STEM (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.

[Bloggaramians: 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 sublime, drop-dead gorgeous muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"Compassion is the basis of morality." -Arthur Schopenhauer


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

A few letters back, Wild-Eyed Libertarian (Part Two) to be exact, I talked about my conservative impulses. I pointed out that I don't consider them to be conservative impulses. To me, they're just a combination of my natural inclinations, life lessons, and coming of age at the tail end of the Black and White Ages.

I mentioned modesty (M), strategic taste (ST), and good manners (GM). I created an acronym (GMMST) designed to roll easily off the tongue and be easy to remember. This was because I planned on returning to the subject. I'm returning to the subject.

The acronym mentioned above, in the time honored tradition of our consumer culture, is now NEW and IMPROVED! It's been newed and improved to the title of this missive, STEM, which stands for strategic taste, etiquette, and modesty.

[Brief digression -- when I use phrase consumer culture I do so without snark and/or sarcasm. I'm a fan and a future letter will be devoted to the subject.]

As far as the other current use, and significance, of the acronym in question -- the study of/training in the fields of science, technology, engineering, and math -- that's yet another letter. However, in the short term, I'm unashamedly appropriating it for my own non-nefarious purposes.


I'm a sexy seasoned citizen who has reached the ripe old age of 39. I was born in the Black and White Ages and survived the sixties. (The sixties began in 1965 and ended in the fall of 1977 when the movie Saturday Night Fever was released.) I'm delighted (mostly) to have lived long enough to meet the Jetsons.

I'm a (happy) cultural warrior of sorts. However, I'm not allied with any of the more vocal factions in our currently raging culture war(s). I'm neither a conservative _______ (insert name of a given old school religion, here), a passionate progressive, or a militant atheist. Organized religion just ain't my thing. 

I want to live in a culture that can be summed up by my (destined to be famous) Playground Analogy, "I want the playground to have minimum rules and maximum fun. I want just enough rules to give everyone an equal shot at some swing time and neutralize the bullies."

That is, my idea of the good life is a playground where all the kids are free to pursue their individual notion of a good life without feeling the need to bully (or kill) any of the other kids.


There are more than enough Rules&Regs on the books and no shortage of grupstitutes (substitute parents -- legitimate and self-appointed) to enforce them.

BIG BUT.

The devil, as always, resides in a comfortable condo in the details.

For example, it may be hard for you to imagine, but when I was a kid, and later a callowyute, I was taught (among other things):

That most people believed (or should) in some version of a Judeo-Christian God,
That the ten commandments were, well, commanded,
That good-girls didn't do "it" before getting married,
That pregnancy outside of marriage was a disgraceful for a girl/woman and her family,
That divorce was shameful,

Etcetera.

There were many many more rules. Eventually, I discovered there was also lots of exceptions to the rules, and lots of hypocrisy. But most folks at least paid lip service.

Our society (I speak only of the US, consult your local crank if you live elsewhere) then tossed out much of our cultural consensus (the unwritten Rules&Regs) with the Jacuzzi water. Many have since embraced the code of the Bigfeets. Jer-RY! Jer-RY! Jer-RY! Cultural consensus was replaced with cultural chaos.

CC + DS x IIC = Y!

Cultural Chaos + Dizzinformation Syndrome x Infotainment Industrial Complex = Yikes!

Now, my dear Stickies, for all I know, by the time any given one of you reads this in the relatively near or dimly distant future the world may have caught its breath. Or, Having come of age in chaos and taking it for granted, you may legitimately ask, chaos? what chaos? I'm bored.

Regardless, King Crank's STEM System is not a moral or ethical code. It's a way for people with wildly divergent moral or ethical codes, even people unfamiliar with the words moral or ethical, to get along, to peacefully share the playground.

As I've repeatedly promised, I shall be a benevolent, mostly hands off monarch content to remain behind the curtain. I'm just, as they say, puttin' it out there. You can't impose a cultural consensus on a given country anyway without enslaving the citizenry and that's too much like work.

What follows is a truncated explanation of the acronym in question. Part two will expand on all three concepts.

ST is for strategic (as opposed to good) taste. As an intimate friend of mine once said, "Strategic taste refers to, well, here's an example. Sometimes a good fart joke is just what's called for, but all fart jokes all the time? not so much. That is to say, knowing when to show some class or style, as opposed to knowing when it's time to get down and dirty."

[Full disclosure: yes, the quote above appears in a previous letter -- I like it, and it's my column, OK?]

E is for etiquette. As in "the customary code of polite behavior in society...". This was the very first definition that popped up when I googled the E word. It's perfect so I stopped there. See, I'm not talking about, nor do I care, which spoon is for what. I'm talking about some common sense rules to prevent citizens in general, and Bigfeets in particular, from stepping on each other's toes.

M is for modesty. First Google supplied definition, "the quality or state of being unassuming or moderate in the estimation of one's abilities." Third, "behavior, manner, or appearance intended to avoid impropriety or indecency.

In other words, while self-confidence is important, science has demonstrated that many people that think they know what they're doing don't have a clue.  And yeah, you may be hot (or not...) but believe it or not, we don't all want to see your _______. We especially don't want our kids to see your _______. 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.

Legalize Discrimination

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.

