It's once again that time, friends and neighbors! The music in all the stores is more bell-centric and terrible, coffee places are adding pumpkin spice and gingerbread to everything, and people get unreasonably offended if one fails to end a conversation by acknowledging their specific holiday. As the annual celebrations reach their fever pitch zenith, I want to take a moment and wish every one a happy and beneficial Declaration Day. As some of you know, Declaration Day is a relatively new and as yet very unknown holiday created by myself and observed by great and good people. For those of you who are not already familiar, I've laid out the meaning and spirit of the holiday below.
For those of you who are familiar already, I've updated things a little for modern convenience, so feel free to refresh yourselves. Enjoy:
It is hereby proposed that, instead of trying to reclaim an existing holiday, most of which have been either destroyed by consumerism and greed or ruined by more accurate accounts of history, we make up a new one, which takes place on the Twelfth of December. This day shall be known as Declaration Day, and shall work thusly:
There are no gifts, no big meals, no dying plants to decorate or terrible songs to sing. There is no affiliated religion or deity to worship (though I'd be willing to listen to some prayers, as long as they are juicy), and there are no special outfits. All you must do to participate is tell one, just one, person you care about a real, honest thing. No sugar coating either; just plain simple truth.
And it can't be something easy, like telling a significant other "I love you", or telling a best friend they are really important to you. Tell them something you wouldn't normally tell them.
Now, just a couple of rules, which I get to make, because I invented the holiday (hence the earlier implication that prayers be sent to me.)
1) This truth may not be conveyed via any medium that does not allow for immediate response. The point of this holiday is accurate, honest, real communication, and I have learned over the years that removing the possibility of response often instills crudity and meanness. So in order to maintain genuine sincerity and vulnerability, face to face is best. An actual phone call or video chat is permitted if circumstances require it. Text communication is henceforth deemed acceptable, however all messages must be re-read twice and closely scrutinized for potential misunderstanding.
2) Any person to whom a truth is delivered is automatically allowed to dispense a truth in return. So, if your decision is to finally tell that coworker they should stop wearing open toed shoes, they will be allowed to tell you that everyone knows you pick your nose and hide the findings under your desk like a gross gross goblin, provided both statements are true. This provision is in place not to keep one from expressing an honest opinion, but only to maintain balance. No one wants some dummy just walking around telling people what's wrong with them. Also, bear in mind, if you decide to only convey the, let's say, unkind thoughts in your head, people are going to notice, and eventually you'll end up with less people in your life to complain about than you might want, with only your misery for company.
So try not to be a jerk about it. Just take a little brain power away from who on your gift list would like that neat-o tea kettle (everyone who wants one has one already), try not to think about what to wear to the office holiday party (skip it. Just skip it; who even cares?) and let your mind come up with something you can tell someone that really, really matters. Anything, for anyone, as long as it's not a commercial for diamonds or toys.
Good luck with it, and as the creator of Declaration Day, I shall kick things off with something for all of you:
This was a crazy, bonkers year for me on a personal level, and the first half in particular broke me bad. But I'm better, so much better, now than I was even before, and there is no way I would've made it back without the people in my life who care for me. I came of out of all of this with more appreciation than ever for what people can do for each other, a truth that can be easy to forget when one finds themselves feeling alone and abandoned. Some of you may not even realize you helped. But you did, and to you, for you, I am forever grateful. Thank you.
-John
Thursday, December 12, 2019
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Something New For A Change
As we hurdle towards the end of 2019, heedless of a future that will likely be pretty much what we expect, I’d like to take a moment to ignore all the insanity swarming over the planet right now and focus on a more local experience. By which I mean I’ll write vaguely about a few things I learned and try to make them broadly relatable as you, my friends and neighbors, hopefully feel entertained enough to allow me to do so.
Instead I’m going to spend some time writing about the importance of new things, and how we need them to keep our lives from becoming stagnant, mosquito spawning pools badly in need of skimming. It may not seem like a huge revelation, but consider it a reminder that a routine, while probably necessary, can be stifling if left unchanged or unchallenged. And the really great thing is, there is never any real shortage of new things to try out, even on a tiny scale.
Maybe trying to cook a new dish, or change the way you make an old favorite, very literally spicing things up a bit. Something small like that, which doesn’t require a terribly significant financial or temporal investment, can still throw a little color at you. It’s a relatively small risk, but could end up making your day.
If you’re feeling even more adventurous -or stuck- and are lucky enough to pull it off, you could try a huge change, like moving somewhere new or getting a new job, or in my case, buying a house. This kind of thing is way more of a risk, with a payoff that almost certainly is farther down the horizon. Or more likely will be manifested in smaller ways, little moments of realization that pop into your brain and hopefully make you smile.
Be careful of these changes though, because as anyone who knows me can testify, you will be in danger of talking about it way more than anyone cares to listen. Not necessarily a new thing for me, mind you, but not one I’d advise trying out.
A really scary new thing to try is connecting with a new person. It takes a lot of energy, attention, and vulnerability to pull off that sort of thing, and may just prove disastrous. Though once in a while, if you keep at it, things can work out well and you get yourself a new favorite coworker, or a lifelong friend, or maybe a significant other even. This is the kind of complicated new thing that generally worries people the most, for obvious reasons. It also happens to be the easiest one to avoid: all you have to do is not put yourself out there.
But then you run the risk of getting all scummy and spawning mosquitos, and the last thing the world needs is more blood sucking monsters. You’re far better off getting out there and trying, even though being hurt is somewhat unavoidable.
It’s all a step up from scummy bug water.
There’s a lot of terrifying stuff going on in the world right now, and most of the screens we look at all day place a large emphasis on them, so it’s easy to let your mind be overcome with negative expectations and metaphorical mosquitos. It often feels a far safer option to stay home, lock your doors, and watch old episodes of television for the fourteenth time. Sometimes it’s even necessary, when social batteries get depleted or hearts get busted up. Recovery is important. But it’s just as important to get up and out there again, sooner or later, and see what’s what.
Also, if you do buy a house, it’s not a bad idea to request all housewarming presents be in the form of hardware store gift cards.
-John
Instead I’m going to spend some time writing about the importance of new things, and how we need them to keep our lives from becoming stagnant, mosquito spawning pools badly in need of skimming. It may not seem like a huge revelation, but consider it a reminder that a routine, while probably necessary, can be stifling if left unchanged or unchallenged. And the really great thing is, there is never any real shortage of new things to try out, even on a tiny scale.
Maybe trying to cook a new dish, or change the way you make an old favorite, very literally spicing things up a bit. Something small like that, which doesn’t require a terribly significant financial or temporal investment, can still throw a little color at you. It’s a relatively small risk, but could end up making your day.
If you’re feeling even more adventurous -or stuck- and are lucky enough to pull it off, you could try a huge change, like moving somewhere new or getting a new job, or in my case, buying a house. This kind of thing is way more of a risk, with a payoff that almost certainly is farther down the horizon. Or more likely will be manifested in smaller ways, little moments of realization that pop into your brain and hopefully make you smile.
Be careful of these changes though, because as anyone who knows me can testify, you will be in danger of talking about it way more than anyone cares to listen. Not necessarily a new thing for me, mind you, but not one I’d advise trying out.
A really scary new thing to try is connecting with a new person. It takes a lot of energy, attention, and vulnerability to pull off that sort of thing, and may just prove disastrous. Though once in a while, if you keep at it, things can work out well and you get yourself a new favorite coworker, or a lifelong friend, or maybe a significant other even. This is the kind of complicated new thing that generally worries people the most, for obvious reasons. It also happens to be the easiest one to avoid: all you have to do is not put yourself out there.
But then you run the risk of getting all scummy and spawning mosquitos, and the last thing the world needs is more blood sucking monsters. You’re far better off getting out there and trying, even though being hurt is somewhat unavoidable.
It’s all a step up from scummy bug water.
There’s a lot of terrifying stuff going on in the world right now, and most of the screens we look at all day place a large emphasis on them, so it’s easy to let your mind be overcome with negative expectations and metaphorical mosquitos. It often feels a far safer option to stay home, lock your doors, and watch old episodes of television for the fourteenth time. Sometimes it’s even necessary, when social batteries get depleted or hearts get busted up. Recovery is important. But it’s just as important to get up and out there again, sooner or later, and see what’s what.
Also, if you do buy a house, it’s not a bad idea to request all housewarming presents be in the form of hardware store gift cards.
-John
Monday, September 30, 2019
Political PR
So okay, all you world leaders and beaters, I know you have all the power and you can do whatever you want and you don’t care what the little people think or have to say. That’s nothing new, and though most of us would like to change it, we’re a little busy trying to hold jobs and pay for food and stuff, so aside from protesting on Saturdays and convincing ourselves our votes count even though the last two Republican presidents we had lost the popular vote and the electoral college is a travesty, there isn’t much we can do except maybe vote with our dollars. It’s no secret anymore that most of you are owned by lobbyists, foreign powers, or your own self interests, which is why the only ardent supporters among your constituents are generally the least informed - and yet somehow the loudest. I can see why you wouldn’t feel the need to hide behind that projection of caring about America anymore: it’s a lot of work, and no one’s buying it anyway.
Still though, I think after a certain point a little public image damage control might be in order, and as always, I’m here to help. Think of me as a public relations consultant if you will, or perhaps an emissary for etiquette, or even a delegate for decency, my personal favorite. I present to you a few suggestions which may not recreate the public trust in you - I’m afraid that particular ship sailed and was lost to the void long ago - but might just calm enough of them down for you to not have to, I don’t know, beg foreign governments to rig your elections, or turn your voting districts into a politically skewed Spirograph.
Maybe.
All right, first things first, and this is so bleedingly important it should seem obvious: you really, really have to stop making it so painfully clear that you have no concern for children. There is simply too much out there now for people not to see a pattern. First, you refused and continue to refuse to do anything about these school shootings. Or mall shootings. Or movie theater shootings. Or parking lot shootings, sporting venue shootings, or even church shootings. Then, you put refugee children in cages as punishment for their parents not wanting them to be murdered. Then, you started trying to take school lunches away from children who couldn’t afford them. Now, you’re openly mocking a sixteen year old climate change activist because she’s smarter than you are and won’t stop calling you out on your willful ignorance and callousness. And you’re not even doing a good job of it, by the way. So far, she’s managed to turn all of your sad personal attacks to her own advantage. Seriously, it’s one thing to have her outsmart you, but doing it for her just is not a good look.
I understand this may sound harsh, but please don’t get upset. I’m trying to help you out here, remember?
Second, and this is going to hurt, so brace yourself: it’s time to stop treating people who aren’t rich white men like they don’t matter. Now, let me be clear: I know you aren’t going to stop thinking it. That’s a miracle even the great Buddha himself couldn’t perform for you, and I know better than to try and convince you. You are free to continue thinking white males are the best people, no matter how high the evidence stacks against us. No matter how many other ethnicities and genders continue to outshine you and yours consistently, you retain the right to, in your own small mind, hold fast to your ignorance.
Making it so public, however, is going to cost you in those polls. However you intend your words and actions to seem, they look like nothing so much as the irrational deeds of a long over-privileged and now desperate coward, terrified by the thought of an equal playing field despite generations of claiming some deity instilled superiority. Trust me as your representative of rhetoric (my new favorite), all this tough talk about defending your rights against immigrants and women doesn’t sound noble, or righteous. Remember, you’re not supposed to be keeping these people down, you’re supposed to be leading them into a better future.
Which brings me to my final recommendation as your counselor of conduct (meh): you need to start finding some actual leaders, and not just whoever’s loudest. I admit, it was fun for a little while, watching these motley fools get thrown in over their heads and flail wildly as they tried to keep from drowning in the sea of international politics, but now it’s just sad to see how easily they get manipulated and, in some Particularly Onerous Tastelessly Unaware Situations (you know I had to get one in there), painfully embarrassing.
Perhaps we could try looking for people who have thoughts and visions about the future, instead of those who are still clinging to a fast fading former time that was only great for them, and even then not so great. You could tie this into the first idea by finding someone who understands when children take to the streets and stage making their desires to not get murdered at school or left to inherit a crippled planet known. You know, if you want.Nothing can stop the future, friends and neighbors, and only a fool tries to live in the past.
I know it’s going to take a while to turn things around. There’s a lot of of enmity out there for you all these days, but I think these three points are a great way to start, and who knows? Maybe once you get rolling, you’ll find out that doing good things for your constituency is just as rewarding as being paid millions of dollars by private corporations. Probably that seems far-fetched and ridiculous to you, but no more so than the idea of a President making fun of a child on Twitter, am I right?
