Why are homo sapiens obsessed with their head hair? The obvious answer would seem to have a biological/evolutionary explanation. A healthy head of hair is an indicator of yute and overall good health. In spite of our relatively large, highly developed brains that enable us to do amazing things such as visit the moon and, well, brain surgery, we're still the playthings of our DNA. Our DNA is all about survival, reproduction and driving us to mate with (or at least, watch, often goofy TV shows and movies about) superior looking specimens of the species.
I get that. And I would remind you, and myself, that no matter how smart we might think we are, or, how above or over all that sort of thing we might think we are, we're not. Caution: Ignoring, or worse yet refusing to acknowledge your inner infidel, may be hazardous to your health (and life and job and relationships and...).
Big But.
Everywhere I look I see hair helmets. Creations, constructions and colors further and further removed from anything Mother Nature's Hair and Nails, LLC has ever produced. The Donald is our national poster child for this cult, and make no mistake, it is a cult. How else to account for something that generates such dedication, time, and expense?
[Aside: Speaking of the Donald, his orange complexion would seem to suggest he's an Oompa Loompa. No, seriously, think about it. This would also explain why a man who will turn 70 years old in June has hair that seems to vary in color from washed out blond to almost Peep yellow. This could be the result of constant coloring to hide his naturally green hair.
Now, Oompa Loompas are generally short in stature and the Donald is tall. This begs more than one question. Is he a native Loompalandian with a glandular disorder? If so, this would seem to disqualify him from becoming president. If he is a native Loompalandian, was he ever naturalized? If not, does he have a green card? Was his father or mother born in the USA and married to, or at some point hooked up with, a native born Loompalandian? If so, doesn't this place the Donald in the same situation he placed Senator Cruz in when he suggested that Mr. Cruz might have eligibility issues?
Most importantly, why are none of the rabid watchdogs of the press trying to get to the bottom of this mess? But that's not what I want to talk about, so let's move on.]
My definition of a hair helmet is a much broader than the traditional conception. That is, a television news anchorperson whose hair looks as though it's made out of fairly rigid vinyl and would only move ever so slightly in a tornado. Or come completely off, like a, well, a helmet and possibly become a dangerous, sharp-edged projectile.
My definition: A hairstyle, regardless of color, rigid or otherwise, that crosses a fine line whereupon said hairstyle becomes the first thing you notice about someone, you can't help but being aware of it at all times, rarely flattering.
A beacon of hair, if you will. A hairstyle that causes its owner to resemble a floor lamp without a shade.
The fine line I mentioned is determined by the amount of contrast, or the lack thereof, between a given hairstyle and the overall look of the subject. For example, a rigidly coiffed, blue haired, little old lady with minimal makeup and a conservative outfit works just fine.
However, a little old lady with minimal makeup, a conservative outfit, and waist length, elaborately curly, grape Kool-Aid colored hair -- not so much.
So, how did we go from being understandably influenced by our DNA to hair helmets? I propose two reasons. First, a significant downside of living in the information age is the fact that we're more exposed to advertising, both overtly and subliminally, than ever before. A great deal of advertising is dedicated to pushing products for managing our manes. Second, our head hair, at least theoretically, provides a means for anyone to compensate for the genetic crime of not being as attractive as professional pretty people that are so attractive that they can make a living from it, often just by reminding us that we can't. But -- with the purchase of the right health and/or beauty aid -- we may not have to wither away empty, alone, and childless, after all.
[Another Aside: About advertising. I, like most people, find most advertising, to be a pain in the butt. I'm amazed that it's even possible for an hour of alleged programming on broadcast TV to include 20 minutes or so of advertising, but not from a legal standpoint. The viewers, not The Gubmint, should determine what's acceptable. The viewers hold all the power, literally, in the palm of their hands: CLICK! What amazes me is that anyone puts up with it, considering there is no shortage of alternatives.
However, I'm a grup and a sexy seasoned citizen so I know there is definitely no such thing as a free lunch. Yes, we're knee deep in adverts, and it's not possible to be engaged in the modern world without encountering them hither, thither, and yon (don't that sound way cooler than here, there, and everywhere?).
