Who would have thought it...
From the same people who made it legal for big buisiness to steal your land.
They finally make a ruling that makes some sense. At least to me...quite a few people don't see it that way.
In this post, and most probably a bunch more I would like to try to qualify and quantify both gun control and gun ownership's arguments as well as make a few conjectures of my own on the issue. Be advised in advance that my bias will be toward the gun ownership side of things, but I will try and see the gun control side of it as well.
So until then,
Shoot straight!
Shane
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Bullwhips and the zen mentality
When I was young my father made me a bullwhip. Now granted it wasn't a Mike Murphy 16 plait, split kangaroo 15 foot Indiana Jones special, it was a piece of broom handle with 3 pieces of nylon cord nailed to the end and braided. It was about 6 ft long and I couldn't crack it to save my life...lord knows I tried.
Growing up there would come the odd time that some one would have a whip and all the guys would gather round to see who could crack it. I'd always feel like a poser in situations like these, the memory of all the failed cracks of my misspent youth conspiring to stiffen my arm and steal my strength. But years pass and time and work combine to leave no time for the dreams of the would be Lash La Rue or Indiana Jones.
Strange how the winds of fate blow sometimes. I met a guy. He knew whips. He even belongs to a whip social group. Next thing you know you've got yourself a whip from a guy in Dallas who's into dog sledding and you've taken your kids out to the park to learn how to crack a whip.
You know what's odd about cracking a whip? Once you learn to do it the whip actually cracks itself. I was a bit ill at ease when we first started, I kept wanting to force it to crack, I thought it was all about putting power behind it...bulling through it. It's not. it's the easiest thing in the world, as simple as flicking a wrist or moving your forearm up and down, if you do it right the whip will crack.
I learned some things about whips, like that there are five basic ways to throw a whip
1. The Cattleman (Sir Anthony Hopkins throws like that when he's putting out the candles while tutoring Antonio Banderas in Zorro ...and for the hell of it here's a nice pic of Cathrine Zeta-Jones. )
2. The Overhead Cattleman. (Think The Man from Snowy River...and what the hell here's another pic...I know Cathrine Zeta-Jones wasn't in that movie..guess what? I don't care.)
3. The Coachman. (hmmm...I can't think of a movie I saw this one in, and I don't think I can describe it...just trust me it's one of the five basic cracks.
4. Overhand. think...chunking a spear but instead of letting go, flick your wrist down, it's the only reliable way to crack really long whips...i.e greater than 15 ft. )
5. Underhand. Think popping a towel only you let the ground be the fingers holding the end.
I can Cattleman and Overhead Cattleman like a pro, I mean I can do it in my sleep...I have done it in my sleep. I can do the Coachman pretty well as well. I'm learning the proper way to do Underhand and I've a long way to go before I get Overhand down. I've even learned some tricks. I can do what's called a figure 8 and a fast figure 8. I can crack with either hand and I can wield two whips at once.
That said I've still a long way to go, but it's fun and I enjoy it. Oh and the kids? They pick it up like it's nothing, but they are more interested in going to the park afterward...still life is grand...I can crack a bullwhip!
Peace
Shane
Growing up there would come the odd time that some one would have a whip and all the guys would gather round to see who could crack it. I'd always feel like a poser in situations like these, the memory of all the failed cracks of my misspent youth conspiring to stiffen my arm and steal my strength. But years pass and time and work combine to leave no time for the dreams of the would be Lash La Rue or Indiana Jones.
Strange how the winds of fate blow sometimes. I met a guy. He knew whips. He even belongs to a whip social group. Next thing you know you've got yourself a whip from a guy in Dallas who's into dog sledding and you've taken your kids out to the park to learn how to crack a whip.
You know what's odd about cracking a whip? Once you learn to do it the whip actually cracks itself. I was a bit ill at ease when we first started, I kept wanting to force it to crack, I thought it was all about putting power behind it...bulling through it. It's not. it's the easiest thing in the world, as simple as flicking a wrist or moving your forearm up and down, if you do it right the whip will crack.
I learned some things about whips, like that there are five basic ways to throw a whip
1. The Cattleman (Sir Anthony Hopkins throws like that when he's putting out the candles while tutoring Antonio Banderas in Zorro ...and for the hell of it here's a nice pic of Cathrine Zeta-Jones. )
2. The Overhead Cattleman. (Think The Man from Snowy River...and what the hell here's another pic...I know Cathrine Zeta-Jones wasn't in that movie..guess what? I don't care.)
3. The Coachman. (hmmm...I can't think of a movie I saw this one in, and I don't think I can describe it...just trust me it's one of the five basic cracks.
4. Overhand. think...chunking a spear but instead of letting go, flick your wrist down, it's the only reliable way to crack really long whips...i.e greater than 15 ft. )
5. Underhand. Think popping a towel only you let the ground be the fingers holding the end.
I can Cattleman and Overhead Cattleman like a pro, I mean I can do it in my sleep...I have done it in my sleep. I can do the Coachman pretty well as well. I'm learning the proper way to do Underhand and I've a long way to go before I get Overhand down. I've even learned some tricks. I can do what's called a figure 8 and a fast figure 8. I can crack with either hand and I can wield two whips at once.
That said I've still a long way to go, but it's fun and I enjoy it. Oh and the kids? They pick it up like it's nothing, but they are more interested in going to the park afterward...still life is grand...I can crack a bullwhip!
Peace
Shane
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Things that suck in the world.
Grrrrrr.....
I hate the entire concept of "Centralized Planning.”
Just in case you didn't know from the link, it's an economic model whereby a centralized authority oversees the development and planning of all aspects of the economy. Sounds good doesn't it?
IT'S CRAP!
"Of course it is", you say, "Socialism went out with the Soviet Union."
Ah, you just think it went out with the ruskies! Centralized Planning is alive and well in Texas. It's taken the form of the No child left behind act, and specifically the TAKS test.
My kids are smart kids. Wanting them to have better mathematical understanding, I embarked upon a journey to find a better math program for my 1st and 2nd grade children to learn. One of the things I came across was a little known Japanese tool called the Soroban. Kids who learn this tool can eventually become so good at it that they can dispense with it and simply imagine the soroban to do their math. Later a thought came back to me from across the years about a little Korean girl who set a world record on the old 70's TV show "the Guinness game" where by she was given a suitably huge set of numbers to multiply. She did it in a suitably awe inspiring brevity of time. When the announcer asked her how she did it; she replied in one word...chisanbop a kind of finger soroban.
