The State of the Zeitgeist (2)

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

[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,

Zeitgeist: the general intellectual, moral, and cultural climate of an era (Miriam-Webster).

Interesting word, zeitgeist. I'm a word lover (you best get out of Dodge, word lover! we don't want yer kind 'round here!) and there are many words I like, zeitgeist for example, just because of their sound and irregardless of their meaning.

Irregardless is another, which, according to the word police, isn't even a word. The word regardless, which means without regard, does not require the prefix, ir-, because it's redundant. Prefixes aren't supposed to be redundant.

For the record, I obtained this information from a website called GrammerBook.com. While I'm willing to concede that they may be technically correct, I have a valid poetic license and I'm not afraid to use it.

Anyway, they also maintain that sneaked is technically correct (as opposed to snuck), so, grain of salt. I sneaked some candy from the Stickies Easter baskets? Seriously? Obviously, snuck is the proper choice.

And we're back. I confess I'm slightly uncomfortable with the way I have used/ am about to use the Z word. Merriam-Webster uses the word era and this implies a large, dusty tome with many black and white photographs and voluminous footnotes.

I'm offering up a snapshot from a smartphone (with a decent camera) that probably will never generate a hard copy. Which is my way of saying that I acknowledge that defining a period of history as a particular era, while one is living in it, may be a fool's errand.

A sudden, dramatic, world class development, like WW3, because the chubby charmer currently enslaving North Korea wakes up in a bad mood because he failed to launch his missile the night before in spite of the best efforts of a drop dead gorgeous bed warmer/slave (I've heard rumors) and initiates a complicated series of events beginning with all of the sushi restaurants in Hawaii being contaminated with radioactive fish and ends in our next world war (hey, it could happen) and snap! we're living in an entirely different era than the one we woke up to this morning.

However, I maintain that my poetic license permits me to use zeitgeist because we're living in an, well, era, that at least to those of us who are attempting to cope with it, is marked by daily floods of dizzinformation and an ever increasing velocity in the pace of our lives. In fact, a never-ending sprint would seem to be the default pace, even for those of us who are trying to drag our feet.

So, it doesn't feel like we're living in the _______ era (that's like, so yesterday, but please feel free to insert the word of your choice) because we're moving so fast that we not only don't have time to catch our breath, we must maintain a heads-up posture at all times so as not to be flattened by some new technology that's about to disrupt our lives.

In other words, it feels like we live in a succession of mini-eras (an era of eras?) because things, the zeitgeist, can change so rapidly and dramatically.

In other words, I plan on regularly writing state of the zeitgeist columns and everything above explains why, and justifies the fact, that I plan on using the word zeitgeist instead of using a boring word like snapshot.


And now, grandstickies and gentlereaders, a zeitgeistian observation based on a news story I recently stumbled on that completely coincidentally continues the theme of my last column, How to Build a Snowflake.

[Waitwaitwait, this will just take a sec', and after all, I AM the Flyoverland Crank and this IS the "wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer. (Garrulous: given to prosy, rambling, or tedious loquacity; pointlessly or annoyingly talkative -- Miriam-Webster). 

If you google the word zeitgeistian, not only will no dictionary defend its legitimacy, Google will ask you, Did you mean: zeitgeist? However, there are several entries that use the word AND an "images for zeitgeistian" entry that will provide you with hundreds, perhaps thousands of pictures.  
Therefore, I, the future King of America, declare zeitgeistian to be a word.]

Last week's column, How to Build a Snowflake, was about a trend in some colleges and universities to emphasize social justice and protecting the delicate sensibilities of their students. This new development is quite different from the fearless pursuit of truth and the development of the intellectual tools needed to discover it as practiced by old school schools.

On the delicate sensibilities front, it just so happens that the students at Youngstown State University are in midst of taking finals.

Youngstown, Ohio, is a formerly vibrant rust belt town that is still bleeding population 40 years after the steel mills started disappearing. To their credit, many locals who don't plan on leaving refuse to accept the status quo and are trying to create a renaissance. Some who left, and achieved success elsewhere, have returned and joined the struggle.

This is a not uncommon phenomenon in Flyoverland, which is why I find the following, which made the news this past week, depressing.