Yes, they're often annoying, stupid and downright offensive. But they provide us with no shortage of often annoying, stupid and downright offensive content at everyone's favorite price -- free and no charge. Occasionally, they're the only portion of the content that ain't annoying, stupid and downright offensive. Were I less empathetic and attuned to the feelings of my fellow homo sapiens, I would say that whining about advertising is like bragging about how you vote in every election with one breath and then complaining about the quality of political incumbents with the next. But I'm not, so I won't. And Besides, that's not what this column is about.]
Sorry, what was I talking about? DNA...hair helmets...the Donald (alpha male)...advertising (environmental input) that easily exploits fundamental biological drives...
Wait a minute, is the only difference between us and all the other animals on the planet just a matter of degree?
Sheesh, this got depressing fast, and I didn't even see it coming. This is going to require a part two to explore what, if anything, does set us apart from the rest of the animals.
Anyway, I've got to run, I've got an important appointment and I have to do my hair.
Have an OK day.
©Mark Mehlmauer 2016
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Saturday, April 2, 2016
Saturday, March 26, 2016
A Touch of Class
Let's bring back a touch of class. And restraint. And modesty. And _____ . License to say and do anything ain't working.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting we all start behaving like the characters in a good old fashion mainstream American movie or TV show restrained by good old fashion American censorship. I am suggesting that we walk the culture back a step or two from the edge. If anything goes, nothing is edgy anymore. When nothing is edgy anymore all that's left is to try and be more shocking and/or disgusting than the next guy. Embrace your inner infidel.
[In an effort to promote cultural tolerance, gentlereaders, I offer up the phrase inner infidel. I see it as a bridge that will help us to connect Muslim culture to the other major cultures on the planet. It also sounds way cooler than barbarian, which is somewhat played out, as a word I mean. Sadly, there's no shortage of barbarism loose in the world.]
"A man got to have a code," Omar Devone Little: A fictional character in The Wire, played by Michael K. Williams in the third best television show ever made. Mr. Little was a charismatic, gay, Honey Nut Cheerios-loving thug that made a nice living robbing, and if necessary, shooting, drug dealers until he was killed in the shows last season. In spite of his occupation, he had a strict personal moral code that included not working on Sundays and not harming innocents.
When the baby boomers tossed out the tot out with the jacuzzi water and upended the traditional (and yes, often hypocritical) moral standards of the West, we began the Age of Relativity. It's like, all relative, dude.
From urban DICTIONARY (.com): "It's All/Everythings Relative means the world is in the eye of the beholder; all people look at things from a different perspective... Everything is quantifiable in terms of individual perception.
You can have your code, I can have my code. We can choose not to have a code. Who needs a code? If it feels good, do it, you only live once!
I wrote a column, well, two columns actually, I'm Glad I'm Old, parts one and two (1.23 & 1.30.16). I could maintain an ever growing list of reasons of why I'm glad I'm old but (cognitive dissonance alert) I'm more glad that I'm still alive and prefer to dwell on that. Note, I didn't say I wish I was young. No well adjusted Sexy Senior Citizen should, but that's another column, and, I strive to be nonjudgmental, so I won't bring it up.
[Could we move on please? asks my imaginary gentlereader as Marie-Louise pokes me in the ribs.]
Fine. One of the many reasons I'm glad I'm old is because I'm so ancient that I was raised by two members of the Greatest Generation and up until the age of 13 or so I was steeped in a cultural consensus that vanished in a remarkably short time. I do not long for its return. It wasn't a utopia and I'm very much a seize the moment kind of dude.
However, my childhood provided a firm foundation to build a life on as well as a feeling of being a part of something bigger than me, an organizing principle, however flawed, that I could join, or try to change, or even try to destroy. But if there's really nothing to join, change, or try to destroy, because anything goes, and to declare that one value system is superior to another makes you a hater, well, I'm glad I'm old.
If adolescents have nothing real to rebel against you wind up with a hookup culture where making love is just having sex, just another easily dispatched biological need. Where allegedly liberated young women have to worry about being labeled prudes if they don't use their smartphones to distribute soft porn (or worse) starring themselves. And about not getting enough likes if they do.
