All Men Are Pigs (Pt. 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.

                                   THE AGE OF UNLIGHTENMENT?

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

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader

"I wear women's leggings under my clothes, but no lingerie."   —Dennis Rodman

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

In my last letter, I explained my contention that almost all male H. sapiens are by nature, sexually speaking, pigs. My point is a metaphorical one and I insincerely apologize to any and all animal rights activists who are offended by my observation. In fact, I support them in their quest to improve the living conditions of all animals raised for human consumption.

It's obviously the virtuous path. Also, while I don't know if it's true, I hear they taste better. Win/win.


I maintained that we male H. sapiens arrive in the world factory preset to function in this swinishish manner. I failed to mention that although all men are pigs, many men, by nature and/or nurture, are more civilized and self-controlled than others.

Everyone benefits when male H. sapiens (traditionally called, men) cultivate the restraint of their swinish side. This is virtue in action. This makes the playground a much nicer and more comfortable place for us all.


To vastly oversimplify, Aristotle...

[Have you ever noticed that you're prone to both oversimplification and over thinking?]

Sure, Dana, I call it cosmic dissonance.

[It's cognitive, not cosmic, and it refers...]

I'm cosmically inspired by Marie-Louise and then I distill, or oversimplify — for my benefit as well as the Stickies.

At this point, Iggy walked through my consciousness, smiled, and gave me a high five without stopping. Where you headed?

[Out.]

The door slams and I'm momentarily nonplussed but Marie-Louise starts scratching my back and all is well.


Now, back to oversimplifying Alexander the Great's teacher. Aristotle, and I, your sainted grandfather, think that virtue and virtuous behavior is the "golden mean" betwixt the extremes of too much of something and not enough of something.

For example, all sex all the time v. total abstinence. While reasoned abstinence has its place, total abstinence can trigger the law of unexpected consequences. Viewing the world through a pornographic lens can do the same. Examples? priests that molest kids and rampant STD.

[Wait-wait-wait. Every time I turn around there's a news story about a female school teacher molesting a kid and...]

Sad but true, Dana. However, while I acknowledge that I may be countenancing heresy, I believe that male and female H. sapiens differ in all sorts of important ways.

I maintain that even in our ever-coarsening culture that men, generally speaking, are pigs. Women, generally speaking, are not — and that everyone knows this. Google the following name, Harvey Weinstein.

Trigger warning, if the statement in bold above doesn't get me burned at a virtual stake, what follows just might. You've been warned.


While randomly web surfing I stumbled on an article from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution website, Are Leggings Distracting? that's about a couple of fifth-grade girls that spoke at a meeting of the Atlanta school board. They requested that the board amend the dress code by ending the use of the word "distracting," as in, no wearing clothes that are extremely tight and distracting.

One of the girls is quoted as saying, "I do not believe that clothing is distracting. It is just the reaction that matters. I should not be punished for other people's behavior. I am not a distraction."

Out of the mouths of babes huh? Distraction, it seems, is in the eye of the beholder. Everyone should dress as they please. What's the worst that could happen? Glad we cleared that up.

"It must be me," said I to me. I went a-googling. It's me.


In short order, I stumbled on a plethora of relevant articles. The consensus? from a USA Today article, "...students and parents worry the message the dress code sends to girls is: Your body is a problem. Don't distract the boys. Even if that's not the intent, it's an early message, they say, that blames girls for boys bad behavior."

I had no idea. Damn, wrong again.

See, I think the message is: Girls — boys (and men) are pigs with big eyes. You know this. This is not your fault. You are not to blame. It's just the way it is. But, you need to acknowledge this fact as you will be dealing with it, in one form or another, on a daily basis for the rest of your life. Take care. 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) — please scroll down. 

All Men Are Pigs (Pt. 1)

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.

                                   THE AGE OF UNLIGHTENMENT?

