The Secret of (Occasional) Happiness

"Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life." This quote is often attributed to Confucius but a minimum of googling will reveal that it's impossible to accurately credit anyone for it. However, I would argue that the truth of this particular adage is obvious. 

Unfortunately, reality is often a poor substitute for what should be. Life is indeed what happens to us while we make other plans. Rather than choosing a job we love, most of us are destined to choose the best job we can get. 

Then, once we have it, we have to decide if we're going to hang around or try and find a different one, a better one. And then, that the bright and shiny new job we get may ultimately turn out to suck sweaty socks. Oh well, at least it (hopefully) pays better. Hmmm, now what should I do, make the best of it or should I start looking for another job? If I...

[For the love of my higher power! exclaims Dana... 

(I'm beginning to think it's not political correctness after all, that some organizations 12 step program is at work, but of course, it's none of my business)

Would it be asking too much to ask if this is going somewhere?]

Point taken. OK, let me put it this way. Getting paid to do a job we love is the ideal job. At this level you're actually getting paid to do your work, not a job. Your work is those one or two things that you would keep getting out of bed for if was revealed to you that (without a doubt) you only had a relatively limited amount of time left and that once you died, that was it, there was nothing coming next. I'm not claiming it's possible to be certain of either of the two preceding statements. Hey, it's just a thought experiment. 

You're work, as I define it anyway, could be anything from what you're doing in that secret laboratory hidden under the garage that not even your snifficant other knows about --  trying to create the new millennial Frankensteen -- to an obsession with collecting football cards.

Much research has been done to determine what makes us happy and the official answer is, well, one of 'em anyway, earned success (there's even a TED Talk). While I agree that earned success does make people happy, as well as the well-researched reasons as to why it does, what about all the folks that in spite of their best efforts have had to settle for limited success (at best)?

Worse yet, what about the individuals that led exemplary lives, always gave more than they got, and died, often badly, still worrying about how they were going to get the car repaired?

Someone to love that loves you back (a dog will do) and interesting work is the secret of (occasional) happiness. 

Oh, and before I forget, the word occasional is very important in that the nature of reality, on the planet Earth at least, is that everything contains its opposite and that opposites are two sides of the same coin. That statement requires its own column but it must be mentioned because you have to always keep in mind that while being happy all the time is impossible, so is being unhappy all the time. Just wait it out and try and consider not making any important decisions or doing anything dumb until the dark clouds pass. Trust me on this...  

[Caveat: Freely acknowledging that I'm not a mental/emotional health professional and that some would argue that even the world amateur overstates my qualifications, if you're happy, or miserable, all the time, there may be something wrong. Please consider contacting a professional.]



Someone to love that loves you back (a dog will do) and interesting work is the secret of (occasional) happiness. 

"But I don't love anyone and no one loves me, not even a dog." Bonkercockie. The minute you give up on the notion that love will fill you will light, solve all your problems, and make you, Happy (the Hollywood version of love), the sooner the smoke will clear. You like at least one someone, probably more than one. There's at least one someone, probably more than one, that likes you. When you stop pursuing/waiting for the Hollywood version you'll dramatically increase the chances love will find you. While you're waiting -- like, be kind, and be likable.

"Interesting work? I'm just not that into anything, never have been." Bonkercockie. The minute you give up the notion that you'll find, and/or follow, your bliss and then you will be filled with light, all of your problems will be solved, and you will be, Happy (Hollywood again...), the sooner that smoke will clear. 

The owner of a successful vacuum cleaner repair shop (who's not deeply in debt and has no trouble paying his/her bills) who is indifferent to vacuum cleaners, but never tires of making the perfect pint of ice cream in the back room, has interesting work.

Good dog! Where's that goofy cat...  

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

Please scroll down to react, comment, or share. If my work pleases you I wouldn't be offended if you offered to buy me a coffee.  

                                                   *     *     *

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. Cranky don't tweet.