This is why I understand and respect where traditional religious believers are coming from, even fundamentalists, assuming they reject violence as a legitimate tool for spreading their faith. I not only was raised to be a believer, I sorta/kinda still am, in a very non-traditional way. I'm a meditator, a philosophical Taoist, and I find there to be much wisdom in Stoicism. (Fear not, I couldn't hope to explain myself adequately even if I were so inclined.)
However, I emphasize with traditional believers primarily because I suspect that an anything goes philosophy is repugnant to any more or less well-adjusted grup, it's not just because of their religious beliefs. They would feel this way even if they weren't religious. The organizing principle they've chosen, or take for granted because that's the culture they were brought up in, and it works for them, just makes things seem that much worse
[That organizing principle thing again? Define your terms sir! sayeth the gentlereader. Marie-Louise is scratching my back, she understands.]
It means exactly what you think it means. Wikipedia: "An organizing principle is a core assumption from which everything else by proximity can derive a classification or a value." Or, the framework or the grid you use to make sense of the world and decide on how to make your way through it.
I also understand and respect where atheists are coming from; I'm a staunch ex-catholic. However, I define myself as agnostic because I'm a firm believer in maintaining as open a mind as possible to counter the scientifically documented phenomenon called confirmation bias. Or, don't confuse me with facts, my mind is made up syndrome.
George Will, one of my intellectual heroes, describes himself as an amiable, low-voltage atheist. I mention this because of the stark contrast between his position and that of snarky, self-righteous arrogant atheists that feel the need to make fun of believers, and run to court over world-shaking issues, such as prayers at public school football games, at every opportunity. Yikes! atheistic fundamentalists. And more than a few atheists will tell you that while Stoicism might be OK, Taoism is definitely out there in the goofy zone.
Flexibility and a willingness to update your organizing principles are required for a life well lived. Too much flexibility, particularly if built upon the shifting sands of political correctness, or even worse, no framework beyond if it feels good do it, will result in a hot mess. Fine lines.
"A man got to have a code."
Have an OK day.
©Mark Mehlmauer 2016
If you wish to like, react, leave a comment or share -- please scroll down.
Mobile gentlereaders, if I've pleased you, there's additional content to be found via laptop and desktop.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting we all start behaving like the characters in a good old fashion mainstream American movie or TV show restrained by good old fashion American censorship. I am suggesting that we walk the culture back a step or two from the edge. If anything goes, nothing is edgy anymore. When nothing is edgy anymore all that's left is to try and be more shocking and/or disgusting than the next guy. Embrace your inner infidel.
[In an effort to promote cultural tolerance, gentlereaders, I offer up the phrase inner infidel. I see it as a bridge that will help us to connect Muslim culture to the other major cultures on the planet. It also sounds way cooler than barbarian, which is somewhat played out, as a word I mean. Sadly, there's no shortage of barbarism loose in the world.]
"A man got to have a code," Omar Devone Little: A fictional character in The Wire, played by Michael K. Williams in the third best television show ever made. Mr. Little was a charismatic, gay, Honey Nut Cheerios-loving thug that made a nice living robbing, and if necessary, shooting, drug dealers until he was killed in the shows last season. In spite of his occupation, he had a strict personal moral code that included not working on Sundays and not harming innocents.
When the baby boomers tossed out the tot out with the jacuzzi water and upended the traditional (and yes, often hypocritical) moral standards of the West, we began the Age of Relativity. It's like, all relative, dude.
From urban DICTIONARY (.com): "It's All/Everythings Relative means the world is in the eye of the beholder; all people look at things from a different perspective... Everything is quantifiable in terms of individual perception.
You can have your code, I can have my code. We can choose not to have a code. Who needs a code? If it feels good, do it, you only live once!
I wrote a column, well, two columns actually, I'm Glad I'm Old, parts one and two (1.23 & 1.30.16). I could maintain an ever growing list of reasons of why I'm glad I'm old but (cognitive dissonance alert) I'm more glad that I'm still alive and prefer to dwell on that. Note, I didn't say I wish I was young. No well adjusted Sexy Senior Citizen should, but that's another column, and, I strive to be nonjudgmental, so I won't bring it up.