In order to help the students cope with finals, which is apparently, for Millennials at least, the equivalent of trying to swim across the Mediterranean to escape the carnage in Syria, puppies and kitties -- via a sort of pop-up petting zoo -- and massage therapists are being provided to help the delicate flowers through this difficult period. Can finals cause PTSD?

I wonder if this class, whose "final projects -- which includes history boxes, interpretive dance, poster presentations, video presentations and more -- ..." also included a stressful final.   

My parents, who had to deal with the Great Depression and the Second World War, thought they had it tough. 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.

  

How to Build a Snowflake

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 and Great-Grand-Stickies,

"The great majority of college students want to learn. They're perfectly reasonable, and they're uncomfortable with a lot of what's going on." Mr. Haidt, a psychologist and a professor of ethical leadership at New York University's Stern School of Business, tells me during a recent visit to his office. "But on each campus there are true believers who have reoriented their lives around the fight against evil."

The quote above is from a Wall Street Journal article and is the result of an interview. Bari Weiss, of Pittsburgh (with an h) did the interview and wrote the article. I mention Pittsburgh (with an h), and my hometown, simply because I thought certain unnamed readers of mine might find this fact interesting.

Dr. Haidt is the guy who wrote the book The Righteous Mind, the one I keep finding reasons to mention as it's life/world changing shtuff. The sort of shtuff that would help Western civilization in general, and the USA in particular, slow its decline until I become king (or failing that, I'm deleted and don't have to worry about it anymore).

But this column isn't about the decline and (potential) fall of Western civilization in general/the USA in particular so...

[BIG BUT. Before I forget, for those of you who are interested in why we've become so polarized in this country and what we can do about it but don't want to read/spend your hard earned money on/spend your hard earned time on Haidt's entire book, consider the 99 cents option. And no, you don't need to buy a Kindle, you can download a free app to read it.]

What this column is about is the fact that professor Haidt is ideally situated to explain the Snowflakes and Snowflakism. He's a psychologist working at the bleeding edge of his field, social/moral psychology, and a college professor who deals with Snowflakes for a living.

Grandstickies, you will be considering college in a few years. Your kids, my great-grandstickies, should the forces of darkness prevail, may grow up in a world frozen in place by Snowflakes. Thus, Snowflakism, this ideological fascism -- political correctness taken to its logical extreme -- is of maximum interest to me. I also find it fascinating in a, WOW! now that's a trainwreck! sort of way.


Mr. Haidt is the founder of something called the Heterodox Academy, an organization of scholars of various and sundry political and philosophical viewpoints, that promotes exposing college students to various and sundry political and philosophical viewpoints.

Why? Haidt's research indicates that in 1995 professors identifying themselves as politically/philosophically left-leaning outnumbered those on the right, two to one. Now the ratio is 5 to 1. In some fields, the ratio is 15 to 1.

This wouldn't much matter if these folks were the open-minded seekers of truth that I imagine most of them think they are. Also, I'm sure many of them actually are. However, many have become fervent disciples of a civic religion that seek converts in the student body.

Haidt, a former self-identified liberal, who now calls himself a centrist, explains this new religion  thusly. The left used to believe that social justice meant a level playing field, for everyone, regardless of race, religion, sexual orientation, etc. I, a former liberal, but now a wild-eyed libertarian, can confirm this. In fact, I'm still very much a proponent of the level playing field school of social justice.

Nowadays, social justice often means equal outcomes. Why? Because, as Dr. Haidt puts it, the strict orthodox position now is that everyone is racist [or sexist, or Islamophobic, or _______ ] due to unconscious bias, and everything is racist [or sexist, or...] because of systemic racism [or sexism, or...]. As Ms. Weis puts it, "That makes justice impossible to achieve..." which means, as Haidt points out, "...you're setting yourself up for eternal conflict and injustice."

Social justice fundamentalists are, well, fundamentalists. Like any sort of fundamentalists, while their behavior may appear to non-believers to be odd at one end of the scale, insane at the other, to them it's just a logical extension of their fundamental premise. That is to say, social justice (a God even more powerful than Mother Earth) is impossible to achieve because there's no such thing as a level playing field. That's because everyone, including them, is biased by nature.

Therefore, not only is everyone a victim of some sort (except for white heterosexual males of course), every-one must be ever-vigilant, self-criticizing, self-flagellating acolytes stained by the mortal sin of being born a human being.