©2016 Mark Mehlmauer

     

The (Electronic) Fourth Estate and Cop Killers

I use the term The Fourth Estate, a term variously defined in the course of history, in the modern sense: a highfalutin term for the press, or the news media, as a whole. Wikipedia has a concise and interesting entry (well, interesting to me at least, your dilettante about town) concerning the meaning and history of the phrase. It even includes a quote by Oscar Wilde, no fan of the press... Sorry, it's not you, it's me.

Moving on. It was late last Sunday afternoon, 7.17.16. Three more cops had been murdered in Baton Rouge for the crime of being cops. One "suspect" was dead and two others were (or were not) in the wind. At that point in time, besides the fact that three other cops were wounded, that's all we knew.

It was pretty much the same thing we were constantly being reinformed of by the 24x7 cable/satellite news channels since the story broke shortly after it happened, early that morning. They were still repeating the same (provisional) facts. Different words, different angles, different people (well, some of them anyway) -- same tentative facts.

Which is fine I guess.

After all, perhaps you had stayed up all night doing things that you'd rather not tell your mom about and having recently regained consciousness had decided to check in with your favorite news channel because you're sorta/kinda into politics. You wanted to see if an aggrieved member of the Multiculti Militia that had congregated in Cleveland, hoping for a chance to club a re-pub, had engaged in any pointless rioting yet. Perhaps a dude/dudette with excessive Islamitude had blown themselves up and was already enjoying the company of their allotted slate of 72 virgins.

[Aside: I know you're asking yourself, do dudettes get 72 male virgins? A quick check revealed that Muslim scholars and clerics don't have much to say about that (what a surprise). It gets better. Some scholars believe that something got lost in translation and that the promised reward is 72 raisins. Seriously. Look it up. Raisins.]

I'm not a regular viewer of any of the cable/sat news channels in that I don't (often can't, yuck) watch them for more than a few minutes at a time. I do check in regularly to see what's going on -- it's part of my job. Or rather, I wish it was. Actually, it's my work. Your work and your job are, more often than not, not the same thing for most people.

"Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life." -Probably not Confucius. The secret of happiness is someone(s) to love that loves you back and interesting work. This column is my interesting work. It would be my job if I could make a comfortable living from it, which I don't, at least not yet. However, I have a vague plan and big dreams, which also are a component of a happy life, but the secret of happiness is the subject of next week's column. Stay tuned. 

Therefore let us carefully back out of this dead end street (damn Google Maps...). As a token of my appreciation for your patience please accept a free gift: The secret of life is that life is just high school with money. More on that the week after next.   

What I find fascinating/appalling about cable/sat news channels is that right after something happens that's important enough to guarantee a large audience, they begin speculating their bums off. But they justify it by constantly reminding us -- that they are speculating their bums off. Broadcast news operations do this as well, but less egregiously.

"I must remind our viewers that while _______ hasn't confirmed the appalling/disgusting/titillating fact I just threw out there, it might be true, but then again it may not be. After all, as I'm sure you know, once we do get the story straight it's often different than what we've been going on and on and on and on about. That said, instead of returning to the real news stories we think might be accurate, and of course no shortage of celebrity news and stories about (often reprehensible) people that are famous for being famous, we'll carry on with our endless speculating, right after we run yet another bunch of profitable commercials.

[At this point a lengthy block of advertising commences. It consists mainly of the current ads for the same products that turn up (between brief amounts of actual content) almost everywhere you go in the cable/sat universe because lengthy blocks of advertising that consist mainly of the current ads for the same products must be run -- repeatedly, and everywhere -- if they are to have any effect in a cable/sat universe saturated by lengthy blocks of advertising that consist mainly of the current ads for the same products.]

Welcome back. This is _______, recently named as the interim director of _______. While acknowledging that what I said just prior to the commercial break may not be true, that is, blahblahblah, if it does turn out to be true, Mr./Ms. _______, what would be some of the possible ramifications?"

