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You know how irked we get when people make assumptions about us; based on, say, a single post or the color of our hair or what kind of vehicle we drive? Last week, I made an assumption about somebody. I assumed he was a totally self-absorbed twit with a dash of juvenile lookitme, based on two things: his vehicle, and a single example of his driving.
See, we were both heading for the same destination: the drive-thru Starbucks. We roared up the parkway together, neck and neck. After we turned into the parking lot, he stayed with his nose jammed up against my rear bumper for a scant second, then, realizing we were heading to the same place (and that, given the size of the vehicle, I might have the entire Kings basketball team inside getting ready to order), he made a hard right to get into the lane parallel to me in the parking lot, used his accelerator to good effect and managed to get in front of me in the drive-thru. While not 'call the cops' dangerous as maneuvers go, it was...irritating. The kind of thing that makes your feathers ruffle up, you know?
Well, I thought to myself as I forced my hands to unclench on the steering wheel, You know these Lexus RX drivers. They're all alike. Think they own everything. Especially the ones who get that gold paint. Oooooh, lookit me, I've got a gold SUV...what a self-absorbed twit...
I noticed that his right rear brake light was out. You notice these things when you get into a drive-thru and then proceed to not drive-thru. I sat there and watched that right rear brake light not come on with absent-minded fascination, fingering my Starbucks card fondly and remembering that I should really call my brother (who gave me the card) once in a while.
When I finally (finally!) got to the speaker, I ordered my drink with my thoughts far, far away from Starbucks, coffee, or anything else really. Just making up lists of things I should be doing (but wasn't) and things I meant to do (but wouldn't) and stuff I really didn't feel like doing (but must).
"Anything else with that? Pastry? Cookie?"
"Nope. Well, yeah. Yeah. You can tell the guy in front of me that his right rear brake light is out." Mother to the world, that's me. Put your jacket on, don't run with scissors, and let's get that brake light fixed, shall we? It wasn't put there just for pretty, ya know, it's a safety thing...even if you are a self-absorbed twit, I don't want to see you smeared on the highway because some idiot in an even bigger vehicle didn't realize you were braking.
"Huh?"
"The guy in front of me? The gold Lexus? His right rear brake light is out. You might mention it to him when he gets up there."
"Ummmmmm, his...oh, I get it. Hahaha. OK, thank you."
Still pondering the imponderables of life (hmm, I wonder, if I accidentally got a decaf coffee, would I still feel 'perkier' due to the physio-psychological effect of drinking a warm, coffee-flavored beverage?), we rumbled forward. Mr. Lexus spoke briefly with the cashier, handed over his card, grabbed his drink and card, and roared off into the sunrise. Huh. Excessive acceleration. Yup, definitely a self-absorbed twit, with perhaps a twist of juvenile lookitme for good measure. I pulled up to the window, reached out to hand over my cherished card...
"He says thanks and it's on him this morning."
I sat there like a moron with my card held out. He - what? B-b-b-but...see, he's an SUV-driving, self-absorbed twit with a dash of juvenile lookitme? So he couldn't possibly, you know, express gratitude or do something randomly nice for someone.
"Oh...OK. Well. Didn't expect that," I said slowly, putting my card back and taking the cup. I felt almost guilty. But it got worse...
"Oh, he's a really nice guy. He comes through every Friday, usually about an hour earlier, he's really late today - you guys would probably really get along! Always laughing, tells great jokes, always telling stories about his grandkids. He's got, like, six of them or something, says they're God's reward for not killing his own kids, hahahahaha. Anyway, have a great one, drive safe!!"
Well. Alrighty then. Great. Even though I know he didn't know I had been burning him in effigy in my head, I still felt like a jerk. I called somebody's doting grandpa a self-absorbed twit. With dash of juvenile lookitme. Oh, ack.
Memo to me: appearances can be deceiving, single events do not a pattern make and everybody deserves the benefit of the doubt at least once.
Even if they are driving a gold-tone SUV.
As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.
What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart.
I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" and "Who would buy that?"
Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.
We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room.
But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny! Hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"
I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.
The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies.
I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
2) I will eat breakfast with a knife and fork and not with one hand typing.
3) I will get dressed before noon.
4) I will make an attempt to clean the house, wash clothes, and plan dinner before even thinking of the Web.
5) I will sit down and write a letter to those unfortunate few friends and family that are Web-deprived.
6) I will call someone on the phone who I cannot contact via the Web.
7) I will read a book...if I still remember how.
