The Heavenly Graces (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)

"The system is a jury-rigged combination of the "pagan" virtues appropriate to a free male citizen of Athens...and the "Christian" virtues appropriate to a believer. -Deirdre McCloskey 

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

A while back I wrote a series of -- letters/columns/whatever this is -- about the four Cardinal Virtues. I promised that at some point in the future I'd explore the three Theological Virtues. The three Theological Virtues are also called the Heavenly Graces, a name I much prefer, even though I am, for lack of a better word, an agnostic (it's complicated).

"I act as if God exists." -Dr. Jordan B. Peterson

The quote above is a tease. I will have more to say about this subject, as well as much to say about Dr. Peterson, going forward. If you're curious... (Apologies to my readers that follow me via the dead trees format.)

[A technical timeout has been called by Dana. Question: Cranky one, why do you regularly capitalize things that don't need to be capitalized? In fact, you have a tendency to play fast and loose with all sorts of writing rules.]

Answer: It's my whatever this is, and at the risk of peeing off the other kids, I get to follow my rules. Fear not, I won't bore you with a list of my rules, which are, um, flexible, and vary according to context. And by the way, I like Heavenly Graces simply because it sounds... cooler, poetic (I have a license).


OK class, a let's review. The four Cardinal Virtues get their name from the Latin word cardo (hinge). There are all sorts of virtues of course, but the meme is that these four, dating back to the time of the ancient Greeks, are regarded as fundamental. Other virtues hinge on these four: Prudence, Temperance, Courage, and Justice.

The early Christian church added the three Heavenly Graces (Theological Virtues) and titled the grouping the Seven Virtues. This was how the subject was presented to me in my Catholic grade school days, as a done deal. My original motivation for bringing this subject up remains the same.

"...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."  -me

"The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines VIRTUE (my caps) as 'an habitual and firm disposition to do the (my emphasis) good.'" -Wikipedia

Now, while I have no intention of exploring the teachings of the Catholic Church's Catechism, I will, in the future, have a thing or two to say about "the good," you've been warned. 

Which brings us, at last, to the Heavenly Graces. You know...

[Wait,wait,wait. Dana calls another technical timeout. I'm confused, are you talkin' spiritually or secularly? If this ain't about the Catholic Church's Catechism, specifically, or say, the early Christian church generally... I mean, Heavenly Graces?] 

Oh. Good point. I should've specified early on that the Heavenly Graces can easily be given a secular spin (not that I'm the first person to try and do so). Also, back when I wrote about the Cardinal Virtues I threatened to eventually write about the Heavenly Graces, but with a secular spin. In my defense, I'm aesthetically besotted with the phrase, Heavenly Graces.

[Iggy weighs in: HUH?]

Cool, I think it sounds really, really cool. Hey, where's your, um, where's Marie-Louise?

[Getting her nails done, why?]

Never mind, listen, could you guys stop interrupting? I'm working here.

[Well excuse US your Crankesty. C'mon Iggy, let's go fire up your Xbox. 
It's a Playstation Dana.
Whatever...]


Anyways... St. Paul is credited with pointing out the importance of the, OK fine, the Theological Virtues: Faith, Hope & Charity (or Love, it depends on which translation you're into.) Aquinas is credited with linking them to the Cardinal Virtues and turning them into The Seven Virtues, that, as I mentioned, were handed to me as a package back in dark, dank and misty days of the Black and White Ages.

Aquinas said that the Theological Virtues are supplied to us by God, via grace. Thus the name Heavenly Virtues. Personally I... excuse me my lawyer's calling, I'll be right back.

[DISCLAIMER: I am not a scholar, I don't even play one on TV. I'm merely a semi-humble multipotentialite with 39 certified college credits. Any and all scholarly, and/or scholarlyish sounding statements found in this missive, or in anything written by me, should be taken with a grain of salt.]

Personally, I think that regardless of where they come from, what you call them, or whether you favor a spiritual or secular spin, they and their cardinal cousins deserve your consideration. Think of them as the philosophical version of your favorite retro band that's trying to make another comeback now that everyone's out of rehab and they've replaced the dead guy.

[WARNING: What follows is a lame joke, but one much enjoyed by the author. Please skip the next paragraph if you're an easily offended senior citizen. Sexy Seasoned Citizens are encouraged to read on.]

A new study of numerous studies has revealed that people with car radios that have every button preset to call up nothing but classic rock or "oldies" stations can easily determine approximately what year their lives stopped.


Hmm. I'm rapidly approaching 900 words already. I'd originally planned to cover at least one of the Theological Virtues here, but I'm a slave to the whims and guidance of Marie-Louise. I think that... what's that Mary-Louie?

Excuse me, I'll be right back.

INSERT TUNE THAT'S PLAYED WHILE THE CONTESTANTS WRITE DOWN THEIR ANSWER QUESTION FOR FINAL JEOPARDY, HERE.

Sorry. Deirdre McCloskey, a polymath who will be asked to serve on King Crank's Privy Council of Perspicacious Polymaths once I assume power, has written extensively (to put it mildly) on the Seven Virtues. She's just like me in that she would like the Magnificent Seven to make a comeback.