I taught my kids Chisanbop. I learned the basic finger positions, the philosophy, and I practiced a little. Then with a tube of M&M's minis in hand I showed them the positions and then had them show them back to me, with each success I'd give them a mini. After I had them to where they knew the positions I started showing them how to do math with it, once again rewarding each success with an M&M mini. My kids aced math.
The rub came when the teachers wanted me to quit teaching the method. They were teaching rote memorization of math tables instead of teaching what math was. It's kind of like learning a bunch of foreign words without learning their meaning. They do this to make sure that the kids can pass the TAKS test. Who cares if they understand it or not, if they fail it cuts our funding.
What really pisses me off though was the fact that after the TAKS tests are done, the teachers quit teaching! The last 30 days of this past school year were spent playing games, or taking field trips! The funding was secured, lets party!
The bad thing about "no child left behind" is that it has to slow down everybody else to keep up with the slow ones.
On top of that it's like making everyone wear the same size pants. The curriculum for students in East Hampton, New York probably would not work for students in Compton California. By making all the students "march to the same drum" you ensure that you loose some of them through simple boredom, usually the more intelligent ones. I'd rather lose the dumb ones; you don't have to have all that much education to do menial tasks.
Also this insanity takes away teachers most powerful weapon in teaching a kid...her creativity. 99% of teaching is getting the students interested in the stuff you are teaching, if you can do that the kids teach themselves and all you have to do is guide them in the right direction! There is not "one true way" to teach a subject, there are an almost infinite number of paths to learning something.
You know, thinking on this has reminded me of an old Greek legend I read of when I was young. My kids probably won't get to read it because it's probably not on the curriculum, and if they do get to read it their ability to appreciate it as irony to their current situation will probably be stunted because they were simply required to read in literature and not practice rhetoric or critical thinking It's the story of Procrustes, and the more I think on it the better it fits the current state of affairs.
Still pissed, but feeling better for the rant...
Shane
I hate the entire concept of "Centralized Planning.”
Just in case you didn't know from the link, it's an economic model whereby a centralized authority oversees the development and planning of all aspects of the economy. Sounds good doesn't it?
IT'S CRAP!
"Of course it is", you say, "Socialism went out with the Soviet Union."
Ah, you just think it went out with the ruskies! Centralized Planning is alive and well in Texas. It's taken the form of the No child left behind act, and specifically the TAKS test.
My kids are smart kids. Wanting them to have better mathematical understanding, I embarked upon a journey to find a better math program for my 1st and 2nd grade children to learn. One of the things I came across was a little known Japanese tool called the Soroban. Kids who learn this tool can eventually become so good at it that they can dispense with it and simply imagine the soroban to do their math. Later a thought came back to me from across the years about a little Korean girl who set a world record on the old 70's TV show "the Guinness game" where by she was given a suitably huge set of numbers to multiply. She did it in a suitably awe inspiring brevity of time. When the announcer asked her how she did it; she replied in one word...chisanbop a kind of finger soroban.
I taught my kids Chisanbop. I learned the basic finger positions, the philosophy, and I practiced a little. Then with a tube of M&M's minis in hand I showed them the positions and then had them show them back to me, with each success I'd give them a mini. After I had them to where they knew the positions I started showing them how to do math with it, once again rewarding each success with an M&M mini. My kids aced math.
The rub came when the teachers wanted me to quit teaching the method. They were teaching rote memorization of math tables instead of teaching what math was. It's kind of like learning a bunch of foreign words without learning their meaning. They do this to make sure that the kids can pass the TAKS test. Who cares if they understand it or not, if they fail it cuts our funding.
What really pisses me off though was the fact that after the TAKS tests are done, the teachers quit teaching! The last 30 days of this past school year were spent playing games, or taking field trips! The funding was secured, lets party!
The bad thing about "no child left behind" is that it has to slow down everybody else to keep up with the slow ones.
On top of that it's like making everyone wear the same size pants. The curriculum for students in East Hampton, New York probably would not work for students in Compton California. By making all the students "march to the same drum" you ensure that you loose some of them through simple boredom, usually the more intelligent ones. I'd rather lose the dumb ones; you don't have to have all that much education to do menial tasks.
Also this insanity takes away teachers most powerful weapon in teaching a kid...her creativity. 99% of teaching is getting the students interested in the stuff you are teaching, if you can do that the kids teach themselves and all you have to do is guide them in the right direction! There is not "one true way" to teach a subject, there are an almost infinite number of paths to learning something.
You know, thinking on this has reminded me of an old Greek legend I read of when I was young. My kids probably won't get to read it because it's probably not on the curriculum, and if they do get to read it their ability to appreciate it as irony to their current situation will probably be stunted because they were simply required to read in literature and not practice rhetoric or critical thinking It's the story of Procrustes, and the more I think on it the better it fits the current state of affairs.
Still pissed, but feeling better for the rant...
Shane
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
What a man needs in a woman...
1. It's important to have a woman who helps at home, who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job.
2. It's important to have a woman who can make you laugh.
3. It's important to have a woman who you can trust and who doesn't lie to you.
4. It's important to have a woman who is good in bed and who likes to be with you.
5. It's very, very important that these four women don't know each other.
2. It's important to have a woman who can make you laugh.
3. It's important to have a woman who you can trust and who doesn't lie to you.
4. It's important to have a woman who is good in bed and who likes to be with you.
5. It's very, very important that these four women don't know each other.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Football and Gumption, or why college football is more exciting than Pro.
High school football players are highly motivated, lean and hungry and believe they are immortal, to counter that they have very little skill at the game.
College football players are almost as motivated as High school players but have the advantage of better coaching and the opportunity to play against the best that the High schools could produce as well as more seasoned players
In Professional football it all changes. All their lives they have struggled to get to the very place that they are now, in effect a dream fulfilled. Most don't have the imagination to redefine their dream to include being the best Pro football player that there ever was. On top of that they are playing against the upper 99.99th percentile of players in the world, with superior coaching, and a whole different set of circumstances to get used to, it's enough to crush anyone's motivation for a while.
On top of all that the players are now older and finally have begun to realize that they are not immortal, the daring things done in college can end a career prematurely. Professional coaching doctrine preaches "run your lane, memorize the play" which further destroys individual initiative in the hope of limiting mistakes.
So in other words, high school has the worst players with the highest motivation
The pro leagues have the best players with the worst motivation.
At least that's my opinion...maybe you have a different one.