What happens when overprotected kids raised by over-protective (helicopter) parents show up on campus where they're taught that (Ms. Weis again) "...white privilege has replaced original sin, the transgressions of class and race and gender are confessed not to priests but 'the community,' victim groups are worshiped like gods, and the sinned-against are supplicated with 'safe spaces' and 'trigger warnings?'

Voilà -- snowflakes.

Dr. Haidt maintains, as do I, that the purpose of higher education is to expose students to all sorts of viewpoints and give them the tools to rationally decide on what they believe to be true. He believes that any given college or university should be required to state, up front, whether they're officially an old school school (devoted to the search for truth, whatever that turns out to be), or if their raison d'être is the pursuit of social justice. Considering the cost of higher education this would seem to be both financially and philosophically important.

I knew when I started writing this that I would end with an example of how Snowflakism justifies the use of violence, and other forms of repression, such as pooping on the free speech rights of heretics. See, if God (no matter how bizarre your conception) has revealed the truth to your particular cult, you must protect yourself from contamination and do all in your power to convert the infidels to save them from the clutches of Satan. Google: ISIS and/or Spanish Inquisition.

Anyway, just in time, a report from the You Just Can't Make This Shtuff Up department hit my desk. In Portland, Oregon an anonymous email was received by the organizers of the annual 82nd Avenue of Roses Parade from a member in good standing of The International Union of Perpetually Protesting Protesters and Professional Victims of This, That, and The Rotational Other Thing.

It seems that that the Multnomah County Republican Party (obviously a bunch of Nazis in chamber of commerce clothing) had secured the 67th spot in the parade and were planning on marching because they were under the delusion that even fascist pigs are free to express themselves in the land of the free.

The email stated that the Repubs had better be excluded from the parade or else. "You have seen how much power we have downtown and that the police cannot stop us from shutting down roads so please consider your decision wisely." And my favorite part, "This is non-negotiable." Just how does one go about negotiating with an anonymous terrorist?

The parade was canceled. 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.

Courage (or better yet, Fortitude)

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 and Great-Grandstickies,

"Your Majesty, if you were King, you wouldn't be afraid of anything?" -Dorothy
"Not nobody, not nohow!" -Cowardly Lion

"99% of life is showing up." -Woody Allen

Courage, or better yet, fortitude, is the fourth and final cardinal virtue that all virtues hinge on. For the record, as best as I can tell, what Mr. Allen actually said was, "80% of success is showing up." However, there are many variations of it floating around and the one I like best is the one above.

My personal variable variation, which varies according to mood, energy level, and pending or potential crisises (I know, I know, it's technically crises) is, "99% of life is showing up, be prepared for the worst but hope for the best and you will occasionally be pleasantly surprised." I then kick off the covers (well, usually), get out of bed, and launch another day. Fortitude.

If we consult Wikipedia we find, "Courage is the choice and willingness to confront agony, pain, danger, uncertainty or intimidation." Also, "In some traditions, fortitude holds approximately the same meaning.

Fortitude: strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage (Merriam-Webster's definition, my italicization).

[Waitwaitwait, fortitude? You think that getting out of bed in the morning requires fortitude? Dana, imaginary gentlereader, speaks/sneers.]

Yes. Many people, not you and I, or most of my gentlereaders of course, but for many people, yes. Many people, upon awakening, will in short order be subject to a set of feelings that can be measured on a sliding scale that ranges from a general uneasiness at one end to a full blown panic attack at the other.

[The why and wherefore of this phenomenon (that is, why our brains are wired this way) can be discovered in one of the best books you've probably never heard of titled, "The Neurotic's Guide to Avoiding Enlightenment" by Chris Niebauer.]

"Prudence and justice are the virtues through which we decide what needs to be done; fortitude gives us the strength to do it." -Scott P. Richert

The Cowardly Lion's version of courage is a rather traditional one, heroic courage. And who doesn't like, or want to be, a hero? Well, mostly -- context is everything.

I'm so chronologically old that as a callowyute I lived through the transformation of the American hero to the American anti-hero. We went from one extreme to another in a remarkably short time. No, I'm not saying that we should turn back the clock to the era of John Wayne, Roy Rogers and happily married young couples with twin beds. Of course, the Duke did make some great movies but there's much to be said for more realistic heroes and more realistic entertainment.