-John
Still though, I think after a certain point a little public image damage control might be in order, and as always, I’m here to help. Think of me as a public relations consultant if you will, or perhaps an emissary for etiquette, or even a delegate for decency, my personal favorite. I present to you a few suggestions which may not recreate the public trust in you - I’m afraid that particular ship sailed and was lost to the void long ago - but might just calm enough of them down for you to not have to, I don’t know, beg foreign governments to rig your elections, or turn your voting districts into a politically skewed Spirograph.
Maybe.
All right, first things first, and this is so bleedingly important it should seem obvious: you really, really have to stop making it so painfully clear that you have no concern for children. There is simply too much out there now for people not to see a pattern. First, you refused and continue to refuse to do anything about these school shootings. Or mall shootings. Or movie theater shootings. Or parking lot shootings, sporting venue shootings, or even church shootings. Then, you put refugee children in cages as punishment for their parents not wanting them to be murdered. Then, you started trying to take school lunches away from children who couldn’t afford them. Now, you’re openly mocking a sixteen year old climate change activist because she’s smarter than you are and won’t stop calling you out on your willful ignorance and callousness. And you’re not even doing a good job of it, by the way. So far, she’s managed to turn all of your sad personal attacks to her own advantage. Seriously, it’s one thing to have her outsmart you, but doing it for her just is not a good look.
I understand this may sound harsh, but please don’t get upset. I’m trying to help you out here, remember?
Second, and this is going to hurt, so brace yourself: it’s time to stop treating people who aren’t rich white men like they don’t matter. Now, let me be clear: I know you aren’t going to stop thinking it. That’s a miracle even the great Buddha himself couldn’t perform for you, and I know better than to try and convince you. You are free to continue thinking white males are the best people, no matter how high the evidence stacks against us. No matter how many other ethnicities and genders continue to outshine you and yours consistently, you retain the right to, in your own small mind, hold fast to your ignorance.
Making it so public, however, is going to cost you in those polls. However you intend your words and actions to seem, they look like nothing so much as the irrational deeds of a long over-privileged and now desperate coward, terrified by the thought of an equal playing field despite generations of claiming some deity instilled superiority. Trust me as your representative of rhetoric (my new favorite), all this tough talk about defending your rights against immigrants and women doesn’t sound noble, or righteous. Remember, you’re not supposed to be keeping these people down, you’re supposed to be leading them into a better future.
Which brings me to my final recommendation as your counselor of conduct (meh): you need to start finding some actual leaders, and not just whoever’s loudest. I admit, it was fun for a little while, watching these motley fools get thrown in over their heads and flail wildly as they tried to keep from drowning in the sea of international politics, but now it’s just sad to see how easily they get manipulated and, in some Particularly Onerous Tastelessly Unaware Situations (you know I had to get one in there), painfully embarrassing.
Perhaps we could try looking for people who have thoughts and visions about the future, instead of those who are still clinging to a fast fading former time that was only great for them, and even then not so great. You could tie this into the first idea by finding someone who understands when children take to the streets and stage making their desires to not get murdered at school or left to inherit a crippled planet known. You know, if you want.Nothing can stop the future, friends and neighbors, and only a fool tries to live in the past.
I know it’s going to take a while to turn things around. There’s a lot of of enmity out there for you all these days, but I think these three points are a great way to start, and who knows? Maybe once you get rolling, you’ll find out that doing good things for your constituency is just as rewarding as being paid millions of dollars by private corporations. Probably that seems far-fetched and ridiculous to you, but no more so than the idea of a President making fun of a child on Twitter, am I right?
-John
Friday, September 6, 2019
Saint John's Theory
Repent and reform, ye violators of vocabulary, as I, Saint John the Amenable, return once again from a long sabbatical to set aright another linguistic aberration. It has come to my attention that a person in Florida who holds a great deal of sway over how the children of that state are educated, has dismissed evolution as “only a theory,” saying that as such it should not be taught as fact.
This is merely the latest in a lengthy line of attempted obfuscations meant to spread ignorance in order to prolong the existence of competing ideas which have no evidence to support them whatsoever, and are therefore generally referred to as ‘beliefs’, ‘opinions’, or ‘nonsense.’
The issue at hand is that those who feel their beliefs are threatened by science and fact are exceedingly quick to conflate ‘theory’ and ‘speculation’, as opposed to acknowledging that in the scientific community, a ‘theory’ is an explanation of natural phenomena that is supported by empirical evidence and actual fact. A theory can also be challenged and tested, often without threats of eternal condemnation and immediate violence. Another key thing to point out is that proponents of a theory often have more than one primary source with which they can support their theory. Although as far as this saint is concerned, perhaps the greatest thing about theories is that they are subject to change, as our understanding of the universe grows.
A theory is not, as our dear Floridian educator implied, easily dismissed as just some silly thing that a bunch of people accept as truth for no definite reason. The proper term for things of this nature is the aforementioned ‘belief’, if one is polite, or ‘nonsense’, if one is me.
Examples of beliefs would those of the pastor in Tennessee who banned Harry Potter due to the ‘real’ spells and curses it contains, the notion that the Earth is flat, or the assertion that emojis belong in work related emails. These are the kinds of things that people ascribe to for reasons other than logic. Often people choose to believe in things because they need to have faith in something to prevent insanity or despair. This, when kept to oneself, is perfectly acceptable, and in many ways a boon.
Yet I put it to thee, oh reader, that boon as these beliefs may be to their holder, they are rarely, if ever, a system so objectively supported by fact or empirical evidence that they should be given the same universal weight as concepts like gravity, evolution, or atomic theory, nor should they be presented to children as equally valid ideas.
Settled as this subject should now and never will be, there remains another commonly utilized sentence in this argument, wherein these enemies of evidence claim that they’re not “trying to get religion in schools.” While this may or may not be the case, depending on which foolish mouth the words are spewing from at any given moment, it is nonetheless quite obviously clear that the intent is to make scientific theory seem as thoroughly flawed as any non-reason based belief, thereby preemptively strengthening their own position without having to actually defend it.
Truth be told, (a fun phrase to employ in this particular discussion) I would think these creationists would do everything they could to prevent their beliefs being put under the scrutiny of scientific light of any kind, let alone to the degree that evolution has been since its conception. I would also like to ask if they would object to other belief systems being taught as equally valid as well, or if perhaps they would be averse to their little sacred saved ones being taught the teachings of the Buddha or Allah? Or what might they do if the educational system went so far as to equalize all beliefs with theories, and one day their precious offspring came home espousing the beliefs of the Nihilists, or, heaven forbid, Socialists?
One shivers to think.
-St. John the Amenable
This is merely the latest in a lengthy line of attempted obfuscations meant to spread ignorance in order to prolong the existence of competing ideas which have no evidence to support them whatsoever, and are therefore generally referred to as ‘beliefs’, ‘opinions’, or ‘nonsense.’
The issue at hand is that those who feel their beliefs are threatened by science and fact are exceedingly quick to conflate ‘theory’ and ‘speculation’, as opposed to acknowledging that in the scientific community, a ‘theory’ is an explanation of natural phenomena that is supported by empirical evidence and actual fact. A theory can also be challenged and tested, often without threats of eternal condemnation and immediate violence. Another key thing to point out is that proponents of a theory often have more than one primary source with which they can support their theory. Although as far as this saint is concerned, perhaps the greatest thing about theories is that they are subject to change, as our understanding of the universe grows.
A theory is not, as our dear Floridian educator implied, easily dismissed as just some silly thing that a bunch of people accept as truth for no definite reason. The proper term for things of this nature is the aforementioned ‘belief’, if one is polite, or ‘nonsense’, if one is me.
Examples of beliefs would those of the pastor in Tennessee who banned Harry Potter due to the ‘real’ spells and curses it contains, the notion that the Earth is flat, or the assertion that emojis belong in work related emails. These are the kinds of things that people ascribe to for reasons other than logic. Often people choose to believe in things because they need to have faith in something to prevent insanity or despair. This, when kept to oneself, is perfectly acceptable, and in many ways a boon.
Yet I put it to thee, oh reader, that boon as these beliefs may be to their holder, they are rarely, if ever, a system so objectively supported by fact or empirical evidence that they should be given the same universal weight as concepts like gravity, evolution, or atomic theory, nor should they be presented to children as equally valid ideas.
Settled as this subject should now and never will be, there remains another commonly utilized sentence in this argument, wherein these enemies of evidence claim that they’re not “trying to get religion in schools.” While this may or may not be the case, depending on which foolish mouth the words are spewing from at any given moment, it is nonetheless quite obviously clear that the intent is to make scientific theory seem as thoroughly flawed as any non-reason based belief, thereby preemptively strengthening their own position without having to actually defend it.
Truth be told, (a fun phrase to employ in this particular discussion) I would think these creationists would do everything they could to prevent their beliefs being put under the scrutiny of scientific light of any kind, let alone to the degree that evolution has been since its conception. I would also like to ask if they would object to other belief systems being taught as equally valid as well, or if perhaps they would be averse to their little sacred saved ones being taught the teachings of the Buddha or Allah? Or what might they do if the educational system went so far as to equalize all beliefs with theories, and one day their precious offspring came home espousing the beliefs of the Nihilists, or, heaven forbid, Socialists?
One shivers to think.
-St. John the Amenable
Friday, August 16, 2019
Iceland: Reykjavik
Having returned Radio Flyer, my Flying Companion and I now found ourselves relegated to places reachable by foot. Lucky for us, Reykjavik is an entirely walkable city, and boy howdy did we ever walk it. What follows is less of a linear account, and more selected highlights, which you will read about it in the order I remember to write them. Or you could just jump randomly through the paragraphs, if you’re one of those rebels.
We found ourselves at one point in a restaurant on the docks, where we enjoyed a buffet of fresh fish of various species, including Salted Cod, Arctic Char, Arctic Wolf Fish, Salmon, and even more Cod, along with a delicious red pepper soup. It was easily our favorite meal of the trip, and my Flying Companion in particular was obsessed with the Arctic Char. The closest thing to a letdown was the Arctic Wolf Fish, whish was only “pretty good,” while everything else was amazing.
We went into a great many shops, searching for our souvenirs. Originally, we’d been set on a lopapeysa, the traditional Icelandic wool sweater, but the wool proved too scratchy for my Flying Companion, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wear sweaters like once a year, so I instead found a beautiful green wool blanket. I use blankets pretty frequently. My Flying Companion eventually found for herself a lovely necklace, created by a local artist using small lava stones set into a silver disc and attached to a silver chain.
Also in these shops we discovered that vikings and puffins are the big thing for touristy tchotzkes, and can be found plastered on everything from thimbles to functional drinking horns, which are made from ox horn, according to the signs put up by every display we saw. These shops are fun for a while, but very similar, and if one spends too much time in them, begin to impart a bit of theme park feel.
A great way to recover from this feeling is to check out some of the cool bars, my favorite of which was The Irishman, a breathtaking bar with plush leather seats, intricately carved woodwork, friendly staff, and two Englishmen who played darts and made fun of each other in a loud and very entertaining manner. I expect my Flying Companion preferred the Lebowski Bar, a bar themed after the movie with which it shares its name. I admit it was pretty awesome, lots of rugs, multiple versions of the white russian, and on the night we went, a music quiz which we did not win.
There was also, diagonally across from our apartment, a small convenience store where we had tasty hamburgers and met a friendly young lady from the States, who’d moved to Iceland about six months ago and seemed quite happy there. And just a few paces further down that road was a place where we enjoyed many servings of the drug of choice for Iceland: ice cream.
We were told before our trip that ice cream is a big deal in Iceland, but that did not actually prepare us, so allow me to try and prepare you. Imagine if you were walking down a city street in the US, but instead of every phone you saw, there was an ice cream cone. You know how in old movies, everyone is constantly smoking? It’s like that, except it’s ice cream. Or like how everyone has their own water bottle they’re always carrying around like a baby with a bottle?
Yup. Ice cream. And let me tell you, friends and neighbors, it’s contagious. We definitely ate more ice cream than either of us does in any given three month period, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Try the rhubarb.
At one point we met the friendliest man in Iceland, and his dog, Leo. Now, let me be clear: we did not meet any particularly rude people there, but generally it’s not a place for small talk. Not a lot of the fake pleasantries we’re used to from the shop employees or waitstaff, which was honestly a breath of fresh air for us both. All of the extroverted friendliness seems to be concentrated into this man, whose name we did not get. He instead treated us to some excellent tidbits, including a recommendation to ask any Canadians I meet about Kiefer Sutherland’s grandfather, his intent to take his dog for a pee, and a glimpse of his highly prized Costco card.
This gentleman managed to unseat as favorite interaction an elderly Russian woman who, upon noticing us reading a flyer for a risque comedy club, leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I’m interested, too” with the sly smile of a mischievous rule breaker.
There are a great many small things we discovered in Reykjavik I’ve omitted here, partially because I like to keep a few things for just myself and my fellow travellers, but also because I highly recommend people do their own exploring, and find their own things to love about the places they visit. So, in lieu of any further detail and description, I will end this episodic recounting of my travels by saying Iceland is an amazing fantasy world of a place, and well worth the visit.