Peace
College football players are almost as motivated as High school players but have the advantage of better coaching and the opportunity to play against the best that the High schools could produce as well as more seasoned players
In Professional football it all changes. All their lives they have struggled to get to the very place that they are now, in effect a dream fulfilled. Most don't have the imagination to redefine their dream to include being the best Pro football player that there ever was. On top of that they are playing against the upper 99.99th percentile of players in the world, with superior coaching, and a whole different set of circumstances to get used to, it's enough to crush anyone's motivation for a while.
On top of all that the players are now older and finally have begun to realize that they are not immortal, the daring things done in college can end a career prematurely. Professional coaching doctrine preaches "run your lane, memorize the play" which further destroys individual initiative in the hope of limiting mistakes.
So in other words, high school has the worst players with the highest motivation
The pro leagues have the best players with the worst motivation.
At least that's my opinion...maybe you have a different one.
Peace
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Will and Gameness II
Movies love it. You see it all the time. Rocky, Iron will, Shawshank Redemption, and just about every fight movie that there ever was.
I'm talking about 'gameness'. It's a hard term to define, but here goes my try at it.
"unflagging courage, will, heart, unstoppable "Plucky and unyielding in spirit; resolute", the quality of never giving in to pain, injury or fear" Bravery. "
There it is, universally appreciated, seldom duplicated, worshipped by some and feared by cowards and the weak of soul.
It's as common as as a close up in the movies, but we all know that the movies are art and they pick and choose what they represent. Gameness looks good on camera, it makes a good story line so we see it quite a bit. In the real world though it's a different matter. Normally an army will rout if they take much more than 20% of their number as casualties, or if they are forced to endure loud scary noises, i.e. artillery shells blowing the shit out of them, for prolonged periods.
In the real world gameness is rare, in the animal kingdom even more so. If lions willingly gave their lives for the game that they killed the pride would become extinct before too long, Solitary hunters cannot afford to become incapacitated due to battle, they would starve to death before they healed. A good definition of a human is an "opportunistic predator" and rarely do we exhibit 'game' behavior. To be game, for the most part, is a low yield behavior, the risk/reward percentage looks to be way too low.
Why then is it valued so much? Why is the brave man sought above the coward? Why is it that most everyone who talks about what they would do in a fight always claim that they would never quit? When in reality they would fold if the fight turned even slightly against them. I inserted "turned against them" on purpose as almost nobody quits while they are winning.
One reason is because gameness is rare, and everyone wishes to possess something rare. Another is that gameness carries with it a promise of something great. Being so rare it usually intimidates a foe and if used to accomplish a task, success is almost certainly assured. The game individual is the definition of determined. Those who have had it are still spoken about with honor: Theodore Roosevelt, John L. Sullivan, Jeremiah Johnson, Jim Braddock, Gunnery Sgt Carlos Hathcock, and Lance Armstrong.
These men, all game in their own way, have had books written about them, gained the respect and love of legions of people and all lived life according to their rules consequences bed damned! If you follow the philosophical meanderings of Crispin Sartwell, according to his logic, A game individual has achieved transcendence, not through pain and mutilation, but through perfect will, the refusal to stop no matter what the cost. That pain and mutilation may be the consequences of the game choice not to stop are merely side effects of the ultimate execution of will over reality.
The code of bushido elegantly encouraged gameness in it's followers by stating that a warrior who died in the service of their lord was considered to have succeeded, whether they completed their task or not. In fact one of the major tenets of Bushido was that a Samurai, if given the choice, was to choose death over life, for in doing so he would not waste valuable time, effort or thought worrying about his own life.
Above all a game individual is able to overcome fear, and perhaps in that we find another reason to admire gameness. Perhaps a story will serve where words seem to fail me. Perhaps in looking at an animal we'll find through his example, a deeper understanding of gameness.
Many years ago, (30's or 40's if memory serves) men got together for a convention in a town called Rulesville Mississippi. One of the men had a little dog he called Toney, which he had brought to fight another dog whose name was Ted. Toney was not blessed with athletic ability, nor did he have a strong bite, The man, who we will call Bob, was matching him to see if he had heart. Bob loved the dog and wished to breed him, but feared to breed him if he did not prove to be game. No one there that night could have guessed just how much heart that little dog had.
You see men did not fight dogs to see them kill each other. Sure there was the visceral thrill of combat, the excitement of conflict, but these men had spent a great deal of time and money on their dogs and wished to see them do well. It's a brutal sport, a dogfight, but I don't see it as cruel. At least no more so than the father who puts his son into football or any other full contact sport. The dogfighter and the father alike know that life is full of risks and that one must take these risks in order to be fully alive. By the way Ted, it turns out, later went on to become a champion fighting dog and was considered by many to be one of the best ever.
When the dogs were released Ted went immediately into Toney's shoulder. For those who are not aware, a broken bone is a rarity in dog fighting. Bob had no way of knowing that Toney's shoulder was broken and not just temporarily disabled. Toney gave no hint of it, for his tail was up and wagging, and he always managed to have a hold some place. Because of his handicap, Ted was ahead all the way. Toney occasionally obtained an advantage, but it was always short-lived; however his enthusiasm for the contest never faltered. Finally Ted got into Toney's other shoulder, and this time there could be no doubt that the shoulder was broken. At one hour and forty minutes Bob picked up Toney, thereby conceding the match.
Torn by emotion, and worried that he had left his dog down too long, Bob sat his dog down for a seemingly impossible courtesy scratch*(see below). Actually, Bob just wanted to see if he was interested in trying to scratch. Who could have dreamed he would actually make it! Slowly and awkwardly, but with a determination and intensity that brought the crowd to it's feet, Toney started his arduous journey across the pit. Inching along, both front legs completely useless, Toney pushed with his rear feet. Two or three times he rolled over on his back in order to correct his course toward his opponent when his obstinate front end actually obstructed him. When Toney finally reached his opponent, he had to be broken off with a breaking stick. Bob, tears streaming down his face, picked up Toney and wrapped him in a blanket. The crowd stood and applauded for a full ten minutes. Bob was not the only one crying.