[Bloggaramians: 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)

"How I wish we lived in a time when laws were not necessary to safeguard us from discrimination." -Barbra Streisand


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies, 

What follows is an expanded version of something I wrote for a failed feature featured for a minute on my website called Random Randomnesses. 

I'll betcha a bottle-a-pop that even if you're reading this 50 years or more from the time it was written -- assuming, as always, that our Republic hasn't devolved into a collection of warlord-led nation states continuously at war with each other -- that we will still be arguing about (and be litigating) who is discriminating against whom.

Life on Earth is not necessarily fair; you may have noticed. 

It's the nature of H. sapiens to feel slighted, and if possible to seek justice, when they perceive they've been treated unfairly by a fellow member of the species. Without recourse to justice, via formal rules or the universally acknowledged common law of callowyutes, the playground's not fun and the kids stay home.


Discrimination is institutionalized injustice, that's why it causes the needle of a justometer (accent on tom: jus-TOM-eh-ter) to spike and loudly proclaim whatever any given model equipped with a speaker loudly proclaims. It's not an in the moment injustice, as in a bully confiscating a victim's lunch money. It's injustice before the fact, based on the fact, the victim is ______________.

Please note, I've extended the blank space considerably longer than my standard seven character spaces so as to accommodate the many victim groups of our enlightened new millennium and the new ones coming online seemingly every day. 

There are myriad reasons H. sapiens choose to pre-inflict injustice on a given victim, or class of victims, often without necessarily having had any actual contact with the target. 

This is called prejudice. There's a lot of it about. You may have noticed.        


Now, personally, my policy is to not discriminate against anyone for any reason.

My default setting assumes that anyone I meet potentially sucks sweaty socks until proven otherwise. It has nothing to do with discrimination, it's a common sense personal defense policy. When I drive I assume that all the other drivers are trying to kill me. The fact that it's unlikely to be an intentional act doesn't change anything.

Also, I don't hate anyone before I meet them. To do so is stupid, and illogical. Furthermore, once I do meet them I'm prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt. In the course of events, if I decide to try and keep them at a manageable distance I'm even prepared to employ an antiquated technique that has fallen out of favor called good manners to keep the peace.


So, why on Earth would I suggest legalizing discrimination?

No, I am neither a left or right wingnut. I'm not a member of the -alt left, or -alt right, or even sure what those particular newly minted labels mean. Like many labels in this overheated, polarized era I find myself in the midst of, definition often depends on who's applying the label.

As beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the legitimacy of one's politics/morals/lifestyle/etc. are often found in the (judgemental) psyche of the beholder.

And no, I do not have a death wish or a masochistic impulse to be publicly shamed, shunned or trolled.

BIG BUT

The Gummit and the gummits spend a lot of time, and money enforcing an ever-expanding agglomeration of Rules&Regs protecting an ever-expanding multitude of victims, real and imagined. So what if we let the free market in dizzinformation take care of it, for free?

Name any business (profit or non-profit), gummit agency, or individual you can think of, in the USA as well as many other locales, that could survive unscathed in the dizzinformation age if it/they became known for discrimination, against anyone.

For example, why spend tax money on having The Gummit, or your local gummit, drag some 16+ hours a day working miscreants who run a mom and pop firm into court because they _______ just because you're _______. Vote with your wallet and withhold your business

Tell everyone you know, especially your fellow _______ what these bigfeets and hoopleheads are up to. Tell 'em to vote with their wallet. Two words, social media.

Open up a rival business and work 17+ hours a day and put the bastards out of business. (Please note, this tactic is unlikely to work on The Gummit or the gummits. However, striving to minimize your dependence on any level of gummit services is always a good idea.)

If you like, get some signs and some friends and march up and down in front of the place. You can destroy a business even if only a tiny minority of the public agrees with you by making it as uncomfortable and awkward as possible for people to cross your picket line.

Short on friends and/or fellow travelers? Contact your local chapter of the IUPPPP & PVTTOT. (The International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protestors & Perpetual Victims of This, That, and the Other Thing.)

Alert the press. Remember, the news is never old in a 24-hour news cycle if you have the fortitude and creativity to keep the pot stirred. In this day and age, how long will 99.9% of these maroons survive? As to the .1% who do, it's only a matter of time. You can always double back lack later during lulls in your outrage.

Let's repeal a bunch of laws and Rules&Regs, can a bunch of bureaucrats, and see what happens. We can always pass new laws later. 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.

Wild-Eyed Libertarian (Part Four)

In which His Crankiness finally attempts to explain exactly what he means by bleeding heart. Warning: It's a long one, you might need a beverage. It's all about my bleeding heart, the "other shtuff" I mentioned last week will have to wait till next week.

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.

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

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

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

Iggy -- My designated Sticky 

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept responsibility for changing them." -Denis Waitley

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

The Citizens of the Republic (well, mostly) are a...

[Dana: Ah geez, there he goes again. Uncharacteristically, the gang has appeared early on in the proceedings. I suspect they're as anxious to wrap up this series of columns as I am. Dana and Marie-Louise are at their assigned shoulders. Iggy's stretched out on my bed, earbuds in place and softly singing, off key.]

Sorry, I just think it sounds cool. Also, I'm subtly making a point. The Founding Dudes set up a republic so we wouldn't be subject to the tyranny of the majority (mobocracy). Facebook, Twitter, and the like are a perfect illustration of why...

[Cough, cough. That was Marie-Louise. Dana laughs.]