But please don’t stay there, because I’m thinking of retiring there someday, and I’d prefer not to see an increase in human population when I do.
-John
We found ourselves at one point in a restaurant on the docks, where we enjoyed a buffet of fresh fish of various species, including Salted Cod, Arctic Char, Arctic Wolf Fish, Salmon, and even more Cod, along with a delicious red pepper soup. It was easily our favorite meal of the trip, and my Flying Companion in particular was obsessed with the Arctic Char. The closest thing to a letdown was the Arctic Wolf Fish, whish was only “pretty good,” while everything else was amazing.
We went into a great many shops, searching for our souvenirs. Originally, we’d been set on a lopapeysa, the traditional Icelandic wool sweater, but the wool proved too scratchy for my Flying Companion, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wear sweaters like once a year, so I instead found a beautiful green wool blanket. I use blankets pretty frequently. My Flying Companion eventually found for herself a lovely necklace, created by a local artist using small lava stones set into a silver disc and attached to a silver chain.
Also in these shops we discovered that vikings and puffins are the big thing for touristy tchotzkes, and can be found plastered on everything from thimbles to functional drinking horns, which are made from ox horn, according to the signs put up by every display we saw. These shops are fun for a while, but very similar, and if one spends too much time in them, begin to impart a bit of theme park feel.
A great way to recover from this feeling is to check out some of the cool bars, my favorite of which was The Irishman, a breathtaking bar with plush leather seats, intricately carved woodwork, friendly staff, and two Englishmen who played darts and made fun of each other in a loud and very entertaining manner. I expect my Flying Companion preferred the Lebowski Bar, a bar themed after the movie with which it shares its name. I admit it was pretty awesome, lots of rugs, multiple versions of the white russian, and on the night we went, a music quiz which we did not win.
There was also, diagonally across from our apartment, a small convenience store where we had tasty hamburgers and met a friendly young lady from the States, who’d moved to Iceland about six months ago and seemed quite happy there. And just a few paces further down that road was a place where we enjoyed many servings of the drug of choice for Iceland: ice cream.
We were told before our trip that ice cream is a big deal in Iceland, but that did not actually prepare us, so allow me to try and prepare you. Imagine if you were walking down a city street in the US, but instead of every phone you saw, there was an ice cream cone. You know how in old movies, everyone is constantly smoking? It’s like that, except it’s ice cream. Or like how everyone has their own water bottle they’re always carrying around like a baby with a bottle?
Yup. Ice cream. And let me tell you, friends and neighbors, it’s contagious. We definitely ate more ice cream than either of us does in any given three month period, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Try the rhubarb.
At one point we met the friendliest man in Iceland, and his dog, Leo. Now, let me be clear: we did not meet any particularly rude people there, but generally it’s not a place for small talk. Not a lot of the fake pleasantries we’re used to from the shop employees or waitstaff, which was honestly a breath of fresh air for us both. All of the extroverted friendliness seems to be concentrated into this man, whose name we did not get. He instead treated us to some excellent tidbits, including a recommendation to ask any Canadians I meet about Kiefer Sutherland’s grandfather, his intent to take his dog for a pee, and a glimpse of his highly prized Costco card.
This gentleman managed to unseat as favorite interaction an elderly Russian woman who, upon noticing us reading a flyer for a risque comedy club, leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I’m interested, too” with the sly smile of a mischievous rule breaker.
There are a great many small things we discovered in Reykjavik I’ve omitted here, partially because I like to keep a few things for just myself and my fellow travellers, but also because I highly recommend people do their own exploring, and find their own things to love about the places they visit. So, in lieu of any further detail and description, I will end this episodic recounting of my travels by saying Iceland is an amazing fantasy world of a place, and well worth the visit.
But please don’t stay there, because I’m thinking of retiring there someday, and I’d prefer not to see an increase in human population when I do.
-John
Thursday, August 15, 2019
Iceland, Days 3, 4, and 5
Days three, four, and five turned into a blur of driving all over the country, punctuated by stops of wondrous and breathtaking things. By now I think those of you who are still with me get the idea that my Flying Companion and I are both bad sleepers who like good bread, and also recall my account of the Icelandic countryside well enough that I can eschew recounting both topics. If it helps, feel free to take a moment between the following events and mentally insert a paragraph about igneous rocks, stubby grass, and sheep. Make it flowery.
And don’t forget to pepper in mentions of Cinnamon Rolls and Sourdough Bread, here capitalized due to their singular deliciousness.
First on this list of recountances is Geysir, which is exactly what its name suggests. The odd and sad thing about Geysir is that, as were told after our visit, it is “broken.” This is because people were placing detergents and similar chemicals in it in order to make it erupt more often, and now it doesn’t erupt. It turns out, people are kind of idiotic all over the world. Fortunately for those of us who think a natural geyser is cool enough, Geysir itself is surrounded by a few other geysers, one of which still erupts every few minutes, and let me tell you, friends and neighbors, seeing a big spout of hot water erupt from the ground is cooler than some of you jaded souls might think.
We next found an unexpected stop along our journey, a small canyon with steep, close in sides and a good amount of sheep (we assumed) excrement to avoid. About halfway through, we came to a small platform with a sign on it explaining what this place was, and get this: it’s where they used to execute people back in yore! There was a rock nearby where the beheading took place, another, higher up rock from which thieves were hanged, and even a little pond where they would drown criminal women, a practice which I suppose could be seen as sexist or chivalrous, depending on your point of view. Personally, I find sexism and acts of chivalry often overlap in some uncomfortable ways, so I’m going to end this paragraph here.
The pinnacle of day three was undoubtedly Gullfoss, a multi-tiered waterfall that, based on our view from the top, pours over its final cascade into a bottomless opaque mist, and though I’m sure all that water ends up in the ocean somehow, I like to imagine it just magically keeps going down. Which it sort of does, when you think about it, down to a river, then down to the ocean, following the same endless cycle of life and movement that keeps this whole weird world going.
Science is magic, ya’ll!
Day four began with a tour of a Lava Tunnel, here capitalized because it blew my mind and was awesome in the way that it truly inspires awe. We joined a group of fellow adventurers, and were led by our whimsically entertaining guide around 300 meters into a cold, damp tunnel created thousands of years ago by, you guessed it, flowing lava! We found ourselves surrounded on all sides by multihued rocks, each given their color by lava of different degrees, as well as large boulders and disparately sized rocks that had fallen from the walls and ceiling of the tunnel over the years. We reached the final platform of our tour, and here is where our guide -after giving us a warning- turned off all the lights in the tunnel, and treated us to total and complete darkness. We were also asked to be as silent as possible for a small while, and then heard only the drops of water falling in the cave.
It was one of those humbling moments where I remembered how tiny I am in the span of space and time. It was also cool, and a little disorienting.
From the Lava Tunnel, we made our way to a nice big crater, which had a pretty little pond at its base, and smaller craters in its vicinity. We walked along the ridge of the crater, stopping momentarily to see if the two idiot Instagrammers would go tumbling down the steep rocky sides as they edged further down in order to take pictures of each other standing around and smiling as though this galactic reminder that we live on an insignificant speck in a vast and open universe was really just background for their all important selfies.
They did not fall, and my Flying Companion lamented.
We then spent about an hour searching for another waterfall, which was supposed to be right in the center of this idyllic little town. Unfortunately, after consulting the GPS and large map at the main road (twice), were unable to find it and forced to deem it imaginary and a scam. This disappointment left us worn out and in need of relaxation, and so we headed to the Secret Lagoon.
The Secret Lagoon is a hot spring, full of very relaxing water that is also very dark due to the black sediment at its bottom. It adjoins a small geyser of its own, which shoots up small spires of water every few minutes, and is totally worth the awkward public shower required for entry. It also has a fish and chips stand out front with the best battered fish of our entire trip, and crisp, cold beer, which also helped abate our disappointment in the imaginary waterfall.
Day five was our final and most disappointing day with Radio Flyer in our party, as we attempted to visit Snæfellsjökull, the glacier through which Jules Verne’s protagonists journeyed to the center of the Earth. Unfortunately for us, our Radio Flyer proved incapable of travelling the final 4.5 miles of gravel road that led to the glacier, and we were forced to view it from afar. Still beautiful, make no mistake, but not the up close experience for which we’d hoped.
There was one highlight on this day long drive, however: the Hvalfjörður Tunnel, which runs almost 550 feet under water, is over 3.5 miles long, and will freak your peanut right out of its shell.
The following morning we said goodbye to Radio Flyer, made our way back to Reykjavik, and along the way met the friendliest man in Iceland and his dog, Leo. More on that in the next and final installment, coming soon!
-John
And don’t forget to pepper in mentions of Cinnamon Rolls and Sourdough Bread, here capitalized due to their singular deliciousness.
First on this list of recountances is Geysir, which is exactly what its name suggests. The odd and sad thing about Geysir is that, as were told after our visit, it is “broken.” This is because people were placing detergents and similar chemicals in it in order to make it erupt more often, and now it doesn’t erupt. It turns out, people are kind of idiotic all over the world. Fortunately for those of us who think a natural geyser is cool enough, Geysir itself is surrounded by a few other geysers, one of which still erupts every few minutes, and let me tell you, friends and neighbors, seeing a big spout of hot water erupt from the ground is cooler than some of you jaded souls might think.
We next found an unexpected stop along our journey, a small canyon with steep, close in sides and a good amount of sheep (we assumed) excrement to avoid. About halfway through, we came to a small platform with a sign on it explaining what this place was, and get this: it’s where they used to execute people back in yore! There was a rock nearby where the beheading took place, another, higher up rock from which thieves were hanged, and even a little pond where they would drown criminal women, a practice which I suppose could be seen as sexist or chivalrous, depending on your point of view. Personally, I find sexism and acts of chivalry often overlap in some uncomfortable ways, so I’m going to end this paragraph here.
The pinnacle of day three was undoubtedly Gullfoss, a multi-tiered waterfall that, based on our view from the top, pours over its final cascade into a bottomless opaque mist, and though I’m sure all that water ends up in the ocean somehow, I like to imagine it just magically keeps going down. Which it sort of does, when you think about it, down to a river, then down to the ocean, following the same endless cycle of life and movement that keeps this whole weird world going.
Science is magic, ya’ll!
Day four began with a tour of a Lava Tunnel, here capitalized because it blew my mind and was awesome in the way that it truly inspires awe. We joined a group of fellow adventurers, and were led by our whimsically entertaining guide around 300 meters into a cold, damp tunnel created thousands of years ago by, you guessed it, flowing lava! We found ourselves surrounded on all sides by multihued rocks, each given their color by lava of different degrees, as well as large boulders and disparately sized rocks that had fallen from the walls and ceiling of the tunnel over the years. We reached the final platform of our tour, and here is where our guide -after giving us a warning- turned off all the lights in the tunnel, and treated us to total and complete darkness. We were also asked to be as silent as possible for a small while, and then heard only the drops of water falling in the cave.
It was one of those humbling moments where I remembered how tiny I am in the span of space and time. It was also cool, and a little disorienting.
From the Lava Tunnel, we made our way to a nice big crater, which had a pretty little pond at its base, and smaller craters in its vicinity. We walked along the ridge of the crater, stopping momentarily to see if the two idiot Instagrammers would go tumbling down the steep rocky sides as they edged further down in order to take pictures of each other standing around and smiling as though this galactic reminder that we live on an insignificant speck in a vast and open universe was really just background for their all important selfies.
They did not fall, and my Flying Companion lamented.
We then spent about an hour searching for another waterfall, which was supposed to be right in the center of this idyllic little town. Unfortunately, after consulting the GPS and large map at the main road (twice), were unable to find it and forced to deem it imaginary and a scam. This disappointment left us worn out and in need of relaxation, and so we headed to the Secret Lagoon.
The Secret Lagoon is a hot spring, full of very relaxing water that is also very dark due to the black sediment at its bottom. It adjoins a small geyser of its own, which shoots up small spires of water every few minutes, and is totally worth the awkward public shower required for entry. It also has a fish and chips stand out front with the best battered fish of our entire trip, and crisp, cold beer, which also helped abate our disappointment in the imaginary waterfall.
Day five was our final and most disappointing day with Radio Flyer in our party, as we attempted to visit Snæfellsjökull, the glacier through which Jules Verne’s protagonists journeyed to the center of the Earth. Unfortunately for us, our Radio Flyer proved incapable of travelling the final 4.5 miles of gravel road that led to the glacier, and we were forced to view it from afar. Still beautiful, make no mistake, but not the up close experience for which we’d hoped.
There was one highlight on this day long drive, however: the Hvalfjörður Tunnel, which runs almost 550 feet under water, is over 3.5 miles long, and will freak your peanut right out of its shell.