.... Some days I don't want to get up out of bed, we all do. With the bills piling up, all the assholes in the world, Global Warming, Terrorists, Republicans, Democrats, Monosodium Glutamate, Mold, asbestos, depletion of the global gene pool, Cholesterol, Political Correctness, The Patriot act, Spam, other drivers, Love, Hate, indifference, reality television, and the Rolling Stones going on tour at 85 years old some times I just want to pull the covers up over my head and call the whole thing off. I don't though, in my mind I see that little pit bull dog, Toney, pulling himself through hell just to get one more chance to try and excel, and I think to myself "if he can do it, so can I. Suddenly I'm filled with a lust for life, and I bound out of bed with my problems not seeming quite so luminous as they did a moment before. Most of the time life hands me a curve. Knocks me back on my heels and kicks the ladder out from under me. I get knocked down a lot. I believe though if I can get up just one more time...one more time...that this time....I'll come out on top. Whether I do or not is irrelevant but that I do try is the more important lesson. I don't pray for success, for riches or for power. When at night I ask the lords forgiveness I also ask him one more thing; Please lord let me die game.
peace,
Shane
* A scratch is the term used when the two dogs are faced toward one another from the corner. One dog is let loose and allowed to run toward the other dog across the pit. This is used to determine if the dog still wishes to continue fighting the other dog. This term has spawned several phrases often used in the english language; "Scratch to win", and "toe the line" being two of the most common. after combat is joined, the dogs are then picked up whenever they are "free of holds" and taken to the corner to scratch, they dogs alternate scratching till one, eventually, quits. This is what is known of as the "cajun rules" for dog fighting. they were created to save dogs.
I'm talking about 'gameness'. It's a hard term to define, but here goes my try at it.
"unflagging courage, will, heart, unstoppable "Plucky and unyielding in spirit; resolute", the quality of never giving in to pain, injury or fear" Bravery. "
There it is, universally appreciated, seldom duplicated, worshipped by some and feared by cowards and the weak of soul.
It's as common as as a close up in the movies, but we all know that the movies are art and they pick and choose what they represent. Gameness looks good on camera, it makes a good story line so we see it quite a bit. In the real world though it's a different matter. Normally an army will rout if they take much more than 20% of their number as casualties, or if they are forced to endure loud scary noises, i.e. artillery shells blowing the shit out of them, for prolonged periods.
In the real world gameness is rare, in the animal kingdom even more so. If lions willingly gave their lives for the game that they killed the pride would become extinct before too long, Solitary hunters cannot afford to become incapacitated due to battle, they would starve to death before they healed. A good definition of a human is an "opportunistic predator" and rarely do we exhibit 'game' behavior. To be game, for the most part, is a low yield behavior, the risk/reward percentage looks to be way too low.
Why then is it valued so much? Why is the brave man sought above the coward? Why is it that most everyone who talks about what they would do in a fight always claim that they would never quit? When in reality they would fold if the fight turned even slightly against them. I inserted "turned against them" on purpose as almost nobody quits while they are winning.
One reason is because gameness is rare, and everyone wishes to possess something rare. Another is that gameness carries with it a promise of something great. Being so rare it usually intimidates a foe and if used to accomplish a task, success is almost certainly assured. The game individual is the definition of determined. Those who have had it are still spoken about with honor: Theodore Roosevelt, John L. Sullivan, Jeremiah Johnson, Jim Braddock, Gunnery Sgt Carlos Hathcock, and Lance Armstrong.
These men, all game in their own way, have had books written about them, gained the respect and love of legions of people and all lived life according to their rules consequences bed damned! If you follow the philosophical meanderings of Crispin Sartwell, according to his logic, A game individual has achieved transcendence, not through pain and mutilation, but through perfect will, the refusal to stop no matter what the cost. That pain and mutilation may be the consequences of the game choice not to stop are merely side effects of the ultimate execution of will over reality.
The code of bushido elegantly encouraged gameness in it's followers by stating that a warrior who died in the service of their lord was considered to have succeeded, whether they completed their task or not. In fact one of the major tenets of Bushido was that a Samurai, if given the choice, was to choose death over life, for in doing so he would not waste valuable time, effort or thought worrying about his own life.
Above all a game individual is able to overcome fear, and perhaps in that we find another reason to admire gameness. Perhaps a story will serve where words seem to fail me. Perhaps in looking at an animal we'll find through his example, a deeper understanding of gameness.
Many years ago, (30's or 40's if memory serves) men got together for a convention in a town called Rulesville Mississippi. One of the men had a little dog he called Toney, which he had brought to fight another dog whose name was Ted. Toney was not blessed with athletic ability, nor did he have a strong bite, The man, who we will call Bob, was matching him to see if he had heart. Bob loved the dog and wished to breed him, but feared to breed him if he did not prove to be game. No one there that night could have guessed just how much heart that little dog had.
You see men did not fight dogs to see them kill each other. Sure there was the visceral thrill of combat, the excitement of conflict, but these men had spent a great deal of time and money on their dogs and wished to see them do well. It's a brutal sport, a dogfight, but I don't see it as cruel. At least no more so than the father who puts his son into football or any other full contact sport. The dogfighter and the father alike know that life is full of risks and that one must take these risks in order to be fully alive. By the way Ted, it turns out, later went on to become a champion fighting dog and was considered by many to be one of the best ever.
When the dogs were released Ted went immediately into Toney's shoulder. For those who are not aware, a broken bone is a rarity in dog fighting. Bob had no way of knowing that Toney's shoulder was broken and not just temporarily disabled. Toney gave no hint of it, for his tail was up and wagging, and he always managed to have a hold some place. Because of his handicap, Ted was ahead all the way. Toney occasionally obtained an advantage, but it was always short-lived; however his enthusiasm for the contest never faltered. Finally Ted got into Toney's other shoulder, and this time there could be no doubt that the shoulder was broken. At one hour and forty minutes Bob picked up Toney, thereby conceding the match.
Torn by emotion, and worried that he had left his dog down too long, Bob sat his dog down for a seemingly impossible courtesy scratch*(see below). Actually, Bob just wanted to see if he was interested in trying to scratch. Who could have dreamed he would actually make it! Slowly and awkwardly, but with a determination and intensity that brought the crowd to it's feet, Toney started his arduous journey across the pit. Inching along, both front legs completely useless, Toney pushed with his rear feet. Two or three times he rolled over on his back in order to correct his course toward his opponent when his obstinate front end actually obstructed him. When Toney finally reached his opponent, he had to be broken off with a breaking stick. Bob, tears streaming down his face, picked up Toney and wrapped him in a blanket. The crowd stood and applauded for a full ten minutes. Bob was not the only one crying.
