Before I Wake Up Dead

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

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

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My sublime, drop-dead gorgeous muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher

Iggy -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"Some people die at 25 and aren't buried until 75." -Benjamin Franklin

DANGER!

Possibly Excessive Self Promotion Ahead

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Please hold on for just a sec', I've got to speak to the gentlereaders first...

My Dear Gentlereaders, FYI, my website, TheFlyoverlandCrank.com is not only -- New and Improved! -- it's still improving even as I write this. First, the Please Read This If You're New Here Tab is now called, Who Is This Guy Anyway?

If you've read Please Read This If You're New Here before, well, it hasn't radically changed but it now explains who I am and what this column is about more clearly and might be worth a reread on your part.

If you've never checked out my site it's definitely worth reading my -- New and Improved! -- introductory essay, Who Is This Guy Anyway? It's only the length of about two of my average columns but it attempts to provide my gentlereaders with the who, what, and why of my semi-humble missives.

The Glossary is updated, expanded (and ever expanding). This is where you need to look for explanations when you encounter a made-up word, be it my creation or one I stole borrowed from someone else. You'll also find the explanations behind corrupted/distorted/etceterated words such as shtuff or snifficant or etceterated.

I think it's worth reading for its own sake (You'll Laugh! You'll Cry!) but I don't get out that much.

There are two brand new tabs (you may have read about them in The New York Times or heard them mentioned on your favorite polarizing cable news channel).

Come On And Safari With Me, a title stolen borrowed from a Beach Boys song, Surfin' Safari, is where I post links to interesting shtuff I find when I surf the Web. Though obviously a thinly veiled attempt to get you to visit my website to check for updates, I pinky swear that I will do my best to post cool links there.

I used to post these sort of links on the Flyoverland Crank's Facebook page. Going forward I'll only use the FB page to announce new columns and post links to Wall (no fake news) Street Journal articles, the only way to share WSJ articles due to a very sturdy paywall.

Finally, the new Privy Council of Perspicacious Polymaths tab lists the names of the individuals chosen to be members of my privy council once I become the King of America. Each name is accompanied by a video that will introduce my future subjects to my favorite polymaths.

Warning!

The format of my website contradicts the conventional wisdom of  people that make a very nice living advising other people how to make a very nice living by constructing their websites to be honey traps for people who don't like to read and/or whose attention spans have been reduced to the level of high functioning chimpanzees due to the pace of modern life and social media addiction. This is why so much of the web is beautiful graphics, minimal words, sexed-up titles, bums and boobies, and aggressive never-ending, advertising. I offer mostly just words, and no ads.

Now, where was I... oh, yeah waking up dead. Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies...

Death Is Natures Way of Telling You to Slow Down

...And although this saying of uncertain etymology is only vaguely relevant to what follows I threw it anyway because I like it and want to use it somewhere before I die. 

Although I currently self-identify as a 39-year-old drop dead gorgeous African-American lesbian woman person named Coco, I'm trapped inside the body of a 64-year-old cranky white dude who's currently dealing with spinal stenosis.

Spinal stenosis (sounds ugly don't it?) generated problems range from relatively mild to relatively awful. For now, I'm at the relatively mild end of the scale. That could change with time, but I'm on it.

The reason I mention this is because I've been mildly obsessed with death for couple-a-three years now because, one, for the first time in my life I had/I have some serious health problems and two, I know a lot of dead people. Oh, and an awful lot of famous people that I've been aware of for decades are dropping dead.

As to number one, yes, of course I'm grateful. As to number two, yes, of course, I'm aware that people succumbing to involuntary dirt naps with depressing regularity is a logical/inevitable/commonsensical/etceterical stone cold fact. No need to take it personally, right?

For the record, while I don't want to die just yet -- I've got a bunch of shtuff I need/I'd like to get done -- I don't fear death. In fact, I'm kinda/sorta looking forward to it for philosophical reasons, positive ones that I won't go into here. But, I must admit that the possibility of dying slowly and painfully is somewhat disconcerting.


