Justice (Part Two)

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.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

OK class, let's review.

In Justice (Part One) I discussed the cardinal (hinge) virtue, justice. I posited that its importance is self-evident. I argued that kids in particular, and everyone else in general, are obsessed with justice. That the obsession is summarized by/captured by/epitomized by/etc. the phrase That Ain't Fair!!! Please note the deliberate (and rare, for me at least) use of three exclamation points.

I mentioned the work of Jonathan Haidt, moral psychologist (and one of my heroes). Dr. Haidt's moral foundations theory lists six foundations, one of which is Fairness/Cheating. The relevant Wikipedia article puts it thusly, "Fairness or proportionality: rendering justice according to shared rules; opposite of cheating. Their bolderization, my italicization. 

[I just made up a new word, bolderization. If you don't believe me, look it up. Oh wait, you can't, it doesn't exist. Bolderization: clicking the bold button of a word processor in order to render a word in a bolder way than other words. GRIN.]

Dr. Haidt, incidentally, didn't weave his theory from whole cloth. His work is based on numerous, and ongoing (check THIS out) experiments and studies. You should also read one of his books, "The Righteous Mind." Life-changing, mind -blowing shtuff written in clean, clear English (as opposed to psychobabble).

Anyway, please note the phrase, "rendering justice according to shared rules." In part one I pointed out that we've lost our consensus, that the late sixties ushered in something I call the Great Fragmentation. I ended the column by asking, "So, how do the members of a fragmented culture agree on what constitutes just and fair?"

[Just who is this we've you speak of cranky one? asks Dana, imaginary gentlereader.]

Good question. Hmm... I guess, no, I know, that when I talk about us, or we, I'm usually referring to muh fellow maricans (Lyndon Johnson saying, my fellow Americans). More broadly, the cultures and people of the West. I really should define my terms more in light of political correctness. Citizens of the planet Earth, please accept my insincere apology.

OK. In this particular case, I'm talking about the fragmentation of American culture. I'm also wildly oversimplifying some of Dr. Haidt's conclusions (sorry doc) and adding a few of my own. Read the book folks, you'll thank me.

H. sapiens (not just maricans) are tribal. This is because belonging to a tribe dramatically increases the chance we might live long enough to reproduce and raise our kids. It dramatically decreases the chance we will be killed and/or eaten before having a chance to do so. Also, get enough people on your team and the next thing you know you'll have civilizations and flush toilets and the like.

It's the drive responsible for us v. them. At one extreme it's total war and the demonization of the enemy. At the other, it's the drive behind competitive sports, which serve as a (usually) harmless outlet. See where I'm going here?

It's the reason why up until the sixties, America -- mostly white, mostly Christian, mostly sharing the same playground, and often preoccupied by wars with them and/or struggling to get three hots and a comfortable cot, were (sometimes more, sometimes less) on the same team.

And then the Boomers came of age in an era of unprecedented prosperity and security. A lot of wonderful things happened.  These ranged from the country officially acknowledging the obscenity of slavery and Jim Crow (mostly and eventually) and passing civil rights legislation, to landing on the moon.

Incidentally, these laws and landing on the moon were accomplished by the Greatest Generation, not by the Boomers, who will go down in history for, well, um... oh, I know! Rock n' Roll! And personal computers. Now we all have a home or pocket version of technology originally developed by the..., um, never mind.

But what happens when a generation of callowyutes, raised to take unprecedented prosperity and security for granted, go through the rebellious/idealistic (some anyway)/I ain't gonna' be like my parental units/I hope I die before I get old adolescent (which we now know typically lasts to the age of 25 or so) stage? And let us not forget to mention relatively easy access to the pill (can you say sexual revolution?) and mind-altering drugs.

Well...

[Oh, one second. Yes, we/they were raised taking the possibility of nuclear annihilation for granted (duck and cover) and we/they might also be drafted and die (the males anyway) in Vietnam.

BIG BUT.

By adolescence most realized that if the nukes were launched we'd probably all be dead anyway. Get under your desk, put your head between your knees, and kiss your ass goodbye. Ishhkabibble. As for Vietnam, pursue a deferment or learn to love (and live with) our neighbors to the North.]

Well, what happens is team America -- left, right, and (ever-shrinking) center -- starts fragmenting into cliques/gangs that divide up the playground like a prison yard.

A lot of water passes under the proverbial bridge. H. sapiens will be/were H. sapiens. And here we are.

We can go a-googling 24x7 and prove anything. How? simple. If you want to believe something you'll ask yourself if you can believe it, then you'll go looking for confirmation. You will, inevitably, find some and then you (well, not you or me of course, but most people) will stop looking.

If you don't want to believe something you'll ask yourself if you must believe it, then you'll go looking for reasons not to. You will, inevitably, find some and then you (well, not you or me of course, but most people) will stop looking.