Most of us are unlikely to ever be traditional heroes, that is, a rescue a child from a burning building/medal of honor/Iliad-Odyssey/famous for at least 15 minutes sort of hero. Also, in my semi-humble opinion, thrill seeking is thrill seeking. In the (often imprudent) pursuit of an adrenaline rush, there's a fine line to be drawn betwixt courageous fun, and stupid.

BIG BUT.

[Iggy, imaginary grandsticky appears and asks for permission to toss tiny toy parachutists off of the (sorta/kinda) balcony (it's complicated) of my third-floor lair/garrett. Marie-Louise, my drop dead beautiful muse strolls in, displays her newly manicured and elaborately, but tastefully decorated fingernails for my approval and begins to scratch my back with her left hand as she reads over my right shoulder.]

If, "Courage is the choice and willingness to confront agony, pain, danger, uncertainty or intimidation." Also, "In some traditions, fortitude holds approximately the same meaning.

And if, "Prudence and justice are the virtues through which we decide what needs to be done; fortitude gives us the strength to do it."

Then I maintain it's possible to be a courageous hero, with a small h, every day. Do your job.

Now, I'm not only talking about dragging your butt to your crappy (hopefully not, but not unlikely) job or your politically correct, hidebound, chock full of unionized/tenured mediocrities (hopefully not, but not unlikely) school.

Doing your job means taking care of business, doing the right thing, get 'er done, _______ (insert your favorite motivational cliche, here).

Or, choose not to. Just be honest about it and stop making excuses. Refuse to be another boring victim with another boring victim story. There's always going to be someone else that's worse off than you, lots of them in fact. Given that that's a given, the only question is, now what?

Let us consider the unhappy student and the unhappy employee mentioned above.



If you're callowyute and in school, and even if you're smart in non-intellectual ways, or majoring in partying, or are clearly destined to be an athletic demigod, or just too damn cool for school -- here's a cold/hard reality check for ya' honey.

Three things.

One, your head ain't gonna start to pop outta your ass until you're at least 25 and you're not gonna realize just how true this is until you're at least 25. This ain't a matter of opinion, this is scientific fact. This radically increases the chance that choices made before/if this happens are potentially fatal. Please be careful.

Two, you're probably not going to be rich in a minute because you are your generation's answer to Bill Gates or Michael Jordan. It's not because you're not special, it's because this is the nature of reality.

Three, welcome to the global economy. A college degree, other than for STEM majors, is in most cases what a high school diploma used to be (usually with student loan debt) -- it might qualify you for a retail management trainee program.

And no, you don't necessarily need a bachelor's degree for a decent life. But without at least a high school diploma and technical training in a skill that's needed in the real world, or unless you're one of the minority of entrepreneurs that aren't ground to dust in the marketplace, will need to master the intricacies of the current version of the welfare state if you wish to avoid living under an overpass.

Do your job, which is learning to do a job.


[Dana, imaginary gentlereader speaks. Yeah? well, I have an OK job but I hate it. I'm a grup. I don't cheat on my spouse. We take care of my mom 'cause we're trying to keep her out of a nursing home. I "take care of business," But I'll tell ya' what, I'm tired most of the time. I sure don't feel like a hero.]

Well, if it makes you feel any better, according to the Gallup people you have a lot of company. They consistently report that less than a third of your fellow Americans feel engaged at work. Which means (says Mr. Obvious), most of us are faking it. Which means, lots of chances to choose to be a hero.

For most of us, most of the time, life's hard. It takes fortitude to keep going once we realize that we aren't going to wake up one morning and suddenly be HAPPY (or rich, or good looking or _______). At this point, we make a choice, whether we realize it or not. We choose to be victims or heroes.

Victims choose: excuses, never actually choosing, suicide (quick or slow, gun v. addiction), ignoring the fact literally millions of others are worse off than they, passing on their misery to others whenever possible, victimizing others whenever possible, etc.

Heroes choose: Simply to make the best of any given day, person, or situation while often falling short. Kicking the covers off every morning knowing that while the day may suck sweaty socks odds are they'll get through it and if they look hard enough odds are there will be something to smile about. 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.