Now, when I say mildly obsessed, I mean just that. It's always sort of there, in the background, like a simmering pot of subtle potpourri.  A simmering pot of subtle potpourri... say it out loud with a French accent. Cool, huh? Well, not exactly, because I hate the smell of a simmering pot of potpourri. Subtle -- or as strong as a house full of Glade Plug-Ins cranked all the way up -- I'll pass.

But I fell in love with the simile as soon as I wrote it so it's probably going to still be here when I click on the Publish button.

While I don't sit around all day thinking about death (though I do sit around all day, it's a stenosis thing) I'm, um, TRIGGERED! that's it!, something for the Millennials to relate to. I'm triggered when I'm reminded of my inevitable deletion from meatspace.


Until relatively recently, I thought I was bulletproof, ten feet tall, and going to live forever. The realization that I'm not is one of the reasons I started writing these letters/this column.

However, the death of Tom Petty + spinal stenosis + siblings in worse shape than I + the fact that the Wompa Woman can't be bothered to do her exercises anymore + other shtuff = Cranky cranking out a column (or two or...) and writing down everything he'd tell his beloved Stickies if he knew he was scheduled for momentary deletion...

[Dana: Huh?]
[Iggy; Tom who?]
[Marie-Louise, stops scratching, places hands on hips (hers, not mine): French accent?]

While fervently hoping I'm not. But ya' never know, ya' know?


Having already crossed the 1,000-word threshold due to my intemperate self-promotion, it's too late to thoroughly explore the very first thing that came to mind when I thought about what I'd like to make sure I told yinz if I were facing impending deletion.

That is to say, the importance of finding positive meaning in life/in your lives.

However, rather than just leave you hanging, here's a taste of what's coming next week

A few weeks ago I wrote about Hope and/or Goals (Heavenly Graces, Pt. 3). I mentioned that there are physiological reasons for why goal seeking makes you feel good. Well, in order to find positive meaning in your life, you need a goal that you find valuable. The pursuit of goals will make you feel good and supply meaning which will make you feel even better.

See, the thing is...well here, step into Dr. Peterson's class for just a minute. 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.

Faith and/or Trust (Heavenly Graces, Pt. 4)

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)

"I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it." -Edgar Allen Poe. I wonder if his mom or his friends called him Eddie?

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies, 

"Faith is the infused virtue, by which the intellect, by a movement of the will, assents to the supernatural truths of Revelation,.. ."

"...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 first quote above is how Wikipedia defines Faith, theologically speaking.

The second is a secularized version, Faith applied to that most secular of sectors, business and/or the marketplace. It's from an essay (as you already know if you're not new here) written by Dr. Deirdre McCloskey. 


This is my last letter/column/whatever this is (well, for now at least) of a series in which I attempt to apply the Theological Virtues (or -- SOUND OF HARP BEING STRUMMED -- the Heavenly Graces) in a secular way.

For newbies, the Theological Virtues were presented to me as part of a package deal called the Seven Virtues when I was but wee lad attending Catholic grade school several thousand days ago in the Black & White Ages.

For oldbies who aren't aware, and those who read me via the dead trees format and who tend to be a bit techno-shy, when one blogs writes a weekly column on the web you have to be aware that with a potential audience of 7,500,000,000 ya' gotta allow for the fact that newbies are going to stumble on your semi-humble missives.

Since my readership is slightly smaller than that I think it's just good form to allow for it. Also, I have readers that are even older than I am and who, like me, suffer from CRS (can't remember, um, shtuff).


Now, the reason I'm doing Faith last is that Faith is well, Faith. At the risk of being accused of having a keen eye for the obvious, let me explain. To me at least, and yes I realize this doesn't necessarily apply to you, the word Faith is heavily associated with Faith in/fear of God. 