Other than that we don't have much in common. I'm an old Crank from Flyoverland with 39 certified college credits and she's Dr. Deirdre McCloskey, Distinguished Professor of Economics, History, English, and Communication at the University of Illinois at Chicago. And them's just the high points.

COMING SOON TO HOOTERVILLE! DEIRDRE & THE VIRTUES AND THE STRAIGHT OUT OF REHAB TOUR!

I offer the following quotations because what could be more secular than the application of the Heavenly Graces to the business world. Oh, and I promise to never say Mary Louie in public again.

"...Love, to take care of one's own, yes. But it is also...love to care for employees and partners and colleagues and customers and fellow citizens, to wish all of humankind well...finding human and transcendent connection in the marketplace... ."

"...Faith, to honor one's community of business. "...also the faith to build monuments to the glorious past, to sustain traditions of commerce, of learning... ."

"...the Hope to imagine a better machine. "...to infuse the days work with a purpose, seeing one's labor as a glorious calling... ."

Go and sin no more. 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.

Howling At the Moon

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)

"You have to fight for your privacy or you lose it." -Eric Schmidt

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

According to Wikipedia: "The mass media is a diversified collection of media technologies that reach a large audience via mass communication. The technologies through which this communication takes place include a variety of outlets."

I'm old enough and historically literate enough (just) to confidently declare that the media has been massive, and growing, for quite some time. However, once the internet took over the world it was like last season's batboy batperson injecting massive amounts of steroids over the winter and returning as this season's home run king.

Everything changed, and quickly, and not always for the better.

[I insincerely apologize if I've inadvertently offended any of my readers, Sticky or gentleperson, who identifies with identity politics. When I composed the simile above I was thinking of Major League Baseball, pinky swear. And MLB, for now at least, only has home run kings. However, this does not preclude the fact that some of them may also be queens, at least on Saturday nights in the offseason.]

For example, Good Housekeeping or TV Guide, formerly banal examples of mass media, both have websites. Both subscribe to Dizzinformation Age orthodoxy, to wit, planting tiny little bits of code on your computer to keep an eye on you (cookies).

[Muted, POP! sound. And that's an invasion of privacy! ]

Oh, hello Dana. Well, yeah, but it's also good customer service. They keep track of your preferences so you don't have to start from scratch every time you visit their websites. And after all, you agreed to it, and you can opt out.

[But what about the ads that stalk us around the web offering up products based on bits (and bytes) of information about us stored here, there, over there, and who knows where the hell where?]

Well hey, all that advertising pays for an awful lot of "free" content (including my feeble scribbles actually, and I don't run ads -- thanks, Google!). And of course, you can always run an ad blocker. Amazingly, I've heard that the Goog will soon offer a chrome setting that will let you turn on an adblocker.

[Quick note: Although I can't prove it, 'cause I didn't click on it, and it was gone when I backed up to look for it, I saw an ad for -- an adblocker. I'm certain that if I went a-googling for ad blockers and clicked on a bunch of hits I'd see one again, repeatedly. But this is the only time it's ever happened at random, and I spend a lot of time web surfing. 

It served to remind me of the one and only time I saw a tow truck towing a tow truck. There's a certain cosmic, transcendent message in these two experiences but trying to express it in mere words could not possibly capture it. Sorry...as you were.]

Without targeted ads -- which are much more likely to be effective (and more relevant) than old fashion one size fits all advertising -- revenues will drop, the volume of free content will drop, and, no doubt, some employees will be dropped (look out below!).

[Whatever, hey, another thing that really...]

Wait,wait,wait -- I know,I know,I know. Just about everyone of a, um, certain age is concerned, to one degree or another, with the dramatic decline of privacy in the Dizzinformation Age. Most of the slightly younger people in my life, from meatspace to cyberspace, are also concerned.

However, their focus is on what sort of electronic trail/trash/record they're leaving behind and (hopefully) acting accordingly. They take for granted privacy ain't what it used to be.

They're right, it ain't isn't. The cliche holds, all you can do is all you can do. My version is all you can do is all you're prepared to do. While I occasionally long for a hermit's cave, I'm inordinately fond of indoor plumbing -- and climate control, and refrigerators, and microwaves, and...well, all sorts of energy consuming devices that the Cult of the Algore would see me burned at the (electric) stake for.

Perhaps my love fondness for my computer (the Algore really was important in the development of the internet by the way) will serve to mitigate my sentence after the Alt-Red Guard drags me off to a Re-education Center.


And we're back. Sorry, where I was headed, before Dana's interruption (see! it's not my fault for a change) was to posit a few thoughts on an aspect of the web that I don't much care for. To wit, it's turned the mass media into the Data Dragon.

Now, I'm a veritable web Silver Surfer (I am a "silver fox" --  from my distinguished widow's peak on up at least), and I stand by my comments above. But, being a somewhat introverted and privacy-loving old crank, I'm not crazy about the fact that there's no such thing as easily maintained privacy in the modern world -- ya' really got work at it.