.... Some days I don't want to get up out of bed, we all do. With the bills piling up, all the assholes in the world, Global Warming, Terrorists, Republicans, Democrats, Monosodium Glutamate, Mold, asbestos, depletion of the global gene pool, Cholesterol, Political Correctness, The Patriot act, Spam, other drivers, Love, Hate, indifference, reality television, and the Rolling Stones going on tour at 85 years old some times I just want to pull the covers up over my head and call the whole thing off. I don't though, in my mind I see that little pit bull dog, Toney, pulling himself through hell just to get one more chance to try and excel, and I think to myself "if he can do it, so can I. Suddenly I'm filled with a lust for life, and I bound out of bed with my problems not seeming quite so luminous as they did a moment before. Most of the time life hands me a curve. Knocks me back on my heels and kicks the ladder out from under me. I get knocked down a lot. I believe though if I can get up just one more time...one more time...that this time....I'll come out on top. Whether I do or not is irrelevant but that I do try is the more important lesson. I don't pray for success, for riches or for power. When at night I ask the lords forgiveness I also ask him one more thing; Please lord let me die game.
peace,
Shane
* A scratch is the term used when the two dogs are faced toward one another from the corner. One dog is let loose and allowed to run toward the other dog across the pit. This is used to determine if the dog still wishes to continue fighting the other dog. This term has spawned several phrases often used in the english language; "Scratch to win", and "toe the line" being two of the most common. after combat is joined, the dogs are then picked up whenever they are "free of holds" and taken to the corner to scratch, they dogs alternate scratching till one, eventually, quits. This is what is known of as the "cajun rules" for dog fighting. they were created to save dogs.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Will and Gameness...
I hurt myself a few weeks ago, and today I hurt also. I'm not in a bad mood or emotionally distraught. I just hurt, physically. It seems as if every injury I've ever had, every stupid mistake, every broken bone or dislocated joint is whispering in my ear, clamoring for my attention like a bunch of unruly kids. I deal with it, it's part of getting old, part of the price we pay for the honor of wisdom. I want to laze around today and not do a damn thing, I know I can't but the aches and pains sap the will and make it harder to start the day. Robert Pirsig called it a "Gumption trap" I laugh at the words, so true.
Will, lack of it is what's keeping me sitting here in this chair typing on this blog, while the presence of it allows man to do great things. From climbing mount Everest to surviving the most terrible accidents and conditions, it's a persons will that keeps them going on.
I had an interesting experience a few months ago while I was scrapping wire out of an ancient building a small company I started had contracted out for destruction. I usually did the salvage or scrapping because the job did not have a lot of money in it, barely enough to pay for my hands and equipment. If I let the hands scrap the material' it tends to walk off, never to be seen again.
I remember I had a shoulder injury from a sparring accident that I had been doing rehabilitative rotator cuff exercises on the night before. My shoulder was incredibly sore. So much so that it felt as if I had plugged my hand into 220V socket when I hit certain positions with it. It smarted.
After about 6 hours or so of using a pair of 48" bolt cutters on the wire and copper pipe I was reduced to finding new ways with which to close the cutters. my shoulder hurt so bad that I couldn't summon the will to work the tool. I had found a large piece of copper main cable running up a wall. Thank god I didn't have to use the cutters on the cable. I did though use a crow bar to pry off the piece of 2x4 that had been nailed over the cable to keep it in place. I slipped the pry bar between the 2x4 and the cable and, using my hip strength ripped the wood from where it was nailed. It came off like an explosion....It hit me right on the nose.
Anyone that's ever been in a fight may be familiar with the curious *POP* you hear/feel when you break your nose, the disorientation, the rushing pain and weakness. Suddenly I was more concerned with finding a towel to stop the bleeding with than scrapping.
During all of this I noticed a curious thing; I felt my will leave. It was as if someone had pulled a stool our from under me and I was falling to the ground. My mind was filled with reasons to leave, excuses, and curses. I was done. During one of the little mini tirades I was having with myself I had said something that turned my frustration at the situation into anger at the building for thwarting me. It was incredible. I felt my will come back. Suddenly I was ready to go back to work. I hurt no less, as a matter of a fact I hurt more than I had when all of this started. I had will and nothing stopped me the rest of the day.
Philosophers have puzzled themselves, created philosophies and wrote texts concerning themselves with the concept of will. Friedrich Nietzsche, Niccolò Machiavelli, Antithenos and Miyamoto Musashi, all their works concerned themselves a great deal with the concept of will.
Whether they called it no michi (no mind = just do it), will to power, or god. I read 'will' when I read their works. You don't just see it in philosophy and religion will can show up in the most unforeseen places.
One of my friends Tila Tequila seems like a real sexpot, but get to know her and you'll find she has a will of iron, she's going places and nothing will get in her way. Luckily she has the tools to get her there. If she were ugly and could not sing she would probably run out of will before she met her goal. So that tells us that will has a motivational component. Some would argue that motivation and will are the same things. I say that they are not. Will can feed motivation, but motivation cannot generate will.
In my next post I will talk about and old word called Gameness and how it relates to the concept of will. We will also talk about a misunderstood animal and how this animal might prove that there is a genetic component to will.
"Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.
Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent.
Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.
Education will not; the world is full of educated failures.
Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent."
Calvin Coolidge
See ya next blog.
Shane
Will, lack of it is what's keeping me sitting here in this chair typing on this blog, while the presence of it allows man to do great things. From climbing mount Everest to surviving the most terrible accidents and conditions, it's a persons will that keeps them going on.
I had an interesting experience a few months ago while I was scrapping wire out of an ancient building a small company I started had contracted out for destruction. I usually did the salvage or scrapping because the job did not have a lot of money in it, barely enough to pay for my hands and equipment. If I let the hands scrap the material' it tends to walk off, never to be seen again.
I remember I had a shoulder injury from a sparring accident that I had been doing rehabilitative rotator cuff exercises on the night before. My shoulder was incredibly sore. So much so that it felt as if I had plugged my hand into 220V socket when I hit certain positions with it. It smarted.
After about 6 hours or so of using a pair of 48" bolt cutters on the wire and copper pipe I was reduced to finding new ways with which to close the cutters. my shoulder hurt so bad that I couldn't summon the will to work the tool. I had found a large piece of copper main cable running up a wall. Thank god I didn't have to use the cutters on the cable. I did though use a crow bar to pry off the piece of 2x4 that had been nailed over the cable to keep it in place. I slipped the pry bar between the 2x4 and the cable and, using my hip strength ripped the wood from where it was nailed. It came off like an explosion....It hit me right on the nose.
Anyone that's ever been in a fight may be familiar with the curious *POP* you hear/feel when you break your nose, the disorientation, the rushing pain and weakness. Suddenly I was more concerned with finding a towel to stop the bleeding with than scrapping.
