Words of Wisdom

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 (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

"We have the ultimate reason to be anxious. We know that we're vulnerable and we know that we're going to die. —Jordan Peterson. Yes, yet another column influenced by Jordan Peterson.


A mildly anxious and slightly depressed human and his Vulcan friend are sharing a joint in a cargo hold of the Starship Calvin Coolidge.

"Life is just one damn thing after another."

Yes, no doubt about that. Assuming we share the same space-time continuum, it's logically irrefutable.

Huh?

Life is obviously one "thing" and then another, and then another, and...

I'm speaking metaphorically my bat-eared buddy. Note that the phrase is just one damn thing after another. That is to say, one unpleasant thing after another.

I get that, we Vulcans are logical, not stupid. Here, hit this, perhaps you'll feel better. I bought this Tralfamidorian Tan because I thought it might cheer your whiny human butt up. For the record, your statement still makes no sense.

Life is no more likely to be one damn thing after another than it is to be one awesome thing after another. Life just is. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but, mostly, just another day on the starship CalCool.

So what you're saying is...

I'm saying it's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. (HT: G.A.)

Geez, I hate Vulcan humor.


I, being me, went looking for the source of life is just one damn thing after another and discovered it's attributed to multiple people (including, of course, Mark Twain) by multiple people.

[Aside: The National Bureau of Literary References recently received a significant budget increase from Congress to fund an expansion of their Mark Twain department. The volume of quotes attributed to Mr. Twain continues to rise at a pace that parallels the growth of the National Debt.]

I did find an attributable variation on the theme. "It's not true that life is one damn thing after another – it's one damn thing over and over." —Edna St. Vincent Millay


Setting logic and logic jokes aside both quotations still ring true. In spite of Johnny Mercer's advice, we do seem to accentuate the negative. Science calls it the negativity bias. Hang on a sec' and I'll go find a respectable looking source I can link to...

That was easy. From Psychology Today (and Rick Hanson, Ph.D.), "The alarm bell of your brain — the amygdala... —  uses about two-thirds of its neurons to look for bad news: it's primed to go negative." Why? Well, as you've probably already guessed my highly perceptive Stickies, survival. 

"...humans evolved to be fearful — since that helped keep our ancestors alive — so we are very vulnerable to being frightened and even intimidated by threats, both real ones and 'paper tigers.'"

Considering we've risen to the top of the food chain it's hard to argue with success.

Big But

Beware the downside. Paper tigers are not on the endangered species list. In fact, the web/cable news/social media/etceteria have created a population explosion. 

When I was a callowyute, locally based news (and threats), via newspapers and local TV, were all the rage. 

I'm so old that I remember that when national TV news broadcasts first began they were 15 minutes in length, once a day. You had all of three choices — ABC, CBS, or NBC — and you had to pick one because they all broadcast at the same time and the technology to watch 'em later didn't exist yet.   

While American culture was less coarse and life hadn't yet deteriorated into all showbiz/exhibitionism all the time, the Earth was no less dangerous than it is now. But we weren't followed around by virtual town criers with bullhorns 24x7x365.25.

Anxiety

Merriam-Webster: "apprehensive uneasiness or nervousness usually over an impending or anticipated ill." 

The ability to perceive the future and prepare accordingly is a powerful gift we H. sapiens are blessed with. Jordan Peterson likes to interpret the Old Testament, and the equally ancient stories of other cultures, from a psychological perspective.

He equates sacrificing to God/the gods with sacrificing short-term pleasure for the sake of a long-term goal. If you go to work/school/the DMV today instead of executing a Wake and Bake via some Tralfamidorian Tan, the future you will thank you.

H. sapiens, it would seem, have known for thousands of years that material and psychological preventive maintenance will getcha a cool phone and stave off Xanax addiction.  