This is the second most important thing the book taught me. That's a tease 'cause you really should read the book.

Modern tech provides a TV channel and/or a website for every taste, from the sublime to the warped and twisted. New sorta-social media platforms appear every couple of eye blinks. Sorta-social? Yup, choose your friends, real and virtual, tweak your settings (or not, the machine will do it anyway). Poof! your own customized playground of the like-minded, and you don't even have to leave the house.

[So, how do we reach agreement on anything? For example, on what constitutes justice. And what about the other cardinal virtues? Iggy, imaginary grandsticky, poses a question.]

Compromise, don't demonize. Breathe. Electronically fast -- turn off your computer and smartphone for 24 hours and go for a walk, read a book, make brownies, go to your grandstickies eighth-grade band concert.

America's newfound and ever-worsening polarization is fueled by demonization (Haidt) and the 24x7 flow of dizzinformation (me). Poppa loves you.

[Compromise!?! How can you compromise with the devil's minions!?! An imaginary troll has wandered into my personal zeitgeist. BANG! Marie-Louise, my muse, unhesitatingly pulls her piece from her garter holster, blows it's head off, and calmly begins scratching my back.]

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.

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©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 react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Justice (Part One)

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.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

If we should deal out justice only, in this world, who would escape? No, it is better to be generous, and in the end more profitable, for it gains gratitude for us, and love. -Mark Twain


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Warning: If you're a regular reader who doesn't much care for my constant references to sharing the playground with the other kids, you're gonna' really hate this column. I'll understand if you choose to bail at this point, although I don't think it would be the prudent thing to do (GRIN).

All the kids have to share the playground and the majority of kids are hardwired with an obsession that I call That Ain't Fair!!! syndrome.

Please note the deliberate use of three exclamation points. Please note that an obsession with fairness is an obsession with justice. Please note that when callowyutes reach the grup stage in the life cycle of H. sapiens the obsession remains. However, it's often, but not necessarily, muted by life's lessons.

[Aside: I chose the word obsessed because in my experience, having been an actual kid several thousand years ago and currently living with four of them in my freakishly large household, obsessed is accurate. Also, even the most mildly mannered grup is acutely aware of justice, or more likely, injustice. As I have  pointed out previously, Earth's a very rough neighborhood.]

So, where does this obsession come from? If you're of a traditional religious bent, there's an excellent chance that you think that it, like everything else, comes from God.

Most psychologists (I know, I know, grain of salt) now believe that we're not born with blank slates, that we arrive already programmed (so to speak) with certain basic information.

Jonathan Haidt is a moral psychologist (and one of my heroes) who has made it his life's work to identify what are the fundamental tenets of what he calls the moral mind. He believes, as do I, that newbie H. sapiens arrive here already wired with these fundamentals.

Note that an atheist, or a fundamentalist, or something in betwixt might find some common ground here. Don't demonize, compromise (DDC).

[This video, a TED talk, not only explains where he's coming from, it explains the difference betwixt progressives and conservatives, and why they're so antagonistic towards each other, in 18 minutes and 32 seconds. You have to listen closely, he talks too fast.]

Now, regardless of where you think this "obsession" comes from, as long as you accept that Justice is a thing and that it affects all of us to one degree or another, you see why it's a cardinal (hinge) virtue. I must also point out that religious or non-religious, left, right or center, and regardless of skin tone, that consideration of the virtues, particularly the four cardinal ones, just might provide some common ground in these unhinged times -- DDC.

[It occurs to me that I didn't explicitly point this out two columns ago when I began this series, this finding common ground theme, which is one of the primary reasons I'm on about the virtues. It's hard out here for a Garrulous Geezer.]

                                                        * * *

So, just what is justice anyway?

Well, besides being "your one-stop-shop for the cutest & most on-trend styles in tween girl's clothing" Justice is...

(Insert sound of car tires screaming from a panic stop, here.)

Okay, wait a sec'. Why is a store that sells glad rags for girls called Justice? 

The Justice Mission
To positively IMPACT and EMPOWER our associates, ALL GIRLS and those that love them by creating authentic connections through FASHION and FUN.

Or... how to say absolutely nothing with 22 words.

And we're back.

My old buddy Merriam-Webster offers up a deluge of definitions for justice. I choose 2a: the quality of being just, impartial, or fair.

[Well duh! What's yer point? Dana the imaginary gentlereader is awake. Marie-Louise, my muse, has taken Iggy (imaginary grandsticky) and gone shopping for new shoes -- yet again.]

My point is that though the definition is rather open-ended and vague, it works because we do have an intuitive grasp of just what justice is. One will encounter gray areas, one will always encounter gray areas.

But I maintain that 98.39% of the time that you will know instantly what's fair, what would be just, in any given situation. Careful, the devil lives in the remaining 1.61%.