During all of this I noticed a curious thing; I felt my will leave. It was as if someone had pulled a stool our from under me and I was falling to the ground. My mind was filled with reasons to leave, excuses, and curses. I was done. During one of the little mini tirades I was having with myself I had said something that turned my frustration at the situation into anger at the building for thwarting me. It was incredible. I felt my will come back. Suddenly I was ready to go back to work. I hurt no less, as a matter of a fact I hurt more than I had when all of this started. I had will and nothing stopped me the rest of the day.
Philosophers have puzzled themselves, created philosophies and wrote texts concerning themselves with the concept of will. Friedrich Nietzsche, Niccolò Machiavelli, Antithenos and Miyamoto Musashi, all their works concerned themselves a great deal with the concept of will.
Whether they called it no michi (no mind = just do it), will to power, or god. I read 'will' when I read their works. You don't just see it in philosophy and religion will can show up in the most unforeseen places.
One of my friends Tila Tequila seems like a real sexpot, but get to know her and you'll find she has a will of iron, she's going places and nothing will get in her way. Luckily she has the tools to get her there. If she were ugly and could not sing she would probably run out of will before she met her goal. So that tells us that will has a motivational component. Some would argue that motivation and will are the same things. I say that they are not. Will can feed motivation, but motivation cannot generate will.
In my next post I will talk about and old word called Gameness and how it relates to the concept of will. We will also talk about a misunderstood animal and how this animal might prove that there is a genetic component to will.
"Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.
Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent.
Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.
Education will not; the world is full of educated failures.
Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent."
Calvin Coolidge
See ya next blog.
Shane
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
sleep, now with 15% more "snuggle"
"Sleep, those tiny little slices of death; Oh how I loath them..."
-Edgar Allen Poe
You know, I've always liked the "Poe-ster", I mean who couldn't get behind such classics as "The Raven"(good read, but I would have shot the damn thing after the first three "nevermore's"), "The Tell tail Heart"(can you say "guilty conscious") and "The Fall of the House of Usher" (who hasn't wanted to lock their sister in a tomb, I guess this is why we don't!). The one thing that gets me about ol' Ed was his absolute, venomous, unreasoning, and irrational fear of sleep. I like sleep.
Sleep, to me is an escape to another world, granted I sometimes can't remember that world too well the next morning, but how many of us have went out had some really good times that we've not been able to remember the next day? The great thing is; I don't have a hangover in the morning from my party.
Besides the nocturnal shindigs I like sleep for other reasons, I like to get the room really cold and then wrap up in heavy blankets...pretend I'm an Eskimo! I mean c'mon nothing feels quite like the feeling of waking up and snuggling back down into warm covers.
A lot of times I'll solve problems in my sleep, if I can't quite wrap my mind around a concept or physical activity a good nights sleep usually puts everything in order and when I wake up I'll get it with no problem.
About the only problems I have with sleep are actually going to sleep and waking up. Left to my own devices I quickly fall out of the 24hr sleep cycle that most of us follow. Instead I find myself adopting a habit of staying up for 24 to 36 hours and then sleeping for around 12 hours. The days and nights start getting kind of confusing and there are times that I have to start TiVO'ing my favorite shows, but I actually gain a net increase on my productive time. Instead of 16 hours of productive time and 8 hours of sleep I get a lot more productive time with only 4 more hours! Sure,after 36 hours playing WoW, I look like Keith Richards but you know, I can turn that around and make it work for me!
I like to sleep, heck I'm even thinking of finding one of those hotels with a "sleep concierge" so that I can feel what it's like to sleep in perfection.
"But", you say, "Mr. Poe was a published author his works are read and studied worldwide, he is considered one of the fathers of modern mystery and macabre, how can you, mere mortal, cast disparagement's upon the likes of him?"
Okay,
1. I wasn't casting disparagement's, I took umbrage at one of his remarks
2. What the hell are you doing on my blog?
3. Did you know how Mr. Poe died?
For me, the absolute pinnacle of truth and the ultimate refutation of his statement comes from the tragic death of E.A Poe, as described by Wikipedia:
"On October 3, 1849, Poe was found on the streets of Baltimore delirious, "in great distress, and... in need of immediate assistance", according to the man who found him, Joseph W. Walker.[61] He was taken to the Washington College Hospital, where he died on Sunday, October 7, 1849, at 5:00 in the morning.[62] Poe was never coherent long enough to explain how he came to be in his dire condition, and, oddly, was wearing clothes that were not his own. Poe is said to have repeatedly called out the name "Reynolds" on the night before his death, though it is unclear to whom he was referring. Some sources say Poe's final words were "Lord help my poor soul."[62] All medical records, including his death certificate, have been lost.[63] Newspapers at the time reported Poe's death as "congestion of the brain" or "cerebral inflammation", common euphemisms for deaths from disreputable causes such as alcoholism.[64] However, the actual cause of death remains a mystery;[65] from as early as 1872, cooping was commonly believed to have been the cause,[66] and speculation has included delirium tremens, heart disease, epilepsy, syphilis, meningeal inflammation[67] and cholera.[68]"
LOL... These brains...couldn't find their ass with both hands. After a statement like that it is obvious to me that Ed's cause of death was none other than...lack of sleep.
sleep tight,
Shane
-Edgar Allen Poe
You know, I've always liked the "Poe-ster", I mean who couldn't get behind such classics as "The Raven"(good read, but I would have shot the damn thing after the first three "nevermore's"), "The Tell tail Heart"(can you say "guilty conscious") and "The Fall of the House of Usher" (who hasn't wanted to lock their sister in a tomb, I guess this is why we don't!). The one thing that gets me about ol' Ed was his absolute, venomous, unreasoning, and irrational fear of sleep. I like sleep.
Sleep, to me is an escape to another world, granted I sometimes can't remember that world too well the next morning, but how many of us have went out had some really good times that we've not been able to remember the next day? The great thing is; I don't have a hangover in the morning from my party.
Besides the nocturnal shindigs I like sleep for other reasons, I like to get the room really cold and then wrap up in heavy blankets...pretend I'm an Eskimo! I mean c'mon nothing feels quite like the feeling of waking up and snuggling back down into warm covers.
A lot of times I'll solve problems in my sleep, if I can't quite wrap my mind around a concept or physical activity a good nights sleep usually puts everything in order and when I wake up I'll get it with no problem.
