Grand Tour

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

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

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Who the Hell is This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"We must go beyond textbooks, go out into the bypaths and untrodden depths of the wilderness and travel and explore and tell the world the glories of our journey."  -John Hope Franklin


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

It occurs to me that although I've previously pointed out that if you pay attention you will learn something every day I haven't mentioned this for a bit. Consider yourselves reminded. 


I was reminded of this when Iggy, my imaginary grandsticky, popped into my consciousness recently. It's been a while. I'm ashamed to say that I've never informed you, or perhaps, more importantly, my gentlereaders, that he and Marie-Louise are in the midst of a Grand Tour.

Their Grand Tour has absolutely nothing to do with the Amazon television series of the same name. It's the sort of Grand Tour popular for a couple of hundred years or so, a couple of hundred years ago, by members of the Lucky Sperm Club. Think of is a practicum for aristocrats in training. This was prior to steamships and rail travel making it easier for the grubby little plebs to access culcha. Specifically, the culcha of the now slowly declining phenomenon called Western civilization.

[Unfortunately, it's top-heavy with old, mostly dead white dudes and as we all know, now that we're woke, old white men were, and are, responsible for nearly everything that's wrong with the world that we know of and probably all sorts of stuff that we don't.]       

See, Iggy and Marie-Louise...

[What the hell does any of this twaddle about Marie-Louise and Iggy's leave of absence have to do with learning something every day?]

Point taken, Dana. Long story short, Iggy wasn't fairing well at our local public school. Between The Gummit, the gummit, the teacher's unions... well, that's a whole other column, maybe a book. He and Marie-Louise, figments of the same imagination, have become quite close.   

She offered to personally take over his education, to become his personal tutor. Since she loves to travel she proposed a hands-on program of education; a sort of perpetual field trip. I miss them both terribly but since I would've happily given up a body part of lesser importance when I was a kid for such an adventure it was impossible to say no.

Besides, they promised to check in on all the major holidays, at a minimum, and...

[Twaddle, twaddle, twaddle!]

AND! when they checked in on Easter Sunday I was reminded of my pay attention and you'll learn something every day dictum because Iggy was overflowing with all sorts of fun facts effortlessly accumulated in the course of their travels.

Accumulated, I assume, because he was paying attention. I remember being so bored in Ms. Wrights third grade class that I attempted to count the number of bricks in the wall of the building across the way from my school. I never got very far because all in all, there are a lot of bricks in a wall.

For the record, I confess that I was worried that without effortless access to my muse I might run short of things to write about. However, Marie-Louise gave me the key to the Inspiration Pantry; she stocked all the shelves to the max before leaving. Not only that, all the inspirations are packed in labeled, waterproof storage boxes and arranged in alphabetical order.

Marie-Louise knows how I swing.


Now, with that out of the way, I'd like to expand on my dictum as regards...

[Giggling, Dana, really? Grow up!]

Harumph! I'd like to expand on my... maxim, that H. sapiens who pay attention will learn something every day. Trying not to drown in the Dizzinformation ocean while holding aloft our overpriced smartphones can make it possible to dramatically increase the knowledge derived from a given lesson. If you wish to maximize the learning that results from paying attention, follow up is required. Smartphones make it possible to follow up on the spot.


Big But
Unfortunately, I've observed that most H. sapiens, who can pull their smartphones faster than Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens can pull his Glock 17, would rather take pictures (often featuring themselves) than engage in some on the spot intellectual edification.

Back in the Black&White Ages, declaring that "You can look it up!" was an effective weapon to wield in a big, juicy, argument because unless you were arguing in a library, neither you or your opponent couldn't, not in the moment at least.

If we had had smartphones back then it would've been possible to offer up evidence of one's obviously correct stance on the spot. This, of course, could've been countered with evidence of the other guy's person's position and the big, juicy argument could continue till it wasn't fun anymore and everyone finished their beer and called it a night, and as hard as might be for you to believe, still be friends.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus... and once upon a time it was possible to have an enjoyable, good-natured, logic and intelligence testing argument without anyone being "triggered," or reaching for their Glock 17.

There's a lesson for ya. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


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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. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. You do NOT have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title of the column. 