The following morning we said goodbye to Radio Flyer, made our way back to Reykjavik, and along the way met the friendliest man in Iceland and his dog, Leo. More on that in the next and final installment, coming soon!
-John
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Iceland, Day 2
Welcome back and thanks for coming, everyone. When last we left off, our party was blissfully unconscious, hoping to catch up on sleep and truly begin the journey through Iceland with something resembling clarity. Fortunately for me, I managed to rest as well as I generally am able, and so awoke from my slumber feeling fairly refreshed. My Flying Companion did not fair so well, and having been up for some time, had already procured breakfast from the bakery down the street. The pastry she’d chosen was a wonderful creation, made with cinnamon roll dough, but flattened out into a square sheet. In the middle was a strip of delicious custard, to one side of that a layer of slivered almonds, and on the remaining side a light dusting of cinnamon and sugar. She also obtained a loaf of fresh baked sourdough bread, one of the greater decisions made by any traveler in humanity’s history.
Appetites sated, we began day one of our driving excursions, determined on this day to find and observe the odd little bird known as a Puffin. We loaded up the Radio Flyer with supplies for the day, and headed east and south, with wonder in our eyes and sugary bread in our bellies. Once we made it out of the city, the road led us up into a high pass, where the fog became so thick we were unable to see more than twenty or thirty feet in front of us. It gave us a close and eerie feeling, as though this strange and magical land was hinting to us that our surroundings were going to be very different soon.
The fog lifted as we came down the other side of the pass, and we were taken aback by what we saw. We were still fairly high up, and we could see for miles. As some of you may know, Iceland is a land formed by volcanic eruptions of yore, and great wide fields of igneous rock offer a singular and bizarrely appealing scene. It looks very much like a once rough sea, all crashing waves and conflicting currents, somehow became petrified, the liquid flow of water hardened into rough craggy rocks. Covering this strangely hypnotic scape is a blanket of short, stubby, mossy looking grass, making the charcoal colored rocky edges that jut through seem like crests breaking the surface as the waves collide. Rising up from this great green sea are huge and majestic mountains, often alone but sometimes in groups of two or three.
The highway on which we traveled wove around these mountains and through these rocky fields, passing free roaming sheep and corrals of the shaggy maned Icelandic horses, and after a while our appetites returned. This seemed like a good time to try the ubiquitous and highly recommended Icelandic hot dog, touted as being the best in the world by pretty much everyone we spoke to. Included in this recommendation was the notion that we should try one with “everything”, which included both raw and fried onions, sweet mustard (a red flag for me), mayonnaise (my great nemesis) disguised as a remoulade, and ketchup. It is also to be noted that hot dogs in Iceland are made out of lamb, as opposed to beef and pork, and have a singular flavor.
We found a nice looking little restaurant on the side of the road and pulled over. Despite the sweet mustard and dressed up mayo, I followed the custom and ordered one with the aforementioned works, as did my Flying Companion. Here I once again learned the lesson that just because people tell me to do a thing does not mean I should do it. The hot dog itself I had no issue with, but the “everything” proved too much by far. The poor hot dog had been drowned in condiments, and I made it two bites in before the slimy cream of mayonnaise and tangy-sweet of incorrect mustard overtook me.
This would prove to be our only foray into the cuisine of hot doggery.
From there it was a quick drive to the southern coast, where we saw, aside from the ocean, beaches of black sand, which despite the name still managed to surprise us by being so black and sandy, and nesting in the cliffs above, many examples of the Puffin, an odd and beautiful looking bird that seems like a cross between a penguin, a toucan, and a seagull. The beach itself was closed off to humans, so we meandered along the cliffs overlooking the beach, getting close enough to the Puffins to make my Flying Companion positively giddy. We spent a good deal of time walking around, sighing heavily and making quiet oohs and ahhs at the beauty of it, but eventually had to move on, as we had one destination ahead of us yet, which I will skip ahead to now, because I don’t imagine you need to read any more of me rambling about the oceanic looking lava fields we drove by again.
Skogar Falls, which is about 60 meters high, is fed by two glaciers, spelled Eyjafjallajokull and Myrdalsjokull and pronounced at your own risk, and it will take your breath away. Not only because it’s beautiful and you can play in the pool in which it falls (if you will), but also because the steps leading to the top of it are quite steep, and there are 370 of them. The view from the top is worth it however, as one can see all the way to the coast, which is roughly five miles off, and feel a little better about one’s cardiovascular health, as everyone else up there is breathing pretty hard as well.
After filling our eyes with this watery wonder, we made the still long but also still beautiful drive back into Reykjavik, at which point my Flying Companion promptly passed out, and I took a walk, bought myself a $13 beer (Iceland, as I said, is expensive), and made the notes for what you’ve just read. I also took a walk around downtown, and made a few notes on places for us to visit later in our trip. That last sentence is what we call foreshadowing, and you’ll read more about those places in the future. Day 2 came to an end as the sun almost went all the way down around 11:30, and I made my way back to the apartment for another attempt at sleep.
Day 3 and 4 coming soon, and thanks as always for reading!
-John
Appetites sated, we began day one of our driving excursions, determined on this day to find and observe the odd little bird known as a Puffin. We loaded up the Radio Flyer with supplies for the day, and headed east and south, with wonder in our eyes and sugary bread in our bellies. Once we made it out of the city, the road led us up into a high pass, where the fog became so thick we were unable to see more than twenty or thirty feet in front of us. It gave us a close and eerie feeling, as though this strange and magical land was hinting to us that our surroundings were going to be very different soon.
The fog lifted as we came down the other side of the pass, and we were taken aback by what we saw. We were still fairly high up, and we could see for miles. As some of you may know, Iceland is a land formed by volcanic eruptions of yore, and great wide fields of igneous rock offer a singular and bizarrely appealing scene. It looks very much like a once rough sea, all crashing waves and conflicting currents, somehow became petrified, the liquid flow of water hardened into rough craggy rocks. Covering this strangely hypnotic scape is a blanket of short, stubby, mossy looking grass, making the charcoal colored rocky edges that jut through seem like crests breaking the surface as the waves collide. Rising up from this great green sea are huge and majestic mountains, often alone but sometimes in groups of two or three.
The highway on which we traveled wove around these mountains and through these rocky fields, passing free roaming sheep and corrals of the shaggy maned Icelandic horses, and after a while our appetites returned. This seemed like a good time to try the ubiquitous and highly recommended Icelandic hot dog, touted as being the best in the world by pretty much everyone we spoke to. Included in this recommendation was the notion that we should try one with “everything”, which included both raw and fried onions, sweet mustard (a red flag for me), mayonnaise (my great nemesis) disguised as a remoulade, and ketchup. It is also to be noted that hot dogs in Iceland are made out of lamb, as opposed to beef and pork, and have a singular flavor.
We found a nice looking little restaurant on the side of the road and pulled over. Despite the sweet mustard and dressed up mayo, I followed the custom and ordered one with the aforementioned works, as did my Flying Companion. Here I once again learned the lesson that just because people tell me to do a thing does not mean I should do it. The hot dog itself I had no issue with, but the “everything” proved too much by far. The poor hot dog had been drowned in condiments, and I made it two bites in before the slimy cream of mayonnaise and tangy-sweet of incorrect mustard overtook me.
This would prove to be our only foray into the cuisine of hot doggery.
From there it was a quick drive to the southern coast, where we saw, aside from the ocean, beaches of black sand, which despite the name still managed to surprise us by being so black and sandy, and nesting in the cliffs above, many examples of the Puffin, an odd and beautiful looking bird that seems like a cross between a penguin, a toucan, and a seagull. The beach itself was closed off to humans, so we meandered along the cliffs overlooking the beach, getting close enough to the Puffins to make my Flying Companion positively giddy. We spent a good deal of time walking around, sighing heavily and making quiet oohs and ahhs at the beauty of it, but eventually had to move on, as we had one destination ahead of us yet, which I will skip ahead to now, because I don’t imagine you need to read any more of me rambling about the oceanic looking lava fields we drove by again.
Skogar Falls, which is about 60 meters high, is fed by two glaciers, spelled Eyjafjallajokull and Myrdalsjokull and pronounced at your own risk, and it will take your breath away. Not only because it’s beautiful and you can play in the pool in which it falls (if you will), but also because the steps leading to the top of it are quite steep, and there are 370 of them. The view from the top is worth it however, as one can see all the way to the coast, which is roughly five miles off, and feel a little better about one’s cardiovascular health, as everyone else up there is breathing pretty hard as well.
After filling our eyes with this watery wonder, we made the still long but also still beautiful drive back into Reykjavik, at which point my Flying Companion promptly passed out, and I took a walk, bought myself a $13 beer (Iceland, as I said, is expensive), and made the notes for what you’ve just read. I also took a walk around downtown, and made a few notes on places for us to visit later in our trip. That last sentence is what we call foreshadowing, and you’ll read more about those places in the future. Day 2 came to an end as the sun almost went all the way down around 11:30, and I made my way back to the apartment for another attempt at sleep.
Day 3 and 4 coming soon, and thanks as always for reading!
-John
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Iceland: Day One
What follows is an account of my trip to Iceland, broken up into a few different parts. Before we jump in, however, I would point out that this was my first trip outside the country of my birth, so please allow for some perhaps extensive wide-eyed wonder and naiveté from your narrator. Also, travelling through Iceland is much akin to seeing the scenery described in a great many fantastical books, so there may well be some diction along that flowery line. Consider yourselves warned, friends and neighbors.
Also, I’m going to skip the part where we get on a plane and fly for seven hours, except to just point out that sleeping on planes is impossible, everyone who says they can is a liar, and anyone you see on a plane who looks asleep is only deceiving themselves. That said, my Flying Companion and I touched down in Iceland thoroughly exhausted, at what for us was considerably earlier than the local time of 9:30 AM. Thankfully, getting through customs in Iceland is fairly easy and efficiently planned. We found ourselves in a constant state of surprise as the snaking line moved forward, almost sure that time, like the currency, worked differently in Iceland, as what was surely a forty five minute American line took no more than ten. When we reached the front, an attentive but unemotional woman gave my passport its very first stamp.
This was, for me, one of those small moments in life one never forgets. One of those moments when somewhere far off a high note of joy is sung by a rich, reverential voice, and a warm glow courses through the veins while a soft golden light shines down from the heavens. A first stamp, a mark of passage, proof that life contains moments of progress made, a visible sign of one’s attempts to grow and become more.
For the woman in the glass booth with the stamp, it was likely ten seconds on a Friday morning wherein an American stared at her with the grin of a simpleton.
From there, my Flying Companion and I went onwards to the trial of customs, which after all the warning and worry sent my way by others, turned out to be two lines painted upon the floor, one red on the left that led to a small room for those with burdens to claim, and one green on the right, leading those with no burdens in hand to the duty-free store. Here we obtained for ourselves beer, a bottle of Scotch Whiskey, and an Icelandic blueberry liquor which had been recommended to us previously.
Our bags now were decidedly heavier, and thus we decided it was time to get ourselves some transportation, and subsequently seek our lodgings. I led my companion to the line which would take us to the appropriate counter, but alas! After a line wherein time worked in a more tediously American fashion, I was told that the company had changed counters, but their internet portal had as yet failed to change along with it. Another walk would be required, and so, good humor failing fast and bodies not far behind, we began yet another walk.
Thankfully, mercifully, this walk was not only short, but out of doors, and here we were treated to our first true experience of Iceland beyond the airport. It was still largely parking lot for us at this point, but I did my get first breath of unbelievably clean and fresh air, as well as my first hint that in Iceland, the ocean is never far away. Yes, I’m aware that it’s an island and a revelation concerning the close proximity of the ocean is hardly genius, but like I said in the beginning, wide eyed wonder.
After arriving at our true transportation obtainment destination, we were rewarded with a small, red, four doored vehicle, which would eventually be named Radio Flyer and be accepted as the third member of our party. We were warned not to take Radio Flyer onto any gravel roads, as it was not fit for such travels, despite the parking lot in which it was kept being entirely gravel. In our exhaustion, we found this thoroughly amusing, and laughed about it extensively as we made our way to Reykjavik and what we hoped would be comfortable beds.
The countryside of Iceland and the city itself are worthy of more space than I have left in this entry, and will get their due in due time. For now, however, and considering the state we were in, your narrator will give it a blurry pass by and merely say that the country is beautiful, and the city is lovely. We arrived at our lodging, a small studio apartment equipped with a tiny bathroom, an old but adorable oven with a range, a small refrigerator that never quite got cold, and thankfully, a very comfortable bed. We unloaded our burdens, but decided we needed sustenance before we could rest. We voyaged perhaps an entire block before we stopped at a fish and chips restaurant, ordered said dish from a wonderfully polite young English lady, also purchased a beer apiece, and sat down to wait for our food.
