager (not an easy job by the way) because the American people calmly and rationally considered his carefully thought out and logically presented positions and made their choice, right?

Bonkercockie!  

The housing bubble exploded and America was knocked on its ass. Some people are still trying to get up. Iraq was a sorta/kinda win but Afghanistan wasn't/still isn't and many were wondering/are wondering if both had been a bloody and expensive mistake. A frenzy of finger-pointing broke out (that's still going on) and Mr. hope and change could, and did, blame everything that's wrong on planet Earth on Dubya. And continued to do so, years after Dubya moved back to Texas and picked up a paint brush.

So America voted for the other major party, and not the party that offered up John McCain who also had a very thin resume. Another professional politician, with decades of experience -- who had also never actually run, anything. If H. sapiens make rational decisions, why is the phrase, "I voted for the lesser of two evils" so commonly used? Is this the best a rational people can do?

Which is why, when I become king, only former state governors will be permitted to run for president. I know it sounds harsh, but it's for your own (irrational, emotional) good.

Now, if you still think that H. sapiens are rational creatures, consider the following. I'm not smart enough to have figured out that we're subject to what I call gut first, brain later on my own. I simply read about the opinions and discoveries of other people. I particularly credit Jonathan Haidt and Scott Adams.

If I'm aware that the Donald's not so secret secret is his gift for going straight for the gut because that's how you actually influence people to do what you want them to do (how they vote, for example). And if I'm aware that the Donald's often (seemingly) irrational statements, tweets, etc. are part of his game, then surely the highly educated, highly experienced, worldly-wise, cynical media have figured this out as well.

And yet... Instead of pointing out the game to the public when he says something outrageous or crazy, instead of pointing out he's a master of emotional manipulation, most can't help but jump on the bait like starving jackals.

"OMG! how could he say such an obviously untrue/crazy/ignorant/etc. thing? We've done a fact check and... "

Who is acting rationally? Who keeps reacting irrationally? Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


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©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

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