Dear (eventual) grandstickies and great-grandstickies,
I am not a drunk or a druggie, nor do I play one on TV. I was a sorta/kinda (weed smoking) druggie when I was a twenty-something sorta/kinda hippie with a job.
I didn't define myself as a druggie at the time. To me, druggies were people that dabbled in, or were hooked on, addictive substances. I also didn't/don't care for people that liked/like to get roaring drunk. Not pleasantly buzzed, roaring drunk. Drunks and druggies were/are, often as not Jekyll-Hydes, people who become their own evil twin when they ingest their recreational pharmaceutical of choice.
Not me and my buds, pun intended. We were cool. Yeah, we smoked weed, but we weren't addicts, we weren't alcoholics, we had jobs.
In retrospect, I freely admit that I was a callowyute for far too long. Most of the friends I didn't go to college with couldn't get married/mortgaged/reproduced fast enough and become hipper, Depublican/Republicrat voting versions of their parents once they got their degree. Revolution? what revolution? That's kid stuff, grow up!
Maybe later. I...
[Aside for historical context: This was the early seventies when all that stuff you've heard about the late sixties was still going on but had begun to fade. The revolution mentioned above, with the exception of the relatively small handful of maroons committed to actually blowing stuff up, was a vague, ill-defined thing. It was a pampered, self-indulgent baby boomers happening to come of age when the cultural consensus collapsed and the threat of death by Vietnam loomed for 19-year-old males (some much more than others) phenomenon.]
Maybe later. I was having too much fun living a very tame version of what I romanticized to be a sex/drugs/rock and roll lifestyle. Get high and do something fun -- like have sex or go to a concert. I wasn't getting high because I was an addict or to cope with my crappy job/life/spouse/children. I was also very lucky in that my lifestyle never led to any legal problems and I had never even heard of AIDS at this point.
In my defense -- weed was way less potent, much cheaper and often hard to come by a thousand years ago. Droughts were common. I went out of my way (successfully) to not reproduce. I believed, and believe, that once you have kids, while selfless sainthood is not required, it mostly is, it's part of the job description. I didn't want that particular job, or a career, at that point in my life -- just a job, so I could pay my own way and live my life.
Truth be told -- I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. So, I figured I might as well enjoy the ride while waiting for instructions. I had two very vague notions. I would eventually meet my soulmate and then, somehow, all would become clear and we would live happily ever after. Or, I would meet my guru and spiritual enlightenment would follow. Maybe both.
[Important aside: The first time I smoked weed I was almost 20 years old. I'm so old that drug use by high school kids was just starting to take off when I was in high school. Drinking was more common but serious partying of any sort was limited to a relatively small minority. Considering that it's now common knowledge that the human brain isn't fully mature until the age of 25 or so, I'm glad I started at what nowadays would be considered a late age. More on this later.]
Eventually, in my late twenties, which coincided with the late seventies, I met and fell in love with a blond girl next door type, a college student. This coincided with Rock n' Roll hitting a wall (pun, once again, intended) that it hasn't been able to break through/climb over/go around since and the fact I was getting bored with being a callowyute and finally starting to grow up.
[Aside for baby boomer gentlereaders: By the way, just because Rock hit a wall, that's no excuse for some of you to still be listening to the same songs, over and over and over again, decades later. I don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings, think of it as one of those things that somebody had to tell you. Think of it as someone meeting you for coffee at an obscure location and gently giving you a heads up about something, for your own good. They'll give you a big, sincere hug and a warm genuine smile when it's time to part ways.
There's all sorts of music out there. I highly recommend jazz. If you would prefer to maintain your rock/pop sensibility you might think about trying to find some time to go exploring. Even if you prefer to stick with the old stuff, the "hits" were from entire albums of songs you may have never heard. Admit it, you've thought about this. Now, if you could only find the time...]
And we're back. I spent about three years in a grup with a life, wife, and 2.5 kids training program. Many requirements had to be met in order to qualify and get promoted to adulthood. In the end, she changed her mind and ran my application, and my heart, through a paper shredder. She said she was sorry. No soul mate or a guru. That sure sucked sweaty socks.