Incidentally, I also maintain that one also knows, 98.39% of the time, whether or not what you're doing, have done, or plan on doing -- is right or wrong. This applies to all of the virtues and will be the subject of a column once I get through them.

[Dana: So what's your prob Bob, I... ]

The problem is, besides the 1.61% problem, well, let me put it this way. When I was a kid, I divided my free time (weather permitting) betwixt the 12th street and the 22nd street playgrounds (the former being larger and with more shtuff to do and the latter having a tiny swimming pool).

Kids in the dark ages were also obsessed with justice (fairness) but we shared in a consensus that's now shattered.

The same "rules" (more or less) that ensured justice (including punishment) and fairness applied at both playgrounds -- and at home, in school, in the neighborhood, at your friend's house, etc.

While hardly a utopia (substance abuse, child abuse, racism, bullies, etc.), beyond the formal (statutory) laws, there was rough agreement as to what the social laws were.

[HUGE BUT, Not that they all made sense. If you weren't a person of pallor you suffered from discrimination, ranging from mild to insane. Given groups of people of pallor looked down on other groups of people of pallor. Stupid (behavior) was as stupid (behavior) is.]

Jump to the late sixties. Well-meaning boomers, raised taking an (overall) unprecedented level of prosperity and security for granted (remind you of anyone), start tossing tots out with the jacuzzi water. The Great Fragmentation Begins.

So, how do the members of a fragmented culture agree on what constitutes just and fair? Stay tuned for part two.

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 react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Dear Prudence

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.

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

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"Did you ever have to finally decide?" -John Sebastian


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies, 

This is the first of four columns devoted to the four cardinal virtues. 

Last week's column was devoted to what are traditionally referred to as the seven virtues. There are four cardinal (hinge) virtues that are fundamental to all other virtues and this column is devoted to one of them, Prudence. The other three will be covered in future columns.  

There are three theological virtues that are supplied to us, according to the Christian tradition at least, by God. Being an agnostic, I'm in the process of trying to make a prudential decision as to whether or not I'll explore the theological virtues. 

Nowadays, employing prudence usually refers to being careful and cautious.

Classically speaking, it refers to applying reason, wisdom, experience, morality and the like when a decision needs making. Use your brain! as they say. Given what you know, who you are, what you believe, etc., what's your smartest/best move in light of...

[Wait a minute, Mr. Obvious, ain't that the same thing? Dana, imaginary gentlereader, speaks. Iggy and Marie-Louise, imaginary grandsticky and my muse, respectively, both toss me an inquisitive look.]

Nope.

I could be a careful and cautious weasel, carefully and cautiously considering the best way to murder you in your sleep and abscond with your cuckoo clock collection. Most would not define me as a virtuous dude.

But, as I was about to say, what's your smartest/best move in light of the fact that how you go about deciding on a course of action is, or at least should be, a virtue unto itself?

[Iggy: Poppa, I like, don't understand what...]

Patience, sticky one, all will soon become clear. Let me back up a bit.

You, and everyone else, are confronted all day and every day, with choices. They range from the trivial (which flavor of coffee creamer shall I use?) to profoundly important (is this the person I want to marry, do I want to be married to anyone?).

[Dana: Once again our hero demonstrates he has a keen eye for the obvious.]

Stop giggling you lot, and pay attention. In both of the examples above making a prudent decision simply means that regardless of your immediate/initial impulses, adopting a big-picture view and then making the best possible decision under the circumstances. Simple right?

Well, no, not really.

Simple to define, somewhat harder to put into practice. Regardless, you need to choose what's behind door number one, two, or three.

                                                    * * *

Door number one: Immediate/initial impulses, or, "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die", an understandable reaction, given the fact that no one gets out of here alive. This is the choice of least resistance. This is the if it feels good do it option.

Examples: I'm not gonna' worry about how much sugar is in my yummy coffee creamer (or anything else). Life is short, live for today. Get married just because I'm pregnant/I impregnated someone just because it's a fact that having a mum and a dad is any given kids best option? I don't even like him/her! What about my happiness?

I make no judgments. Not (fortunately) my job. I've made no shortage of mistakes and I certainly wouldn't care to be married to someone I don't even like.

BIG BUT

Note that in the first example, coffee creamer, in the short term at least only one person is involved, you. In the second, at least three, and likely, many more. We have to share the playground with other kids.

And I must point out that birth control is available at any convenience store and that employing it would have been the prudent thing to do.

Next up, door... Sorry, listen, while I know this is the era of the casual hookup and that sex, formally considered the most intimate activity two humans beings can engage in, is nowadays just another need to be taken care of, I can't help but wonder.