As my conversation with Dana implies, I believe the Dizzinformation Age, and the web, generate numerous entries in both the pro and con columns. It's not the tool, it's how it's used. And unless you plan on doing something like taking up residence in a remote mountain monastery to seek enlightenment, you still have to share the playground with the other kids, even the often annoying mobile rectangle addicts (smartphone junkies).

BIG BUT

What I mean by the Data Dragon is that the mass media is everywhere and all the time and always keeping track and always tweaking the black boxed algorithms that determine the content of your highly individualized dizzinformation stream that is always coming at you at the velocity of water from a firehose.

[Dana: Woohoo! a point and a rant!
Ziggy: Whadayamean, Poppa?
Marie-Louise begins gently scratching]

Don't worry about it right now, Ziggy. You've never known a different way. Ooh, a little harder Marie-Louise, and to the left, ooooh! that's it!

Warning: Cultural Reference Ahead That May Indicate You're Even Older and More Out Of It Than You Thought You Were

The phrase customer service is often a euphemism for malevolent, constant customer surveillance by...

[Iggy, what are the bad guy Transformers called again? You mean Decepticons, Poppa?]

Cue voice of thunderous highly familiar voice over artist that you've repeatedly heard but have never heard of:

The Data Dragon, the incorporeal Decepticon that lives in the Cloud. Data Dragon, assembled by a loosely affiliated group of sexually frustrated heterosexual white males without girlfriends in the basements of their unsuspecting parents homes. Data Dragon, built at the behest of the evil ADICC, the Association of Data Interchange Control Companies. Data Dragon...


Look, there's a fine line between world-class customer service and constant customer surveillance by people prepared to use each and every freakin' technological/psychological/sociological/etceteralogical trick in the book to
close the deal/keep us watching/keep us reading/keep us etcetering.

"You gotta FIGHT - for your RIGHT -- to paaarty." -the Beastie Boys
"You have to fight for your privacy or you lose it." -Eric Schmidt
"...there has to be a trade-off between privacy concerns and functionality."
-Eric Schmidt

Eric Schmidt is Grand Imperial Poobah of the Goog, and according to Forbes, has a net worth of 11,200,000,000 bucks. 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.

• 
  

Global Warming, Settled Science?

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)

[Gentlereaders, please note: I tried to write about the recent slaughter of innocents in Las Vegas but all I could come up with was anger. First, anger directed at the asshole in the window(s). Honestly, I wish the cops had caught him before he shot himself and had thrown him out of one of those windows.

Second, anger at how quickly the usual suspects politicized this tragedy, as they politicize everything. But that's what sells, and that's how you get reelected.

Scott Adams logically and dispassionately analyzes both sides of the political debate and what can actually be done, in the real world. It's dry, and lengthy, and short on potential sound bytes, so you probably won't hear anything about it, but it's worth a read. Here's a taste:

"Both sides pretend they are arguing on principle, but neither side is. Both sides are arguing from their personal risk profiles, and those are simply different. Our risk profiles will never be the same across the entire population, so we will never agree on gun control."

What follows is sorta/kinda about climate change -- and a lot of other things. You know how I get. Nate, the hurricane of the week, is bearing down on us even as I write this last minute note. So, this letter is accidentally topical since certain members of the Algore cult have blamed this bad hurricane season on global warming even though the settled scientists say it's not true.

On with the show! You might want to warm up your coffee since this note has made an already long letter even longer. Lots of words and no pictures...I'm never gonna' go mainstream.]


"Science is a way of thinking much more than it is a body of knowledge."  -Carl Sagan

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

There's no such thing as settled science, and that's a good thing. There is such a thing as scientific consensus, and that's also a good thing.

Warning: Possibly Outdated Cultural Reference

I haven't talked to Martha Stewart lately (she got out, right?), but I'm sure she'd agree.

Resume Reading

If science were settled, that is, done, it wouldn't be science. It would be more like a religious sect with a very rigid dogma.

["All right, we're done here, everybody out of the lab. Looks like we finally know everything there is to know about everything. Make sure you sign up for occupational retraining on the way out. Remember, The Gummits paying for it and it's mandatory to qualify for extended benefits. What with robots and artificial intelligence and all, finding a decent job these days ain't gonna' be easy." 

"Oh, and don't forget to turn in your parking badge or your last check will be held till ya' do."]

Once upon a time and for a very long time, everyone -- smart, dumb, and in between -- knew the Earth was flat and the center of (comparatively speaking) a small, comprehensible universe. Nowadays, everyone (well, almost) -- smart, dumb, and in between -- knows the Earth is a round speck of dust (comparatively speaking) in an incomprehensibly large universe.

None of the former had an inkling that quantum mechanics would someday comprehensively describe how matter and energy behave at the incomprehensibly small atomic level. Most of the later (including me) find quantum mechanics incomprehensible although it is (they are?) the reason why I'm able to use a computer to write this.

Science is never settled because scientists know they can never possibly know all there is to know. The occasional major breakthrough opens up all sorts of new questions, and a good scientist always wants to know more.