When I came to I found myself managing a fleet of ice cream trucks in Texas. One day I hired a woman to drive one of the trucks who, in short order, became my wife. She came pre-equipped with a daughter. Hey! look at me, I'm a grup! Well, more or less.
[Uh-huh. Um, is there a point you're trying to make Poppa? Sheesh, it would seem that I not only have an imaginary gentle reader and a muse living in my head, now I've got to deal with an imaginary grandsticky/great-grandsticky. For the record, my grandstickies are real, but I'm addressing them as a group and writing to them as though they won't be reading this until 20 years into the future. Please see last week's column, Sea Change. The great-grandstickies aren't here yet. So, the imaginary grandsticky is a stand in for a group of people, some of whom don't exist yet. Man, this is getting complicated.
Oh for the love of God! exclaims Dana, my imaginary gentlereader. Marie-Louise, my muse, is giggling.]
Calm down everyone. OK, listen, first some literary housekeeping. No, poppa is not misspelled. Both papa and poppa are authorized by the language police. I prefer poppa because papa looks like it should be pronounced paah-paah. Poppa -- pops. When I'm king, I will correct this situation and delete, or at least imperially frown upon, the word papa. Poppa is what my grandstickies (grandkids) call me. Please see my websites glossary for more information.
Second, sorry, I've got to go. I'm already well over my theoretical 1,000-word limit. (A snort of frustration followed by angry footsteps and the sound of a door slam. Dana has left the column.) Hey, it's not my fault that attention spans have been reduced to the point that 500 words without pictures is considered long-form writing, I'm trying to build an audience so I can quit my soul-sucking day job. Poppa loves you. To be continued...
Have an OK day.
.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Sea Change
Interesting phrase, sea change, also rendered as seachange, sea-change and Sea Change. Credited to Shakespeare who used it in The Tempest to describe changes wrought by the sea on a drowned man. Nowadays it's usually used to describe a dramatic change in this, that or the other but it can also refer to a gradual change that eventually produces unexpected results somewhat different than those originally intended. Life's like that, methinks, sayeth the Crank, clearly (hopefully) temporarily deranged by the Shakespeare reference.
I've deployed it for two reasons. Firstly (which ain't Shakespearean but sounds like it) I've never had occasion to use the phrase/word before but I've been waiting for a chance just because it's cool, well, at least I think so. Forgive me, gentlereaders and (eventual) grandstickies and great-grandstickies, if your reaction to the previous statement is one of dubiety (another word, recently discovered, that I've been itching to use and that means exactly what you think it does). I'll stop now.
The other reason is thathenceforth from now most of my weekly columns will be addressed directly to my (eventual) grandstickies and great-grandstickies, although I will continue to be putenem out there for the general public. Also, I will continue to speak directly to my gentlereaders and to give voice to my muse, as well as some other individuals that live in my head, via my wildly entertaining and world famous asides.
[Clarification: The previous paragraph has nothing to do with general August Public, the little-known Revolutionary war hero and favorite son of the tiny English hamlet of Putenem-upon-Ditch, his boyhood home before his family emigrated to the American colonies in search of liberty and um, debt relief.]
Now, in light of the fact that three recent columns have been directly addressed to my (eventual) grandstickies and great-grandstickies, one could make a plausible argument this may not qualify as a sea-change. And, after all, the Stickies are mentioned early on in the Read This First Please introduction tab on my website where they, as well as my daughter and son-in-law, are credited as the inspiration for this blog.
[Policy Update: I have decided that it's not pretentious to use the word one rather than the word you occasionally and going forward I'll be using them both. Which one gets chosen will depend on which one sounds or feels right, rather than which one is technically correct. This is a general policy, that sound and feel trumps technically correct, for all of my feeble scribbles. Also, although I am King Crank, and if this country should ever come to its senses I will be the King of America, I will continue to be I, never we, for I am a benevolent tyrant.]