In my defense, when I did an eight-year bit in Catholic grade school in the Black & White Ages the teachers were mostly nuns -- the old fashion/old school/back in the day kind -- with theological/ideological/occasionally psychopathological hair on their carefully concealed chests.

Faith in God, as conceived by the Catholic Church, was literally beaten into me. For the record, as far as I can tell, the lasting marks are mostly good ones. Corporal punishment usually consisted of a crack on the palm with a ruler, and was usually deserved.  

But I also suspect that the nearly daily reminders that if I died with a major league unconfessed sin on my soul -- e.g., missing Sunday mass for any reason other than a potentially lethal illness -- might result in eternal damnation, may have had a slightly negative impact.  


OK, Faith... hmm, let's see, um... nothing. OK, Faith, as applied to um, oh yeah! that supremely secular sector mentioned in the second sentence of this missive, business. 

"...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... ."

I've been "in business," twice, once mildly successfully. I was the owner-operator of an ice cream truck, thank you for not laughing. In fact, several years prior to that, I worked for Good Humor when they were in the process of phasing out of street vending. For those of you in the know, I watched the (old school) slideshow, aced the test, and was taught how to peddle popsicles and drive a stick shift by a corporate employee.

A more recent attempt, but one that's now far enough behind me that I can mention it without having an anxiety attack, something I attempted in a storefront, was an utter failure. However, the failure taught me some invaluable lessons. Actually, that statement is incorrect. They weren't invaluable lessons, but they were very expensive lessons. In fact, I know exactly how much they cost. 


In certain circles, business/the free market/capitalism/etceterism is oft-maligned and frequently scapegoated. This is in spite of the fact that the world has recently (relatively speaking...) stumbled into what Dr. McCloskey calls the Great Enrichment: an age of literally unprecedented prosperity powered by the usual suspects listed in the previous sentence. However...    

[What's that got to do with Faith, your garrulousness?]

Hey, Dana. Well, there's a lot of applied Faith going on in the market, in fact, without it I suspect there wouldn't have been a Great Enrichment and most H. sapiens would still be living the life of 99.999% of their ancestors. That is, "...solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." (HT: Thomas Hobbes). Not even basic cable; no need for a weight loss industry. How would -- Hi, I'm Marie! -- feed all those adopted kids? 


Now, when I was a Good Humor Man Person, a "Goody Bar Man Person" (it's a Pittsburgh with an h thing), although most of the gajillion relatively tiny political entities that surround Pittsburgh that would be all be Pittsburgh if Pittsburgh was located in say, Texas, and would be both more efficiently and more cheaply run because...

[Marie-Louise is giving me the stink eye.]

Sorry, that's a different letter. Anyways... because Good Humor, which was founded in Youngstown, Ohio, which is, by the way, less than 70 miles from Pittsburgh with an h...

[Cough, cough.]

Sorry, when I was a Good Humor Person, my kids -- every Good Humor Person referred to the customers on their carefully established and maintained route as "my kids" -- my kids, and their parental units, had Faith that my goody bars wouldn't send them to the emergency room.

That is, they Trusted me. Trust, is applied Faith.

Good Humor's "sustained traditions of commerce," were safe to eat, yummy goody bars delivered to your street at roughly the same time and on the same days (weather permitting and romances under control) by um, mostly relatively normal, hygienic individuals (and the occasional, um, slightly eccentric citizen).

The customers Trusted that I would show up when I was supposed to, sell them a product that was only slightly misrepresented by the perfect images displayed on the menu boards (hey, talk to the marketing people...) and not shortchange the kids.

[That's your idea of applied Trust? The local ice cream truck driver? Have you met our...]

No, Dana, I haven't. He stopped coming around fairly early in the season because after experiencing his ridiculous prices, crappy product, and vaguely menacing air a time or two, nobody Trusted him and the kids started abusing him -- from a careful distance. No Trust, no sales. No Trust, no relationship. No Trust, no...

[Well I still think...]

Dana, are you aware that when eBay first started, before they built their rating system, that people could hire a middlema..., uh, middleperson, to broker the deal because it was assumed that customers would send rubber checks for non-existent merchandise?