Point taken. Grandstickies/Great-Grandstickies, I hope that by the time your generation is in charge, the left v. right war over how to build and operate a social safety net is over, or at least a workable truce is in place. Assuming, of course, we haven't devolved into a continent of warlord-led nation states by then. If not (or, for my gentlereaders, in the meantime...)

Warning: Sweeping Generalizations Ahead

Americans (well, mostly) are a generous, fair-minded lot.

However, Lefties tend to favor a social welfare state, to one degree or another.

Righties, to one degree or another, would prefer that the gummits role be minimal, that the private sector (as was mostly the case pre-FDR) provide the social safety net. Which, once upon a time, it did.

Except for when it often didn't, which I have a problem with, even though I tend to identify with the Righties.

And, lest we forget, there are no shortage of (seemingly endless) arguments within the clubhouses of both teams.

[Dana (who leans to the left) and Marie-Louise (who leans to the right), start arguing. Yikes! I'm a triggerer.]

Finally, we're at the mercy of the professional Pols of the Depublican and Republicrat parties and whoever it is (all I know is it's not you or me) that keeps putting the same people back in power.

The Depublicans, having secured control (for a minute...) of Congress and the Presidency "fixed" our screwy health care system via 2,300 pages of legislation and spent $200,000,000 bucks of our money on a PR campaign to sell it -- to us.

The Republicrats, having secured control (for a minute...) of Congress and the Presidency last fall, and having had 7.5 years to prepare, attempted to fix the fix, and (for the moment at least) failed, --but now are going to fix our screwy tax code.

End Sweeping Generalizations Zone

This is yet another reason America needs a reluctant, benevolent, mostly hands-off monarch (as long as it's me and/or my chosen successor) to occasionally step out from behind the curtain and split the baby. Fear not, I offer broad-strokes only. My Royal Privy Council of Perspicacious Polymaths will design the new system and sweat the details.

Righties: While I'm sympathetic to your cause and familiar with your arguments, we must be realistic. The welfare state isn't going to just go away and we need to forge a compromise and move on. Americans, in some form or fashion, take care of their fellow Americans.

Lefties: While I'm sympathetic to your cause and familiar with your arguments (in fact, as a callowyute, embraced them) we must be realistic. Not to worry, the welfare state isn't going away, but we need to forge a rational compromise and move on. Americans, in some form or fashion, take care of their fellow Americans.

Case in point -- there's been a law in place since 1986 that mandates that any hospital that receives funds from The Gummit (most of them) must provide emergency care to any poor soul that shows up. They are not compensated for this and no one that I'm aware of is calling for the law's repeal, including me.


[Gentlereaders of all political persuasions, consider this. The Dizzinformation age is upon us. It's literally impossible to not be aware of the destitute regardless of whether their destitution is the result of bad luck, bad choices, or something in between.

It's also literally impossible for a grup to not be aware that no matter how financially secure and physically healthy you may be at the moment, fate may be tightening up some fishing line stretched across the top of a steep flight of stairs that stands between you and your cozy living room with the Lay-Z-Boy and your new TV with the drive-in sized screen. 

Not your problem? Survival of the fittest? That's fine, it's a relatively free country, except... Those you wash your hands of don't have to stop at Pitchforks, Clubs, & Torches Are Us before dropping in to say hi to you and the family. They can come at you electronically without getting off their rent-to-own furniture (well, as long as they're up to date on the payments...).]


My inner libertarian, and the fact I live (well, I try...) in the real world, makes me doubt that The Gummits and the gummits current system is capable of providing an effective, efficient social safety net (genuine "social security").

What we have now are huge, hulking, expensive, impersonal programs run by unelected, mostly unaccountable bureaucrats that encourage dependency and punish ambition, (if you don't know what the Welfare Cliff is you really need to click on the link, I'll be here when you get back.)

BIG BUT

Singapore, as I've written elsewhere (but, being 39, I can't remember where) has a health care system that gets results we can only dream about while spending far less money. It's part of a comprehensive cradle to grave social safety net. You can access some of the wonky details here.

Not into wonky details? Not up for a walkabout in the tall weeds? Allow your friendly neighborhood crank to summarize.

The title of the article about the wonky details mentioned above is, "Social Policy In Singapore A Crucible of Individual Responsibility" (my emphasis).

Three highly relevant quotes if you please.

"...many capitalist democracies in Europe and Scandinavia spend over 35% of their Gross Domestic Product (GDP) on these programmes. Even the US, often assailed as a laggard in social spending and solidarity, spends 32%."

And, "...the government of Singapore spends only 16.7% of its GDP on all its social programmes...".

Finally, "Solidarity is the principle that the people of a nation, often operating through their government, accept some responsibility for helping fellow citizens (and even non-citizens) avoid destitution and enjoy some of the fruits of modern economies."

Full disclosure, the article dates to 2011 and programs ain't spelled wrong, at least from the author's perspective. You really should read it, it's not that wonky, but I know, I know, you're busy and you're tired.


Bottom line it for us Cranky...

Well, instead of you and/or your employer paying into programs (think Social Security and the like) legally mandated by The Gummit and the gummits...

and/or you and/or your employer paying into voluntary programs (think 401(k) and the like)...

You and your employer both pay into a legally mandated program that provides pensions, health care, and housing.