However, seachange works because I confess that the primary reason I've generated a weekly column for almost a year and a half in spite of occasionally not feeling the least bit motivated, and in spite of the fact that the income generated by my efforts is laughable, was the hope that I might break through the babble of billions of bloggers, go viral, make a deal (honey, get the Donald on the phone), and quit my day job.
Still is.
BIG BUT.
It's also true that when I finish the rare column that I'm (well, more or less anyway) happy with I am a very happy camper. It's also true that I enjoy writing enough to keep on with it despite the fact it hasn't yet provided the key to happiness, earned success (1). It's also true that even if I were to drop dead one day soon I would do so content that I had made the effort to pass along some observations and hard learned lessons, however limited in scope and utility, to my beloved Stickies. Even the ones that aren't here yet.
And.
Since I'm technically 63 years old (though just 39 in all the ways that count) and since my sell by date (statistically speaking) is less than 20 years away, and could be tomorrow...
...I shall soldier on (another cool phrase I've always wanted to use) and I've decided that going forward, my column will primarily be a weekly letter to the (eventual) Stickies, that is, the existing Stickies future, mature selves, and their yet to be conceived children --my (eventual) grandstickies, and great-grandstickies. I shall write each column as if it's a letter to be placed in a virtual vault of some sort that will not permit a given column to be read, by them, until 20 years after I've published it to the web.
Pretending to write to/for someone(s) that will not see my shtuff until 20 years from now provides a framework and perspective that I find appealing. Gentlereaders are, of course, are encouraged to not only eavesdrop in the interim but also to share my correspondence with whoever they think might find it interesting.
Finally, some shtuff (there will be more in future columns) about your friendly neighborhood cranks policies and procedures. If you've been here before and/or if you come back. you may have or will notice a general absence of what used to be called profanity. Nowadays, particularly on the web, it's frequently not called anything, it's just how people talk.
I consciously choose to use it sparingly in my writing (more frequently in real life) for two reasons. First, George Carlin was wrong, words are not just words. Context -- who you're trying to communicate with and what you're trying to communicate -- is vitally important. (WARNING:
Run on sentence ahead.) I use the word shtuff (shit + stuff) rather than shit when I'm writing to be (in a lame fashion) funny, to be unique, to try and make a point without offending certain people (but I'm prepared to be offensive if I think it's necessary), and to give the word stuff more power.
Second, when words are just words, powerful words become lame words, beautiful words become ugly words. A delicious salad of words is reduced to the worst salad you ever had in a hospital cafeteria. Like what passes for art in many circles in these strange times, shocking rules, until it doesn't, because once there's nothing left to rebel against, everything is just, well, shit.
Have an OK Day
(1) The Secret of Happiness
I've deployed it for two reasons. Firstly (which ain't Shakespearean but sounds like it) I've never had occasion to use the phrase/word before but I've been waiting for a chance just because it's cool, well, at least I think so. Forgive me, gentlereaders and (eventual) grandstickies and great-grandstickies, if your reaction to the previous statement is one of dubiety (another word, recently discovered, that I've been itching to use and that means exactly what you think it does). I'll stop now.
The other reason is that
[Clarification: The previous paragraph has nothing to do with general August Public, the little-known Revolutionary war hero and favorite son of the tiny English hamlet of Putenem-upon-Ditch, his boyhood home before his family emigrated to the American colonies in search of liberty and um, debt relief.]
Now, in light of the fact that three recent columns have been directly addressed to my (eventual) grandstickies and great-grandstickies, one could make a plausible argument this may not qualify as a sea-change. And, after all, the Stickies are mentioned early on in the Read This First Please introduction tab on my website where they, as well as my daughter and son-in-law, are credited as the inspiration for this blog.
[Policy Update: I have decided that it's not pretentious to use the word one rather than the word you occasionally and going forward I'll be using them both. Which one gets chosen will depend on which one sounds or feels right, rather than which one is technically correct. This is a general policy, that sound and feel trumps technically correct, for all of my feeble scribbles. Also, although I am King Crank, and if this country should ever come to its senses I will be the King of America, I will continue to be I, never we, for I am a benevolent tyrant.]