 





  

Food For Thought (No. 1)

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

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

                                                 - Glossary  

                                  - Who The Hell Is This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse  

Iggy -- My imaginary Sticky

Dana -- My imaginary Gentlereader

"Eeew, I'd be a little uncomfortable googling myself. People sit there -- and Google themselves? That's kind of weird." -Kobe Bryant


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

I've decided to change the name of a category of columns I used to call Things I Think About to Food For Thought. As I've mentioned previously, I'm not that friend or relative that people call seeking guidance as to the whys and wherefores of the World Wide Web.

[Historical reference for my dear Stickies: back in the dark ages when the web was taking the world by storm it was normal to verbally state a web address as, "Dubya, dubya, dubya dot _______ dot com." For the record, this had nothing to do with the 43rd president of the United States.]

However, since my army of loyal readers at this point can more accurately be described as my dollop of loyal readers I've begun casting about for ways to increase the size of my audience.

The first thing I learned is that it's important to select a title and/or sprinkle certain words throughout your text so that the mysterious Algorithmites that tirelessly scour the Web might offer up your content when someone goes a-googlin.

These are called keywords. You're supposed to use as many words as you can think of that a given someone out there in meat space might type, or speak, in search of information and hope that an Algorithmite returns your content to this given someone.   

Food for thought, being a somewhat widely known/used phrase, I thought it might lure some random eyeballs to my column. Also, informing any gentlereaders who may not be aware of this trick simultaneously serves as food for thought (see what I did there?).

Although I plan to restrict myself to fishing for readers via column titles in spite of the fact I've become aware of other forms of marketing chicanery  -- as one of my literary heroes, George Will would say, more on this anon -- this practice still feels slightly sleazy to me. Of course, an argument could easily be made that in a world of 7,500,000,000 souls wherein anyone with a smartphone can self-publish anything, all's fair in love and marketing. Still...


Anyways, this is the anon part, which by the way in this context means soon, not anonymous. And no, I'm not showing off, it just sounds cooler than my usual "more on that in just a sec'."

I have, on more than one occasion, attempted to remind my dear Stickies and gentlereaders that when the products and services are allegedly free, you are actually the product. The Algorithmites, Botmonsters, and Data Dragons that serve the Goog and their ilk never sleep.

What I mean by this, in case you're new here or your memory is as pathetic as mine is nowadays, is simply that all of the many "free" services that the Goog and their like offer are paid for by electronic snoops looking over your shoulder and keeping track of everything that you do online. This information is subsequently sliced, diced and sold -- primarily to folks who want to sell something to you.

[Oh please, everybody already knows this and you've written about it before so what's the point of...]

I know, I know Dana, but I suspect that there's a lot of people out there that aren't aware that there's an entire industry of bit players whose purpose is to teach even smaller (bittier?) players like me how to try and manipulate people to come to our websites.

They teach you how to make money by using the tools supplied by the big boys persons (mostly the Goog) and make their money primarily by running ads supplied by the big boys persons (mostly the Goog). 

[Well, maybe, but where's the harm? I mean, what's wrong with trying to make a buck?]

Not a damn thing. I freely admit that I wish more of my readers would click on my Patreon button and toss me a buck. And although I'm biting the hand that feeds me and I'm a hypocrite -- since the Goog provides the software for me to publish my columns free and no charge and the Zuckmeister supplies me with an electronic bulletin board for the same price -- I sometimes feel like I've sold my soul to an electronic devil.

[Because?]

Because they not only get a cut, like effective middlemenpersons always have, they've got control of everyone's permanent record card, which is constantly updated in real time.

I don't like it and I don't know what to do about it but anyways, Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


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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. Just click on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of the page.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL and only minimally edit my content (scroll all the way up or down for my Creative Commons License) you may republish this anywhere you please.

Socialism

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

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

                                                 - Glossary  

                                  - Who The Hell Is This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse  

Iggy -- My imaginary Sticky

Dana -- My imaginary Gentlereader

"The only way to save the world is through socialism, but a socialism that exists within a democracy; there's no dictatorship here."   -Hugo Chavez


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

I am a wild-eyed libertarian with a bleeding heart and conservative impulses; I have written about this before. Long ago, when I was still a callowyute, I identified as a socialist but only for about a minute, minute and a half.