They all went out of business, very quickly. If lots of people had sent rubber checks for non-existing merchandise eBay would've gone out of business, very quickly. This shtuff has a way of working itself out, very quickly.

Doveryai, no proveryai is a Russian proverb that means Trust, but verify. Google: Reagan, Ronald. I can assure you that...

[What's that got to do with anything? and what about relationships? I Trusted someone that I was supposed to marry. I arranged my whole life around this fact and one day woke up next to a stranger who was in short order, gone.]

But it might have worked out, and that's as good as it gets. If you hadn't taken the chance, there wouldn't have been anything to work out. You learn your lessons, lick your wounds, live to love another day. Or not, but I don't recommend it. No Trust, no Faith, no -- anything. 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.

Hope and/or Goals (Heavenly Graces, Pt. 3)

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)

"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." -Einstein


Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Wikipedia: "Hope is defined as a Divinely infused virtue, acts upon the will, by which one trusts, with confidence grounded on the Divine assistance, to attain life everlasting. Its opposite is the sin of despair."

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

The first quote above is Wikipedia's theological definition of the Theological Virtue, Hope, one of the three Theological Virtues (or Heavenly Graces). 

The second is a secularized version of Hope, as posited by Dr. Deirdre McCloskey. Dr. M., my favorite economist, and future member (once I assume power) of King Crank's Privy Council of Perspicacious Polymaths. 

If you're new here, or even if you're not, and like me, your memory ain't what it used to be, this is the third of a series of columns about the three Theological Virtues. 

To be more specific, it's my semi-humble attempt at offering a secular version of these three particular virtues that are part of something that I was taught was a very big deal, The Seven Virtues. Of course, this was several thousand days ago in the Black & White ages, so...   

I decided to use Dr. McCloskey's quote(s) as a demonstration of how the Theological Virtues can easily be translated into secular ones in all four parts of this series of columns. I did this because they're all from an article she wrote about The Magnificent Seven applied to the marketplace, the world of business -- a notoriously secular sector. 


[Dana awakes. Nice introduction, but, um, Hope as a Virtue? I don't get it. You either have hope, or you don't, regardless of the subject in question. I stopped hoping my boss would extract his head from his bum a long time ago. On the other hand...]

She wore a glove?

[Don't be an eembaasle, and don't interrupt me with corny jokes that are even older than you are. I was going to say that on the other hand, I Hope that if I keep looking I'll find a better job. But I can't choose to be hopeful. Aren't you the one that said you can't choose to love? How can you choose to be hopeful? 

And for the record, your habit of capitalizing words that don't need capitalizing, and no shortage of your other goofy writing practices, gets on my nerves.]

For my record, my goofy writing practices are part of my eccentric charm. Also, before I forget, eembaasle (accent on the first syllable) is how a native Colombian character from the Netflix drama Narcos pronounced imbecile when I was watching it the other day. It was love at first hearing, with the word, not the character.

If any of my gentlereaders find my usage, spelling, and pronunciation of eembaasle triggers anyone I insincerely apologize. I love the sound of it for its own sake and I'd love it just as much if it were used by an Eskimo. I love it the same way I love the fact Buggs Bunny says maroon instead of moron. The way an Irish character, in a show I can't remember the name of, said eejit instead of idiot.

After all, Dana's right, you can't choose to love, or not. You do or you don't. Besides, hooplehead remains my go-to word in this category.


In Last week's column, I pointed out that love can be elevated to a Virtue when it's applied across the board in a practical, realistic fashion. When it's used as a tool to help you get along with the other kids on the playground. When you try to treat everyone on the planet the same way you'd like to be treated, even my second favorite dictator, Xi Dada.

"...we're talkin' big picture conceptualization here people. Think of Charity as love in action, applied love." -me

And, while we're kinda/sorta on the subject...