However, seachange works because I confess that the primary reason I've generated a weekly column for almost a year and a half in spite of occasionally not feeling the least bit motivated, and in spite of the fact that the income generated by my efforts is laughable, was the hope that I might break through the babble of billions of bloggers, go viral, make a deal (honey, get the Donald on the phone), and quit my day job.
Still is.
BIG BUT.
It's also true that when I finish the rare column that I'm (well, more or less anyway) happy with I am a very happy camper. It's also true that I enjoy writing enough to keep on with it despite the fact it hasn't yet provided the key to happiness, earned success (1). It's also true that even if I were to drop dead one day soon I would do so content that I had made the effort to pass along some observations and hard learned lessons, however limited in scope and utility, to my beloved Stickies. Even the ones that aren't here yet.
And.
Since I'm technically 63 years old (though just 39 in all the ways that count) and since my sell by date (statistically speaking) is less than 20 years away, and could be tomorrow...
...I shall soldier on (another cool phrase I've always wanted to use) and I've decided that going forward, my column will primarily be a weekly letter to the (eventual) Stickies, that is, the existing Stickies future, mature selves, and their yet to be conceived children --my (eventual) grandstickies, and great-grandstickies. I shall write each column as if it's a letter to be placed in a virtual vault of some sort that will not permit a given column to be read, by them, until 20 years after I've published it to the web.
Pretending to write to/for someone(s) that will not see my shtuff until 20 years from now provides a framework and perspective that I find appealing. Gentlereaders are, of course, are encouraged to not only eavesdrop in the interim but also to share my correspondence with whoever they think might find it interesting.
Finally, some shtuff (there will be more in future columns) about your friendly neighborhood cranks policies and procedures. If you've been here before and/or if you come back. you may have or will notice a general absence of what used to be called profanity. Nowadays, particularly on the web, it's frequently not called anything, it's just how people talk.
I consciously choose to use it sparingly in my writing (more frequently in real life) for two reasons. First, George Carlin was wrong, words are not just words. Context -- who you're trying to communicate with and what you're trying to communicate -- is vitally important. (WARNING:
Run on sentence ahead.) I use the word shtuff (shit + stuff) rather than shit when I'm writing to be (in a lame fashion) funny, to be unique, to try and make a point without offending certain people (but I'm prepared to be offensive if I think it's necessary), and to give the word stuff more power.
Second, when words are just words, powerful words become lame words, beautiful words become ugly words. A delicious salad of words is reduced to the worst salad you ever had in a hospital cafeteria. Like what passes for art in many circles in these strange times, shocking rules, until it doesn't, because once there's nothing left to rebel against, everything is just, well, shit.
Have an OK Day
(1) The Secret of Happiness
Saturday, December 17, 2016
The History of the World, Part Eight
Since it's been (accidentally, sorry) awhile since part seven gentlereaders, a quick review would seem to be called for. According to the lopsided way King Crank looks at world history: H. sapiens won the real hunger games, rose to the top of the food chain, and established various and sundry civilizations.
Let's jump in the WAYBAC machine and return to part two.
Next, depending on how you look at it, an awful lot of history happened, or, a few things happened over and over again and once in a great, great while something really cool happened. Kind of like the life of the modern day average Joe/Joan Bagadonuts, but much more violent.
Let's jump in the WAYBAC machine and return to part two.
Next, depending on how you look at it, an awful lot of history happened, or, a few things happened over and over again and once in a great, great while something really cool happened. Kind of like the life of the modern day average Joe/Joan Bagadonuts, but much more violent.
They attacked us or we attacked them in the name of cash, conquest, revenge, God, the gods, hunger, honor, slaves et cetera. Fortunately, God was on our side or it would have been even worse. As Thomas Hobbes pointed out, life is indeed, “...solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” Mr. H. was arguing that this is the natural state of man (he was right) and that’s why we need an all-powerful ruler to keep us on the straight and narrow (he was wrong, but we do need some form of gubmint). That way we can direct our energies to defend our playground and/or slaughtering them instead of each other.