8) I will listen to those around me and their needs and stop telling them to turn the TV down so I can hear the music on the Web.
9) I will not be tempted during TV commercials to check for email.
10) I will try and get out of the house at least once a week, whether it is necessary or not.
11) I will remember that my bank is not forgiving if I forget to balance my checkbook because I was too busy on the Web.
12) Last, but not least, I will remember that I must go to bed sometime and the Web will always be there tomorrow!
Well, here are a series of promises that really address what true friendship is all about:
1. When you are sad - I will help get you drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad. After all, if you hate them, then so do I! We'll hate them together.
2. When you are blue - I will try to dislodge the candy that's choking you. Once it's cleared & you feel better, I'll treat you to a hot fudge sundae with whipped creme and a cherry on top, down at the beach.
3. When you smile - I will know you finally got laid. And it was good...
4. When you are scared - I will tease you about it, unmercifully, every chance I get. And rent the movie "Psycho," just to calm your nerves, while we eat buttered popcorn & drink coke...You, of course, will already have the chocolate ready...
5. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be, tell you to quit whining like a boo-hooing crybaby & ask you where your self-respect is!
6. When you are confused - I will use little words. And try very hard not laugh too loudly...
7. When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall - I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass. Then I will help you up...& take you shopping at the dollar store...
This is my oath; I pledge it till the end.
"Why?" you may ask. Because you are my friend.
Remember: A good friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move the body. Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel.
Abe N. Onymous
Copyright 2145
1. She is not a "BABE" or a "CHICK" - She is a "BREASTED AMERICAN."2. She is not a "SCREAMER" or a "MOANER" - She is "VOCALLY APPRECIATIVE."
3. She is not "EASY" - She is "HORIZONTALLY ACCESSIBLE."
4. She is not a "DUMB BLONDE" - She is a "LIGHT-HAIRED DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATION SUPER HIGHWAY."
5. She has not "BEEN AROUND" - She is a "PREVIOUSLY-ENJOYED COMPANION."
6. She is not an "AIRHEAD" - She is "REALITY IMPAIRED."
7. She does not get "DRUNK" or "TIPSY" - She gets "CHEMICALLY INCONVENIENCED."
8. She does not have "BREAST IMPLANTS" - She is "MEDICALLY ENHANCED."
9. She does not "NAG" you - She becomes "VERBALLY REPETITIVE."
10. She is not a "TRAMP" - She is "SEXUALLY EXTROVERTED."
11. She does not have "MAJOR LEAGUE HOOTERS" - she is "PECTORALLY SUPERIOR."
12. She is not a "TWO-BIT HOOKER" - She is a "LOW COST PROVIDER."
1. He does not have a "BEER GUT" - He has developed a "LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY."2. He is not a "BAD DANCER" - He is "OVERLY CAUCASIAN."
3. He does not "GET LOST ALL THE TIME" - He "INVESTIGATES ALTERNATIVE DESTINATIONS."
4. He is not "BALDING" - He is in "FOLLICLE REGRESSION."
5. He is not a "CRADLE ROBBER" - He prefers "GENERATIONAL DIFFERENTIAL RELATIONSHIPS."
6. He does not get "FALLING-DOWN DRUNK" - He becomes "ACCIDENTALLY HORIZONTAL."
7. He does not act like a "TOTAL ASS" - He develops a case of "RECTAL-CRANIAL INVERSION."
8. He is not a "MALE CHAUVINIST PIG" - He has "SWINE EMPATHY."
9. He is not afraid of "COMMITMENT" - He is "RELATIONSHIP CHALLENGED."
10. He is not "HORNY" - He is "SEXUALLY FOCUSED."
11. It's not his "CRACK" you see hanging out of his pants - It's "REAR CLEAVAGE."
I live in a semi-rural area. We recently had a new neighbor call the local township administrative office to request the removal of the Deer Crossing sign on our road.
The reason: "Too many deer are being hit by cars out here! I don't think this is a good place for them to be crossing anymore."
Kansas City
My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco. She asked the person behind the counter for "minimal lettuce." He said he was sorry, but they only had iceberg.
Birmingham, Ala.
I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee asked, "Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge?
To which I replied, "If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?"
He smiled knowingly and nodded, "That's why we ask."
Wichita, Kansas:
The stoplight on the corner buzzes when its safe to cross the street.
I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine.
She asked if I knew what the buzzer was for.
I explained that it signals blind people when the light is red.
Appalled, she responded, "What on earth are blind people doing driving?!"