There is scientific consensus. The scientists in a given field can (more or less) agree on something, particularly when experimental results can be independently verified and when these results are so reliable the engineers can turn them into useful products.

Consensus provides a reasonably stable platform for everyone, scientists and non-scientists, to stand on while we await the next mind-blowing breakthrough.


BIG BUT

Scientists, like everyone else, quibble over the who, what, when, where and why of a given consensus. Scientists, like everyone else, have egos and reputations and financial security to worry about. Some scientists, like some clergy -- and many politicians -- claim to be selfless public servants and often are anything but.

[Well thank you Mr. Obvious! declares Dana. Thanks for clearing that up! Why I...I had no idea! Marie-Louise gently places her hand on my shoulder, not scratching, and looks at me with concern. Iggy's performing at a neighboring high schools band night.]

Settle down, settle down. I'm just laying a solid foundation for the following.

In general, my dear Stickies, beware of experts, and, any and all H. sapiens whose first reaction to anyone questioning their position on this or that is to lash out emotionally and irrationally.

Experts are a good thing. People who have dedicated their lives to a particular field of knowledge, and are respected in their particular field of knowledge, are necessary and invaluable. They are also sometimes, as we all are, wrong about very important things.

The "good" ones, for lack of a better term, cheerfully (well...) admit it and move on.


There is a consensus among scientists who keep an eye on such things that the Earth is warming and that H. sapiens, to one degree or another (Pun, as usual, Intended and Relished -- PIR), are responsible. OK, I'll buy it. However, I'll entertain the arguments of reasonable people that disagree, scientist or not. More on that in a minute.

little but

In this subject, and all others, I tend to ignore the shrill infotainers of both the left and the right who make their living turning everything into a blood sport. I suggest that you do the same. I suspect that in most cases money, ego, and ratings are at the top of their list, truth at the bottom.

As to social media, of every sort, my default position is that every posting is complete bonkercockie until proven otherwise. I maintain that this is as commonsensical as, "Believe nothing  you hear, and only one half that you see." -Edgar Allen Poe

My advice is to cultivate a bucketful of usually reliable sources that includes an actual H. sapien or two that you speak to in real time and real space. It should be just large enough to assure you might have a clue as to what's going on. But, assume that all knowledge is provisional and subject to change, which is just another way of saying keep an open mind.


Which brings us back to global warming, or climate change, or whatever phrase is hot this week (PIR).

While Keeping In Mind (KIM) that experts often turn out to be wrong and while KIM that models that predict the future are often wrong and while KIM that I am, like most people, not a climate scientist and don't know how much I don't know (inhale) -- I'm still prepared to accept that man-made global warming is settled science the current consensus of those who study such things.

So, what should we do?

I decided to look into this and I decided that the Paris climate agreement would be the place to look. Since just about everyone, including America, signed on to this puppy, it must be a good thing, right?

What I learned, or rather, confirmed (since I already knew), was that Mr. Obama was so worried about global warming that he violated the Constitution of the United States and signed a treaty without getting the Senate to approve it. Although known in some circles as no drama Obama, he did what he thought needed to be done. This impressed me.

Then I learned that he channeled his inner lawyer (I didn't know this) and he said the reason he could do this was because the treaty was not really a treaty, it was a nonbinding agreement. Who needs courage when rationalization will do? This depressed me.

Geeze, if it's nonbinding, what's the point? Is that how we got away with what we did to the Native Americans? The treaties were nonbinding? See what happens when you don't sweat the fine print?

Next, I looked into why the Donald wants to back out of the deal, or not, it, um, depends. Anyway, he said the deal was stupid because it would disrupt the economy of the entire planet to reduce the average global temp by .02 degrees Celsius.

This looks like a job for factcheck.org!

Gentlereaders, read the FactCheck article, I dare you, I double dog dare you, all 1,704 scintillating words of it.

I did, two or three times. I'd really like you to read it because I must be wrong. I came away concluding that the bottom line is that while a gaggle of geeks from MIT agree with the Donald, that finding doesn't count. See, it doesn't take into consideration the fact that there will probably be additional nonbinding climate agreements on top of the current nonbinding one as time marches on.

I'm like, totally serious dude, check it out.

Of the 1,704 scintillating words, these are my favorite. "Other studies have shown greater reductions. Estimates differ because researchers make different assumptions at the onset of their calculations, such as whether countries will make more ambitious pledges to reduce carbon emissions in the future (my emphasis)."

The settled scientists and the politicians have determined that the best course of action is an international, nonbinding pinky swear that will make a significant dent in global warming -- if we all pinky swear to implement future nonbinding treaties that don't exist yet. Read this paragraph again for full effect.

That doesn't sound like a scientific solution to me, it sounds "...more like a religious sect with a very rigid dogma." -me But then, I'm not a scientist. 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.

Multipotentialites of the World, Unite!

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)

"A cat is a dilettante in fur." -Theophile Gautier

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

"I spend an inordinate amount of time online due to the fact that the Internet is ideal for a dilettante and current events junkie." -me

The slightly less than famous quote above is from my website. Specifically, it can be found by clicking on the Just Who Is This Guy Anyway tab and skipping to the seventh paragraph. I wrote it approximately 2.3 years ago and it's still true.