Here I had my first moment of true concern and doubt over my decision to visit this country. You see, both of the beers we ordered, according to the young English lady, were local and the most popular around. My Flying Companion ordered the lighter of the two, myself the darker, as is my fashion. After being awake for roughly a day and a half, living on little in the way of food and drink, I’m sure you can imagine my anticipation as I raised the glass to my lips, and the quiet disappointment I felt when, to my tongue, the beer tasted decidedly like a pilsner.
Now, I’m not one to judge others for their taste in beer. If others enjoy a pilsner on a warm afternoon or whenever, more power to them, I say. To me though, a pilsner is basically what pastel yellow would taste like if it was food. Or perhaps if butter tasted far too much like itself. Unfortunately my Flying Companion’s choice was little better. I began to worry that this might be a ubiquitous unpleasantness.
The food arrived soon after, and here I found joy again.The fish was a beautifully battered and fried cod, perfectly crunchy on the outside, and juicy and flaky on the inside. We spoke little as we feasted, truly tired beyond words and hungry beyond thought. I also managed to drain my glass, not only because I hate to leave a drink unfinished, but also because everything in Iceland is expensive, and not to be wasted. This meal, according to the calculations made by our brains and confirmed by our currency conversion application, set us back upwards of $50, and we would soon discover that this was more the rule than the exception.
After we finished, now truly overcome by exhaustion, we returned to our room and promptly passed out for many hours, awakening once more for a short walk and some ice cream (more on Iceland’s love of ice cream will come later), and then a few more times due to noises from passersby outside, and snoring of both party members inside. Thus our first day in Iceland came to an end.
The journey itself continued onward, however, and more tales will be forthcoming throughout the week. Up next: Puffins, black sanded beaches, and an unexpected detour.
-John
Friday, July 19, 2019
I Went on a Camping Trip!
Someone who is me just returned from a small vacation trip, and that means someone else who is you gets to read about it! In this edition of John’s Vacation Log, we take a trip out to the Oregon coast, drink too much wine, and learn that the competitive deck building card game called “Magic: the Gathering” is far too complex for an adult with too much wine, but the names of the creatures are still fun to read aloud.
And other things were done on this, my first ever camping trip, about which you will also read. Starting now.
As some of you know, my one time Lovely Traveling Companion has retired herself from active duty, and thus on this trip I was accompanied by my Red Bearded Co-traveler, who learned that he truly does enjoy looking at the large body of water that lies along the Pacific Coast, and also that he is still quite prone to migraines, which can and did cause him to spend most of his time in his tent. This development was met with disappointment by the group we met at the site, which included a large amount of my family, among whom there are many smallish children.
I am somewhat convinced that my Red Bearded Co-traveler blames his migraines on that final detail. And perhaps the wine.
Fortunately for him, the first day we arrived he was relatively well, and we spent a good deal of time walking around and marveling at the ocean and the rocky shore. Many pictures were taken on many phones, and I admit that even I snapped a few, a true rarity indeed. The camp site itself was a rather large field surrounded by woods, and could easily have hosted another two hundred people, if not for the fact that we as a family enjoy our space, and thus we spread our tents out generously over the area.
The next part is the part where I drank too much wine (and beer), and had many wonderful and fun conversations that I don’t remember as well as I would like. Apparently I was very excited about inflating and using an inflatable kayak, which was never inflated and used. The following morning I remember with a more painful clarity, especially when I was woken up by a pair of rovers who were loudly threatening to send each other back to prison for theft, until they were directed to take their issues down the road. Part of me wanted very much to get up and watch this performance, but that part lost out to the part that was having trouble opening my eyes at all.
Eventually, with the help of my highly valued friends and family, I recovered enough to lumber over to the community gathering side of the field before slouching into a chair, where I remained for most of the evening, along with another plastic cup that somehow filled itself with more wine. This is when I managed to focus in on the aforementioned card game. I vaguely remembered dipping my toes into “Magic: the Gathering” as a youngster, before deciding I would rather spend my allowance on other nerdy pursuits. As it happens, it is an incredibly complex game with far too many moving parts for a sane person. It does however contain representations of fascinating fantastical beasts, many of which have highly entertaining names. Look them up if you get a minute.
The next morning I felt much better, and woke to the sound of rain drops popping on my tent, and the discovery that after 25 years and a fair number of music festivals, my cheap little tent was finally beginning to leak. I briefly considered this a sign from the universe, as before this moment I’d been thinking I might actually enjoy camping. Upon further reflection, however, I decided maybe the leaks just meant I should upgrade to a better tent, perhaps one of those fancy looking truck bed tents, or at least one that costs more than $20.
Dotted in throughout my stay were indulgences in unhealthy foods, emotional conversations with family members, naps, more unhealthy foods, small spats between children, dogs barking at random passersby despite repeated instructions not to, the smallest of those dogs causing no small amount of concern whenever the shadow of a large bird of prey traversed the ground, and the longest amount of time I’ve ever gone without a shower.
That last part was a little gross, but overall, it was a pretty good trip. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower again, and then spend a week eating fresh green things that have nothing in common with hot dogs.
-John
And other things were done on this, my first ever camping trip, about which you will also read. Starting now.
As some of you know, my one time Lovely Traveling Companion has retired herself from active duty, and thus on this trip I was accompanied by my Red Bearded Co-traveler, who learned that he truly does enjoy looking at the large body of water that lies along the Pacific Coast, and also that he is still quite prone to migraines, which can and did cause him to spend most of his time in his tent. This development was met with disappointment by the group we met at the site, which included a large amount of my family, among whom there are many smallish children.
I am somewhat convinced that my Red Bearded Co-traveler blames his migraines on that final detail. And perhaps the wine.
Fortunately for him, the first day we arrived he was relatively well, and we spent a good deal of time walking around and marveling at the ocean and the rocky shore. Many pictures were taken on many phones, and I admit that even I snapped a few, a true rarity indeed. The camp site itself was a rather large field surrounded by woods, and could easily have hosted another two hundred people, if not for the fact that we as a family enjoy our space, and thus we spread our tents out generously over the area.
The next part is the part where I drank too much wine (and beer), and had many wonderful and fun conversations that I don’t remember as well as I would like. Apparently I was very excited about inflating and using an inflatable kayak, which was never inflated and used. The following morning I remember with a more painful clarity, especially when I was woken up by a pair of rovers who were loudly threatening to send each other back to prison for theft, until they were directed to take their issues down the road. Part of me wanted very much to get up and watch this performance, but that part lost out to the part that was having trouble opening my eyes at all.
Eventually, with the help of my highly valued friends and family, I recovered enough to lumber over to the community gathering side of the field before slouching into a chair, where I remained for most of the evening, along with another plastic cup that somehow filled itself with more wine. This is when I managed to focus in on the aforementioned card game. I vaguely remembered dipping my toes into “Magic: the Gathering” as a youngster, before deciding I would rather spend my allowance on other nerdy pursuits. As it happens, it is an incredibly complex game with far too many moving parts for a sane person. It does however contain representations of fascinating fantastical beasts, many of which have highly entertaining names. Look them up if you get a minute.
The next morning I felt much better, and woke to the sound of rain drops popping on my tent, and the discovery that after 25 years and a fair number of music festivals, my cheap little tent was finally beginning to leak. I briefly considered this a sign from the universe, as before this moment I’d been thinking I might actually enjoy camping. Upon further reflection, however, I decided maybe the leaks just meant I should upgrade to a better tent, perhaps one of those fancy looking truck bed tents, or at least one that costs more than $20.
Dotted in throughout my stay were indulgences in unhealthy foods, emotional conversations with family members, naps, more unhealthy foods, small spats between children, dogs barking at random passersby despite repeated instructions not to, the smallest of those dogs causing no small amount of concern whenever the shadow of a large bird of prey traversed the ground, and the longest amount of time I’ve ever gone without a shower.
That last part was a little gross, but overall, it was a pretty good trip. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower again, and then spend a week eating fresh green things that have nothing in common with hot dogs.
-John
Thursday, July 11, 2019
Semantic Detention
I’ve been reading a lot on how enthusiastic this administration is about putting children in detention (concentration) centers (camps), and I’ve got to tell you, friends and neighbors, it’s given me a few ideas. I know a lot of people are pretty irate about it, and I think I’ve figured out why. See, most of what I’m picking up these days is that one side is angry that we’ve got a bunch of children being imprisoned, seemingly for no other reason than that they’re not from here. Which seems like a good thing to be mad about.
Over on the other side, there’s a mess of folks who have been convinced that people get detained because they’re a threat. If a person is deemed a threat to the country, it makes sense to lock them up. Which is difficult to argue with.
As usual, I can see the real problem, which really just boils down to semantics. We just need to define what a ‘threat’ is, and then we can start using these centers (camps) like we ought to. For example, we could call someone a threat who acts on the belief that other people’s children are unimportant, but their own children should be world runners despite having no qualifications. This is a person who willingly endangers the lives and wellbeing of others, specifically the weak whom Jesus was so fond of, and that seems pretty threatening to me.
Scared and hungry children who have been dragged hundreds or thousands of miles, fleeing their homes and the danger there, are not generally threatening. Until they get thrown in a cage and mistreated for a few years and learn how to hate.
We could perhaps consider a threat those who harbor a belief that whatever race or religion or gender they affiliate themselves with is superior than others, and act on this belief in aggressive or violent ways. People who have somehow conflated the concepts of patriotism and xenophobia, and now believe that somehow being brown is the same as being Anti-America. Or those who find it offensive that others adhere to a different pronoun labeling system than what they themselves are used to. Personally, I would most like to see detained those who still recalcitrantly refuse to cease equating same sex marriage to beastiality. “First two men, what’s next, a duck?” indeed. Either way, I recommend these people stop bringing up beastiality so much, considering what a jackass their own spouse married.
People who are forced to flee their homes and travel thousands of miles to America because we’ve been so loudly singing our own praises as the home of freedom and liberty that every corner of the world knows about it? They don’t worry me so much. They also make the best food.
Oh, here’s a good one which I’m sure we can all agree on! How about these judges that are giving rapists super lenient sentences because the rapist is “from a good family”, or because actually punishing them might “affect their grades?” How about those guys (they are, of course, all guys) Can we all agree that if our wife/sister/mom/kid/anyone we know was raped, and after being found guilty, the rapist was set free, we’d be pretty willing to send the judge to be “detained?” Considering the popularity of those stories and videos of fathers taking revenge on behalf of their molested children, I’d say this is an easy sell.
Whoever we decide we have to fill these camps with - and yes we do have to, this is America and we support our private industries-, we have to get these kids out of there. Sure it’s bad for our image, sure the companies who run them could probably charge more for rich white men who demand better treatment, sure the rest of us would be a lot happier, but really, most importantly:
These are children.
Who are in concentration camps.
And nothing about that is right.
-John
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Advice at 38
It’s not really time that ages us, but experience. This is kind of a silly line, but it’s a catchy enough bit of nonsense to lead into my annual offering of advice to people younger than myself. Besides, in the way time does age us, all I can say is learn to accept your wrinkles, because everyone can spot plastic surgery, and everyone thinks it looks weird. Now as far as experience goes, the past twelve months have thrown a lot of that garbage at me, so I’ve compiled a few hints that will hopefully help you avoid a few of the pitfalls that tripped me up and anvils that crushed me down. Gear up, friends and neighbors, because here we go!
1) People are going to hurt you. Some of them intentionally, some of them by a mere lack of consideration, and some of them because they feel they don’t have a choice. Learn to forgive them. Carrying around that grudge and rehearsing all the hurtful petty things you’d like to say and do for revenge will only rot your humanity, warp your mind and keep you from moving on.
2) Let yourself sleep in sometimes. I know for some people that can be tough, all you hard charging go-getters, but trust me, a little extra sleep, especially after you kind of wake up, stretch out in bed some, hit the bathroom, and then climb back into bed and let yourself doze off for a while longer is about as rewarding as self care gets. As a recently single person, I’m still trying to figure how to have breakfast cooking when I wake up that second time, so let me know if any of you sort that out.
3) A lack of understanding a thing is not sufficient cause to dismiss it. For example, not being able to understand how wind powered generators work doesn’t mean they don’t. If you want to denigrate or truly debunk something, take the effort and put in the time to understand it first. Otherwise, people who do actually understand it will easily expose you as a fool. Case in point, the previously alluded to wind power statement from the Personification of Total Unmitigated Selfishness (I had to throw one in somewhere.) Honestly, wouldn’t you think that someone who takes such great pains to cover up his giant bald head would be more wary of being so exposed?
4) When you’re giving people advice, try not to be so painfully serious about everything. Make a joke about eating pizza or buying robot vacuums as gifts (today is my birthday) or something. People appreciate a good joke at the right time.