Once in awhile, peace would break out but Mother Nature provides us with a way to stave off boredom and complacency, natural disasters and disease.
This is how things rolled most days in most places. Why? Well, it’s either because we’re naked apes living in a dangerous world, or, someone screwed up the paradise we were provided with by God and he’s still mad (details depend on which creation myth you subscribe to). It wasn’t all bad though. Once in awhile Joe or Joan B. was fortunate enough to have an actual boring day. Also, as mentioned above, once in a great, great while, something truly cool happened."
Next, we jump ahead to part three.
... . In 1776 the world caught a major break.
In Great Britain's North American colonies a bunch of folks got together and invented the United States of America. In Scotland, Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations, invented modern economics, and taught the world how free markets would eventually lead to the need for a weight loss industry. These two events occurred while the industrial revolution was picking up steam. A trifecta!
And then, everyone lived happily ever after.
The End
Well, not exactly. Naked apes will be naked apes after all. Mother Nature loves all her children equally, from deadly pathogens to would be Mother Theresas. Thomas Hobbes famous observation about the nature of life on Earth -- that it tends to be solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short -- continued, and continues, to be true.
For example, the same America that often claims to be the world's oldest democracy (if you go a-googling you will find this factoid disputed by many) didn't get around to outlawing slavery until nearly a hundred years after formally declaring that it was obvious that all men, well, white males anyway, are created equal. It took even longer to acknowledge that the ladies aren't chattel.
Even then, we had to go to war with each other to make it happen. Even then, Jim Crow laws, literally or figuratively, remained in effect for another 100 years. Even now, we still have a handful (relatively speaking) of maroons in this country that think race predetermines an individual's character.
[Gentlereaders, an aside, 'cause that's how I roll. Not so fun fact: According to this PBS website (1) if the American Civil War was fought today and the same percentage of the population (2.5%) were killed, 7,000,000 people would be deleated.]
Even then... (insert your favorite crappy thing that someone, or several someones, did to someone else, or several someone elses in the last couple of hundred years, here).
Now, no matter what you believe, or who you blame, or what you think should be done, life on Earth is, as they say, is what it is -- always has been, and probably always will be. As to potential utopias, or heaven, or advanced civilizations from other planets, etc. -- I have little interest, less knowledge. My focus is on what's best for the most during the blink of an eye we call a lifetime.
Deidre McCloskey figured it out. About two hundred years ago, certain people in certain places discovered that free people + free markets + "Humanomics" (2) = unprecedented prosperity. The modern era was born. The old normal, thousands of years of a handful of kings and clerics in charge and almost everyone else a virtual or actual slave, began to die off.
The American and the Industrial Revolutions, combined with the economic revolution embodied in the concept of free trade will, long after we're all dead, be considered as important as the invention of agriculture.
But I'm not a nationalist, a little nationalism is necessary and healthy, a lot is tacky. I'm a gratitudalist. I believe that in spite of our many flaws and historical sins that the USA is (arguably, and at least for now) about as good as it gets. I'm grateful, as I did nothing to earn this, I just had the dumb luck to be born here.
Of course, that doesn't mean that the prosperity, freedom, and obesity epidemic that we take for granted in the USA, and that has taken hold to one degree or another elsewhere, will last. Some local version of Putin, or one of his Darth Vaderish ilk, might someday manage to take over the country and go all Orwellian on our pampered asses.
We live in gut-wrenching scary times. We live in a nation that has lost its cultural consensus in a world that's never had one. We're awash in information, good and bad. The digital revolutions daily disruptions are as likely to generate high anxiety as high expectations.
H. sapiens are what they are, and though they have, and continue, to evolve, all you and I actually have is this moment, now this one, now this one... Deep breath, savor what you have, stop fussing about what you don't. If your life sucks sweaty socks just now, know that it could be worse and that if you wait it out, it might get better. It always stops raining eventually.
Resolve to be kind. You don't have to like the other kids on the playground but you need to get along with them for everyone to get a chance on the swings.
Have an OK day.