The word dilettante is often, no, usually used in a derogatory manner but I embrace this particular noun semi-proudly (see definition 2 below). More on that in just a sec'.

Merrian-Webster   1: an admirer or lover of the arts
                             2: a person having a superficial interest in an art or branch
                                  of knowledge
                              : DABBLER

Wait a minute. An admirer or lover of the arts? I've never heard anyone...wait a minute, I'll be right back.

[Insert insipid elevator music here]

OK. It's derived from an Italian word, dilettare, which means a person who loves the arts. There's even a Society of Dilettanti that dates to 1734 made up of "noblemen and scholars which sponsors the study of ancient Greek and Roman art...".

How the definition of the word (d)evolved to its current most common use (see definition 2 again) I've no idea. I'd pursue this further but I'm a dilettante and I've already lost interest.

[For the record, while I don't object to the use of the color red as it's the color of all the hyperlinks on the Merriam-Webster website, the fact they capitalized the word DABBLER for no apparent reason, leads me to believe that someone's disdain for dilettantes has colored their judgment.]


Now, looking up the word dilettante in my favorite (Merriam-Webster) online dictionary when I started this letter got me to thinking. It occurred to me that I had never gone in search of a word that meant essentially the same thing as dilettante but sounded way cooler. I found one.

Multipotentialite. For some reason (my discovery that the word dilettante originated in Italy?) I feel compelled to pronounce it with a cheesy Italian accent. Multah - potentia - LEE' - tah. Very cool.

[What was that? Marie-Louise (she's militantly French), did you just make that utterly disdainful sounding noise I'm not even gonna' try to spell? No answer. Looks like I won't be getting my back scratched today.]

According to a Wikipedia article I stumbled on to...

[I was web surfing and don't remember how I got there. This happens to me a lot. If it happens to you a lot you may also be a multipotentialite. Or, maybe one or both us suffers from attention deficit disorder.]

"Multipotentiality is an educational and psychological term referring to the ability and preference of a person, particularly one of strong intellectual or artistic curiosity, to excel in two or more different fields."

Uh oh, "...excel in two or more different fields." While I do have a strong intellectual and artistic curiosity I don't excel at one field much less two or more. I thought that was a Polymath (Merriam-Webster: a person of encyclopedic learning). Hmm. I better go back and reread the Wikipedia article carefully instead of skimming through it like a dilettante. I'll be right back.

[Insert insipid elevator music here]

Ah-Ha! Multipotentiality is the title of the article and it's apparently too new to have an official definition. But, according to the article, it's been used by various people in a way similar to the definition above.

However, Multipotentialite is credited to one Emilie Wapnick.

The Wikipedia article states specifically that "While the term 'multipotentialite' is often used interchangeably with 'polymath' or 'Renaissance Person', the terms are not identical. One need not be an expert in any particular field to be a mulitpotentialite".

Not only that, Ms. Wapnick runs a website for multipotentialites called Puttylike wherein I found the following. "My Definition -- A multipotentialite is someone with many interests and creative pursuits."

It's official, I'm not a just another middlebrow: "...aware of high culture, but is able to balance aesthetic claims with the claims of the everyday world." I'm a freakin' multipotentialite, baby! And yes, Virginia Stickies, middlebrow is not only an actual word it's the subject of a Wikipedia article. Poppa loves you.


Random Randomness: Charlie the Tuna

I wonder, my dear Stickies, if Charlie the Tuna will still be around and traumatizing your children after I've been deleted. I'd forgotten about Charlie but recently discovered, via a commercial on the prime rectangle, that he's still around and still consumed by his disturbing obsession.

In case you're unaware, Charlie's sick and twisted fantasy, since 1961, is to be captured by placing a hook in his mouth and subsequently killed and eaten. I can't help but wonder how much damage has been done over the years by societies favorite vorarephiliac.

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.

Trump Announces the Fourth Reich

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)

"Republics decline into democracies and democracies degenerate into despotisms." -Aristotle


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies,

Humbug Alert: This is the third, and last, of a series of columns with outrageous and/or bogus headlines designed to capture an influx of new and unwary gentlereaders. In my defense, the big boys do this sort of thing all the time. This particular column has the unique distinction of having virtually nothing to do with its headline. It's a literary Hail Mary pass -- my humbugery, so far at least, has failed.

However, since it's standard procedure in some quarters to name the Donald as the poster child for anything/everything that's wrong/ever was wrong with the USA, there's at least a tenuous connection. See, this letter is actually about yours truly watching America, politically and culturally, decline in the course of my 39 years, but I don't blame the Donald.


My dear Grandstickies, that is, the four of you that currently exist (who knows what'll be going on when your kids are growing up), at the moment you are in the process of growing up in a wildly chaotic, politically/culturally polarized era. We haven't seen its like since the legendary sixties.

Let me clarify that a bit, modern America hasn't seen it's like. I hesitate to speak of/to/for other locales. The planet Earth has seen its like/is in the midst of witnessing its like -- often, and often much worse.