[That's socialism! Dana snorts. Were you high when you wrote part three? You said that... Marie-Louise Gibsmacks him and they both storm out of my consciousness, arguing as they go. Iggy doesn't even look up.]

No, it's not. Within certain limits, a given citizen decides how the money is spent. Your pension collects interest, and unlike Social Security, there's actually money in the bank, not IOUs placed there by the professional Pols who spend it faster than it comes in.

You choose how to spend your health care money. It's a (highly, carefully, and intelligently) regulated system, but, consumer choice and competition, just like in the real world (that the current American healthcare system only tangentially participates in...) drives prices down.

C'mon, read the article, watch the video -- you'll thank me. Oh, by the way, 79% of Singaporeans own their own apartment (itty-bitty Singapore doesn't have that many houses).


"A good compromise is when both parties are dissatisfied." -Larry David. King Crank's Compromise is bound to do just that. And although he wasn't talking about political parties...

The Depublicans won't like it. They're the party of select special interests (read factions) and the self-selected elites of the Infotainment Industrial Complex. Their various factions, one of which consists of the employees of the gummits and The Gummit, all want to maintain or enlarge their slice of the pie.

Our self-selected elites think we're too stupid to be trusted with managing our own money. This is the gang that gave us, and still support, Obamacare.

The Republicrats won't like it. They're the party of um, well, that depends on who exactly you're talking about and whether or not they have an election pending, or if they're certain people that seem to be perpetually pursuing the presidency. Do you realize the next election is less than four years away? 7.5 years and the party (allegedly) of small gummit and free markets doesn't have a healthcare policy they can agree on. Please.

Thus, reluctantly, the future King of America will take care of it, all without firing a single tweet. 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.

Wild-Eyed Libertarian (Part Three)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grand/great-grandchildren to haunt them after they become grups or I'm dead.

[Bloggaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original 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 you put the government in charge of the Sahara Desert, in five years there'd be a shortage of sand." -Milton Friedman


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

OK class, let's review.

In part one I declared myself to be a wild-eyed libertarian with a bleeding heart and conservative impulses. I explored what I mean by libertarian.

"... I want the playground to have minimum rules and maximum fun. I want just enough rules to give everyone an equal shot at some swing time and neutralize the bullies." -me

I promised to explain (justify?) my bleeding heart and conservative impulses in part two.

In part two I only explored my conservative impulses; my bleeding heart was left out in the cold. I explained that this was due to my writing style, edited stream of consciousness.

To wit, while I prefer to travel with the current and try to stay in the middle of the river for the sake of safety and efficiency, shtuff happens. Also, I often don't know where I'm going till I get there (pretty much the story of my life...).

This was/is all true. But it's also true that I had/am having a helluva time nailing down the bleeding heart part.


Because...

As I mentioned in part one, I discovered that left-wing libertarianism is a thing. It's such a thing that Wikipedia has separate and distinct articles for both it and its right-wing brother sister cousin ex-spouse?

I wasn't exactly shocked. As I mentioned in part one, I'm aware that libertarians are all over the political map. But I have to confess I've never gone walkabout in the tall weeds even though I voted for the Libertarian Party candidate in the last election. Your dilettante about town (that would be me) was unaware that left-wing libertarians versus right-wing libertarians is a thing.

For the record, I think of myself as a center-right libertarian sort, but I strongly support the No Labels movement. I'm a big fan of compromise for the sake of maintaining a peaceful playground (compromise, don't demonize) where all the kids can have fun.


Now, I was aware that support for a gummit run social safety net is generally considered to be a center-left/liberal/progressive fundamental, which isn't/wasn't a big deal to me and my bleeding heart.

But when I read the Wikipedia entry for left-libertarianism, in short order, I tripped over the words socialist, anarchist, and communist. Yikes! There are far lefties that call themselves libertarians? Huh? Why didn't I know that? 

In my defense, my fascination with current events dates back to grade school, and if anything has gotten stronger over the years. However, a fascination with politics has faded in direct proportion to my ever expanding political cynicism.

I firmly believe that my fellow Citizens of the Republic should strive to stay informed and vote if they honestly believe they've got a clue. I also firmly believe that in politics, and everything else (but particularly politics), the best you can do is hope for, and strive for, the best -- but always be prepared for the worst.

When I was an idealistic callowyute, my hippie with a job period, I had a vague, ill-considered notion that socialism and hippie sensibilities would save the world. I didn't actually know all that much about socialism, but it sounded good.

Alright, I admit it, I didn't have a clue. At least I didn't vote. It was widely understood at the time, at least in certain circles, that "the man" was in control of everything so there was no point to it. This is embarrassing, let's move on.

Now that I've reached the ripe old age of 39, I  believe I do have a clue. As I mentioned above I want the playground to have minimum rules and maximum fun. You may disagree but the Founding Dudes are on my team. And I have been paying attention for the better part of, um, 39 years.

In my semi-humble opinion, socialism and communism, not necessarily in theory but always in practice, generate big, sticky, bureauonated, liberty-limiting gummits where everyone is equally miserable -- except for the boss(es) who embody the lesson of Orwell's, Animal Farm. "All the animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

[Alright, I'll bite, what's any of this got to do with you trying to define your bleedin' bleeding heart? Dana is awake. Marie-Louise got here first and is scratching my back, she loves Animal Farm. 