[Could we move on please? asks my imaginary gentlereader as Marie-Louise pokes me in the ribs.]
Fine. One of the many reasons I'm glad I'm old is because I'm so ancient that I was raised by two members of the Greatest Generation and up until the age of 13 or so I was steeped in a cultural consensus that vanished in a remarkably short time. I do not long for its return. It wasn't a utopia and I'm very much a seize the moment kind of dude.
However, my childhood provided a firm foundation to build a life on as well as a feeling of being a part of something bigger than me, an organizing principle, however flawed, that I could join, or try to change, or even try to destroy. But if there's really nothing to join, change, or try to destroy, because anything goes, and to declare that one value system is superior to another makes you a hater, well, I'm glad I'm old.
If adolescents have nothing real to rebel against you wind up with a hookup culture where making love is just having sex, just another easily dispatched biological need. Where allegedly liberated young women have to worry about being labeled prudes if they don't use their smartphones to distribute soft porn (or worse) starring themselves. And about not getting enough likes if they do.
This is why I understand and respect where traditional religious believers are coming from, even fundamentalists, assuming they reject violence as a legitimate tool for spreading their faith. I not only was raised to be a believer, I sorta/kinda still am, in a very non-traditional way. I'm a meditator, a philosophical Taoist, and I find there to be much wisdom in Stoicism. (Fear not, I couldn't hope to explain myself adequately even if I were so inclined.)
However, I emphasize with traditional believers primarily because I suspect that an anything goes philosophy is repugnant to any more or less well-adjusted grup, it's not just because of their religious beliefs. They would feel this way even if they weren't religious. The organizing principle they've chosen, or take for granted because that's the culture they were brought up in, and it works for them, just makes things seem that much worse
[That organizing principle thing again? Define your terms sir! sayeth the gentlereader. Marie-Louise is scratching my back, she understands.]
It means exactly what you think it means. Wikipedia: "An organizing principle is a core assumption from which everything else by proximity can derive a classification or a value." Or, the framework or the grid you use to make sense of the world and decide on how to make your way through it.
George Will, one of my intellectual heroes, describes himself as an amiable, low-voltage atheist. I mention this because of the stark contrast between his position and that of snarky, self-righteous arrogant atheists that feel the need to make fun of believers, and run to court over world-shaking issues, such as prayers at public school football games, at every opportunity. Yikes! atheistic fundamentalists. And more than a few atheists will tell you that while Stoicism might be OK, Taoism is definitely out there in the goofy zone.
Flexibility and a willingness to update your organizing principles are required for a life well lived. Too much flexibility, particularly if built upon the shifting sands of political correctness, or even worse, no framework beyond if it feels good do it, will result in a hot mess. Fine lines.
"A man got to have a code."
Have an OK day.
©Mark Mehlmauer 2016
If you wish to like, react, leave a comment or share -- please scroll down.
Mobile gentlereaders, if I've pleased you, there's additional content to be found via laptop and desktop.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Utopia
As a slightly younger man, all right, as a much younger man, I sorta/kinda believed in utopia. I say sorta/kinda because even as a somewhat idealistic callowyute my head was not far enough up my, um, tailpipe to believe that a utopia of any sort was actually possible. It was just a case of yutefull idealism coinciding with the societal and cultural upheavals of the late sixties.
It began early on. In the course of my eight years of Catholic grade school, I was constantly being reminded that God wanted me, no, required me, to help the less fortunate -- even the pagans -- if I expected to have a chance to get my sinful butt into heaven. (I was never directly told that other alleged Christians who weren't Catholic were essentially pagans, but it was implied.) However, I was also taught that going to heaven was just the cheese on the fries. It was just as important that I do all in my power to establish a heaven on Earth. For example, the church fully supported the civil rights movement and the abolition of the obscenity that was/is Jim Crow. It was made abundantly clear to me that this should be, no, was, my position as well.
