Typical Sunday

Sunday was a bad day. I dragged myself out of bed at the crack of dawn. That would be 7:30 in more rational households. Fired up the computers. That is harder to do than one might think. I have coal-fired computers and they take some stoking to get going in the morning, just as I do. I settled down with some coffee that was no older than 2 hours and proceeded to go through my normal Sunday routine.

By 8:45, I had completed the crossword puzzle, a couple of jigsaw puzzles, and scanned the news leaving pithy comments at the LA Times and learning the Guardian didn't like my calling her commenters "morons" because they saw nothing wrong with throwing shoes and eggs at Tony Blair's booksigning. They deleted my comment. Fascists!

I was now left with only one crossword puzzle of my regular set to do and then it would be the drudgery of playing Monopoly against the machine. I do have one more chore I must do today and that is check the amount of Propane left in the tank. It's embarrassing and inconvenient when I overlook that chore. We run out.

We use propane for heating the water and cooking. This is fine if we have extended periods of no electricity. Like after a hurricane passes through. We may not have air conditioning or TV but we will be able to take hot showers and cook food. Unless, of course, I have forgotten to check the propane and we run out.

Don't laugh. We have run out before. On a late Friday afternoon. And the propane people do not operate on weekends unless it is a genuine emergency. I do not especially like cold showers. To be fair, the water here is not that cold but it is not all that warm either.

Anyway, that is is an important chore and I shall certainly take care of it. Eventually. After a few games of Monopoly. And solitaire. And a couple of reminders from She Who Must Be Obeyed.

By 9:10, I had nothing left to do. The rest of the day is lost to me.

Is it time for change?

If so, what form should that change take?

Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door

It's how we evolve, socially and culturally. We look at the generation before us and see the mistakes and vow to correct them. It's only a problem when we fail to see the good things that they did, when we dismiss all because of the flaws. And there will always be flaws. We are human, after all.

When the Colonies rose against the Crown in the mid-1700's, America was not united. The people were pretty much divided into thirds; for, against, unable (or unwilling) to choose. But you do not need a majority to start a revolution. Just 10% can do that and keep it going for many years. To win, you need at least 20%. These are my numbers and they are rough ones. I am sure someone, somewhere, has made a study of it for a doctorate thesis and will be able to refute them. But I do not think by much.

I would say the first 50 years of the existence of the US were turmoil. A government was established but it was too weak and the state governments too strong. The individual states feared too strong a central government. So the Constitution was written, dividing the government into three parts, placing restrictions on each division's power, and protecting the rights of individuals. The last was an afterthought and are the first 10 Amendments to the Constitution. Contrary to the beliefs of some, no rights were granted to the people by that document. The rights were simply documented and ruled inviolate.

But people are forgetful. And they are also willing to cede some freedom for security. We do it as individuals all the time. It's called compromise. The problem is that there are always those who seek power and they will take advantage of that willingness. They will also take advantage of apathy, laziness, indifference, fear, and passion.

We have arrived at, I believe, a crucial point in our history. A point where a sufficient number of us desire change. A significant number want a complete change. There is great danger in that. There is that old warning... Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. I believe that when we say we want change, we really mean we want the bad things fixed and the good things encouraged. The problem is what is "good" and what is "bad" may be interchangeable in so many people's eyes.

That desire for change is what brought about the Constitution. The Articles of Confederation was insufficient to hold the states together. The states squabbled among themselves. Chaos loomed. Change was needed. A convention was called, delegates were sent from each state. Much arguing ensued, debates over the extent of power of the central government, the individual rights of states, and the Articles of Confederation were scrapped. Out of that convention, which was called to fix the "bad" things and enhance the "good" things, an entirely new government was formed. A different form of government than any in the history of civilization.

It was not perfect. What is? It left slavery in place and it did not grant universal suffrage, for examples. But it was also designed to change itself through the will of the people. It took almost one hundred years to end slavery and that change almost destroyed the nation. It would be another 60 years before women were granted the right to vote in all elections.

But it had the power to do that; to change itself. That is, I think, its greatest strength and its most exploitable weakness. We have made many changes in the last 100 or so years. Rapid and radical changes. We are in the midst of yet more radical changes. The arguments for change always cite danger in not changing, exploit fears of the future, exploit crises that are real or manufactured.

The people cannot remain complacent in all this. They must become aware, they must become involved... even if only to vote intelligently. By vote intelligently, I mean not vote based on name recognition or party affiliation. The biggest threat to this nation is the career politician.

I only have five senses... Humor isn't one of them

I've always wanted to be a standup comedian. I have no idea why. I just wanted to. Only one thing held me back. A minor thing. I can't tell a joke. And I am not funny on my own. That's right, I stink at ad lib'ing. I am pretty sure that isn't the correct way to write that but bear with me.