Iggy materializes, the gang's all here.  Hey, Iggy! Hey, Poppa, like, what's Animal Farm?]

And don't even get me started on anarchists and anarchism. Sure, there are thoughtful, gentle, well-spoken anarchists in the world. However, I can't help but notice that there seems to be no shortage of doomed to be forever broken hearted romantics and idealists who haven't/can't/won't become grups.

Also, there's the issue of the sociopathic/psychopathic cohort. For example, the masked, black hoodie-wearing types that destroy and/or loot businesses, large or small, and toss paving stones at the cops that try to stop them. (Google the following: riots at anti-globalism protests.)


And there's another problem.

Although it might get me banned from certain libertarian clubhouses, I am all for a rationally designed social safety net run by the gummits and The Gummit.

However, I want a system that's set up to accurately measure (real, not politically motivated) results that is run by a flexible bureaucracy required to put the customers (us) first.

Surely the nation that put a man on the moon can do better than the complex, expensive (and growing like a weed), often ineffective system we now have. Did we lose the war on poverty and the war on drugs?

I'm also acutely aware of, though admittedly barely familiar with, something called public choice theory (PCT). Wikipedia sez "... the use of economic tools to deal with traditional problems of political science."

I know enough to know it maintains that politicians and gummit employees behave no differently than the rest of us do at work. Some are driven/dedicated/etc, many are weasels, most fall somewhere in between.

"...governments are not run by omniscient benevolent despots, but by individuals. Individuals acting in the political arena are the same individuals who act within markets. They are just as self-interested and  prone to ignorance as any other population." -Students For Liberty

Sounds right to me, commonsensical in fact. The guy who came up with PCT called it "politics without romance."

The Economist: "James Buchanan, a Nobel Prize-winning economist and the architect of 'public choice theory'...eschewed the professions embrace of complex models and maths in favor of serious reflection on political philosophy...". Rock on! Dr. Buchanan.

So, in light of the above, and parts one and two, just what do I mean when I describe myself as a wild-eyed libertarian with a bleeding heart? I want a compromise, a social safety net that combines the best aspects of the private and public sector. See...

Ah geez, I've already broken the word limit...

Stickies (and gentlereaders), looks like there's gonna' be a part four. Two years and there's never been a part four before. Sorry, it's me, not you. I didn't plan it this way.

I don't plan. I just write, see what happens, clean it up or throw it away. Not as I would, but as I can. (Hey! I just invented a tagline?/motto?/_______?)

I pinky swear that not only will the next part be the last part I'll define my bleeding heart early on. I need to talk about some other shtuff. 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.

Wild-Eyed Libertarian (Part Two)

In which, Poppa, self-described wild-eyed libertarian with a bleeding heart and conservative impulses, as promised in part one, explains (justifies?) his bleeding heart and conservative impulses. My bleeding heart will be covered in Part 3. Such are the vicissitudes of my edited stream of consciousness style of writing.

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/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,

Conservative impulses? Harumph. Personally, I don't think of my conservative impulses as conservative impulses. I think of them as the practicing of good manners (GM) and as sort of new millennium version of modesty (M).

Also, cultivating strategic taste (ST).

[Gentlereaders, for the record, I have no problem with cultivating good taste. In fact, considering our seemingly ever coarsening culture, I can't recommend it enough.]

I came up with strategic taste because in matters of good taste, while I personally hold any number of semi-humble opinions about good taste, I hesitate to inflict them on anyone else. Louis Armstrong said that if you like it, it's good music. However, I reserve the right to point and giggle when the emperor isn't wearing any clothes (you've been warned...).

Strategic taste refers to, well, here's an example. Sometimes a good fart joke is just what's called for, but all fart jokes all the time? not so much. That is to say, knowing when to show some class or style, as opposed to knowing when it's time to get down and dirty.

That is also to say, employing GMMST to keep the playground family friendly, but respecting that what consenting adults choose to get up to behind closed doors is nunya (none of your _______ business), as long as they employ GMMST. More on this in a future letter.


I used to think that most, or at least many of my fellow Citizens of the Republic, regardless of assigned political or demographic labels, would find my "conservative" impulses to be reasonable.

Nowadays, however, I have my doubts; I may (I hope) be wrong. More on that in just a sec'. Nothing to be alarmed about. I'm in the wrong with disturbing regularity. Being a libertarian, I have no desire to see most of 'em, my conservative impulses that is, turned into laws, not even when I become (the world's first libertarian) king. "Libertarians share a skepticism of authority and state power." -Wikipedia

Be forewarned, however, for once I'm the King of America, although I will (as previously promised) rule with a very light/benevolent hand, I shall assert my power when I deem it absolutely necessary. For example, the very first edict I'll issue, post-coronation revelry of course, will be The Great Abortion Compromise.

As to those doubts that I now have that many of my fellow Citizens of the Republic would find my alleged conservative impulses to be reasonable? I wish to illustrate my doubts with a boring old man story (BOMS).

Contrasting the story below with the links that folloe will clearly illustrate, the who, what, when, where, and why of my (alleged) conservative impulses.

[Note: A BOMS is not necessarily (but often is) boring. Nor does it necessarily refer to a story (boring or otherwise) told by a boring old man (although he often is). It's the name I painted on the front of the phenomenon that many old men feel compelled to tell stories, boring or otherwise. However, anyone is capable of telling a boring old man story.