It wasn't just talk, we were expected to walk the walk, literally. Seemed like we were always going door to door peddling something to raise money for this, that and the other charity. It occurs to me that my grandkids, who attend public schools, are also peddling something or other every time I turn around. However, it's always about raising money to pay for some extracurricular activity they're involved in that's not covered by taxes or the seemingly endless fees for this, that and the other thing. Hmmm...
This eight years of my life referenced above coincided primarily with the early sixties but slopped over into the late sixties. I point this out because making reference to "the sixties" is a very common phenomenon. And while most of you that hadn't been born yet are justifiably tired of the dated cultural references (sorry...), I rarely hear anyone talking about the fact that the early sixties was a radically different era than the late sixties.
See, the early sixties was mostly the fifties, part two. But the seeds of the late sixties had been planted and were starting to sprout. Fear not, I'm not going to belabor this point with a lengthy thesis, that would not serve to get me where I'm headed. If you were there, or at least have a working knowledge, compare and contrast "I Want to Hold Your Hand"/ "Helter Skelter," or, Martin Luther King/Black Panthers. If you weren't, or don't, sorry, your gonna' have to do some homework. I...
[Is this rambling bonkercockie going somewhere? inquires Marie-Louise. She's in a foul mood today and has yet to scratch my back, not once.]
Patience, ma cherie, patience. I'm just laying out the groundwork necessary to make the first of my two points. First point: I get it, I understand why Bernie Sanders is so appealing to callowyutes. Also to limousine liberals, many of whom have never made the transition to grouphood.
I had/have (but it's evolved) an idealistic ethical system that began when it was pounded into me (sometimes literally) from the age of 6 to the age of 13 by the Sisters of Charity. By the time I had reached the end of what I thought, at the time, was my sentence, it was officially the late sixties. As I slowly but steadily drifted into another large sect, people who used to be Catholic, I simultaneously got caught up it the secular religion of the moment, what for lack of a better term, I'll call the yute movement.
I use the term yute movement (a phrase not original to me), an ideology that included several different strains of thought, some of which contradicted each other, because it was powered by callowyutes. Teenagers (a group invented by America in the fifties) and twenty-somethings rose up and sank their orthodontically coddled teeth into the hands of their enablers. "Don't trust anyone over thirty."
[Reminder, if my slightly unconventional vocabulary proves confusing, the Glossary tab of The Flyoverland Crank might help.]
So, though I don't feel the Bern, I get it. Many of us coddled boomers, flush with the untested knowledge every new generation has that they can and will do a better job than the previous one, were let loose on the world oblivious to the fact it was (relatively) free market capitalism that made possible the unprecedented affluence that we took for granted, due to our shallow grasp of history and economics. Many of us became socialists and armchair revolutionaries -- for a minute. Most of us got over it. To quote something Winston Churchill didn't actually say, "If you're not a liberal when you're 25, you have no heart. If you're not a conservative by the time you're 35, you have no brain." Though he didn't actually utter the words the misquote lives on because there is wisdom in it. Yutefull idealism is, fortunately, still a common, though not universal phenomenon.
Unfortunately, some didn't, get over it I mean. For example, Bernie Sanders, a professional outsider who has been a member of a very powerful club that has only 535 members, for 25 years. I believe Mr. Sanders believes what he says. I also believe I'm still a sorta/kinda idealist, but I'm a grup, and grups face facts. Free market capitalism, with all its flaws, and despite the warped versions of it practiced in places like China (where they cross out the word free), has lifted, and continues to lift, literally billions of people out of poverty. Democratic Socialism has given us Greece (remember Greece?) and an economically stagnant Eurozone a half step ahead of recession. Which is my second point.
Have an OK day.
©Mark Mehlmauer 2016
If you wish to like, react, leave a comment or share -- please scroll down.
Mobile gentlereaders, if I've pleased you, there's additional content to be found via laptop and desktop.
It began early on. In the course of my eight years of Catholic grade school, I was constantly being reminded that God wanted me, no, required me, to help the less fortunate -- even the pagans -- if I expected to have a chance to get my sinful butt into heaven. (I was never directly told that other alleged Christians who weren't Catholic were essentially pagans, but it was implied.) However, I was also taught that going to heaven was just the cheese on the fries. It was just as important that I do all in my power to establish a heaven on Earth. For example, the church fully supported the civil rights movement and the abolition of the obscenity that was/is Jim Crow. It was made abundantly clear to me that this should be, no, was, my position as well.