About the only problems I have with sleep are actually going to sleep and waking up. Left to my own devices I quickly fall out of the 24hr sleep cycle that most of us follow. Instead I find myself adopting a habit of staying up for 24 to 36 hours and then sleeping for around 12 hours. The days and nights start getting kind of confusing and there are times that I have to start TiVO'ing my favorite shows, but I actually gain a net increase on my productive time. Instead of 16 hours of productive time and 8 hours of sleep I get a lot more productive time with only 4 more hours! Sure,after 36 hours playing WoW, I look like Keith Richards but you know, I can turn that around and make it work for me!
I like to sleep, heck I'm even thinking of finding one of those hotels with a "sleep concierge" so that I can feel what it's like to sleep in perfection.
"But", you say, "Mr. Poe was a published author his works are read and studied worldwide, he is considered one of the fathers of modern mystery and macabre, how can you, mere mortal, cast disparagement's upon the likes of him?"
Okay,
1. I wasn't casting disparagement's, I took umbrage at one of his remarks
2. What the hell are you doing on my blog?
3. Did you know how Mr. Poe died?
For me, the absolute pinnacle of truth and the ultimate refutation of his statement comes from the tragic death of E.A Poe, as described by Wikipedia:
"On October 3, 1849, Poe was found on the streets of Baltimore delirious, "in great distress, and... in need of immediate assistance", according to the man who found him, Joseph W. Walker.[61] He was taken to the Washington College Hospital, where he died on Sunday, October 7, 1849, at 5:00 in the morning.[62] Poe was never coherent long enough to explain how he came to be in his dire condition, and, oddly, was wearing clothes that were not his own. Poe is said to have repeatedly called out the name "Reynolds" on the night before his death, though it is unclear to whom he was referring. Some sources say Poe's final words were "Lord help my poor soul."[62] All medical records, including his death certificate, have been lost.[63] Newspapers at the time reported Poe's death as "congestion of the brain" or "cerebral inflammation", common euphemisms for deaths from disreputable causes such as alcoholism.[64] However, the actual cause of death remains a mystery;[65] from as early as 1872, cooping was commonly believed to have been the cause,[66] and speculation has included delirium tremens, heart disease, epilepsy, syphilis, meningeal inflammation[67] and cholera.[68]"
LOL... These brains...couldn't find their ass with both hands. After a statement like that it is obvious to me that Ed's cause of death was none other than...lack of sleep.
sleep tight,
Shane
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Manners
"The veneer of Civilization is one-half inch thick, man still thinks with club and prick"
- Unknown
"Moving parts in rubbing contact require lubrication to avoid excessive wear. Honorifics and formal politeness provide lubrication where people rub together. Often the very young, the untraveled, the naive, the unsophisticated deplore these formalities as "empty," "meaningless," or "dishonest," and scorn to use them. No matter how "pure" their motives, they thereby throw sand into machinery that does not work too well at best."
-Robert A. Heinlein.
Politeness…Honorifics…Common courtesy. It seems we, as a generation have grown up with a…well…if not a bad taste in our mouths at least a vague distaste and lack of understanding as to the meaning of those words. In their place has sprung up a culture of fake over familiarity, uncaring neglect and downright meanness. In this post I'd like to talk more in depth as to just exactly what politeness is, isn't, where it comes from and why it has been all but abandoned in today's society.
I heard a story once of an Inuit (Eskimo) long ago who found a white man half frozen on the tundra. He took the man to his wigwam, took his wet clothes off and stuffed him in a freshly killed carcass to warm him and prevent frostbite. The white man was horrified at this and struggled to get free of the mass of intestines and gore in which he found himself cursing loudly the whole time. The Inuit man was puzzled and a bit shocked at this, but chalked it up to a bad day for the white man and let it go at that. Next he served the white man the best food he had in his house…seals eyes, and whale blubber. The white man turned up his nose at the offered food and actually retched after trying some of the fare. This was an awful affront to the Inuit man, but he allowed that the white man might be a little sick from his ordeal and shrugged it off. That night he put the white man in his bed while he slept upon the cold floor. As was tradition he bade his wife to sleep with the guest to keep him warm and make him feel at home. The white man was horrified when the Inuit woman stripped naked and covered herself with bear fat before slipping under the covers to snuggle against him. He was so distraught that he kicked the Inuit woman from under the covers. The look on his face was easy to read even if the Inuit man could not understand his language; he was disgusted. This was the last straw for the Inuit man; he took up his whale lance and killed the white man on the spot.
In this short story we see by it's absence what politeness is; It's a way, in the absence of law, common language, and civilization, for folk to communicate their respect and good intentions to others. In other words, Courtesy can keep you from getting killed. Sound stupid? Just think about it for a minute. With modern "gang culture" elaborate handshakes and rituals have evolved to minimize perceived "disrespecting" behavior and the retribution that it evokes. The gang bangers would not call this politeness, but that's exactly what it is. Consider the handshake, invented in the old west to show another man that you in fact carried no gun. Consider as well how mad you get when someone cuts you off in traffic, but how you easily pass it off while getting in line at the supermarket when you receive an ingratiating smile and a mumbled "sorry". Have you ever met someone in a business environment that was too familiar too quickly and started the entire encounter off calling you "Dude" or some other such nonsense? How did you perceive this person? Chances are you were distrustful and maybe slightly offended, at least a little bit, at first.
Politeness is not lowering your self beneath someone. The young and the disenfranchised tend to believe this and often are confused when they get passed over for promotions and jobs that go to "the suck ass". Chances are the promoted was not so much a brown nosier, as he was adept at common courtesy. Honorifics such as "Sir", "Ma'am," "Ms," "Mr." & "miss" are simply the minimum amount of honor we are all entitled to as human beings. To give a stranger less is to invite confusion and offence. To accept less is to invite trouble.
My ex-wife is black, and we have two children. In a biracial marriage one of the things you look for, as trouble is an older white couple. These people, while probably good folk in their own right, grew up with a different set of beliefs and morals. They were usually the first to look down their noses as my wife and I and their cold stares, should they be seated near us often made a pleasant dinner out into something…less. My kids are lifesavers in cases like these. I would forget my self and be ready to cuss, kick, and scream should they say a word, while my wife would assume a cold aloofness that would make royalty seem low. My kids though…blissfully unaware of intolerance, racial hatred , perceived impropriety and more than willing to chat up anybody… any where…about anything…anytime, diffused many an uncomfortable situation buy the judicial use of "Excuse me sir!" or "I like your dress, Ma'am!" It has never failed to amaze me, more often than not, faces would thaw and suddenly tenuous attempts at conversation would come our way.