[Gentlereaders -- while the quoted material above is obviously a product of my imagination, it nevertheless accurately depicts the coverage I watched that morning.]

Ishkabibble.

[Why isn't there a punctuation mark that indicates shrugged shoulders? In case you're not one of my gazillions of regular readers, and since I can't remember where I used and defined this word recently, permit me to explain. It's not one that I created nor is it one that someone else recently created but is ill-defined enough for me to um, appropriate. It's a word from the early 20th century that means, according to the Urban Dictionary, no worries _, or, who cares?. Now do you see why we need a punctuation mark that indicates a shrug? Fear not, gentlereaders, I'm on it! See, I told you it's not you.]

Ishkabibble_ (Insert yet to be created punctuation mark here.) Since this was the second recent cold-blooded assassination of cops for being cops, since there was a bit less carnage than in Dallas, since one of the slain officers was black, since the Electronic Fourth Estate must reflect a culture with an ever-declining attention span to keep profits up -- Ishkabibble_

After all, the newest episode of the Donald's reality show was about to start.

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.    





    

Islamitude

Walter Williams on multiculturalism: "Leftist diversity advocates and multiculturalists are right to argue that people of all races, religions and cultures should be equal in the eyes of the law.

But their argument borders on idiocy when they argue that one set of cultural values cannot be judged superior to another and that to do so is Eurocentrism." The italicization (say that word six times fast) is mine.

Traveling East to West...

[Wait just a minute, Sparky, sez Dana, my imaginary gentlereader, islamitude? What the hell is islamitude? Marie-Louise is having her nails done, at my expense, as I'm a fool for a good back scratch, particularly if administered by a woman of the female persuasion.]

Well, to be honest, I'm still trying to nail down my official definition as it's a word that never occurred to me until I wrote this column, and Marie-Louise (my muse) never offers up explanation, only (if I'm lucky) inspiration. Googling revealed that I'm not the first to use the word but a specific definition proved to be elusive.

All that I can tell you at this point is that to me it's a word that captures not just a certain attitude but a way of doing things and the reactions of some non-Muslims to same. Vague, I know, but I'm trying to walk a fine line as I don't wish to promote Islamophobia but I also don't want to hide my head underneath my My Pillow and hope it all goes away.

I can point at the meaning with the following example. My late wife once went into a neighborhood convenience store where we were well known regular customers on good terms with the people that ran it. I waited in the car, which was parked near the store entrance, window rolled down. The door to the store was propped open. I was fiddling with the radio and looked up when I heard two people arguing, my late wife had a certain look on her face that indicated she might be about to go over the counter and murder the clerk, a gentleman of Middle Eastern origin. I admit I've no idea if he was a Muslim.

Knowing the significance of the look on her face, I darted into the store and all but dragged her out to our car. I asked what happened. It seems that upon noticing that a particular beverage, some sort of soda pop, had been mistakenly labeled at a price that was obviously less than wholesale, she thought the civilized thing to do was point this out as they were losing money on every bottle they sold (we had reason to be familiar with wholesale soda pop prices at the time).

He reacted by turning purple and asking how dare she, a mere woman, think she had the right to address him about such things and starting ranting at her in his native language.

[Sheesh, sorry I asked.]

And now, back to our show.

Syrian refugees are understandably fleeing a country that seems to be literally disintegrating. I know I would. With the exception of the United Arab Emirates, they ain't going to the rich Persian Gulf states. Their fellow, Arabic-speaking Muslims, would rather throw money at the refugee camps in other countries because of "security concerns." Yeah, no kidding.

On the other hand, it's widely reported that many refugees don't particularly want to go to these particular countries anyway. It seems that even many Muslims don't care for authoritarian monarchies that subscribe to Sharia law. I know I don't.

Case in point, Saudi Arabia. Not a whole lot of there, there unless visiting Mecca is on your bucket list, except for oil, which is why they're rich. Well, the native born Saudis are doing well anyway. For nearly a third of the population, most imported to do the drudge work that's considered beneath the dignity of the locals, and who can't go home without the permission of their masters, life ain't quite so grand.