5) Don’t go to college just because someone tells you to unless they’re willing to pay for it. There is no longer any real guarantee a college degree will automatically help you, but I can give you a real guarantee that the debt it comes with will automatically not. There is not one thing wrong with taking some time off to figure out who you are, because I promise at eighteen you have no idea.
6) Practice being responsible. It’s not really something that comes easily to everyone, and it’s not necessarily something we promote as a culture, but it’ll save you a lot of trouble in the long run. Hold yourself responsible for the mistakes you make, the damage you cause, and the consequences of your actions. Don’t punish yourself or anything, but own up, you know? It’s how we learn.
7) Conversely, give yourself credit for the good things you do. The kindnesses you perform, the healing and comfort you provide. Let these things make you feel good about yourself, but don’t let it go to your head and get all arrogant about it. Kind of ruins the point.
8) Make sure you communicate. Whether it be a professional relationship, a romantic one, or a familial one, don’t expect other people to just know what you’re going through. You’ll save yourself and them a lot of intellectual and emotional pain if you take the time to express yourself. Don’t bottle it up until you explode and/or ruin something important. Remember that everyone else is just as consumed by their own issues as you are.
9) Decide what you’re worth, and what your currency is. If you let someone else do it for you, you’ll get shortchanged every time. You get to decide your value, and if other people don’t agree, well, that’s their stupid business to mind.
10) You can add hot sauce or barbecue sauce or garlic or fancy herbs. You put it on a fancy bun and surround it with adjectives like “artisanal” and “made in house” and “savory” and “delicious.” You can say dumb things like “they do it in Canada,” or “you can’t even taste the mayo in it.”
Try whatever tricks you want, it doesn’t matter:
Aioli is just fancy mayonnaise, and as such, is gross.
-John
1) People are going to hurt you. Some of them intentionally, some of them by a mere lack of consideration, and some of them because they feel they don’t have a choice. Learn to forgive them. Carrying around that grudge and rehearsing all the hurtful petty things you’d like to say and do for revenge will only rot your humanity, warp your mind and keep you from moving on.
2) Let yourself sleep in sometimes. I know for some people that can be tough, all you hard charging go-getters, but trust me, a little extra sleep, especially after you kind of wake up, stretch out in bed some, hit the bathroom, and then climb back into bed and let yourself doze off for a while longer is about as rewarding as self care gets. As a recently single person, I’m still trying to figure how to have breakfast cooking when I wake up that second time, so let me know if any of you sort that out.
3) A lack of understanding a thing is not sufficient cause to dismiss it. For example, not being able to understand how wind powered generators work doesn’t mean they don’t. If you want to denigrate or truly debunk something, take the effort and put in the time to understand it first. Otherwise, people who do actually understand it will easily expose you as a fool. Case in point, the previously alluded to wind power statement from the Personification of Total Unmitigated Selfishness (I had to throw one in somewhere.) Honestly, wouldn’t you think that someone who takes such great pains to cover up his giant bald head would be more wary of being so exposed?
4) When you’re giving people advice, try not to be so painfully serious about everything. Make a joke about eating pizza or buying robot vacuums as gifts (today is my birthday) or something. People appreciate a good joke at the right time.
5) Don’t go to college just because someone tells you to unless they’re willing to pay for it. There is no longer any real guarantee a college degree will automatically help you, but I can give you a real guarantee that the debt it comes with will automatically not. There is not one thing wrong with taking some time off to figure out who you are, because I promise at eighteen you have no idea.
6) Practice being responsible. It’s not really something that comes easily to everyone, and it’s not necessarily something we promote as a culture, but it’ll save you a lot of trouble in the long run. Hold yourself responsible for the mistakes you make, the damage you cause, and the consequences of your actions. Don’t punish yourself or anything, but own up, you know? It’s how we learn.
7) Conversely, give yourself credit for the good things you do. The kindnesses you perform, the healing and comfort you provide. Let these things make you feel good about yourself, but don’t let it go to your head and get all arrogant about it. Kind of ruins the point.
8) Make sure you communicate. Whether it be a professional relationship, a romantic one, or a familial one, don’t expect other people to just know what you’re going through. You’ll save yourself and them a lot of intellectual and emotional pain if you take the time to express yourself. Don’t bottle it up until you explode and/or ruin something important. Remember that everyone else is just as consumed by their own issues as you are.
9) Decide what you’re worth, and what your currency is. If you let someone else do it for you, you’ll get shortchanged every time. You get to decide your value, and if other people don’t agree, well, that’s their stupid business to mind.
10) You can add hot sauce or barbecue sauce or garlic or fancy herbs. You put it on a fancy bun and surround it with adjectives like “artisanal” and “made in house” and “savory” and “delicious.” You can say dumb things like “they do it in Canada,” or “you can’t even taste the mayo in it.”
Try whatever tricks you want, it doesn’t matter:
Aioli is just fancy mayonnaise, and as such, is gross.
-John
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Raw Power(lessness)
There are few things more terrifying in the world than being unexpectedly shattered. Having all your armor, your defense systems knocked out and feeling so much more than exposed and vulnerable. Letting yourself be vulnerable can be a good thing, and so can being exposed, even though there isn’t a way to write about doing it yourself that doesn’t sound indecent. When you get shunted into that space against your will, unexpectedly, it’s a different story.
It feels more like your surface area has been sanded off, nothing left but unfinished skin and raw nerves. Everything around you gets distorted, filtered through this static of desolate anger pain, and there’s really nothing for it but to wait for that cover to grow back.
Maybe you learn something, if you’re lucky.
Very probably the best thing you can learn from it is to not let that new cover be so thick that nothing ever gets through again. Sure, maybe it seems safer to hide yourself away down deep, but it’s truly unhealthy, and it’ll turn a person bitter. If you let yourself become so insulated that nothing bad can ever reach you, nothing good is going to reach you either, and not letting kindness reach you is poisonous.
Plus I’m pretty sure it causes hernias.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Growing that layer back is just about the last thing that happens, after all the aforementioned desolate anger pain processes out. Which it needs to. Not letting it go leads to grudges, which don’t do anything but erode your insides (hernias again) and make you do and say stupid things just for spite. Carrying all that weight is just going to drag you down.
Unfortunately we don’t generally have the ability to make the world wait while we get ourselves right again. We still have to interact with jerks and deal with inconveniences and overcome other obstacles, and the effects of these things are all intensified exponentially. This is what indulgences are for. Make sure you take time to enjoy your favorite things, whatever they are (this is not an advocation for harmful practices. I’m talking about pizza, mostly.) Spend some time with people who care for you.
Let those people care for you. This is that kindness I was talking about.
And if you’re at all like me, make time to be alone. Let those batteries recharge, let your mind sort itself out. Let the rest of you sort itself out, too. If you’re not like me, don’t do this. I’m told that for certain people, being alone at times like this is equivalent to being locked in a room with a louder, meaner version of themselves.
Also, remember that eventually you’re going to have to push yourself again. It’s not going to be easy, and avoiding it by staying still can be pretty appealing. It’s comfortable, and there isn’t a lot of risk involved on the surface of it, but eventually the boredom of it will wreck you. So make yourself move, even if it’s just a little at a time. It’s your timeline, and you get to set the pace.
There’s a pretty good chance you’re going to have to go through this more than once. Whenever you do, try to remember the things that help, and the things that don’t. My genuine hope is that you, friends and neighbors, don’t have to go through it so many times that you become a pro and develop a routine for it, but at least do what you can to avoid those hernias.
And don’t forget the pizza.
-John
It feels more like your surface area has been sanded off, nothing left but unfinished skin and raw nerves. Everything around you gets distorted, filtered through this static of desolate anger pain, and there’s really nothing for it but to wait for that cover to grow back.
Maybe you learn something, if you’re lucky.
Very probably the best thing you can learn from it is to not let that new cover be so thick that nothing ever gets through again. Sure, maybe it seems safer to hide yourself away down deep, but it’s truly unhealthy, and it’ll turn a person bitter. If you let yourself become so insulated that nothing bad can ever reach you, nothing good is going to reach you either, and not letting kindness reach you is poisonous.
Plus I’m pretty sure it causes hernias.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Growing that layer back is just about the last thing that happens, after all the aforementioned desolate anger pain processes out. Which it needs to. Not letting it go leads to grudges, which don’t do anything but erode your insides (hernias again) and make you do and say stupid things just for spite. Carrying all that weight is just going to drag you down.
Unfortunately we don’t generally have the ability to make the world wait while we get ourselves right again. We still have to interact with jerks and deal with inconveniences and overcome other obstacles, and the effects of these things are all intensified exponentially. This is what indulgences are for. Make sure you take time to enjoy your favorite things, whatever they are (this is not an advocation for harmful practices. I’m talking about pizza, mostly.) Spend some time with people who care for you.
Let those people care for you. This is that kindness I was talking about.
And if you’re at all like me, make time to be alone. Let those batteries recharge, let your mind sort itself out. Let the rest of you sort itself out, too. If you’re not like me, don’t do this. I’m told that for certain people, being alone at times like this is equivalent to being locked in a room with a louder, meaner version of themselves.
Also, remember that eventually you’re going to have to push yourself again. It’s not going to be easy, and avoiding it by staying still can be pretty appealing. It’s comfortable, and there isn’t a lot of risk involved on the surface of it, but eventually the boredom of it will wreck you. So make yourself move, even if it’s just a little at a time. It’s your timeline, and you get to set the pace.
There’s a pretty good chance you’re going to have to go through this more than once. Whenever you do, try to remember the things that help, and the things that don’t. My genuine hope is that you, friends and neighbors, don’t have to go through it so many times that you become a pro and develop a routine for it, but at least do what you can to avoid those hernias.
And don’t forget the pizza.
-John
Wednesday, May 22, 2019
Alabama Don't Give A-
Hey, Alabama. I know you’re busy these days. We all are. We have jobs to get to, and ups and downs to contend with, new ciders that have been aged in scotch barrels to try. But I need a word. I promise it won’t take long, and I’ll try not to bore you. Just real quick, though:
WHAT IN THE NAME OF MARY ARE YOU DOING?
Have you dried up old crackers lost your self important little minds? What, a history of Jim Crow laws and systematic disenfranchisement of poor people and “tha ethnics” isn’t enough for you? It’s not bad enough that people already see you as a hotbed of racism and the butt of a never ending stream of incest jokes, now you have to go and make it known that you consider abortion worse than both incest and rape?
Look, I know that you old, white fools are using your bible to guide your governance, but not everything that happens in a religious text should be held over. I know what Noah’s daughters did to him, but that doesn’t make it okay for a man to rape his sister and serve less time in prison than the doctor who aborts the fetus. While we’re on the religious aspect of this, if you believe that this is a right and just law that serves your god’s justice, then either you’re misinterpreting some choice passages, or your god needs to mind his (gender pronoun intended) own business almost as badly as you do.
But that’s a personal belief you hold, and one you’re not likely to change despite how outdated and draconian it is. I’ve seen your haircuts, and it’s pretty clear you’re not into modernizing ( I usually try to avoid attacks like this one, being no prize myself, but I’m really mad right now.) Besides, I wouldn’t want to alienate you, so let’s shift our focus somewhere else.
Let’s take a gander at it from a political/economic point of view: couldn’t be dumber. Take a second and look around, will you? We only have like three viable industries left in this country, and one of them is filmmaking. I don’t think I need to tell you, my Alabamanian friends and neighbors, those Hollywood types aren’t gonna like this one bit. Your actual climate is already a tough sell, considering what the humidity does to their perfectly coiffed hair; you might want to reconsider this political climate change, as it’s a lot harder to deny. I saw somewhere that even old Permanently Obstructing Truth Until Sentenced himself is getting distance from it, and that guy is drawn to political fires like Roy Moore is to shopping malls.
Though to be fair, the world class real estate mogul has no doubt paid for an abortion or two himself over the years. And I’ll tell you what, after seeing his kids perform in the world, I’d say those were the best investments he ever made.
Whoops, hold on. Starting to feel like I might be alienating some folks again. Let’s try a different track.
How about from a purely rational standpoint? What’s your logic here, legislators? Where’s the reason behind this? Any of your citizens who are against abortions are already not getting them (obviously no one would do something in secret that they were publicly against, right?), and you’ve effectively made a large number of the population potential criminals. Have you considered the cost of prosecution to the taxpayer, you fiscally conservative math whizzes? Keeping a woman and a doctor in prison, one of them for 99 years? I don’t know if you’re aware, but you already ain’t the richest state around. Nevermind the cost of raising all the kids who will for sure get abandoned to the state.
You’ll have to take care of them for eighteen years before you can force them into the military through poverty, you know.