Given (evil microscopic) bugs, and babies, and the dramatic qualitative difference between having sex and making love to someone you love (or, at least are deeply in like with), I should think that prudence trumps immediately and unconditionally surrendering to your howling DNA.

                                                      * * *

Door number two: Traditional path. You believe in an afterlife of some sort, the nature of which requires that you follow a prescribed ethical/moral code to either go somewhere better than here or reincarnate a step or two up the ladder after you are deleted.

So, either you or someone(s) you take seriously, didn't toss the tot out with the jacuzzi water. Good. You're not just adrift on the Sea of Life, you've set a course and have a destination. Life is hard. Life with a context, less so (more on this in a minute).

Two things. What you say, goes, but only for you (HT: Thaddeus Golas). The sermon you live is much more powerful, and effective, than the sermon you preach.

                                                    * * *

Door number three: The door for people that reject doors one and two. This is my door, and while many choose it, I'll only speak for myself.

First, two more things.

"All generalizations are false, including this one." -Mark Twain.

My three-door theory is a generalization -- and an analogy. Analogies and generalizations, and all words for that matter, are at best, useful symbols. I'll be exploring that subject at some point in the future.

And also, of course, generalizations oversimplify for the sake of clarity. Many, no, most of us, regularly take a peek at what's up behind all the doors.

I try to practice prudence for two reasons. (Today's column is sponsored only by the number two. The letter P didn't pay its bill.) Prudence is what separates the man person from the beastie. Also, life with a context, as mentioned above, is not as hard as life without one.

While I believe in and have written about the concept of gut first, brain later I'm an almost rabid proponent of the importance of brain later. This is the gift that enabled/enables us to rise to/remain at -- the top of the food chain.

Earth's a very rough neighborhood. While I acknowledge that there are legitimate objections raised by ecologically and/or spiritually-minded folks as concerns H. sapiens domination of the playground, it works for me. Brain over brawn.

Thomas Hobbes is famous for pointing out that the state of nature is a war of all against all wherein life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short. Word! The state of nature also doesn't include books or grilled cheese sandwiches (shudder).

As to life with a context, yes Virginia (or Iggy), one could plausibly argue that, as is often said, life's a bitch and then you die. Who gives a damn about prudence, or any sort of virtue for that matter? Do as you please and try not to get caught if it's illegal. Door number one thinking.

What I mean by life with a context is simply a life with an imposed framework. Those folks that choose door number two are supplied with a time-tested framework that imposes order on chaos (as defined by the previous paragraph), which is part of the appeal.

In my semi-humble opinion (and I'm not alone), as long as you keep an open mind, a life with context, that is: personal rules, goals, interesting work, a code that defines/acknowledges the sharing of the playground, Arete, or (insert your thoughts here), is just better than embracing self-indulgence and chaos.

[Better?] 

Yup, better.

It feels better. It's something you have to feel, directly experience -- mere words won't do. Decide, resist drifting, and you'll know. If/when it stops working, make a new decision. Poppa loves you.

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

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©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   

The Seven Virtues

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.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader 

"The virtues, like the Muses, are always seen in groups. A good principle was never found solitary in any breast. -Buddha"

Dear (Eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

When I went to a Catholic grade school, I was taught the four cardinal virtues and the three theological virtues. Both kinds, I was told, were a very big deal.

I went to a public high school, and the theological virtues, for obvious reasons, were never mentioned. It recently occurred to me that neither were the cardinal ones. Hmmm...

I attended a Catholic grade school for eight years, first through eighth grade. I didn't go to kindergarten or attend a preschool. Most of my fellow students hadn't gone to kindergarten, none had gone to preschool. Head Start didn't start until 1965.

By then I was already in the sixth grade. I mention this to illustrate that it was once possible to grow up in America without formal schooling until the age of six or seven. Amazingly, I've never lived under an overpass or been institutionalized.

Anyway, I haven't thought about the virtues as such for years. I have given some (but not enough) attention to arete.

Arete is a Greek word that, according to this Wikipedia entry, means excellence of any kind, and may also mean moral virtue. I can't remember how I stumbled on the concept but I was immediately fascinated. I've been in pursuit of my personal arete ever since, with decidedly mixed results.

As the Wikipedia entry explains, the concept dates to Homeric times and is all about attempting to live up to one's full potential, being effective, being good at what you do. Being the best possible you includes the pursuit of moral excellence, which is the very definition of virtue.

Which brings us back to where we started, cardinal and theological virtues.

The cardinal virtues have nothing to do with birds or the "princes" of the Catholic church. Cardinal comes from the Latin word cardo (hinge). All other virtues and morality hinge on these four fundamental concepts. Their pedigree dates to the ancient Greek philosophers and have been a thing ever since. Religious and secular philosophers of all stripes have been kicking 'em around for better than 2,000 years.

Well, at least they were a thing. More on that in a moment.