(1) PBS -- The Civil War By the Numbers
(2) Humanomics
This is how things rolled most days in most places. Why? Well, it’s either because we’re naked apes living in a dangerous world, or, someone screwed up the paradise we were provided with by God and he’s still mad (details depend on which creation myth you subscribe to). It wasn’t all bad though. Once in awhile Joe or Joan B. was fortunate enough to have an actual boring day. Also, as mentioned above, once in a great, great while, something truly cool happened."
Next, we jump ahead to part three.
... . In 1776 the world caught a major break.
In Great Britain's North American colonies a bunch of folks got together and invented the United States of America. In Scotland, Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations, invented modern economics, and taught the world how free markets would eventually lead to the need for a weight loss industry. These two events occurred while the industrial revolution was picking up steam. A trifecta!
And then, everyone lived happily ever after.
The End
Well, not exactly. Naked apes will be naked apes after all. Mother Nature loves all her children equally, from deadly pathogens to would be Mother Theresas. Thomas Hobbes famous observation about the nature of life on Earth -- that it tends to be solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short -- continued, and continues, to be true.
For example, the same America that often claims to be the world's oldest democracy (if you go a-googling you will find this factoid disputed by many) didn't get around to outlawing slavery until nearly a hundred years after formally declaring that it was obvious that all men, well, white males anyway, are created equal. It took even longer to acknowledge that the ladies aren't chattel.
Even then, we had to go to war with each other to make it happen. Even then, Jim Crow laws, literally or figuratively, remained in effect for another 100 years. Even now, we still have a handful (relatively speaking) of maroons in this country that think race predetermines an individual's character.
[Gentlereaders, an aside, 'cause that's how I roll. Not so fun fact: According to this PBS website (1) if the American Civil War was fought today and the same percentage of the population (2.5%) were killed, 7,000,000 people would be deleated.]
Even then... (insert your favorite crappy thing that someone, or several someones, did to someone else, or several someone elses in the last couple of hundred years, here).
Now, no matter what you believe, or who you blame, or what you think should be done, life on Earth is, as they say, is what it is -- always has been, and probably always will be. As to potential utopias, or heaven, or advanced civilizations from other planets, etc. -- I have little interest, less knowledge. My focus is on what's best for the most during the blink of an eye we call a lifetime.
Deidre McCloskey figured it out. About two hundred years ago, certain people in certain places discovered that free people + free markets + "Humanomics" (2) = unprecedented prosperity. The modern era was born. The old normal, thousands of years of a handful of kings and clerics in charge and almost everyone else a virtual or actual slave, began to die off.
The American and the Industrial Revolutions, combined with the economic revolution embodied in the concept of free trade will, long after we're all dead, be considered as important as the invention of agriculture.
But I'm not a nationalist, a little nationalism is necessary and healthy, a lot is tacky. I'm a gratitudalist. I believe that in spite of our many flaws and historical sins that the USA is (arguably, and at least for now) about as good as it gets. I'm grateful, as I did nothing to earn this, I just had the dumb luck to be born here.
Of course, that doesn't mean that the prosperity, freedom, and obesity epidemic that we take for granted in the USA, and that has taken hold to one degree or another elsewhere, will last. Some local version of Putin, or one of his Darth Vaderish ilk, might someday manage to take over the country and go all Orwellian on our pampered asses.
We live in gut-wrenching scary times. We live in a nation that has lost its cultural consensus in a world that's never had one. We're awash in information, good and bad. The digital revolutions daily disruptions are as likely to generate high anxiety as high expectations.
H. sapiens are what they are, and though they have, and continue, to evolve, all you and I actually have is this moment, now this one, now this one... Deep breath, savor what you have, stop fussing about what you don't. If your life sucks sweaty socks just now, know that it could be worse and that if you wait it out, it might get better. It always stops raining eventually.
Resolve to be kind. You don't have to like the other kids on the playground but you need to get along with them for everyone to get a chance on the swings.
Have an OK day.
(1) PBS -- The Civil War By the Numbers
(2) Humanomics
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