I was unaware of just how wildly chaotic and politically/culturally polarized the legendary sixties were even though I was busy growing up in the midst of them. I mean, I was aware there was a lot of wild shtuff going on but frankly, I thought it was, well, fun, and exciting. Give us a minute and we'll fix all the shtuff the grups screwed up. Most of my fellow Baby Boomers and I had no firm plans beyond that.

[Hey, wait a minute...]

Relax, Dana, I see it, I'm on it. Dana was about to object to the fact that the last paragraph implies that the Baby Boomers were an idealistic, united front for positive change. Nope. In spite of stereotypes and how some remember the period, culturally and politically speaking we were, and are, all over the map.

We came of age in the midst of an imperfect storm of cultural/political/economic/technological and who knows what all-i-cal developments. But we didn't conjure them out of thin air. We just happened to be there. And most of us didn't turn on, tune in, and drop out. Most of us weren't at Woodstock. Most of us didn't participate in, or get anywhere near, a protest or a riot. Etcetera.

But the thing is, as I've written repeatedly, the tot did get tossed out with the Jacuzzi water. The culture fragmented and the fragments are fragmenting. It took a long time for Rome to die. I can't help but wonder if all of our vaunted technology and wealth will help to destroy us in record time.


Being a callowyute I had no real appreciation of just how fragile civilization actually is. It wasn't until I was a grup that I had any notion that things could have gotten out of hand. Things got out of hand. Things are getting worse.

My fellow boomers and I were familiar with terrorism, but mostly from the comfort and safety of our living rooms. The Palestine Liberation Organization was founded by a world-class terrorist but they specialized in murdering Jews, overseas.

When your parents were coming up things got a bit more personal. and a lot more dangerous. Al Qaeda dramatically expanded on the concept, murdering any and all infidels. Also, inadvertently murdering fellow Muslims was considered acceptable collateral damage.

You're coming up in the ISIS age. They openly advocate murdering and/or enslaving anybody that doesn't believe in their nasty little version of Islam via any means at hand. A car or a knife is as good as a bomb, if less productive.

In the not too distant past the existential threat posed by those who embrace this cult of death, these Muslims in name only, would've united us. Though flawed, hypocritical, and having committed no shortage of sins (rather like the average H. sapien), America could (more or less...) play as a team, when they had to. Could (more or less...) compromise, when they had to.


BIG BUT.

The American body politic is suffering from two different but potentially deadly strains of bacteria that are coming at us from the (alt) left and the (alt) right.

As to who exactly belongs to what side and what they're advocating is impossible to define. Fragments of fragments are perpetually at war with each other as well as anyone identified as the other.

"At this shank end of a summer that a calmer America someday will remember with embarrassment, you must remember this: In the population of 325 million, a small sliver crouches on the wilder shores of politics, another sliver lives in the dark forest of mental disorder, and there is a substantial overlap between these slivers." -George Will

[Man..if I could write like that I bet I'd have more than a single patron.]

Unfortunately, the slivers are given outsized coverage by the salivating media. Keeping the pot stirred 24 x 7 is where the money is. Having a tendency to see my glass of beer as half empty I have to admit I sometimes don't share Mr. Will's optimism ("...America someday will remember with embarrassment..."). I hope for your sakes he's right. 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.

George Stephanopoulos Never Sleeps

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)

"There is a time for many words -- and there is also a time for sleep." -Homer

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Humbug Alert: Although I don't understand how he finds the time, to sleep I mean, I'm sure he does. Unless of course, genetically speaking, he is or has been upgraded. Are there H. sapiens 2.0 loose in the world? Perhaps he's a hologram or cyborg of some sort. Ooh, I know! maybe he's a...

Sorry, never mind. I'm wandering off already and all I wanted to say was this is week two of your friendly neighborhood Crank posting bogus titles in an effort to lure more readers. Poppa's gotta' eat while he waits for one or more of you to step up and supply the lifestyle I would've/should've had.

To wit, had I not been kidnapped by gypsies from my wealthy, aristocratic, but dissolute family. The tragic story that culminated with my "father" winning me in a poker game in Deadwood, South Dakota.

What this missive is actually about is what a lazy man I am and how I wish everyone else was as lazy as I am and how I suspect I'm not alone in that fantasy. And why, although I understand the need for, and the point of, productivity -- I wish over-achievers, like George Stephanopoulos for example -- would slow down and set a better example.


I'd lost track of Mr. S. (while I enjoy the way the name Stephanopoulos rolls off the tongue there's just no way I'm gonna' type it more than twice, told you I was lazy). To be honest, I haven't thought about him since the late nineties. Mr. S., my dear Stickies and any gentlereaders who may not be aware, made his political bones as a conflicted minion/wunderkind of the Hilliam.

He left the Clinton administration shortly after they were re-elected to work as a commentator for ABC news. I heard somewhere (I don't remember what the source was) that when his tell-all book came out late in the Hilliam's second term that some of the Hilliam's remaining minions referred to him as a common-traitor. For some unknown reason, this stuck in my head.