A proven, scientific reason for this phenomenon, the need for geezers like myself to mansplain the world to the world, eludes us. Personally, I think it's genetic. Fortunately, most women of a certain age are not afflicted, proving, yet again, female H. sapiens are generally more evolved than the males.]


BOMS: When I was in public high school, reveling in/adjusting to/slightly terrified by the dramatic contrast of eight years of traditional Catholic grade school to a public high school in the late sixties, I had a friend named Bernie.

Bernie took delight in the use of profanity. Bernie took particular delight in demonstrating his cursing chops to females. I took delight in Bernie as he was considerably braver than my high school persona.

At the time, the dark ages, although rapidly drawing to a close, we're not going away quietly and still exerted much influence in the world. Also, I -- an introverted, insecure, hormone-saturated callowyute -- walked with one foot in the dark ages and one in the revolution.

Bernie swore like a sailor, but rarely in front of grups, particularly authority figures. At the time, to do so was a major violation of the rapidly fraying social contract. I realize this is still true in certain, seemingly ever shrinking circles. However, nowadays it's more likely to be a mere technical violation. Back then, setting off f-bombs was a felony as they were packed with psychic shrapnel.

As to girls...

[Gentlereaders, in my little corner of Flyoverland, referring to H. sapiens identified as female on their birth certificates, and under the age of 18, as girls, is considered acceptable and is commonly practiced. If I'm stepping on anyone's politically correct and/or gender neutral toes I insincerely apologize.]

As to girls, although the miniskirt was all the rage at the time (thank you, God), many a maiden still maintained a modicum of modesty even as we were all busy coming to grips with the overdue and necessary women's liberation movement.

Which brings us back to Bernie. Bernie's excessive use of profanity served two purposes.

Like all adolescents, since the invention of the teenager and youth culture in the early 1940s at least, rebellion against grup norms was/is expected. Anyone that has gone through this stage and lived long enough to become a grup knows that peeing on a given grup norm, rocks. This was the first of the two reasons Bernie loved to cuss.

The second was the bad boy thing. Bad boys, real bad boys (what are you going to do?) are born that way. The rest/most of us, are not.

Now, remember, I was reveling in/adjusting to/slightly terrified by the dramatic contrast of eight years of traditional Catholic grade school to a public high school in the late sixties (and surrounded by mini-skirted maidens).

And I know you'll find this hard to believe, but back in the dark ages, many, and all sorts, of female H. sapiens, "good girls" and otherwise, were often attracted by/in relationships with bad boys. Therefore, the rest of us tried to adopt what bad boys ways we thought we could reasonably fake in order to facilitate job-one -- find out what's going on underneath all those mini skirts.

[Stickies, the phrase good girls probably had a different meaning in the dark ages than what you might be thinking. A dated definition that you needn't concern yourself with (unlike GMMST).]

Long story short (too late?), profanity was a bad boy characteristic and employed because most girls back then were generally much less likely to cuss than boys. Carpet bombing (Bernie tended to get carried away) a "chick" with profanity might provoke shock or nervous giggles. Or shocked nervous giggles. Or a look of revulsion. Or... well actually, it didn't matter.

The point was to prove that while you may not actually be a full-fledged bad boy, you had bad boy characteristics. It was hoped that this might make you more attractive to chicks. We didn't understand the why of it any more than we understood the mysterious nature of the female mind (any better then than we do now), me and Bernie anyway. We just wanted girlfriends. End of BOMS.


Found on the web, July 4th holiday weekend, 2017.

The rise of 'designer nipples' 

Real-Life Vampire Couple Says Sucking Blood Is Better Than Sex

ATTN. MEN: We Don't Care If You Can See Our Buttholes (PG)

"A conservative [or maybe even a wild-eyed libertarian with conservative impulses?] is someone who stands athwart history, yelling Stop, at a time when no one is inclined to do so, or to have much patience with those who so urge it." -William F. Buckley Jr. 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.

Wild-Eyed Libertarian (Part One)

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

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

WARNING! This column is recommended for Sexy Senior Citizens age 50 and above who prefer perusing the web via a decent-sized screen. The reading of this column by grups and callowyutes may result in psychological/emotional/etceteralogical triggering.

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

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

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"One of the reasons people hate politics is that truth is rarely a politician's objective. Election and power are." -Cal Thomas

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

I used to describe myself as a wild-eyed bleeding heart libertarian (BHL) with conservative impulses.

Now, the official description is wild-eyed libertarian with a bleeding heart and conservative impulses. Yeah, I know, it sounds like the same thing. You'll just have to trust me. Now, let us move on before I'm tempted to wander off into the weeds. You know how I get.

I'll betcha a bottle-a-pop that considerably more people haven't heard the phrase (BHL) than have.

I didn't invent it, but when I started using it I thought I did. I had no idea there were/are lots of other people that also describe themselves as BHLs. It just seemed to fit me. It finally dawned on me at some point that I should go a-googling in search of like-minded souls.

In my defense, I have readily admitted/readily admit to being an easily bored dilettante who also suffers from been there done that syndrome who wishes he were smart enough to be a polymath.

I'm convinced that had I not been dropped on my head as a baby by my big brother, which, tragically, also afflicted me with a severe case of lazy eye, I certainly would be a polymath, and I would've had a much better life. Wouldacouldashoulda. Mitigating this tragedy is my ability to see around corners.