[But, the Saudis are not as rich as they used to be. Fracking has undermined the power of the members of OPEC to ignore the free market and set prices at what its members think they should charge just because they can (i.e. to enthusiastically practice extortion).]

According to Wikipedia: "In addition to the regular police force, Saudi Arabia has a secret police, the Mabahith, and 'religious police', the Muttawa. The latter enforces Islamic social and moral norms."

"Criminal law punishments in Saudi Arabia include public beheading, hanging, stoning, amputation, and lashing. Serious criminal offenses include...apostasy, adultery, witchcraft and sorcery."

Recent headline in the Wall Street Journal: "Saudi Arabian Women Love Bumper Cars (But Not For Bumping)."

From the article: "At the weekly ladies-only night at the Al Shallal Theme Park in the coastal city of Jeddah, women discard headscarves and head-to-toe black gowns to reveal the latest trends -- ripped jeans, tank tops, and tossed-to-the-side '80s-style hair. For many of them, the biggest draw of the amusement park isn't the few hours of fashion freedom. Instead, they go there to get behind the wheel -- even a bumper-car wheel -- in a country that bans female drivers."

The article goes on to describe long lines of women waiting for a chance to "drive." There's very little bumping involved, except accidentally, they just want to drive. The article includes a picture of a woman covered from head to toe in black, left arm outstretched, dutifully signaling her intention to make a left turn.

Meanwhile, the world is confronted with the horror of the bodies of refugees who tried to make it to Europe floating in the Mediterranean. Europe's response to the crisis has varied widely from country to country.

Germany's response was a booming, Rod Roddy like Come on Down! But then a wave of sexual assaults by roving bands of refugees last New Year's eve across the country highlighted the fact there are more than a few Germans opposed to their countries policy, including immigrants that arrived before the current crisis.

At the other end of the scale are countries like Norway and Denmark who have placed ads in Middle-Eastern media telling refugees they're not welcome, even if they call first.

France and Belgium have become infamous for no-go ghettos where Sharia law is practiced to one degree or another. They're populated by people who have fled myriad traditionally Muslim countries.

You may have heard about some of the recent negative consequences.

President Obama has pledged that the US will admit 10,000 Syrian refugees during the course of The Gubmint's current fiscal year, which ends in October. Not long ago I was delighted/conflicted when I read someplace that only a couple of thousand had been vetted and approved via a very slow process.

Delighted because regardless of whether the process was moving along slowly because we were erring on the side of caution, or more likely because The Gubmint is not renowned for nimbleness and efficiency, the result was the same. Potential terrorists, hiding among the innocent victims of what passes for normal in the Middle East, would have a tougher time getting into America and potentially killing my grandchildren in Allah's name.

Conflicted because someone else's grandchildren might be killed trying to escape being murdered in Allah's name.

But then, the other day, several different media sources reported that the effort was back on track and that the goal of 10,000 will be reached, and on schedule. Swell.

Perhaps The Gubmint will now step up efforts to aid some proven friends that placed their lives on the line for us in Iraq. Remember Iraq? We won a war there. Personally, I wouldn't have gone there in the first place. But we did, and we won, and we wound up with a highly fortified, relatively secure outpost -- smack dab in the middle of the bad guys neighborhood.

Then along came Mr. Obama and his Secretary of State, the Hilliam. It fell to them to negotiate a status of forces agreement to leave enough American troops in place to bolster the effort to turn Iraq into a reasonably modern, reasonably stable democracy -- smack dab in the middle of the bad guys neighborhood.

They cut and ran...

...And left behind a bunch of Iraqis that worked for us as translators in the course of our "overseas contingency operation" -- that are on the Kill ASAP list of more than one zany group of grumpy Muslims -- that can't get visas from Uncle Sam to (literally) save their lives.

Sheesh.

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.