When you look at it, there’s only one viewpoint where this looks like the right move, and it’s so monstrous I can’t imagine it as a viable motive. This really only makes sense if you have a long term goal of removing from women the right to control what happens to them, or how they can react. Like if somehow you don’t see women as people, or at least not equal people who deserve their rights and independence, even if they don’t agree with you. Seriously, when you get right down to it, this only makes sense if you’re senselessly, thoughtlessly, ruthlessly imposing your own belief system on an entire group of people, and that’s not-
Oh. Dang. Alienated for sure. Too bad for me, I just enacted a rule where I can’t use the delete button, even though it’s right there and completely safe and might save the world from a lot of pain and suffering. I just think it would be immoral.
-John
WHAT IN THE NAME OF MARY ARE YOU DOING?
Have you dried up old crackers lost your self important little minds? What, a history of Jim Crow laws and systematic disenfranchisement of poor people and “tha ethnics” isn’t enough for you? It’s not bad enough that people already see you as a hotbed of racism and the butt of a never ending stream of incest jokes, now you have to go and make it known that you consider abortion worse than both incest and rape?
Look, I know that you old, white fools are using your bible to guide your governance, but not everything that happens in a religious text should be held over. I know what Noah’s daughters did to him, but that doesn’t make it okay for a man to rape his sister and serve less time in prison than the doctor who aborts the fetus. While we’re on the religious aspect of this, if you believe that this is a right and just law that serves your god’s justice, then either you’re misinterpreting some choice passages, or your god needs to mind his (gender pronoun intended) own business almost as badly as you do.
But that’s a personal belief you hold, and one you’re not likely to change despite how outdated and draconian it is. I’ve seen your haircuts, and it’s pretty clear you’re not into modernizing ( I usually try to avoid attacks like this one, being no prize myself, but I’m really mad right now.) Besides, I wouldn’t want to alienate you, so let’s shift our focus somewhere else.
Let’s take a gander at it from a political/economic point of view: couldn’t be dumber. Take a second and look around, will you? We only have like three viable industries left in this country, and one of them is filmmaking. I don’t think I need to tell you, my Alabamanian friends and neighbors, those Hollywood types aren’t gonna like this one bit. Your actual climate is already a tough sell, considering what the humidity does to their perfectly coiffed hair; you might want to reconsider this political climate change, as it’s a lot harder to deny. I saw somewhere that even old Permanently Obstructing Truth Until Sentenced himself is getting distance from it, and that guy is drawn to political fires like Roy Moore is to shopping malls.
Though to be fair, the world class real estate mogul has no doubt paid for an abortion or two himself over the years. And I’ll tell you what, after seeing his kids perform in the world, I’d say those were the best investments he ever made.
Whoops, hold on. Starting to feel like I might be alienating some folks again. Let’s try a different track.
How about from a purely rational standpoint? What’s your logic here, legislators? Where’s the reason behind this? Any of your citizens who are against abortions are already not getting them (obviously no one would do something in secret that they were publicly against, right?), and you’ve effectively made a large number of the population potential criminals. Have you considered the cost of prosecution to the taxpayer, you fiscally conservative math whizzes? Keeping a woman and a doctor in prison, one of them for 99 years? I don’t know if you’re aware, but you already ain’t the richest state around. Nevermind the cost of raising all the kids who will for sure get abandoned to the state.
You’ll have to take care of them for eighteen years before you can force them into the military through poverty, you know.
When you look at it, there’s only one viewpoint where this looks like the right move, and it’s so monstrous I can’t imagine it as a viable motive. This really only makes sense if you have a long term goal of removing from women the right to control what happens to them, or how they can react. Like if somehow you don’t see women as people, or at least not equal people who deserve their rights and independence, even if they don’t agree with you. Seriously, when you get right down to it, this only makes sense if you’re senselessly, thoughtlessly, ruthlessly imposing your own belief system on an entire group of people, and that’s not-
Oh. Dang. Alienated for sure. Too bad for me, I just enacted a rule where I can’t use the delete button, even though it’s right there and completely safe and might save the world from a lot of pain and suffering. I just think it would be immoral.
-John
Friday, May 17, 2019
Lunch (Debt) Special
As most of you know by now, there is no limit to the number of things I dislike. I’m pretty sure the proverbial “one new thing” I learn each day is that there’s one new thing I don’t like. I mean, really, give me a topic, and I’ll find something not to like about it. It’s what I do. It is pretty rare though, as I get older, to find a brand new gem whose flaws draw my attentive ire. But I still try, and occasionally my efforts are rewarded.
Take this flawed little marvel, for example: school lunch debt.
Are you kidding me? It’s not bad enough that we can’t get these kids up to date and honest history books, or teach them how taxes and finances work, or figure out a way to judge them aside from standardized tests that show nothing, or pay their teachers an appropriate amount, or keep them from getting shot? We can’t even wait for them to go to college before we charge them extra for being poor now?
Here’s a quick run down: public schools are providing lunch for kids who can’t afford it, except it’s not free (which is a terrible way to teach an old adage), not at all. Instead, the school sort of opens a tab, and then holds the high school diploma hostage until the child can pay.
America. Home of the free.
So. We have money for our leaders to stay in expensive hotels - often owned by the Perpetually Outclassed Thoroughly Unprincipled Swindler himself - , we have money for those same leaders to have better healthcare than most of us do, and apparently we’re going to find money for a pointless and stupid wall. But not for feeding -or for that matter, properly educating- our children. I’ve heard a lot about how we’re going to win a bunch of trade wars that we’re losing, and how we’re going to bring back a lot of jobs in obsolete and deadly industries, and how good and smart and stable certain people are. Why am I only hearing about problems like this one when the parent of a child who was murdered while in school steps in to help solve them?
For that matter, why am I still hearing about children being murdered in schools?
Speaking of terrible things being done to kids in schools, hey kids: I know about lunch shaming too, you hear? I know some of you little rapscallions are bullying your fellow students because they can’t afford to pay for lunch, and boy oh boy is that wrong and pathetic and shame on you. With all the access you have to the world, you should know by now that your generation doesn’t have the luxury of infighting like generations past. You need to start working together yesterday if you all are going to have any kind of tomorrow. I think my generation and the one before it have made it pretty clear by now that we are not capable of taking care of things for you.
As to those other generations, members of which are the ones responsible for this whole situation: the largest of all shames on you. Isn’t this the opposite of your whole point? Your gig is to serve your country, the future of which depends entirely on these youngsters, and you’re setting them up to underdeveloped on every level. Shamed and underfed, with an education as useless as Tucker Carlson, and debts to pay before they even make it to college and earn their debt by taking unhelpful but somehow mandatory classes, like I did.
Some of you even tried to make it worse, by only allowing these kids jelly sandwiches for lunch, guaranteeing them nothing but refined sugar and empty starch. Blessed be the Buddha, someone found out about it and raised enough hell to shut that down. For now, anyway.
Listen, I’m not trying to tell you how run the country - except I am because I’m a citizen and that’s my job- , but I’m pretty sure having an overabundance of weak, stupid people running around is bad for us in the long run. Sure, it’ll make it easier for rich and greedy people to take advantage for a while, but all coffers have a bottom, friends and neighbors.
John
Take this flawed little marvel, for example: school lunch debt.
Are you kidding me? It’s not bad enough that we can’t get these kids up to date and honest history books, or teach them how taxes and finances work, or figure out a way to judge them aside from standardized tests that show nothing, or pay their teachers an appropriate amount, or keep them from getting shot? We can’t even wait for them to go to college before we charge them extra for being poor now?
Here’s a quick run down: public schools are providing lunch for kids who can’t afford it, except it’s not free (which is a terrible way to teach an old adage), not at all. Instead, the school sort of opens a tab, and then holds the high school diploma hostage until the child can pay.
America. Home of the free.
So. We have money for our leaders to stay in expensive hotels - often owned by the Perpetually Outclassed Thoroughly Unprincipled Swindler himself - , we have money for those same leaders to have better healthcare than most of us do, and apparently we’re going to find money for a pointless and stupid wall. But not for feeding -or for that matter, properly educating- our children. I’ve heard a lot about how we’re going to win a bunch of trade wars that we’re losing, and how we’re going to bring back a lot of jobs in obsolete and deadly industries, and how good and smart and stable certain people are. Why am I only hearing about problems like this one when the parent of a child who was murdered while in school steps in to help solve them?
For that matter, why am I still hearing about children being murdered in schools?
Speaking of terrible things being done to kids in schools, hey kids: I know about lunch shaming too, you hear? I know some of you little rapscallions are bullying your fellow students because they can’t afford to pay for lunch, and boy oh boy is that wrong and pathetic and shame on you. With all the access you have to the world, you should know by now that your generation doesn’t have the luxury of infighting like generations past. You need to start working together yesterday if you all are going to have any kind of tomorrow. I think my generation and the one before it have made it pretty clear by now that we are not capable of taking care of things for you.
As to those other generations, members of which are the ones responsible for this whole situation: the largest of all shames on you. Isn’t this the opposite of your whole point? Your gig is to serve your country, the future of which depends entirely on these youngsters, and you’re setting them up to underdeveloped on every level. Shamed and underfed, with an education as useless as Tucker Carlson, and debts to pay before they even make it to college and earn their debt by taking unhelpful but somehow mandatory classes, like I did.
Some of you even tried to make it worse, by only allowing these kids jelly sandwiches for lunch, guaranteeing them nothing but refined sugar and empty starch. Blessed be the Buddha, someone found out about it and raised enough hell to shut that down. For now, anyway.
Listen, I’m not trying to tell you how run the country - except I am because I’m a citizen and that’s my job- , but I’m pretty sure having an overabundance of weak, stupid people running around is bad for us in the long run. Sure, it’ll make it easier for rich and greedy people to take advantage for a while, but all coffers have a bottom, friends and neighbors.
John
Thursday, May 9, 2019
Empathize, You Jerks!
I’ve always been one for empathy. I like the idea of people doing their best to understand and relate to other people, and I firmly believe that if people paid more attention to empathizing and less to the Kardashians, the world would be a far greater place. Not that the Kardashians have any connection to empathy.
Or ever would, when they have makeup and jeans to sell.
The rest of us, I still somehow believe, can do better. Sure, it’s pretty easy to forget that notion when spending any amount of time on the internet, a medium people so often use to express their meanest, least virtuous selves. There seems to be relatively very little love, understanding, or even respect for those with differing opinions or experiences. Now, I personally have never put much stock in the notion that people should love everyone, because that’s impossible, and the inevitable failed attempts could drive one mad. Understanding, on the other hand, only takes a little thought and an open mind, and from there, connecting and relating to others comes quickly into view.
Not that seeing it and reaching it are the same, mind you.
The stretch of road between the two is littered with obstacles for all of us. I tell you, friends and neighbors, when I think about how some people don’t seem upset about tearing children away from their parents or locking people in internment camps for the crime of being refugees, or when I am again reminded of how comfortably they wave away the crudeness and corruption and cruelty of Philosophically Otiose Though Unreasonably Sonorous (it never ends, people), it becomes very difficult to feel anything but frustration.
A long road, and one that runs two ways, eh? What must these folks think of me, with my pro immigration, pro choice, pro health care for all thoughts and beliefs, and how it all threatens their way of life. How they must cringe at my insistence that guns do the opposite of make things safer and shouldn’t be worshipped as the embodiment of freedom. What an oddity and perversion it must seem that I claim no authority over my partner, and have little to no interest in telling other consenting adults how they should conduct their love lives.
I mean, for whiskey’s sake, I couldn’t even keep my bias out of that paragraph. What a fool I must seem to them. How easy must it be easy for them to forget that I too love barbecued meats and the spectacle of fireworks, and that even though I don’t celebrate the religious aspects of Christmas, I still enjoy being with my family and getting free stuff.
Anyway, my point is that despite everything that’s going on, all the disunity and enmity being spread around right now, I think there’s still some room for people to connect. Be it a shared appreciation for a cold beer at the end of a long day, or sleeping in once in a while, or the universal struggle of trying not to laugh too loudly when a child falls down. Whatever it takes, it’s important to try to remember that everyone is going through their own stuff.
Final note: this plea for empathy does not in any way extend to bigots, racists, or sexists. Those societal cancers deserve no quarter, and must always be called out for the slack jawed, hate filled, over-boiled potato, inbred, sponge brained, jelly spined, mushy sacks of tasteless gravy that they are, and then dismissed to rot alone and sad and forgotten.
To everyone else though, just be cool and use your brains and hearts, yeah?
-John
Or ever would, when they have makeup and jeans to sell.
The rest of us, I still somehow believe, can do better. Sure, it’s pretty easy to forget that notion when spending any amount of time on the internet, a medium people so often use to express their meanest, least virtuous selves. There seems to be relatively very little love, understanding, or even respect for those with differing opinions or experiences. Now, I personally have never put much stock in the notion that people should love everyone, because that’s impossible, and the inevitable failed attempts could drive one mad. Understanding, on the other hand, only takes a little thought and an open mind, and from there, connecting and relating to others comes quickly into view.