Still, that shouldn't hold me back. Maybe I could get a grant from the government and protected status. After all, why should comedy clubs be allowed to discriminate against those of us without comic timing? Isn't that a disability? There are laugh tracks that could be used, signs to tell the audience when to laugh at those times when it is appropriate. It works on TV. It should also work in the comedy clubs.

I would like to see Stephen Hawkings do comedy. I am positive he could do it with a straight face and understated delivery. He could even do impersonations of famous people. It would just be a matter of programming of the voice module.

Hawkings is involved in a bit of controversy right now, though. It seems he has declared that God was unnecessary to get the universe started. That's angering some of the religious community. We haven't heard from the Muslim community yet but I am sure a fatwa will be declared soon. After all, denial of the need for God has got to be worse than a cartoon of Mohammed.

Humor is a delicate thing. It is possibly the most difficult art to master. Anybody can act, George Clooney proved that. But humor? That takes subtlety (I am not talking Three Stooges here), timing, and intelligence. The intelligence is required in order to gauge your audience. The best comics are those that seem surprised at the laughter their gags produce. Right behind them are the ones who seem totally oblivious to the fact that they are funny. Emo Phillips comes to mind.

Emo, by the way, is my favorite. I saw him decades ago at a comedy club in Richmond, Virginia. He opened with an unforgettable bit about his pants. These pants were almost, but not quite, clown pants. He said they had belonged to his grandfather. His mother had suggested he wear them. He claimed it took him an hour to dig up his grandfather's grave in order to get them.

See what I mean? I can't tell a joke.

Here's an Emo...

“I was with this girl the other night and from the way she was responding to my skillful caresses, you would have sworn that she was conscious from the top of her head to the tag on her toes.”

You can see why I relate to him so well.

Wanderlust

I run across some interesting commentary at The View From Outside My Tiny Window quite often. What is written there, in the main commentary or in the comments by readers, usually makes me think. And, often, that thinking induces me to consider events or experiences in my past. Sometimes, the thoughts are interesting, sometimes embarrassing.

A recent column concerned immigration but one of the Inspector General's comments triggered other thoughts; thoughts about why people emigrate and where they emigrate to.

In the heyday of the Roman Empire, Rome was The place to go. It was, of course, the center of the Empire and, arguably, the richest city of the Empire. There would be jobs and opportunity there that might not be found elsewhere in the world. The language would be familiar since Latin and Greek were common throughout the Empire and, therefore, not much of a barrier. And it was accessible. "All roads lead to Rome" was true both figuratively and, for all practical purposes, literally.

People emigrate constantly. I think human beings have retained that wanderlust as a part of our evolutionary traits. Possibly from our prehistoric hunter-gatherer stage. But we also developed a "stay-at-home" trait that allowed us to create cities and, later, states. We would become attached to a specific area. It would represent "Home". We might roam far and wide but we would be known by our place of origin and, probably, have a desire to return. The dream would be "return home rich and famous", I would guess. That is my way of saying that the emigration is seen as temporary. Seek one's fortune and then return home successful.

I have traveled a bit, the foreign travel being primarily paid for, and dictated by, the US Navy. I didn't choose where I went, I just went... or else. I found something beautiful and welcoming just about everywhere I visited. The weather, the scenery, and always the people. I could have happily stayed in most of the countries and places I found myself in. Only a few made me feel uneasy or wish to be elsewhere. Some of those places that made me uneasy were even in the US.

But I wondered then, and still today, why people will leave a land in which they grew up, where all (or most) of their family ties exist, to go to a place they had never seen outside of movies or TV; a place totally different from the world they have known all their lives. And not just to visit but to settle there, to become a permanent part of it, to find a new "home."

I know why, or think I do, I have moved around a bit in my life. I think it comes from being moved from my original "home" at a young age. Not young enough to have no memories of it but not old enough to have developed strong bonds to it. I have always seen myself as "rootless."

Where would you go? What country, what city, what region, could draw you to it?

Into the mist and lost... again

I am really having a difficult time today thinking of something to write about. I had some ideas yesterday and the evening before but they slipped away in the fog. You know the fog? The misty place where you catch glimpses of wonderful ideas and almost see beautiful dreams? It's there in all our heads. Hidden from view. Quiet and peaceful but full of promise.

And so out of reach on demand. Most of us cannot tap into it with ease. Most of us are barely aware of it. But it is there. That mist is made up of the wisps of smoke from ideas that smolder but never seem to catch fire. The clever ones know how to breathe life into those ideas, how to coax them into becoming a raging fire of passion and adventure.

But not me. For me, it will always be a mist where glimpses of great things slip in and out of my vision, showing me just enough to tantalize, to intrigue. Never solid enough to grab.

It leaves me melancholy sometimes.

Like today.