The three theological virtues, in the Catholic/Christian tradition, come from the grace of God They're sort of a list of the basic requirements that need to be met in order to live a Christian life while you're here if you want to get your butt into heaven when you cross over to there.

They are faith (belief in God). Hope (the belief that you'll make heaven if you live right). And charity, or love (love God and everyone else, which implies it's on you to be your brother's sibling's keeper).

Two quick points from your agnostic Poppa.

One, note the simplicity. To hell (pun intended) with dogma wars. If you believe in God, follow a moral code and do what you can to take care of the other kids, you got this.

Two, It's quite easy to secularize these three. If you don't believe in God you can (and regardless, should) find something/someone(s) to believe in and/or work for. This will supply hope (and meaning) even when life is kicking you in the crotch. Finally, do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This will make for a much nicer playground.

That said, the reason I'm writing about the seven virtues is because it occurred to me that given the fact America, and a goodly chunk of the rest of the world, tossed the tot out with the jacuzzi water back in the 60s, perhaps we could find some guidance, and common ground, in the cardinal virtues.

I believe that we react emotionally/instinctively/intuitionally first, rationally (hopefully...) later. While the former is an effective survival mechanism, the latter enables us to live together and, with a little luck, thrive instead of just survive. The creation of the cardinal virtues is the result of the applied reasoning of a lot of individuals who were smarter than I'll ever be.

[For the record: I went a-googlin' and discovered that while the virtues are still a thing in Catholic education, as far as secular private and public schools go, not so much. However, I found this, and more importantly, this. Happy sigh...]

The cardinal virtues are prudence (making good choices, wisdom), justice, temperance (restraint, self-control) and courage (not just bravery, refusing to define yourself as a helpless victim). There are all sorts of other virtues posited but these four were considered to be the foundation stones of a moral life in the Western tradition.

The Western tradition has nothing to do with cowboys or country music. It's a term, now considered politically incorrect in many circles, that refers to a way of looking at, and living in, the world.

It's fallen out of favor because it all but ignored the rest of the world (Africa and Asia) and we're now all one big happy global family. Don't be a hater. Everything is like, relative, ya' know? The Western tradition includes all the evil dead white guys that ruined the world.

I'm a crank and I'm a libertarian. But, I hold some positions normally classified as conservative, others normally classified as progressive. I have a bias towards trying to discover what actually works and trying to discover how the left and right can compromise and peacefully share the same playground.

I'm a crank and I'm a follower of Taoism (an Eastern philosophy) but also a firm believer in much of the Western tradition. I think that the USA, a product of this tradition, though flawed (as is every-one and every-thing), rocks, and I'm glad and grateful this is my team.

I'm a crank. Which is why I'm going to devote my next four letters/columns to my take on each of the cardinal virtues. 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 react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Making America Great Again

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.

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Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

Dear (Eventual) Stickies and Great-Grandstickies,

The Donald is a consciously created character having much in common with the professional bad guys of the fake wrestling industry. Keep in mind that endless, unlikely plot twists are a staple of this art form (apologies to Meryl Streep and company, et al.). Bad guys become good guys become bad guys become ambiguous guys.

The USA has morphed into a bizarre reality show and the Donald is the director, producer, and star. He knows what he wants to accomplish, he really does want to Make America Great Again. I'm certain he knows America is still great, but she's gotten lost in the woods. Hopefully only temporarily. But he probably would regard even my simple analogy as unnecessarily complicated.

Keep it simple, my friend. That's show biz. That's how you keep the audience in the palm of your hand.

I wrote a column about this (as you may or may not know) very subject in early December of last year, my third official "Dear Stickies" letter, that was my take on how it was that the Donald managed to become the POTUS much to the surprise of most.

I voted for Gary Johnson, the libertarian party candidate, in spite of some serious reservations. I mention this for two reasons.

First, I wrote another column suggesting that people vote for me for president because I sincerely had no desire whatsoever to be the president. My logic was based on a bit of ancient Chinese wisdom. The best man person for a powerful position is often one that seems to have a clue but doesn't want the job.

The whys and wherefores of that proposition require an entire letter of their own. Suffice it to say that they're (hopefully) obvious to a seasoned grup with common sense. Oh, please don't assume the previous sentence necessarily has anything to do with you since I've no way of knowing when, or even if, you will ever read this. Anyway, I have to confess I've been known to feel clueless for days at a time, so in the end, I couldn't bring myself to vote for myself.

Second, I'm trying to maintain an open and/or optimistic frame of mind as far as the Donald is concerned in spite of my doubts, which are legion.

I'm a somewhat gloomy chap by nature but I was fortunate enough to be married to a woman who absolutely insisted on "looking on the bright side" in any and all situations in spite of the fact she was doomed to die young due to the health problems she was born with.