She was a probation officer.
Des Moines, Iowa: A woman allegedly faked her own death to avoid paying parking tickets. Investigators in the case said she faked her own obituary -- made to look like a page from The Des Moines Register's website -- and forged a letter telling a judge she had died in a car crash. The case began to unravel when she was stopped for another traffic ticket a month after the obituary was dated. As a result she ended up facing up to five years in prison for fraud -- instead of the $500 fine she might have expected.
Dallas County:
I work with an individual who plugged her power strip back into itself and for the sake of her own life, couldn't understand why her system would not turn on.
A deputy with the Dallas County Sheriffs office no less.
Canton, Mississippi:
When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver's side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. "Hey," I announced to the technician, "its open!"
His reply, "I know - I already got that side."
This was at the Ford dealership.
Texas Instruments:
At a good-bye luncheon for an old and dear coworker. She was leaving the company due to "downsizing."
Our manager commented cheerfully, "This is fun. We should do this more often."
Not another word was spoken. We all just looked at each other with that deer-in-the-headlights stare.
STAY ALERT!
They walk among us ... and they REPRODUCE
Just goes to show you, you never know what effect you're having.
Back in October [2005], when I was at the refinery the first time, a lady ran for the bus from a bus-loop/train station that is a regular stop on the route I take. The driver had started to pull out, but the lady was running so frantically that he took pity on her and stopped and waited for her.
She flew onto the bus, all askew, her hair on end, dropping her handbag and her lunch. She flopped into a seat, out of breath, and hunted for her bus pass. Other passengers glanced at each other with knowing smiles: "I've been there".
As the lady came back to her seat from paying her fare, a lady in a seat near her said kindly, "Rough morning?"
The lady dumped on us her frustration about her youngest child, a girl of 14. She dreaded leaving for work because she knew that the moment she was gone beyond return the child would cut school, get back into the house, and spend the day watching TV.
She'd tried everything and couldn't understand why nothing worked. She hadn't had this problem with her older two kids. Things that worked with them, and had worked with her as a kid, did nothing with this one.
She was afraid she was going to have to give up a job she loved in order to work closer to home to be able to stay on top of this kid, and she bitterly resented that.
I suggested, "Well, if the tried and true methods don't work with her, try something different."
"Like what?"
"She obviously sees no point in school for her, or she'd be going. Give school a point to it that she can relate to."
"Like what, for instance? I've ... (and here she went into a long litany of the punishments she'd tried)"
"Have her sit down with a sheet of paper and a pencil. Ask her what kind of car she'd like to drive when she grows up. Then tell her that kind of car costs this amount per month in payments, plus gas, oil, upkeep, tires, insurance. Get her to write down the expenses in a column. Come up with the closest guesses to reality that you can. You don't have to be deadly accurate, but you do need to be within reality. Then ask her what kind of house she dreams of having. Does she want to own it, or rent? Then make a guess at the monthly price of mortgage, insurance, taxes, and upkeep, or rent, and get her to add it to the column. And the same thing with what kind of clothes she sees herself wearing as an adult. Does she want to have children? How many? That'll cost this much a month. No children will cost this much in birth control. When you've run out of things to ask her, get her to total it up. She's 14, she can add. Help her if you have to, but it's better if she discovers it for herself. It'll be a monstrous monthly total, because 14 year olds always assume they'll have only the best. I did at that age."
The lady grinned and said, "I did, too."
"Then ask her, "What kind of job can you get that will pay you that much?" and "What kind of education do you need to get a job like that, that will give you what you want to have for yourself?"
My stop came up then, and I got off.
I didn't see that lady again, she isn't a regular on the bus I take to work.
I expected that she would forget everything I'd said moments after I got off the bus, because the concept seemed so alien to her, and besides, people never actually take advice from strangers.
Then, this week, she got on the bus again. She came straight to me, saying, "Hi! Hi! I hoped I'd see you here."
I asked her how her daughter was doing, and she said, "She's like a different person!"
It turns out the next time she'd got into a fight with her daughter, she'd remembered what I'd said, and had told her daughter she didn't want to spend her life fighting with her. She didn't have kids in order to have unhappiness and hostility all the time. She made the girl sit down and asked her the questions I'd suggested, plus others. When she asked the final questions she said her daughter went very quiet and just sat, staring at what she'd written down.