Not that seeing it and reaching it are the same, mind you.
The stretch of road between the two is littered with obstacles for all of us. I tell you, friends and neighbors, when I think about how some people don’t seem upset about tearing children away from their parents or locking people in internment camps for the crime of being refugees, or when I am again reminded of how comfortably they wave away the crudeness and corruption and cruelty of Philosophically Otiose Though Unreasonably Sonorous (it never ends, people), it becomes very difficult to feel anything but frustration.
A long road, and one that runs two ways, eh? What must these folks think of me, with my pro immigration, pro choice, pro health care for all thoughts and beliefs, and how it all threatens their way of life. How they must cringe at my insistence that guns do the opposite of make things safer and shouldn’t be worshipped as the embodiment of freedom. What an oddity and perversion it must seem that I claim no authority over my partner, and have little to no interest in telling other consenting adults how they should conduct their love lives.
I mean, for whiskey’s sake, I couldn’t even keep my bias out of that paragraph. What a fool I must seem to them. How easy must it be easy for them to forget that I too love barbecued meats and the spectacle of fireworks, and that even though I don’t celebrate the religious aspects of Christmas, I still enjoy being with my family and getting free stuff.
Anyway, my point is that despite everything that’s going on, all the disunity and enmity being spread around right now, I think there’s still some room for people to connect. Be it a shared appreciation for a cold beer at the end of a long day, or sleeping in once in a while, or the universal struggle of trying not to laugh too loudly when a child falls down. Whatever it takes, it’s important to try to remember that everyone is going through their own stuff.
Final note: this plea for empathy does not in any way extend to bigots, racists, or sexists. Those societal cancers deserve no quarter, and must always be called out for the slack jawed, hate filled, over-boiled potato, inbred, sponge brained, jelly spined, mushy sacks of tasteless gravy that they are, and then dismissed to rot alone and sad and forgotten.
To everyone else though, just be cool and use your brains and hearts, yeah?
-John
Saturday, April 27, 2019
Under the Influencer
When I was a somewhat shorter and more energetic grade school aged person, my elders often told me that getting old was a mistake, and I shouldn’t do it. Always one to listen, I did my best by living capriciously and remaining as immature as possible for as long as I could. If one were to ask among the trail of people who have put up with me over the years, one would likely be told that I did a pretty good job. Unfortunately, I continued to age, and the foretold effects of doing so have come to pass. Being tired all the time, paying taxes, forgetting things, knowing for a fact that music used to be better, all of it.
And you know what? Mostly, it’s not so bad. Sure, sure, I was forced to realize I’m not immortal and had to quit smoking and can’t drink twelve beers in an evening without wishing I was dead the next day and have to make sure I pay for health insurance, but I also get to have breakfast for dinner whenever I want, and no one makes me practice my penmanship.
Also, I made it to a point where I found out there are people online called “influencers”, and instead of getting mad and ranting about it, I can laugh and rant about it instead.
Now, I know being at this age also means I most likely learned about this after most everyone else, but just in case you’re not aware: there’s a “job” called an “influencer” wherein popular social media people are paid to promote some unnecessary junk or other, and then their viewers- or to use the more accepted and deeply foreboding term, “followers”- buy said junk.
What this means is that people who started posting videos of themselves on the internet in order to get attention are being rewarded financially for doing so, and nothing could be more exemplary of the world today. Not only is it somehow okay to be a human commercial, but it’s a position people strive for and envy. People even try and peddle their influence as currency, asking people with actual creative talent to make and do things for free, in exchange for a “shout out”, which is probably an obsolete term, but no way am I going to get so invested in this as to find out. It is vexing to me, and wrong, that people are now trying to become the thing we hated most about watching television in the first place. Remember when everyone stopped watching regular television and started watching these streaming services because they (back then) didn’t have as many commercials?
I remember, and I’ll tell you this, friends and neighbors: not once did I find myself envious of Mr. Clean, or the Domino’s Noid, or the Keebler Elves, or Toucan Sam. When exactly did being a corporate mascot become a career goal?
I have to believe this is a direct result of our habit of making people famous for no reason other than their willingness to be terrible on camera. We’ve paid to watch people eat gross things, live and fight with their romantic competitors, participate in children’s beauty pageants, be intentionally terrible to their family members, and so many other morally empty things that now we look at a computer generated lizard selling us car insurance and think, “maybe if I get enough attention for falling down, I could get a job like that.”
Although I have to admit, these days, it is a safer bet than going to college.
-John
And you know what? Mostly, it’s not so bad. Sure, sure, I was forced to realize I’m not immortal and had to quit smoking and can’t drink twelve beers in an evening without wishing I was dead the next day and have to make sure I pay for health insurance, but I also get to have breakfast for dinner whenever I want, and no one makes me practice my penmanship.
Also, I made it to a point where I found out there are people online called “influencers”, and instead of getting mad and ranting about it, I can laugh and rant about it instead.
Now, I know being at this age also means I most likely learned about this after most everyone else, but just in case you’re not aware: there’s a “job” called an “influencer” wherein popular social media people are paid to promote some unnecessary junk or other, and then their viewers- or to use the more accepted and deeply foreboding term, “followers”- buy said junk.
What this means is that people who started posting videos of themselves on the internet in order to get attention are being rewarded financially for doing so, and nothing could be more exemplary of the world today. Not only is it somehow okay to be a human commercial, but it’s a position people strive for and envy. People even try and peddle their influence as currency, asking people with actual creative talent to make and do things for free, in exchange for a “shout out”, which is probably an obsolete term, but no way am I going to get so invested in this as to find out. It is vexing to me, and wrong, that people are now trying to become the thing we hated most about watching television in the first place. Remember when everyone stopped watching regular television and started watching these streaming services because they (back then) didn’t have as many commercials?
I remember, and I’ll tell you this, friends and neighbors: not once did I find myself envious of Mr. Clean, or the Domino’s Noid, or the Keebler Elves, or Toucan Sam. When exactly did being a corporate mascot become a career goal?
I have to believe this is a direct result of our habit of making people famous for no reason other than their willingness to be terrible on camera. We’ve paid to watch people eat gross things, live and fight with their romantic competitors, participate in children’s beauty pageants, be intentionally terrible to their family members, and so many other morally empty things that now we look at a computer generated lizard selling us car insurance and think, “maybe if I get enough attention for falling down, I could get a job like that.”
Although I have to admit, these days, it is a safer bet than going to college.
-John
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Anyway.
Isn’t it just the easiest thing in the world to put off today what one can do tomorrow, and what others so rarely even notice is as yet undone? Especially these days, when so many things are being done so frequently, and in so much more easily consumed mediums then the tedious, uncolorful, noiseless, and overly adjective laden written word. Alas, friends and neighbors, I cannot sing or paint, and have no desire to spew my ramblings in front of a camera and beg for subscriptions like a dying magazine, and so I find myself once again attempting to get the attention of others by tying together as many strings of words as I deem worthy, and likely more than most would prefer.
However, it has been a pretty lengthy stretch of time since last I strung my strings, so I have a lot on which to catch up. So let’s see, where to begin, where to begin…
Let’s do a little political stuff, get it out of the way, shall we?
I’m pretty tired of how Republicans are always saying that “you have to respect the office, if not the man.” Why? I’m not even going to point out the hypocrisy here, the way they all spoke about Obama, because what’s the point? Even Republicans and their voters know they’re now the party of hypocrisy and denial, which is why so many of their voters are single issue voters, choosing to ignore all the selfish, short sighted policies and actions nonsense, as long as they get to keep their unnecessarily dangerous guns. Of course, I know the Democrats have had their fair share of scandals and corruption as well (Anthony Weiner, anyone?), but even when Clinton was being impeached, I never heard that insipid phrase. I certainly didn’t hear it from any Republicans. Nor did I hear it when Obama was dealing with all his scandals, like the one with Russia-no, wait, that wasn’t him. Or the one about infidelity and harassment-nope, not him either. Oh! What about the one where his self named university scammed people out millions of dollars- no, dang, that wasn’t him either.
And yet here we are, being told that we should respect this person who is Perpetually Oblivious Though Unrelentingly Sure (P.O.T.U.S. - yep, it’s still happening. It’s a habit now, like biting your nails or picking your nose) of every ridiculous thing that comes out of his mouth. Until an hour or two later, when he swears he never said it.
Hey, you want everyone to “respect the office?” Try electing someone who doesn’t behave like a toddler. A racist, sexist, failed businessperson, criminal toddler.
The whole White House probably still smells like McDonald’s french fries, for crying out loud.
Anyway.
When did “I feel like” replace “I think that?” Why is it that more credibility is being given to irrational emotions than actual, critical thinking? Is it because we haven’t been teaching critical thinking for enough generations now that the notion seems outdated and lost to us? Or is it because expressing a thought invites conversation and perhaps dissent, whereas for some unknown reason feelings are now beyond reproach? Now, I understand that everyone has feelings, and those feelings should not be ignored, but the idea that feelings deserve a higher priority than actual thought is, I feel, pretty poorly thought out.
Anyway.
You know that old saying, “A good deed is its own reward?” Well, it doesn’t have to be. When you notice someone putting in the extra effort, or doing someone else a kindness, or going out of their way to be helpful, take a second and acknowledge them. People get plenty of attention for poor behavior, even television contracts and social media sponsorships for it. Those unknown decent folks, who don’t get six figure salaries for being self obsessed, thoughtless cretins, deserve at least the occasional, “hey, good job”, “thanks for doing that”, or “Mr. Rogers would be proud of you.” Or a six figure salary, if you have an extra one lying around somewhere.
Anyway, I know there’s a lot left that I could cover before we’re all caught up, but I think for now that’s enough attention retention strings from me. Thanks as always for stopping by, I hope the few minutes it took you to read this were enjoyable ones, and of course, don’t forget to subscribe!
-John
However, it has been a pretty lengthy stretch of time since last I strung my strings, so I have a lot on which to catch up. So let’s see, where to begin, where to begin…
Let’s do a little political stuff, get it out of the way, shall we?
I’m pretty tired of how Republicans are always saying that “you have to respect the office, if not the man.” Why? I’m not even going to point out the hypocrisy here, the way they all spoke about Obama, because what’s the point? Even Republicans and their voters know they’re now the party of hypocrisy and denial, which is why so many of their voters are single issue voters, choosing to ignore all the selfish, short sighted policies and actions nonsense, as long as they get to keep their unnecessarily dangerous guns. Of course, I know the Democrats have had their fair share of scandals and corruption as well (Anthony Weiner, anyone?), but even when Clinton was being impeached, I never heard that insipid phrase. I certainly didn’t hear it from any Republicans. Nor did I hear it when Obama was dealing with all his scandals, like the one with Russia-no, wait, that wasn’t him. Or the one about infidelity and harassment-nope, not him either. Oh! What about the one where his self named university scammed people out millions of dollars- no, dang, that wasn’t him either.
And yet here we are, being told that we should respect this person who is Perpetually Oblivious Though Unrelentingly Sure (P.O.T.U.S. - yep, it’s still happening. It’s a habit now, like biting your nails or picking your nose) of every ridiculous thing that comes out of his mouth. Until an hour or two later, when he swears he never said it.
Hey, you want everyone to “respect the office?” Try electing someone who doesn’t behave like a toddler. A racist, sexist, failed businessperson, criminal toddler.
The whole White House probably still smells like McDonald’s french fries, for crying out loud.
Anyway.
When did “I feel like” replace “I think that?” Why is it that more credibility is being given to irrational emotions than actual, critical thinking? Is it because we haven’t been teaching critical thinking for enough generations now that the notion seems outdated and lost to us? Or is it because expressing a thought invites conversation and perhaps dissent, whereas for some unknown reason feelings are now beyond reproach? Now, I understand that everyone has feelings, and those feelings should not be ignored, but the idea that feelings deserve a higher priority than actual thought is, I feel, pretty poorly thought out.
Anyway.
You know that old saying, “A good deed is its own reward?” Well, it doesn’t have to be. When you notice someone putting in the extra effort, or doing someone else a kindness, or going out of their way to be helpful, take a second and acknowledge them. People get plenty of attention for poor behavior, even television contracts and social media sponsorships for it. Those unknown decent folks, who don’t get six figure salaries for being self obsessed, thoughtless cretins, deserve at least the occasional, “hey, good job”, “thanks for doing that”, or “Mr. Rogers would be proud of you.” Or a six figure salary, if you have an extra one lying around somewhere.
Anyway, I know there’s a lot left that I could cover before we’re all caught up, but I think for now that’s enough attention retention strings from me. Thanks as always for stopping by, I hope the few minutes it took you to read this were enjoyable ones, and of course, don’t forget to subscribe!
-John
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