Though gloomy is my baseline, I'm a firm believer that we live in a universe where everything is defined by, and is part of, it's opposite. More ancient Chinese wisdom, that yin-yang stuff you have probably heard about (yet another letter asking to be written).

For the moment, let's just say then when I find myself waiting for the results of one of fates coin tosses I'm aware it occasionally will land sunny side up (though, of course, I doubt it) since that's the nature of reality. In fact, to honor the memory of the best friend I'm ever likely to have, I consciously make a point of not only hoping it lands sunny side up, I force myself to acknowledge there's usually a sunny side even when it doesn't.

[By the way, it's yin-yang, not ying-yang. A ying-yang is a commonly used expression, with variable meanings, that usually refers to one of one's naughtier bits.]


That said, the Donald has set about making America great again. He's chosen his cabinet secretaries and most are not the usual suspects. That is, his cabinet is top heavy with successful people from the real world and light on professional politicians and academics. Good.

It's said that his management style is similar to that of Lincoln and FDR -- encourage individuals with wildly different viewpoints to fight it out, he takes it all in, then he makes a decision. Also good.

He's issued a bunch of executive orders, most of which I like, some that I love, a few that creep me out. In acknowledgment of looking on the bright side, let me mention the two I love the most.

First, folks appointed to positions in The Gummit by the Donald can't cash in when they move on in that they are forbidden to become lobbyists for five years after leaving The Gummit. Also, they can't lobby on behalf of a foreign gummit, forever.

In my semi-humble opinion, this should be the law of the land, not an executive order that can be canceled by the next POTUS. And of course, this being The Gummit, there's a loophole. Lobbyists have to register as lobbyists. Call yourself a consultant instead of a lobbyist and you're off the hook. However, with tighter laws, and most importantly, congressional term limits, the people could still win. Get rid of professional legislators and "consultants" will instantly lose much of their clout.

[Another semi-humble opinion: Without congressional term limits we are doomed. I've mentioned this before, I'll mention it again.]

Second, a new rule for the rule makers. I speak of the unelected bureaucrats (and bureauons) of The Gummit. Specifically, the minions (of The Gummit"s 1,700,000,000 professional minions) that crank out the endless reams of rules and regs that keep the citizens of the land of the free in line.

For every new rule, two old rules must be canceled. Again, why ain't this the law of the land?

If you're curious about just how many rules The Gummit can come after you with, so am I. Google the phrase, "approximately how many rules has the federal government passed" or something like it and see what happens. If you can find what looks like a legitimate straight answer please email me at the flyoverlandcrank@gmail.com.

BIG BUT.

He's officially authorized the building of -- The Wall. Now, regardless of what you or any given one of my gentlereaders feels about immigrants, legal or otherwise, this is just dumb. I hope it's hyperbole, a negotiating tactic.

The only purpose a wall across the Mexican border will serve is as a temporary jobs program. Build it and they will come. Under, over, or around, they will come.

Then we'll have to build walls along the other three borders. Of course, beach front property will suddenly get dramatically cheaper. And, we could build the wall a hundred feet back from the water and create giant public beaches on both coasts extending from Canada to Mexico.

Wait a minute! What are we going to do about Alaska? Maybe that's why the Donald speaks highly of the Puteen. He's gonna' con him into building a wall on Russia's side of the Bering sea. Poppa loves you.


*NOTICE*     (I can dream can't I?)

Dear Undocumented/Illegal Aliens (U/IA),

If we catch you trying to sneak in, you're going home. Period.

No more sanctuaries. If you commit a crime, no matter how long you've been living here, you're going home. Let's make it clear that if you're a U/IA you don't get access to our safety nets. Keep this in mind, we're not kidding. We won't let you die because as a group, we're nice people. But once we patch you up, you're going home.

Sound harsh? You bet. But our conscience is clear.

Because we're going to finally acknowledge that almost no one wants to round up the U/IAs living here peacefully. We're gonna' admit that most of you have jobs that some of us, by necessity, have, but most of us don't want. We're going to admit the real unemployment rate is above 9%.

We're going to document you. All will be required to register, and if they can pass a criminal background check and have a job or are supported by someone that does, they will be given a red/white/blue card so we can find out who they are and make them legal -- maybe, eventually, citizens.

Once legally registered, you will have access to our safety nets. However, if you're not registered and we catch you, you're outta' here. Once registered you won't be deported for criminal acts, just punished like our native born bad guys, but will never become a citizen.

Registered, seasonal migrant workers, who can pass criminal background checks, will be permitted but will have no access to public safety nets and will be instantly deported if it's discovered they're not registered. Social services to be supplied by any legal charity or employer that wishes to do so.