However, the town criers with bullhorns — news media/social media/etceteredia — render the naturally anxious worse and the rest of us unnaturally anxious. Put your phone in a drawer once in a while, go for a walk in the real world, and just – be. 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. 3)

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

       "Modesty forbids what the law does not."   —Seneca the Younger


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Pat Paulsen was a comedian that was world famous for a few minutes in the late 60s and almost famous for the rest of his life. He told a joke from the perspective of a sex education teacher.

After a hard day at work, when I come home, all I want from my wife is a good handshake.

I'm paraphrasing since I haven't been able to find it on the web. It sorta/kinda encapsulates my feelings after the writing my last two letters, All Men Are (sexually speaking) Pigs. I thought I was done. But I stumbled on an article from Psychology Today that contains a message all girls/women/female H. sapiens — whatever — should be aware of.

Since half of you are girls, my dear grandstickies, and since odds are there will a female H. sapein or two amongst my yet to be born great-grandstickies, I thought I'd better pass it along.


A gentleman by the name of Leonard Sax M.D., Ph.D. writes a column called Sax on Sex (cool, right?) for Psychology Today. He's a family physician and psychologist. Apropos of nothing, I fervently hope he also plays the saxophone.

On 11.20.17 he published a column titled Who Is Distracted by a Girl Wearing Skintight Leggings. Subtitle: Answer: Maybe the girl.

The good doctor was commenting on the exact same article I wrote about in my last letter. I didn't stumble on his article till after I wrote last week's letter. Clearly a sign from God... or at least Marie-Louise.

It's hard to tell since she's a very discrete muse and strictly follows the ethical guidelines of the International Association of Certified Muses. Telepathy and body language (particularly facial expressions) are the primary forms of communication employed by professional muses.

Marie-Louise can communicate seven separate and distinct messages with her eyebrows.

Sorry... where was I? oh yeah, Sax on Sex.


Dr. Sax gets our attention by pointing out that some public schools in Evanston, Il have adopted a dress code that permits kids to wear nearly anything as long as you can't see their nipples or genitals. He provides a link. He's not kidding.

Next, he tells us about an interesting experiment.

Randomly selected men and women at the University of Michigan were randomly assigned to wear either bulky sweaters or swimsuits. Each volunteer then took a math quiz in a tiny room. No windows. No observers.

The results? Men in swim trunks scored slightly better than men in sweaters. Women in one piece swimsuits got roughly half as many correct answers as women in bulky sweaters. According to Dr. Sax, "Subsequent research has replicated and extended this finding."

Why? When a woman (or girl) wears a swimsuit (or skin-tight leggings), often "self-objectification" occurs. He then informs us that girls/women who self-objectify are more likely to be depressed, self-harm and not like their bodies.

While I would hardly describe my research as exhausting, I went a-googling around the web and found all sorts of articles that support girls (and women) being allowed to wear pretty much whatever they want, dress codes or not. If this turns the male H. sapiens around them into testosterone poisoned chimpanzees, tough titties. Oddly, the phenomenon mentioned above was not mentioned.


I know, I know. Rude and crude. Please accept my insincere apologies. I couldn't resist in light of the following. Yet another story about a young woman victimized merely for dressing comfortably.

Long story short... well, the first sentence of the story in the New York Post says it all. "A Florida student says she was humiliated when school officials decided her 'protruding' nipples were a distraction and asked her to hide them with Band-Aids."

There's that D word again, distraction. Her appalled mom provides a perfect illustration as to how far we've come, culturally speaking, in a very short time. She's quoted as saying "We should not treat a girl like this because of where her fat cells decided to distribute genetically."

I suspect that my mom (a product of the draconian Black & White ages) would've reacted somewhat differently if one of my three sisters had been pulled out of class for not wearing a bra to school. There would've been yelling and intemperate words; phrases such as modesty, self-respect, you know what boys are like, do you enjoy being gawked at? etc. would have been uttered.

The young woman in question, who I'm sure, like most teenagers, is oblivious as to how she looks to the rest of the world, helpfully supplied a couple of selfies for the article.

And that, as the immortal Forrest Gump said, is all that I have to say about that. 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. 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.