I should've also mentioned two other things. Good manners are a form of love in that they make it possible to at least try to communicate with hoopleheads without the situation immediately deteriorating into something like the lowest common denominator Infotainment that pours out of your primary and mobile rectangle (largest TV and smartphone).

Also, watch your back and don't be a sap. Masochism as a fallback position in any and all situations is not a good idea. Save it for... well, nevermind, that's really none of my business. Anyway, consider them mentioned.


Sorry, it's not you, it's me. Where was I? In last week's column... yadda, yadda, yadda... Oh! I know! As Charity (or even just good manners) is applied Love and becomes a Virtue when universally applied (as opposed to huffa-huffa, I love you, I've got to have you baby!), A Goal is applied Hope. It doesn't work as well a Love/Charity, semantically speaking, but it's close enough.

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

See it? Steve Jobs, at least from what I gather (surprisingly enough we never met), was a Dick. 

[Mon Dieu!] 

Sorry Marie-Louise, none of the insults above apply, he was a genius after all... Anyways, he had a Goal, to make a bunch of existing machines better and change the world. Sure, Apple's shtuff is overpriced, and whether or not smartphones made the world better or worse is debatable, but let us not quibble. Lots of people love Apple's products. 

Also, they enable the cool kids to help boost our economy with a product that costs more than some people on the planet make in a year, while still looking down on the evil 1%, while they ignore the inconvenient truth that globally speaking if you live in America you are a member of the evil 1%. (Which helps to explain why all sorts of people would give up a body part of lesser importance to live here in spite of our evil tendencies.) 

Consider the often derided fast food joint manager ("a burger flipper with a tie in a skirt") who started on the line and whose Goal is to climb the corporate ladder so his her family can live decently and who may not even like his her job all that much. But her applied Hope, her Goal, will benefit her kids, that di... dope she's married to, and potentially, you. She busts her buns to supply you with the experience her employer (and you) Hopes you'll have so that everyone involved gets to keep their job.


Finally, consider the phrase, Hopes and dreams. Dreams are good. However, if you want a dream to come true, convert it into a Hope. Why? Hope, applied Hope, is how to make a dream come true. How? Turn your Hope into a Goal. Change the world. Be Virtuous. 

Free Bonus! A Fun Fact For No Additional Charge!  

If you have a goal, every time you execute a step towards it your body rewards you with a treat, a shot of dopamine. the happy hormone. However, once you reach your goal, this stops. This is why the buzz from reaching your goal doesn't last. You're gonna' need a lot of goals if you want to be happy. 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.

Love and/or Charity (Heavenly Graces, Pt.2)

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

[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)

"Love all, trust a few, do harm to none." -Shakespeare 

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

"...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... ."

This is the first result of my semi-humble attempt, as I threatened last week, at secularizing the Theological Virtues, also called the Heavenly Graces. They're also referred to as the Christian contribution to the Seven Virtues by the woman quoted above, Dr. Deirdre McCloskey.

By secularizing I simply mean that I (and no shortage of myriad H. sapiens who are obviously smarter than I) think all three of the so-called Theological Virtues can be interpreted in a secular manner and should be integrated and practiced with the four Cardinal Virtues. This is true regardless of your religious beliefs, or the lack thereof.

This works the other way as well. No less a personage than St. Thoma Aquinas spoke of the wisdom and utility of combining them into the form I was taught several thousand days ago in the Black & White ages, THE Seven Virtues. This in spite of the fact the Cardinal Virtues were promulgated by some very famous pagans.

Warning: Early Onset Digression

Speaking of Charity... Did you know that Americans donate more money to charity than any other country on the planet? Any way you measure it, we're number one. Nice, right? We're nicer than many say we are. Not that it necessarily does us much good.

I link lightly as a matter of policy. There are many reasons for this but I'll spare you and mention just one. Even when everyone agrees on something, many-ones will respond with a yeah-but.

When I googled the phrase Americans donate the most to charity (I thought I already knew this but wanted to make sure it hadn't changed) the first link that appeared was: Americans are the world's most charitable, top 1% provide 1/3 of all.... So far, so good.