Sincerely,
Uncle Sam

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 react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

This is What (Direct) Democracy Looks Like (Part Two)

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

Dear (Eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

A bit of a review. In part one I stated my support for the electoral college, an ingenious invention that prevents the citizens of a cluster of megalopolises from ruling the entire nation. By extension, this forces a given candidate to craft a message (and stop by to say hello) that appeals to folks in sparsely populated states.

I brought/bring this up because one of the symptoms of the innocent victims of Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS), a currently active strain of Global Whining Disease (GWD), is a fixation with the fact that the Hilliam triumphed over the Donald by almost 3,000,000 votes. That's a lot of votes.

BIG BUT.

If not for the electoral college system, if we were a direct democracy, the Hilliam would be living in the White House again and an outbreak of Clinton Derangement Syndrome (CDS), yet another strain of GWD, would no doubt be loose in the world.

The Trumpets would be jumping up and down and pointing out, at every opportunity, that the fate of the entire country had been determined by the citizens of a handful of our largest cities. We would still be knee deep in controversy.

The Infotainment Industrial Complex would still be doing what it does best. That is -- fanning flames, oversimplifying, and giving a bullhorn to anybody willing to work themselves into a near frenzy by playing the us v. them game in front of a camera. Infotainment and ratings are much more profitable (and fun) than reason, truth, and virtue. Ask the Donald. Anyway, we would still be subject to endless whining, debate, and punditry.

A large country where everyone is subject to the whims of the citizens of it's largest cities would be a direct democracy, but would it be a truly democratic country? Short answer -- no. Also, any given kid on the playground grasps that if you want any other given kid or kids to play with you and/or to avoid black eyes and/or shunning, perhaps even banishment, two universal social conventions must be recognized. The importance of fairness in general and respect for the rules of the game in particular.

I could sit in front of this keyboard and speculate on the subject of fairness till it's finally warm enough for the stink bugs to flee the premises in search of food and sex (have fun, see ya' when you get back!). While I could easily assemble a defensible case as to why we're obsessed with fairness, what is fair, in any given situation, is the labor of a lifetime.

However, for our immediate purposes, all that's needed is to acknowledge that fair is always profoundly important because it's hard wired. That the rules must be known and agreed to, before the game, by everyone involved. Most importantly, the rules can't be changed in the middle of the game, only after, and only for the next game. The Donald is the president, all the instant replays have failed to change the outcome of the game. There's another big game in two years. In the meantime, let us enjoy the most popular "reality" show yet devised.

Deep breath.

Retroactive rule changing is potentially a capital offense. I mentioned in part one that the founders, aware of the constant danger of a tyranny of the majority (51%  voting to delete the other 49%), set up our playground as a republic, a representative democracy, to avoid this and other threats to the life and liberty of politically/socially/morally/etc. incorrect individuals.

I'm a bleeding heart libertarian. I didn't vote for either the Donald or the Hilliam. My candidate was quietly crushed. The Steelers lost. There's something wrong with both vans. I'm going to return to my crappy day job after several weeks of often painful physical therapy that will enable me to return to my crappy day job.

But I will maintain an (imperfect) attitude of gratitude, because I'm not only a grup, I've ascended the heights and become a Sexy Seasoned Citizen (SSC). I know that no matter how bad (or good) it seems to be at any given moment there's a meteorite out there with my name on it and one of these days it will find me.

While I'm waiting I'll keep picturing the picture I saw of a Syrian refugee family huddled together in a freezing, abandoned factory somewhere in Eastern Europe, hoping for a chance to sneak into Western Europe. Not welcome where they were, where they would like to be, nor even back in the Middle East by their fellow practitioners of The Religion of Peace, they hang on. Poppa loves you.


[But all is not lost. Patience. Patience snowflakes, social justice warriors, alt.right types of all stripes and members in good standing of the International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protestors & Professional Victims of This, That and the Other Thing. Direct democracy is just around the corner. We've got social media. We're constantly developing new ways of being in contact, and staying continuously entertained, without actually having to actually talk to each other in real life.

We've got Twitter!

I have a mental image of millions of Americans and billions of Earthlings, standing on platforms that pop up and down as trap doors snap open and closed like jack-in-the-boxes. Everyone is busy yelling at everyone else. You don't have to make any sense, the point is to keep yelling. This is direct democracy. We're all part of a globe-spanning town hall and the idea is to yell something clever or ignorant enough (it doesn't really matter) to get a bunch of people to notice you and then yell what you yelled, at someone else.

The dead white guys that set up our playground were worried we'd devolve into endlessly bickering factions of the like-minded. We're already past that. We're becoming factions of one. That's a direct democracy for ya'!

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 react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

This is What (Direct) Democracy Looks Like (Part One)

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

Dear (Eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

A significant aspect of the apparently never-ending kerfuffle over the Donald's surprising triumph, since the Hilliam won the popular vote, is/was the current revival of the apparently never-ending kerfuffle over whether or not we should close the electoral college and send the students packing.