This happens because my kids are The Best Kids Ever, but I think that perhaps the fact that they are polite and well spoken helps somewhat as well. Be that as it may, I'm proud of my children, and the fact that they are polite makes me think that maybe I've not screwed up too much in raising them.
Did our parents screw up in raising us? Why has politeness fallen out of vogue? Despite my buddies contention that it was the French during WW2 that laid to seeds of this dilemma, by corrupting us with their decadence. I believe the answer lies in many different places, the French included. We in America tend to glorify rogues, and as a consequence most of our tough guys aren't polite. With TV taking up more and more of out time, the art and profession of good conversation has become somewhat antiquated, with a resultant loss of the rules of good discourse, manners are the first to go.
I've a friend who one time posed to me a question; "what would the world be like if one day everyone got out of bed and decided, for just this one day, to do no evil?" The answer was obvious; for that one-day, we'd have heaven on earth. I'm not saying that being polite will cure world hunger, stop terrorism, engender world peace, or make heaven on earth, but it sure can't hurt. It's easy to do, it makes you look smarter than you really are, and it's an easement. Try it, you may be surprised at the results.
Thanks,
Shane
- Unknown
"Moving parts in rubbing contact require lubrication to avoid excessive wear. Honorifics and formal politeness provide lubrication where people rub together. Often the very young, the untraveled, the naive, the unsophisticated deplore these formalities as "empty," "meaningless," or "dishonest," and scorn to use them. No matter how "pure" their motives, they thereby throw sand into machinery that does not work too well at best."
-Robert A. Heinlein.
Politeness…Honorifics…Common courtesy. It seems we, as a generation have grown up with a…well…if not a bad taste in our mouths at least a vague distaste and lack of understanding as to the meaning of those words. In their place has sprung up a culture of fake over familiarity, uncaring neglect and downright meanness. In this post I'd like to talk more in depth as to just exactly what politeness is, isn't, where it comes from and why it has been all but abandoned in today's society.
I heard a story once of an Inuit (Eskimo) long ago who found a white man half frozen on the tundra. He took the man to his wigwam, took his wet clothes off and stuffed him in a freshly killed carcass to warm him and prevent frostbite. The white man was horrified at this and struggled to get free of the mass of intestines and gore in which he found himself cursing loudly the whole time. The Inuit man was puzzled and a bit shocked at this, but chalked it up to a bad day for the white man and let it go at that. Next he served the white man the best food he had in his house…seals eyes, and whale blubber. The white man turned up his nose at the offered food and actually retched after trying some of the fare. This was an awful affront to the Inuit man, but he allowed that the white man might be a little sick from his ordeal and shrugged it off. That night he put the white man in his bed while he slept upon the cold floor. As was tradition he bade his wife to sleep with the guest to keep him warm and make him feel at home. The white man was horrified when the Inuit woman stripped naked and covered herself with bear fat before slipping under the covers to snuggle against him. He was so distraught that he kicked the Inuit woman from under the covers. The look on his face was easy to read even if the Inuit man could not understand his language; he was disgusted. This was the last straw for the Inuit man; he took up his whale lance and killed the white man on the spot.
In this short story we see by it's absence what politeness is; It's a way, in the absence of law, common language, and civilization, for folk to communicate their respect and good intentions to others. In other words, Courtesy can keep you from getting killed. Sound stupid? Just think about it for a minute. With modern "gang culture" elaborate handshakes and rituals have evolved to minimize perceived "disrespecting" behavior and the retribution that it evokes. The gang bangers would not call this politeness, but that's exactly what it is. Consider the handshake, invented in the old west to show another man that you in fact carried no gun. Consider as well how mad you get when someone cuts you off in traffic, but how you easily pass it off while getting in line at the supermarket when you receive an ingratiating smile and a mumbled "sorry". Have you ever met someone in a business environment that was too familiar too quickly and started the entire encounter off calling you "Dude" or some other such nonsense? How did you perceive this person? Chances are you were distrustful and maybe slightly offended, at least a little bit, at first.
Politeness is not lowering your self beneath someone. The young and the disenfranchised tend to believe this and often are confused when they get passed over for promotions and jobs that go to "the suck ass". Chances are the promoted was not so much a brown nosier, as he was adept at common courtesy. Honorifics such as "Sir", "Ma'am," "Ms," "Mr." & "miss" are simply the minimum amount of honor we are all entitled to as human beings. To give a stranger less is to invite confusion and offence. To accept less is to invite trouble.
My ex-wife is black, and we have two children. In a biracial marriage one of the things you look for, as trouble is an older white couple. These people, while probably good folk in their own right, grew up with a different set of beliefs and morals. They were usually the first to look down their noses as my wife and I and their cold stares, should they be seated near us often made a pleasant dinner out into something…less. My kids are lifesavers in cases like these. I would forget my self and be ready to cuss, kick, and scream should they say a word, while my wife would assume a cold aloofness that would make royalty seem low. My kids though…blissfully unaware of intolerance, racial hatred , perceived impropriety and more than willing to chat up anybody… any where…about anything…anytime, diffused many an uncomfortable situation buy the judicial use of "Excuse me sir!" or "I like your dress, Ma'am!" It has never failed to amaze me, more often than not, faces would thaw and suddenly tenuous attempts at conversation would come our way.
This happens because my kids are The Best Kids Ever, but I think that perhaps the fact that they are polite and well spoken helps somewhat as well. Be that as it may, I'm proud of my children, and the fact that they are polite makes me think that maybe I've not screwed up too much in raising them.
Did our parents screw up in raising us? Why has politeness fallen out of vogue? Despite my buddies contention that it was the French during WW2 that laid to seeds of this dilemma, by corrupting us with their decadence. I believe the answer lies in many different places, the French included. We in America tend to glorify rogues, and as a consequence most of our tough guys aren't polite. With TV taking up more and more of out time, the art and profession of good conversation has become somewhat antiquated, with a resultant loss of the rules of good discourse, manners are the first to go.
I've a friend who one time posed to me a question; "what would the world be like if one day everyone got out of bed and decided, for just this one day, to do no evil?" The answer was obvious; for that one-day, we'd have heaven on earth. I'm not saying that being polite will cure world hunger, stop terrorism, engender world peace, or make heaven on earth, but it sure can't hurt. It's easy to do, it makes you look smarter than you really are, and it's an easement. Try it, you may be surprised at the results.
Thanks,
Shane
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)