This is where the mother's genius comes in - she stopped talking when she saw her daughter was thoughtful, and left her alone. I was impressed by that! Few people can put aside their frustration and just go quiet. She said since then her daughter has not only resumed school attendance, but her marks have gone back to where they used to be, and she's now talking to her mother, asking her questions about what kind of courses would she need if she wanted to do this or do that. Because the lady is usually busy cooking dinner when she gets home from work, when her daugter wants to talk, her duaghter has started doing things alongside of her so that they can talk while dinner is prepared, and they're discovering they like cooking together.
The lady didn't know her daughter was that smart, and her daughter has said she didn't know her mother could be so much help with regular stuff.
I felt so good hearing about that!!
Just goes to show you that sometimes two minutes of your time can have a positive effect in the lives of people you don't know.
--Laurie Campbell, 20 Jan 2006
By Edwin Kagin
(. . . Edwin Kagin wears many hats as constitutional attorney, State Director for American Atheists, poet and raconteur, Founder of Camp Quest and writer. His essay "On Christmas" has received wide circulation, and certainly deserves more. He declares that permission for non-profit reproduction is given, "so long as credit is given, so the villagers will not go after the wrong person with pitchforks and torches." Ed welcomes mail at ekagin@atheists.org.
"If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"
--Uncle Ebenezer Scrooge (not to be confused With Uncle Scrooge McDuck)
I can't prove that no ungulate unit of reindeer persuasion can fly, any more than you can prove I don't have two invisible unicorns that frolic in benign innocence at Camp Quest. I can't prove there are no living dinosaurs (as the arkonuts challenge the skeptical to do) anymore than the arkonuts can prove the English text of Genesis they rely on is identical to the original version they hold was dictated, or inspired, by god. But if one says that all crows are black, there is no need to check every crow to falsify that assertion. All that is needed is to find one white crow, or any crow of a different color. Similarly, Santa skepticism can be soundly silenced by the production of one flying reindeer. Yet Christmasterians insist doubters disprove Santa, sleigh, and such, or keep silent, lest they destroy a child's simple (mindless) faith. This method of proof proves useful later, as children, programmed to believe fantasy is truth, grow to adultery and unquestioningly follow the fantastic follies of faith of their fathers (and mothers -- political correctness must not be permitted to fall down a personhole).
To be sure, Plato (not to be confused with Mickey Mouse's dog) argued that, to conceive of something that is real, one must somehow get the perfect idea of that anything from the place it really exists, to wit, the world of forms -- a place somewhere that no one has ever seen. Reality alone wouldn't do. Thus, everyone but philosophers knows what a horse looks like, and kids know all about Santa without having to survive Philosophy 101.
Can we imagine, or even believe in, something that doesn't exist? Sure we can. Just talk with those who have been abducted by aliens. If some unseen thing is believed by many, e.g., angels, it is called faith. If a thing is believe by only one, and is wildly outside the gates of common sense and experience, then the belief, e.g., suddenly realizing that one's guardian angel is made of grape jelly and having him (there are no female angels -- check your bible, you can win bets on this) on toast, it is called psychosis. The problem is that the invisible and the non-existent look much the same. Christmas beliefs fall somewhere between the province of priest and psychiatrist.
Christmas combines two contradictory images of godlike characters: Jesus, the Christ, who taught that to be saved one should sell all of their property and give it to the poor (the church later declared belief in this teaching a heresy), and Claus, the Santa, to whom children are taught to write letters requesting property -- believed to be given by Santa, in one night, to those children of the world found worthy -- in direct challenge to the counsel of the Christ. One should note, before teaching the latter belief system, than an anagram of Santa is Satan.
The day itself, meaning Christ's Mass, is the same day the Romans used to honor their sun god with gift giving and feasting. Christmas is quite pagan. Its secular celebration involves rituals specifically forbidden by holy writ, like hewing down a tree, bringing it inside the house, decorating it, and praising it. This is as clear a violation of divine decree as public prayer, or celebrating the Sabbath on the first day of the week instead of on the seventh day as ordered (Commandment IV). No wonder we are in such trouble these days with crime, inflation and teenage pregnancies.
Unfortunately cultural consequences flow from the forced frivolity and jejune joy Christmas creates and requires. People get depressed when they don't feel happy as they should, when they do not have their artificial expectations fulfilled, and when they cannot meet the unreasonable artificial seasonal needs of others -- like their mercenary relatives, and their materialistic, greedy, spoiled children -- and get even deeper in debt by trying to behave as expected. Thanks to Tom Flynn, and his wonderful heresy "The Trouble With Christmas," I chucked the whole thing a few years ago, and lived. Try it. You will feel better for it.