For another reason, a known reason, something else stuck in my head. More on that in a minute.

[Note: Hillary + William Clinton = (ominous organ chord) the Hilliam.]

Anyway, while I was a-googling for something else, I stumbled on the fact that Mr. S. is now an anchor for ABC's Good Morning America. And that he's the anchor of ABC's evening news show. And that he's the anchor of ABC's Sunday morning news show. What? no game show?

Phew!


Now, while I had a vague notion he was still affiliated with ABC, as what used to be real news on the talking lamp has devolved into infotainment, I've gradually, mostly, stopped paying attention.

Flipping the talking lamp back and forth between MSNBC and FOX news (as well as clicking back and forth between FOX news and USA Today online) suffices to provide me with an accurate snapshot of this particular aspect of the Information Industrial complex.

[The next paragraph, I admit, may be a bridge too far. However, I didn't have the heart to delete it because I really like it. Please feel free to skip it.]

OPTIONAL PARAGRAPH: Calvin Coolidge said, "After all, the chief business of the American people is business." Nowadays. business, and politics, and, well, everdamnthing in America is show business. And because the talking lamp has spawned kabillions of electronic rectangles of all sizes, the show never ends.

Anyway, Mr. S. became a poster boy for over-achievers while I wasn't paying attention.


Which brings us to Cindy, the girl I sat next to in the eighth grade, and my first overachiever. Cindy, like me, was of average intelligence. Cindy, unlike me, worked her ass off to make up for it.

Still, she was a good friend and a nice person, but I found her diligence baffling. Why work so hard for good grades in mostly boring subjects when all you had to do was work hard enough to get at least a C? And I mean... it's the eighth grade, we're callowyutes!

In my defense: I was a daydreaming, rock n' roll smitten, sex-obsessed (not that I was getting any), introverted, novel reading product of working-class parents who required very little of me. Also, it was a different world. While I had no idea what I wanted to do, jobs were plentiful. I'd worry about that later. After all, I was bulletproof and going to live forever. What's the hurry?

[Any and all Stickies, please note, the previous paragraph does not apply to you. Please refer to your parents, or me if I haven't been deleted, for clarification. However, I highly recommend that you all seek the balance betwixt work and the rest of life that makes you happy content and not work all the damn time just because someone told you you're supposed to work all the damn time.] 


Which brings us back to Mr. S. When I stumbled on the fact he works three jobs I went looking further and (re)discovered that the book he wrote, the one that got him labeled a common-traitor? Well, he received an advance for it, nearly 20 years ago, of $2,800,00, and, it was a best seller. Of course, a million went a lot further in those days.

See, by then the Hilliam was world famous for their world class scandals -- e.g., "I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky." The world wanted to know what Mr. S knew about stained blue dresses, missing records that materialized out of thin air, and...

Well, it's quite a lengthy list and there are many books devoted to the subject if you were around but desire to be refreshed (gentlereaders) or weren't around but are curious what happened when the first boomer president (Slick Willie) stumbled into the White House.

This was the other factoid, referenced above, that got stuck in my head in the late nineties and was knocked loose when I accidentally stumbled on the fact Mr. S. doesn't sleep. I remembered thinking, at the time, that he was one fortunate son. A pile of dough to sit on, single, and a good gig to prevent having to touch the principal while he figured out when he wanted to pull the plug and go fishin'.


I'm older, slightly wiser, and know shtuff I didn't even think about in the eighth grade. I know that not being born into a rich family increases the odds that you'll not be a hooplehead. I know that anything worth actually having is worth working hard for. I know that a lot of things people think are worth working hard for are not.

I know that there's no such thing as a free lunch. I know that as a nation we all need to be willing to be at least as productive as necessary to maintain a country where the poor are fat and many of the 99% never stop whining about the 1% that pay nearly 50% of The Gummits tab.

I know that twenty years after Mr. George Robert Stephanopoulos was blessed with a golden ticket worth $3,000,000 (plus) I'd be willing to give up one of my less important body parts for $3,000,000 (without the plus).

I'd invest conservatively with a goal of making 5% interest so I could live on $100,000 a year (not exactly tough for a widower in Flyoverland), roll $50,000 over to keep the principal growing, and I'd leave half of it to my Stickies and half to homeless shelters.

Then I'd go fishin'. Told you I was lazy. 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.

Uncertainty Is the Only Certainty There Is,...

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)

"My life has been filled with terrible misfortune; most of which never happened." -Montaigne


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies, 

"Uncertainty is the only certainty there is, and knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security." -John Allen Paulos. Mr. Paulos is a mathematician that looks like a mad scientist (in a good way).

This quote was the next to the last line of my last letter, The Only Thing That is Constant is Change. The subject of that letter was change, not uncertainty (it's not you, it's me). However, as promised, this letter is about uncertainty. It's inspired by the quote above, which, as you may remember, I admitted was about a kabillion times better than my lame version -- the only thing that's certain is uncertainty.