You've no doubt heard that there's nothing new under the sun (a concept I prefer to render, more accurately I think, as everything seems to be just a variation on a theme). There are not only others who call themselves BHLs, there's a website. The site was the first hit returned by my inquiry but certainly not the last. More on that in just a sec'.

The site is a blog of blogs written by, from what I can tell, gentlepersons of a somewhat more, um, academic frame of mind than your semi-humble correspondent. I'm sure if I were a polymath I'd find it much more enlightening/entertaining than I did/I do.

After exploring the site in question for a (dilettantish) bit I returned to the search results and started clicking around. Overall takeaway? lots of folks, particularly mainstream libertarians (look ma! a witty oxymoron!), like to beat up on BHLs and something called left-libertarianism. I didn't even know that was a thing. Remember Stickies, you learn something every day if you pay attention.

Now, libertarians being libertarians, I can't say I was shocked. A quote from the relevant Wikipedia article: "Libertarians share a skepticism of authority and state power. However, they diverge on the scope of their opposition to existing political and economic systems." At this point, I would like to nominate this passage for the Understatement of the Year Awards.

Diverge? running the Libertarian Party must be the political equivalent of herding cats. Self-identifying libertarians range from well spoken, well respected, Ph.D. toting professors to tinfoil hat enthusiasts.

Which brings us to the point of this letter. I...

[At this point Iggy, Dana, and Marie-Louise all popped into my consciousness simultaneously. All three of them broke into an improvised, wildly exaggerated version of what I can only describe as a happy feet dance while chanting, there's a point! there's a point! there's a point!]

You guys are hi-lar-ious, I responded (HT: BR). Of course there's a point, there's always a point -- usually, eventually. I shall refrain from commenting on your disappointing, philastinish display and clear under-appreciation of my art form, perspicaciously edited stream of consciousness writing. Instead, I shall make my multifaceted point if you'll stop that damn giggling.

I'm a wild-eyed libertarian, a wild-eyed libertarian with a bleeding heart and conservative impulses.

[Gentlereaders: I plan to organize an as yet unnamed political party with a platform that will be built upon this very sentence. My son-in-law, Skippy (or so I've heard) has begun to put together a super PAC to support the party. We will both pledge to follow the letter and spirit of the law and never coordinate our efforts, not even over the dinner table. Pinky swear.]

Libertarians are obsessed, to one degree or another, with liberty. Maximum freedom = minimal gummit. The phrase, to one degree or another in the previous sentence, is very revealing. While there is such a thing as the Libertarian Party, whose candidate I voted for in the last presidential election, it is even more fractious than the current incarnations of our two mainstream parties, the Depublicans and the Republicrats.

[A point of clarification, if you please. If you find my cheap (literary) trick confusing, the first letters of the names I use for the traditional names of our traditional parties should be helpful. While both struggle to present a united front and both delight in demonizing the other, they both share some unfortunate common ground. For most of their respective members, retaining power trumps serving the Republic.]

They (in theory) are supposed to put the welfare of Our Republic first, they represent, and work for, Us. Unfortunately, the system is long overdue for an upgrade.

A lack of congressional term limits guarantees professional politicians, many of whom never had to survive in the real world for more than a minute.

Which gives us -- a Senate with a seniority system where the more often you are reelected by the people of your own state the more power you will have over everyone else's state. Which helps you get reelected by the people of your own state because of the power you have over the people of everyone else's state.

Combined with -- a lower house with two-year terms where job one is raising money/preparing for the next election with the help of a jobs program for professional Pols called gerrymandering.

Which is why, obviously, I'm a wild-eyed libertarian...

[The happy feet dancing suddenly stopped. My imaginary posse stared at me silently with a loud, huh?]

...with a bleeding heart and conservative impulses.

As I've previously written, I want the playground to have minimum rules and maximum fun. I want just enough rules to give everyone an equal shot at some swing time and neutralize the bullies.

Physical bullies start with your lunch money but grow up to be crony capitalists.

Intellectual bullies grow up to be bureauons.

Professional Pols are financed by the former and protect the latter who devise endless rules and regs and enforce the laws the Pols passed without bothering to read the fine print.

That is to say, I prefer liberty, equality of opportunity, and free markets.

That's how you get a Henry Ford, or a Steve Jobs, or _______. (This space reserved for the name of the traditionally/allegedly suppressed type to be that well known and have that much impact). Personally, I'll betcha a bottle-a-pop that ______, whatever, um, it's? preferred pronoun is already here, and about to change the world).


Ah, geez! Look at the time!

[Gentlereaders, after investigating the etymology and semantics behind the word Geez (also rendered as Jeez) I discovered that there is no consensus as to spelling and meaning. Some maintain that it's a polite way to take the Lord's name in vain. While I accept this, I've always thought of this word as a slightly less corny variation of (golly) gee whiz, swear to God (said the agnostic). When I become king I'll make geez the official word; a variation of (golly) gee whiz the official definition. Part of my restoration of good manners and modesty project.]

Well, that's the wild-eyed libertarian part. I'll explore the bleeding heart part, and my conservative impulses, in my next letter. Poppa loves you.

To be continued...

Have an OK day. 
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©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing (Have an OK day) except for the title. 

What's Really Going On?

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/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,

Ya' ever wonder what's really going (or has gone) on?