Is/was? Yes, because while the electoral college is/was a major thing, for a minute, to those that refuse to accept that the Donald is now the POTUS, it's now a minor thing, but, still a thing. The thing of the week (which will probably be ancient history by the time this column moves out of the house) is crediting the Putin (Russians) with stealing the election for the Donald.

1.29.17 Yup, Russian interference has finished it's solo and is now sitting with the rest of the band. The current solo is being performed by the maestro himself. The Donald has added an avalanche of executive orders to his repertoire that he performs while simultaneously tweeting with his free hand. Trump derangement syndrome is loose on social media. The progressive industrial complex is fact checking and op-eding itself into a near incoherent frenzy.

[Aside:Two points. If the Putin Pooteen has the power to pick our POTUS, he's even more clever and diabolical than I thought. Imagine having the ability to tweak our presidential election in light of the fact that we have no national election system in place. The rules governing the popular vote, as well as those that determine which kids will be briefly enrolled in electoral college, are determined by the individual states.

Various and sundry denizens of the Gubmint Gummit have declared their intention to discover how the Pooteen and his malevolent minions managed to manipulate the election results. Personally, I'd like to know if the fact that the Donald decisively lost the popular vote but decisively won at electoral college was a fluke or part of the conspiracy.

Point two. Henceforth, the entity formerly known as the Gubmint will now be called the Gummit. The dastardly dictator formerly known as the Putin will now be called the Pooteen. I've decided I prefer the Gummit to the Gubmint because it rolls off the tongue easier, suggests that the Gummit gums things up, and will enable me to use the phrase dadgum Gummit, if I so choose. (I haven't heard back yet from the R&D department.) 

The Pooteen, in my semi-humble opinion, SOUNDS like an amoral, self-declared czar who thinks nothing of killing off his opponents or any innocent civilians that happen to get in the way.

{Aside to the aside: as regular readers know, or should/will if they remain regulars, I'm all about (among other things) restoring societal civility and protecting/respecting the power of words. I do this by employing my fiendishly clever strategery of avoiding overly harsh words by inventing and/or remodeling and/or substitution. For example, shtuff is much less harsh than shit but more powerful than stuff if you know who its parents are. Dadgum is several orders of magnitude less harsh than God d__n, a phrase so ugly I refuse to write it. (I keep it in a heavily fortified vault and reserve its use for only the most extreme situations.)}]

Dana, my imaginary gentlereader, threatened to resign if I didn't insert this link before moving on. It's a commentary on my aside, and the inordinate pleasure on my part derived from having an aside to my aside.   

And we're back. Thanks, Dana, for at least as long as the link continues to link to something (yet another reason to use links sparingly). The wisdom of giving the electoral college the final word on presidential elections is often attacked as not being democratic. However, as you've probably heard, due to our current demographic situation, without it the entire country would be at the mercy of the population of a handful of our largest cities.

Being well versed in history, the nature of man people, and aware of what was going on in other playgrounds on the planet, the dead white guys who created the rules for our playground went out of their way to come up with a system superior to the typical, crash-prone, direct democracy and we ended up with a relatively robust republic.

Which brings us to the subject of this column, Twitter.

[At this point Dana, Iggy (imaginary grandsticky), and Marie-Louise (my muse), all looked up, startled, from yet another game of Monopoly (it's become a thing) and gave me a look. As you were, sez I, all will soon be revealed.]

I'm talking about all forms of social media really, including the traditional ones, but I choose to focus on Twitter to simplify things.

The founders gave us a republic (representative democracy) to get around the obvious downsides of rule by mob. For example, 51% of us getting together and voting to kill the other 49%. Our republic consists of three power centers that are supposed to "check and balance" each other so that we would have to go to a lot of trouble, at least technically speaking, to commit genocide.

Pre-op stop. Poppa loves you.

It is at this point, Stickies and gentlereaders, that I must apologize and beg your forgiveness. I had a shiny new hip installed last Monday (1.23.17) and the pre-op stop above was as far as this column had progressed before I checked into the hospital. I write my shtuff fairly close to deadline.

Though I knew there would be a part two, it was my intention to write at least a couple of more closely related paragraphs while convalescing this past week. However, while I'm doing well overall, I've been more or less reduced to a semi-zombie with no ambition, less energy. My daily physical therapy and fussing over my swollen hip and leg is nearly all I'm capable of just now. Oh, I also spend time forcing myself to eat (that's a novel experience) and choke down my meds and supplements. The good news is I've watched a bunch of movies and documentaries. Reading (GASP! say it ain't so!) makes me sleepy.

It's taken me all week to write everything after pre-op stop. My energy levels are slowly returning and I hope to have part two done in time but fear not, there's a backup plan if things get ugly.

Have an OK day.