Technically this statement is incorrect because at the time I called myself a socialist people did just that -- called themselves this, that, or the other -- as in I'm a socialist, or I'm an unrepentant ne'er-do-well. To the best of my knowledge the phrase, or at least as it's used (and used and used and used) nowadays, "I identify as" hadn't been invented yet. Just sayin'

I long ago abandoned socialism, which I confess was relatively easy since all that I actually knew about it was what little I learned in high school, but in my defense, socialism has an obvious appeal to many young people in general and to certain baby boomers who came of age in the sixties and seventies in particular.

As far as "many young people in general" goes, "A man who has not been a socialist before 25 has no heart. If he remains one after 25 he has no head." -King Oscar the II of Sweden, maybe...

As to certain baby boomers, identifying as a socialist was considered cool to those of us of a hippyish/leftward bent and served to upset many old people (defined at the time as anyone over 30) as well which made it doubly cool.

[Barton Swain on the current fascination with socialism: "After a long series of failures and moral debacles, it doesn’t suddenly make sense as an economic doctrine. But it does make sense, somehow, as a cultural attitude."]

However, If any old people that you know (defined as anyone you know that's even older than I am) claims that socialism was widely embraced in the sixties and seventies hit 'em with, "Oh yeah, well then what the hell happened?"

Let the sputtering, rationalizing, and etceterizing begin.

Most callowyutes of my acquaintance at the time, friend and foe alike, couldn't become hipper versions of their parents fast enough. Me? I chose an unusual path, I became a hippie with a job. I got over it, but it took a while.


[Sorry, an obligatory digression has just manifested in my consciousness. The famous boomer rallying cry, don't trust anyone over thirty, was/is backward. It should've been/should be, don't trust anyone under 30 -- including yourself.

If you're under thirty and the preceding paragraph triggers you, please accept my insincere apology. It's not an attack, it's a stone-cold fact. It's biology. I've pointed out before that H. sapiens brains don't reach maturity till about the age of 25, a fact discovered by car insurance companies long before science made it official. I should've said till at least 25.   

You're unlikely to understand just how true this is and just how important this is till you're 30, at least 30 (it's a catch-22 thing).  

Old people who care about you should point this out to you, in various forms and fashions, repeatedly, even though they know you're unlikely to believe them. It's part of the job. I wish I had been told this more frequently than I was although it probably wouldn't have done any good. Still, the right person at the right time... Oh well, wouldacouldashoulda.]


OK, where was I, ah yes, socialism. I think that Marie-Louise generated the digression. When I began I had only the vaguest notion of what I was going to say about why I have a problem with socialism but all is suddenly clear.

Arguing against socialism is a fool's errand because there are myriad definitions of socialism floating around that depend on who's at the podium. Not only that, most of the 39 of the people that are currently running for president on the Depublican side are also waving the socialist banner. But they tend to be light, and often variable, as to details.

They all have two things in common though. First, they all enthusiastically embrace the time-honored political tradition of promising a long list of freebies as well as secular salvation for all -- paid for with other people's money.

Second, when confronted with the nightmare that is Venezuela or the literally hundreds of millions of deaths generated by certain dictatorships of the proletariat of the last century they are suddenly not socialists, they're social democrats.

Ahh! socialism light!


Personally, I'd have no problem living in an America that was a social democracy (that's my bleeding heart part) that, like in the Nordic countries Uncle Bernie likes to point to, also had a thriving private-sector wherein a man person that wants to bust their ass to get rich is free to do so (this is part of my libertarian part).

Unfortunately, Uncle Bernie tends to not mention that the Nordic countries figured out (the hard way) this is absolutely necessary to help finance a social democracy.

Emphasis on help, because

Without everyone paying high taxes, it doesn't work. Uncle Bernie and his ilk don't like to talk about that because without the claim that the evil rich can pick up the tab there goes all that juicy resentment and demagoguery that gets people elected and fuels the Outrage Industrial Complex.

Tweet, tweet.

Oh, I almost forgot. Social democracies tend to be top-heavy with laws, speech codes, hate crime statutes, and have Rules&Regs out the wazoo. I've got a big problem with that (that's the other part of the libertarian part).

And while I'm at it, I'm all about the personal cultivation of the classic virtues in order to ascertain what's moral and ethical (as well as what's tacky and gross, that's the conservative impulses part). Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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. Just click on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of the page.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL and only minimally edit my content (scroll all the way up or down for my Creative Commons License) you may republish this anywhere you please.