I do, that's why I'm a current events junkie. I'm not just a living, old school version of one of those ubiquitous Now Trending lists that are currently so popular. I harbor no secret fantasy to win big bucks on Jeopardy. I haven't played Trivial Pursuit, any edition, in years.

I want to know what the approximate truth is in light of our current knowledge and to the best of our current abilities. I not only really want to know because I really want to know. I really want to know what actually works, not just what I/we/they hope will work; what works the best for the most while maintaining maximum liberty.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        
I use the word approximate deliberately and without reservation. If you really want to know what the whole truth and nothing but the truth is, step one is to acknowledge that truth is always provisional, approximate and subject to change.

BIG BUT.

Maintaining an open mind, and heart, doesn't mean that you get to deny the obvious when the obvious is inconvenient to your preconceptions, proclivities or purposes (nefarious or otherwise). Denial is not a river in Egypt, although people drown in it every day. It simply means that the smart play is to consider truth as sort of the "working title" of reality.

For example, the process I follow when I write one of these letters.

I get an idea. I click on the New post button. I select a working title, hope that Marie-Louise is in the mood, and start writing. Paragraphs (hopefully, not always) begin to accumulate. Write, read, tweak, rewrite. Gradually (sometimes painfully), a letter emerges. Write, read, tweak, rewrite. With a little luck, I'll eventually wind up with a finished product with (hopefully) an understandable point. A missive of a thousand (more or less) words that strikes me as true.

Little but.

The content is subject to revision: tomorrow, next week, next month..., etc. The working title almost always changes before publication. And of course, any given gentlereader, grandsticky or otherwise, may decide I'm full of crap.

WARNING! 

Digression Ahead

I'm a curious, easily bored dilettante with multiple interests, one of which is a fascination with current events. If I were more intelligent and didn't suffer from a mild form of intellectual ADD compounded by been there done that syndrome, I'd be a polymath (I can dream, can't I?).

Polymath: a person of encyclopedic learning (Merriam-Webster). Polymath: a genius (or close enough) with expert level knowledge (or close enough) in multiple fields thus capable of a valid big picture view of complex problems (my definition).

In this, the Dizzinformation Age, we need big-brained knowledge synthesizers. You should be able to go to college and get a degree or two in Polymathology. When I'm king I'll make this happen. Unlike certain non-STEM majors, this will be a real degree (or two) that will result in an actual job that just might earn you enough dough to justify a student loan debt burden. (Yet another problem awaiting your future monarch.)

The requirements for getting into/graduating from the program will be quite rigorous. Only a very limited group of the best and the brightest will be considered. Details to be worked out by me and my Royal Privy Council of Perspicacious Polymaths. Snowflakes need not apply.

End Digression

Although I came pre-wired this way, ironically, I credit/blame the teachers, mostly nuns, of three different (it's complicated, but no, it wasn't me) Catholic grade schools in or near Pittsburgh, Pa. for cultivating this aspect of my nature.

This was back in the distant dark ages (two of the schools no longer even exist) when nuns still had hair on their chests and dressed like they belonged to a cult that worshiped penguins. I was the victim/beneficiary of a traditional, old-fashion, (sorry, I can't resist) old school version of Catholic childhood education.

[At this point Iggy popped into my consciousness. Like, what's ironical about that, Poppa?]

Well, hairy chested nuns tended to focus more on suppression than cultivation. Their specialty was on turning high functioning chimps into civilized, Catholic citizens. Told ya' it was the dark ages. So the irony lies in that although I was thoroughly marinated in traditional Catholicism, traditional morality, and traditional discipline (including corporal punishment) and the like, the church was/is preoccupied with social justice and social justice requires a knowledge of current events.

Effective social justice requires that you know what's going on, what's really going on. As does effective voting, effective parenting, effective management, effective governing, effective _______. Ya' gotta work for it though. The truth is out there, but dizzinformation never sleeps.

I hasten to add, for clarity, that you must remember this was the tail end of the dark ages, which began drawing to a close in the mid-sixties. I was taught a version of social justice that is now considered by many to be obsolete. I was taught that social justice meant equal opportunity for all. Nowadays, social justice is often defined as equal outcomes for all.

I prefer the former definition because achieving equal outcomes would require central planning, setting specific targets, and worst of all, central planners. Central planners are, or at least think they are, experts, usually highly educated experts, the sort of experts preferred by the gummits and The Gummit. Which explains a lot. They ain't usually polymaths.

[Second rate comedian (on the cusp of a career in insurance), sparsely packed venue (what is that smell?). Hey folks, what do you call a bonkercockie artist at least fifty miles from home? an expert! Rimshot.]

Now I'm sure that most of these folks are perfectly nice, well-meaning people. However, I'm also sure that attempting to centrally plan outcomes for any sort of ginormous enterprise involving millions of people and gazillions of variables only guarantees one thing -- the invocation of the law of unexpected consequences. Copy and paste the following into the search bar of your favorite browser: USSR, 1922 - 1991.

Your Poppa used to describe himself (I've altered this description a bit, see next letter ) as a wild-eyed bleeding heart libertarian with conservative impulses. In my next letter, I'll start explaining how it's possible, in my case at least, to be a child of the left, right, and center simultaneously without any given one of my multiple personalities feeling the need/right/necessity to delete one of the others. Compromise don't demonize. 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.