Full disclosure. I'm only vaguely aware of the work (literarily speaking only, I possess the mathematical prowess of fruit fly) of Mr. Paulos. However, he's on my list of people whose work I'll explore, eventually, maybe. Unfortunately, I'd have to live to the ripe old age of 300 or so to make a dent in the list, if I were to stop adding to it today.


"It's uncertainty that really makes us crazy" -me. Well, as it turns out, the fear of change can really make us crazy as well.

See, I originally began this part of the letter thusly: To one degree or another, we all make our peace with change. Ah, but uncertainty... But then I thought, no, wait a minute, I'll betcha a bottle a pop that there's a phobia. There's a phobia, metathesiophobia. 

I mention this because it's only fair. I don't know, but for all I know, there are people whose lives revolve around dealing with their crippling fear of change. I do know that I do know more than a few people who battle various and sundry anxieties all day, every day.

That said, with all due deference and empathy for all those who fear their personal demons might have a better chance of winning than I think/hope mine do, I maintain my original premise. For most folks, it ain't change, its uncertainty.


Which brings us back to -- to one degree or another, we all most of us make our peace with change. As I said last time, we don't necessarily care for a particular change but since changes are inevitable, right up to the very last one (deletion), you deal.

Also, when we get stuck in a rut we can't wait for a change or a least a happy distraction to come along. Hence, the popularity of vacations.

Ah, but uncertainty (change's cousin) and uncertainty's twin sibling, insecurity, those are world class anxiety generators for almost everyone.

Oh, before I forget... my dear Stickies you will, no doubt, encounter people who claim to love uncertainty and insecurity. They'll claim that they absolutely thrive on uncertainty and insecurity. They are either lying to you and/or themselves and/or have psychological problems.

I make no sweeping judgments. I've known some, um, very interesting people who make this claim. Just be careful. As always -- open heart, open mind -- but be careful.


If you're bored, you may actually go out of your way to drum up some change.

BIG BUT.

Suppose you're one of the lucky minority of people (roughly a third) that are "engaged" at work. I'm guessing you probably feel as though you're on the right path (certainty) and confident that you're unlikely to be laid off anytime soon (secure).

When folks are certain they've taken the right path or made the right choice and their feeling emotionally/financially/whateverly secure, they're unlikely to decide their good fortune is boring and decide to go for a walk at 3 A.M. down Crime and Drugs Avenue in search of adventure.

(Well, with the possible exception of some of those very interesting people I mentioned above.)

No, most of us would strive to seek out the version of a straight and narrow path that looks most likely to maintain our personal status quo. But shtuff happens.


Sooner or later, probably sooner, life's gonna' bite you on the ass. I'm not talking about the gentle nips we're all subject to from day one. I'm talking about the first time it feels like you've sat on a bear trap. If you're lucky this may not happen for awhile. For more than a few, it happens early and keeps on happening.

Regardless of how our particular life rolls out, we will all be introduced to uncertainty and insecurity. From an evolutionary/survival standpoint, this makes sense. Stay sharp and avoid being eaten. However, the consequences will be measured on the anxiety scale and range from mild to debilitating.

Whether God or evolution wired us this way, we're wired this way. Regardless of your level on the anxiety scale, regardless of what pushes your uncertainty/insecurity button, this is a game that can't be won no matter how hard you try. Happy, healthy, wealthy and wise people are dying slowly and painfully, or quickly and horribly, even as you read this.


Which is why, "... and knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security."

Now, assuming that your anxiety level is (at least usually) and (at least mostly) manageable -- with or without professional assistance and/or pharmaceuticals:

1. Acknowledge/accept that uncertainty/insecurity, and the resulting anxiety, is part of the unchangeable nature of reality of life on Earth. Everyone's in the same boat, some just have nicer cabins than others. You're not gonna' wake up one day and be "cured." There is no cure, but you might just be able to generate a lower reading on the anxiety scale.

2. When you feel uncertain/insecure/anxious/etc. -- name it, then spit in its eye. "I'm feeling _______ because _______, so be it. I've been here before and I didn't die (or get eaten). I'll be here again." You can't make it go away; don't waste your energy trying. Identify it, call it out, take a deep breath or two and it'll lose at least half its power over you, maybe more.

3. Cultivate your own methods for stress reduction. I highly recommend going for a drive by yourself and singing an improvised operatic aria about the problem at full volume, but to each their own. Hint: keep the windows rolled up unless you're an opera singer in real life.

4. When you're not feeling uncertain/insecure/anxious/etc., take note, and be grateful. Think about this when you're feeling bored. Have you ever said, or heard anyone say, "My life sucks sweaty socks, I'm not feeling the least bit uncertain or insecure today."

5. There's more than one study out there that claims a moderate amount of anxiety is good for you.

6. If you go a-googling you will regularly encounter someone pointing out that scientific studies show that 85% (or some other number, but 85% is popular for some reason) of the shtuff we worry about never happens.

[Um, I was unable to verify that anyone has ever actually conducted such a study which makes sense when you think it through. How could you possibly/accurately determine what actually happened (or not)? It's the Information/Dizzinformation age, we're swimming in data, and yet people feel free to quote non-existent statistics. Now that worries me. Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, never mind, don't worry about it. 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.