BIG BUT

Link three: Americans Are Less Charitable -- The Atlantic. Link six: Why Most Americans Give Little or Nothing to Charity | HuffPost.

Gentlereaders, I insincerely apologize for the digression. My dear Stickies, please note confirmation bias in action (we're wired that way) and the politicization of everdamnthing (we seem to be trying to wire ourselves that way).


And now, back to our show. Let's begin by tossing out the first things most of us think of when we hear the word Charity (as referenced above) and  (INSERT SOUND OF HARP BEING STRUMMED, HERE) the word Love.

While both are of supreme importance, we're talkin' big picture conceptualization here people. Oh, and to avoid confusion (and so that I don't have to keep typing the phrase Love and/or Charity over and over again) we're going with Charity.

Think of Charity as love in action, applied love. If Love is the ideal/answer/all ya' need -- whatever -- Charity is what you do about it. To me, Charity and Justice are the two virtues of the Magnificent Seven whose job is to make it possible for the kids to peacefully share the playground.

Justice is the acknowledgment of the need for rules/morality and the willingness to follow them/it. Applied Charity is refraining from clobbering (verbally/physically/emotionally/etceteraly) the many hoopleheads that inevitably cross our path.

[Wait,wait,wait, refraining from clobbering, this is your idea of love in action?]

Dana's in the house! (or in my head at least). Marie-Louise is scratchin' and smilin,' she knows where I'm headed. Being a hard-headed, practical woman she approves. Iggy's at school.]

Yes, Dana. I'll leave the spiritual/romantic/esoteric/etceteric applications to those more qualified than I (as well as composers of high-calorie pop songs). I prefer to focus...

[WE ARE COMMANDED TO LOVE GOD WITH ALL OUR HEARTS AND OUR NEIGHBORS AS OURSELVES!]

Wow, cool voice! Very Billy Grahmish. ...Do I know you?

[I'm a literary straw man supplied by Marie-Louise to move the narrative along.]

Well, my thanks to you both. Anyways... well, let me put it this way. I get it, universal love is, um, all you need because love (love, love) is the answer. Fine, but we're not commanded to all like one another. We don't, and we can't.


Yet another BIG BUT

We can't consciously choose to love someone(s).

We can consciously choose to be rational, civilized grups. We can consciously choose to treat others as we'd like to be treated (you may have heard something like that before...). We can acknowledge that the playground's not much fun if the other kids go home (well, usually).

It's easy to love the people we love. Well, mostly. Or at least regularly. Or hopefully, at least occasionally. It's complicated; what isn't?

However, I don't care how many virtual friends you have on Facebook, the planet Earth is home to approximately 7,500,000,000 actual people. You don't even know most of them, much less love them. But unless you embrace the way of the Bully, as more than a few do, you have to try and find a way to get along.

[Gentlereaders, on a related note, China's current emperor, Xi Jinping (Xi Dada), says hello. If you click on the link, which will take you to an awesome video, and if you watch said video, make sure to watch the whole thing. The background singers rock.]


"...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... ."

Love in the marketplace? The dog eats dog, kill or be killed marketplace? Yup. Jeff Bezos, the gajillionaire mogul who founded and runs Amazon, and who is regularly accused of trying to be to retail what Xi Dada is to China gets it. He doesn't call it love or Charity, he calls it the Amazon Doctrine.

"Above all else, align with customers. Win when they win. Win only when they win."

"Above all else, align with H. sapiens. Win when they win. Play the game fairly and no matter who wins everyone wins." -me

I could write a whole other letter about the previous sentence; maybe another time. Suffice it to say it doesn't apply to (literally speaking) war. A fairly fought war in the marketplace, that dog eats dog shtuff, results in the customers winning and the loser lives to fight another day. As to sports, or any game, if you, or your team, won all the time, no one would bother playing (think about that, it's important). 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.

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.