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

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader

"Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place."  —Billy Crystal


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

(Based on a true story) 

Your daughter's in trouble again. 

My daughter?

She pushed a boy out of a window today at school. 

Really? the local news was on the radio as I was pulling in the driveway. You'd think that a boy leaping out a window at school because my daughter broke his heart would be headline news here in Hooterville.  

It was a first-floor window, and it landed in a bush. Interesting that you should say Hooterville though.

It?

It/he — tomato/tomahto? It's scratched up a bit but unfortunately, it lives.

And why did she push it out the window?

It had its back to the window, she had her back to it. It reached around her and grabbed a boob in either hand. She spun around and gave it a shove and it went flying.

Ah! that's my girl. Oh... now I get it, Hooterville indeed.

Your girl huh?

Wait a sec', boobs? Are you sure you're talking about my daughter? My daughter will, eventually, have breasts. They will miraculously appear shortly before the second virgin birth ever recorded.

Uh-huh. Well, my daughter has boobs, substantial boobs. Remember the uncle Harry and the sundress incident?

Was that her? Are you sure? She and I need to talk... Wait a minute, why is she in trouble?

It's just one day of detention. I'm assured by the vice principal it's a CYA move. You never know, there might've been a hungry lawyer living in the bushes it landed in. Look on the bright side. If there aren't any cute boys there she might actually do some homework, out of sheer boredom.

I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last part. Is she home yet? We need to talk about...

Bit late for that Sparky. I...

I'm not talking about that talk, I'm talking about a different, um, talk.

All Men Are Pigs

All men are pigs, even daddies. I chalk it up to biology, factory presets. I could be wrong now, but I don't think so (HT: Randy Newman). I've regularly noticed that I'm wrong with disturbing regularity. I'm not wrong about this though.

[Vaguely related but still important observation: While often unpleasant and difficult, mid-flight course correction trumps running out of aviation fuel — every time.] 

I'm not going to insert any links, mention a study or quote an expert. I am an expert. I maintain this is true of all biological males regardless of race, color, creed, sexual preference, practices and/or who or what they identify as.

If there's such a thing as a true H. sapien asexual male (yet another unresolved controversy) I would assume they're certified kosher/halal.

[Wait-wait-wait... You're an expert? What qualifies you to claim...]

64.5 years as a male H. sapien, Dana. I've known straight men, gay men, confused men and men who like to wear dresses (straight, gay, and transitioning). All are horndogs, all are easily aroused just by looking, all are constantly looking.

Many, I would posit nearly all, harbor deep, dark, sexual fantasies that should never, and fortunately mostly won't, see the light of day. 

To not be aware of this, to not acknowledge this, may lead to an experience not unlike running out of aviation fuel at 10,000 feet.

For the record, I've no idea if this still holds once a given he fully transitions to a given she. I don't personally know (well, as far as I know...) anyone who has. Regardless, I wish them well and hope they don't prejudge me because (or at least so I'm told) I'm a member of the White Heteropatriarchy by accident of birth.    

Personally, I think of myself as a typical unrepentant, unreconstructed heterosexual male, somewhat lacking in privilege and luck. Still, I remain cautiously optimistic. I once had a good year (1985).


I've asked female H. sapiens (FHS) of my acquaintance if they're aware of just how easily stimulated male H. sapiens (MHS) are merely by looking. As you might expect, given that FHS, as a group, tend to be just a little bit brighter and/or a little bit more evolved than MHS, not a one of 'em was caught by surprise.

Generally, however, they're more amused/bemused than alarmed, which you also might expect. Of course, there's no shortage of sexual bullies in the world, but most MHS are, to one degree or another, testosterone-addled fools at the mercy of their, um, DNA. Trust me on this.

There's more I would tell you about voyeurs and bullies but it can wait till next week. 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 comment, or react (way cooler than liking) — please scroll down. 

May You Live In Interesting Times (No. 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.

                                   THE AGE OF UNLIGHTENMENT?                   