Should I be granted a Christmas wish, it would be that the holiday be canceled, and that the whole show appertaining to this business of Christmas not be done at all. Please understand that I do not care if others celebrate Christmas if they wish, nor would I suggest that they be prevented from doing so. I just don't want the holiday to be compulsory for me or anyone else -- any more than I want other people's prayers, that they have an absolute right to pray, to be forced upon me by public officials or upon children by public schools. One who would rather decline gets somewhat tired of listening to those who absolutely and uncritically assume all good people celebrate Christmas, and that something is horribly wrong with anyone who ignores the invitation to attend their compulsory party. Failing the unlikely event of Christmas being made optional, I would alternatively wish, in seasonal answer to Virginia's famous question, that we might see something in the public press for innocent children like:
Dear Virginia,
No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus. It is a myth that has been cruelly used to deceive children for the pleasure of adults who unwittingly destroy children's sense of basic trust by teaching them that the world is something other than it really is.
I know this news must be a shock to you, and I am truly sorry for your discomfort. But it is not my fault. The person who tells you the truth should never be blamed for the hurt that comes from learning that others have lied.
You should not believe in Santa Claus any more than you should believe in fairies, or in demons waiting around to pull you under the earth, or in angels lurking about to transport you above it. People do not need to believe foolish things to have love and compassion and caring, any more than they need a special season or holiday to be nice to one another.
If things believed prove false, does that mean peace, and sharing, and kindness must dissolve like mist along with the untrue things? Of course not! We don't need magic to have happiness, and wonder, and joy. Our beautiful world is full of these things, and they are very real, and our real world holds more interesting and wonderful people and things than any fairyland anyone could ever even imagine.
Some adults are afraid of things they don't understand, and they teach children to believe in magic. But the truth is really far more exciting. Wouldn't you rather learn what is on real planets, that are millions of miles away, than believe reindeer can fly? Have you ever seen the northern lights? I have, and I can tell you they are more beautiful, more mysterious, and more wonderful than any pretend story anyone could ever invent about elves that have workshops at the North Pole.
Is it okay to pretend and to believe things we know are not true? Of course it is! And it can be a lot of fun. Intelligent people love to play. Any time you watch a movie or a play or go to a costume party you are playing and pretending something is that is not.
We know these aren't real people in the TV -- only images of them -- but we know we are pretending, and this is fun and much different from believing a falsehood. Would it be wrong to tell a friend of yours, who firmly believed there really small people inside the television set, that his or her belief was not true? Wouldn't it be right for you to be commended for destroying that friend's childhood faith? What if several of your best friends thought they could fly, and set off for a bridge over a 600-foot deep gorge to prove it? Would it be wrong for you to politely try to convince them that they just might be mistaken, no matter how firmly they believe they are right? Would you be destroying their childhood or saving their future?
Follow the truth, no matter where it may take you. And don't pay attention to those who think comforting falsehoods are better than understanding the world as it is. If you ever have children, teach them trust by telling them the truth. By the way, just in case you didn't know, the stork didn't bring you. You are here because your parents had sex.
Keep questioning, Virginia, and don't feel it is the least bit wrong to demand correct answer.
Asking questions is what makes us human.
Your friend,
Uncle Edwin
It started out innocently enough: I began thinking at parties now and then to loosen up. Inevitably though, one thought led to another and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone, " . . . to relax . . . " I told myself, but I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking became more and more important, and finally I was thinking all the time. I even thought on the job. I knew thinking and employment didn't mix, but I couldn't stop. I began avoiding friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I returned to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What exactly are we doing here?"
Things weren't great at home either. One evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life--she spent the night at her mother's.
I soon had a reputation as a heavy thinker. One day the boss called me in and said, "Bob, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking is a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, I'll have to let you go." This gave me a lot to think about. I went home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking . . . " "I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce."
"But Honey, surely it's not that serious." "It is serious," she said, lower lip quivering. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking we won't have any money!" "That's faulty syllogism," I said impatiently, and she began to cry. I'd had enough.
"I'm going to the library," I snarled and stomped out the door. I headed to the library in the mood for Nietzsche, roared into the parking lot, and ran up to the big glass doors . . . they didn't open. The library was closed. To this day I believe the Higher Power was looking out for me that night. As I sank to the ground clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. The words "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" stood out in large letters. You may recognize the line: it comes from the standard issue "Thinkers Anonymous" poster.
Today, I am a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video--last week it was "Porky's."
Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job and things are a lot better at home. Life just got easier, somehow, once I stopped thinking. Soon, I'll be able to watch political broadcasts again.
(Who says seniors don't have a sense of humor?)
FOXY LADY: Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80's, slim, 5'4" (used to be 5'6"), searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion. Matching white shoes and belt a plus.
LONG-TERM COMMITMENT: Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, and am looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot. Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.
SERENITY NOW: I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation. If you are the silent type, let's get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.
WINNING SMILE: Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.
BEATLES OR STONES?: I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.
MEMORIES: I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let's put our two heads together.
MINT CONDITION: Male, 1932, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Isn't in running condition, but walks well.
"That's right!" the boy said, "But, how did you know?"
"Oh, just a wild guess," she said.
The next pupil was the sweet shop owner's daughter. The teacher held her gift overhead, shook it, and said, "I bet I can guess what it is. A box of sweets."
"That's right, but how did you know?" asked the girl.
"Oh, just a wild guess," said the teacher.
The next gift was from the son of the liquor storeowner. The teacher held he package overhead, but it was leaking. She touched a drop off the leakage with her finger and put it to her tongue. "Is it wine?" she asked.
"No-o-o-o," the boy replied, with some excitement.
The teacher repeated the process, tasting a larger drop of the leakage. "Is it champagne?" she asked.
"No, no, no!" the boy replied, with more excitement.
The teacher took one more big taste before declaring, "I give up, what is it?"
"It's a PUPPY!" the boy exclaimed with great glee.
2. There are some poor teachers, but who in their right mind who has at least something on the ball wants to do that these days, when the pay is so miserable, they're criticized from every quarter, and the administration doesn't support them, and they don't even make enough to be able to afford a modestly decent place to live (that happens here in Florida; in fact, in Alachua County, private businesses and other concerns are banding together to provide incentives, including breaks on mortgages and housing prices, to attract good teachers).
3. The good teachers burn out. There isn't any support system for them, so that they may be retained and help bring the systems back up to snuff.
4. There are too many administrators in schools who aren't worth the powder and shot it takes to blow them to hell. Yes, there are good ones, but there are those who aren't any good.
5. School boards are too political; people run for the school board to put their own particular political/social/religious agenda into motion.
6. There are too many parents who aren't paying attention. There are a lot of factors involved in this, but the bottom line is that if the parents ARE involved and DO work WITH the teachers with the child's best interests in mind, it's much better for the child.
7. There is too much tweaking. There also has been too much dumbing down. Standards -- for all, including school board members, administrators, teachers, and students -- need to be raised. This applies more in some areas than in others.
8. Society values the wrong things.
9. Politicians stick their noses in, and we get mandates that everyone has to pass the FCAT (Florida's "educational assessment" test), so the teachers end up being forced by the administration and the school board to "teach the test" rather than doing what they want to do -- teach the material and teach the little darlings how to THINK.
10. Corollary: There are some politicians whose personal or political or social or religious agendas don't WANT our kids to learn how to think for themselves.
There are right things going on, too. And right things going on in the same districts where some of these wrong things are going on.
Politicians need to LISTEN to the teachers and other professional educators, rather than requiring that the teachers and educators listen to them. And they need to shut up about their own damned agendas. And we need to get politics out of schools -- school board races should be non-partisan, elected superintendents should be non-partisan.
Administrators should have to be certified, just as teachers have to be, and the certification standards should be high.
And many parents need to get off their asses. Yeah, there are a lot of two-parent families. This doesn't mean they can't spend a little time with their kids, attend the parents' nights at the school (at least one could go, anyway). Been there, done that.
Heh. I can rant, too.
Karen
This catches the blonde's attention. To keep him quiet, she agrees to play the game.
The lawyer asks the first question. "What's the distance from the earth to the moon?" The blonde doesn't say a word, reaches in to her purse, pulls out a five-dollar bill, and hands it to the lawyer.
Now, it's the blonde's turn. She asks the lawyer, "What goes up a hill with three legs, and comes down with four?"
The lawyer uses his laptop, searches all references. He uses the Airphone; he searches the Net and even the Library of Congress. He sends e-mails to all the smart friends he knows, all to no avail. After one hour of searching he finally gives up. He wakes up the blonde and hands her $500.
The blonde takes the $500 and goes back to sleep.
The lawyer is going nuts not knowing the answer. He wakes her up and asks, "Well, so what goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four?"
The blonde reaches into her purse, hands the lawyer $5 and goes back to sleep.
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