It wasn't just talk, we were expected to walk the walk, literally. Seemed like we were always going door to door peddling something to raise money for this, that and the other charity. It occurs to me that my grandkids, who attend public schools, are also peddling something or other every time I turn around. However, it's always about raising money to pay for some extracurricular activity they're involved in that's not covered by taxes or the seemingly endless fees for this, that and the other thing. Hmmm...
This eight years of my life referenced above coincided primarily with the early sixties but slopped over into the late sixties. I point this out because making reference to "the sixties" is a very common phenomenon. And while most of you that hadn't been born yet are justifiably tired of the dated cultural references (sorry...), I rarely hear anyone talking about the fact that the early sixties was a radically different era than the late sixties.
See, the early sixties was mostly the fifties, part two. But the seeds of the late sixties had been planted and were starting to sprout. Fear not, I'm not going to belabor this point with a lengthy thesis, that would not serve to get me where I'm headed. If you were there, or at least have a working knowledge, compare and contrast "I Want to Hold Your Hand"/ "Helter Skelter," or, Martin Luther King/Black Panthers. If you weren't, or don't, sorry, your gonna' have to do some homework. I...
[Is this rambling bonkercockie going somewhere? inquires Marie-Louise. She's in a foul mood today and has yet to scratch my back, not once.]
Patience, ma cherie, patience. I'm just laying out the groundwork necessary to make the first of my two points. First point: I get it, I understand why Bernie Sanders is so appealing to callowyutes. Also to limousine liberals, many of whom have never made the transition to grouphood.
I had/have (but it's evolved) an idealistic ethical system that began when it was pounded into me (sometimes literally) from the age of 6 to the age of 13 by the Sisters of Charity. By the time I had reached the end of what I thought, at the time, was my sentence, it was officially the late sixties. As I slowly but steadily drifted into another large sect, people who used to be Catholic, I simultaneously got caught up it the secular religion of the moment, what for lack of a better term, I'll call the yute movement.
I use the term yute movement (a phrase not original to me), an ideology that included several different strains of thought, some of which contradicted each other, because it was powered by callowyutes. Teenagers (a group invented by America in the fifties) and twenty-somethings rose up and sank their orthodontically coddled teeth into the hands of their enablers. "Don't trust anyone over thirty."
[Reminder, if my slightly unconventional vocabulary proves confusing, the Glossary tab of The Flyoverland Crank might help.]
So, though I don't feel the Bern, I get it. Many of us coddled boomers, flush with the untested knowledge every new generation has that they can and will do a better job than the previous one, were let loose on the world oblivious to the fact it was (relatively) free market capitalism that made possible the unprecedented affluence that we took for granted, due to our shallow grasp of history and economics. Many of us became socialists and armchair revolutionaries -- for a minute. Most of us got over it. To quote something Winston Churchill didn't actually say, "If you're not a liberal when you're 25, you have no heart. If you're not a conservative by the time you're 35, you have no brain." Though he didn't actually utter the words the misquote lives on because there is wisdom in it. Yutefull idealism is, fortunately, still a common, though not universal phenomenon.
Unfortunately, some didn't, get over it I mean. For example, Bernie Sanders, a professional outsider who has been a member of a very powerful club that has only 535 members, for 25 years. I believe Mr. Sanders believes what he says. I also believe I'm still a sorta/kinda idealist, but I'm a grup, and grups face facts. Free market capitalism, with all its flaws, and despite the warped versions of it practiced in places like China (where they cross out the word free), has lifted, and continues to lift, literally billions of people out of poverty. Democratic Socialism has given us Greece (remember Greece?) and an economically stagnant Eurozone a half step ahead of recession. Which is my second point.
Have an OK day.
©Mark Mehlmauer 2016
If you wish to like, react, leave a comment or share -- please scroll down.
Mobile gentlereaders, if I've pleased you, there's additional content to be found via laptop and desktop.
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