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

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader

Dear Gentlereaders, 

I've written a few columns, three to be exact (1,2,3), titled The State of the Zeitgeist. This was supposed to be an ongoing thing, but it hasn't been. Well, it's back (tell your friends) and it's now called May You Live In Interesting Times.

               "Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work." -Aristotle


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

A local version of Ron Burgundy (Geezer reference: Ted Baxter) is on the air.

"American Motors announced today that due to declining sales of the locally produced Neo-Gremlin, the third shift at the Zenith plant will be temporarily suspended and approximately 1,100 employees will be laid off.

Archie Sternberger, president of the Zenith chamber of commerce, estimates that a total of roughly 3,900 local jobs will be affected to one degree or another because they are economically tied to the plant."


Click

So, what do we do now?

Well, we adjust, we downsize... it's not like we've got a choice.

You gonna look for a new job or ride it out and hope you get called back?

Yes (GRIN).

I don't...

Sure ya do, I'll do both. I'll never find anything that pays as well, but I might not get called back. Sales are way down and if gas stays cheap they'll stay down. Besides, your brother's living proof that my theory's correct. Might be best if I don't go back.

You mean...

Yup. Work the line long enough and brain death is virtually inevitable. I wonder if I could get a grant from somebody to conduct a study...

She Gibbs-slaps him while simultaneously suppressing a laugh. Hey! if it wasn't for him you wouldn't have a good job to be laid off from.

Define good.

Any job that pays close to what that one pays regardless of the risk of brain death.

Point taken... good thing I'm married to a nurse. Hey, once you get your masters will you make enough to support me? I've always wanted to be a househusband.

Don't hold your breath... and what about the kids? The kids...

...Like us, have to deal. We spin it as a reality check, a life lesson, which it is.

Mmm, I get all tingly when you channel Ward Cleaver. But what about Disney World? That's the first thing they're going to ask.

Tell 'em the ways and means committee has authorized a temporary subcommittee to study the matter and file a report ASAP.

Oh, OK, I feel much better now.

They toss rueful grins at each other.

Why an Honors Student Wants to Skip College and Go to Trade School

[Gentlereaders, the headline above appeared in the Wall Street Journal on 3/6/18. If you would like to read the article I've shared it on my Facebook page (twice). The WSJ has a heavily fortified paywall but permits sharing via Facebook.] 

The article caught my eye for two reasons. The very first Sticky (Dude) is confronting career choices even as I write and his next youngest sibling (Abbagirl) is not far behind; Bug and Duuude still have a minute. 

Also, the honors student featured in the WSJ article attends a high school in a suburb of my hometown, Pittsburgh, Pa. That's Pittsburgh wit an h yinz guys. 

Most likely, by the time my grandstickies read this, it will be ancient history to them, the process of career choice having already begun. The advice I'm giving them in real time is to think about what they would enjoy doing but not neglecting consideration of how much the world might be willing to pay them to do it.


The article in question is built around the fact that one Raelee Nicholson and an older cousin rebuilt a car when Raelee was 14. "...when we got it running it was the best feeling in the world. I really like working with my hands." Ms. Nicholson is an honors student who finished in the 88th percentile on her college boards.

She's currently rebuilding an '87 Trans Am. Rather than go to college she wants to go to a tech school and become a diesel mechanic.

The absurd price of college/student loan indenture, the fact a college degree ain't what it used to be, the unpredictability of the job market of the future and parents who went (or wish they had) to college — is the actual subject/point of the article.

The comments on the article tell the real story. There's — screw college and the likely accumulation of significant debt partizans. There's the — even a liberal arts degree and an impractical major is worth it crowd. There's a — follow your bliss club. Etcetera.

What all the commenters have in common, though most don't acknowledge it, is that predicting what will provide job/career security in the Dizzinformation Age is like whistling in a hurricane. Interesting times. 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) — please scroll down.