My liberal friends are completely outraged. Hell, so am I! If you aren't outraged you just aren't paying attention but it is kinda time to put our hair out and actually look around.
The will to power is the most powerful of human drives, at least in a societal setting. It far exceeds avarice or the drive for acceptance and recognition.
Before you brand me as an apologist let's be clear. Trump is employing so many of the tactics of Hitler it's almost laughable. I'm amazed there haven't been bonfires at his rallies; no torchlight parades, no giant images of his smiling, benevolent countenance. But these expressions of megalomania aren't exclusive to Hitler. The demagoguery, the self-aggrandizement, the building of a personality cult , the demands for blind allegiance above loyalty to the state are common to all tyrants. The Greeks and Romans had their men on horseback. Tyrants and Emperors respectively. The Founding Fathers railed against so much of what we are seeing because they had seen it so often in the European History of two, three and four centuries ago. It's nothing new. In fact, it's so common the bulwark they built against it has been surprisingly resilient. I don't think Trump is following some Hitlerian blueprint. I think he's living out a common neurosis just as Hitler did. I think he's bloody common in the overall scheme of things.
Nevertheless, we certainly have had our share of personality cults. The sainted Washington and Lincoln come to mind and fit the bill. Franklin Roosevelt certainly comes to mind as does Kennedy. Reagan certainly has been elevated to a status beyond any real accomplishment. Obama certainly is on his way to near cult status. It remains to be seen what the overall effect of these recent events will be on ourselves and our institutions but I think, in the end it will be minimal.
Here's why I think that. Primarily, this is not Germany in the era of the Great Depression. Our economy is strong. Our government is staffed at a deep level by well educated, dedicated professionals. Those who would pursue bad ideas, meeting that deep level of institutional knowledge and resistance have coined the derogatory term "deep state". They may have a point but not the malicious point they proffer. It's a huge institution naturally resistant to change. Our other institutions, the media, entertainment, business, political parties, education, religion are entrenched and powerful and for the most part benign. As much as we have been encouraged to believe otherwise our society and culture is not in a shambles. There is no urban mob to be motivated, inflamed and abused. There is also no urban mob to turn on it's abusers. Trump will not meet the swift fate of Robespierre but though mundane, his prospective fate looks to be tragic. Nor does there appear to be a Bonaparte in the wings or a need for one. The weight of our stable institutions will gradually reassert itself. It's important to remember tyrants and wannabes always end badly. But what of their supporters? Bonapartism did damage for over a half century.
Hillary Clinton referred to a subset of these supporters as "deplorables". She was right but not too bright to have said it out loud. You can group them together with a benign subset I think of as "lowercase americans". Those who don't understand the complexity of government and the complexity of our history. That's the problem. Those of us who actually do know everything tend to be condescending to those who merely think they know everything. That's obviously a joke but it does sum up part of the problem pretty well. People don't like to be dismissed.
You no longer hear that, "Johnny can't read." You have to be able to read to engage in the babel of social media. The debate about media and alternative facts and so on is, in the end, a good and healthy debate and every day more and more people are exposed to the debate. Good and right ideas persevere. That's not going to change and the subset of the less informed shrinks everyday, particularly the louder we debate. These "forgotten" people will fade back into forgetfulness or become better informed and better citizens.
In the meantime our culture and society are more than strong enough to withstand the debate. We are not the Germany of the '30's. We are The United States of America of the 21st Century. Put your hair out and be of good cheer but get with the program.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Taxi Cab Confessions
I was thinking I should write some of this down before I forget who I was and where I was, when I was. The older I get, the "when" thing seems to make more difference.
From my early to mid twenties thru my early to mid thirties I was a cab driver. Now, had I spent those years doing almost anything else I'd probably be a lot further along. I did manage to get an education and boy did I read and I had one helluva lot of fun! I can't imagine an occupation that would provide a decent living and allow you to read at least 800 pages a week all the while putting you in regular contact with businessmen, politicians, newspaper editors, pimps, hookers, drug dealers and relatively easy, beautiful women and ya got to carry a gun! Now, c'mon. I was in regular contact with businessmen, politicians and newspaper editors and relatively easy, beautiful women. Fairly scary. Who could blame me for being armed? I didn't have much contact with cops. I'da carried two guns. Just sayin.
That "gun" thing. I never fired the gun I carried and no one ever knew I had it. I never needed the damned thing. I will say that if I happened to meet a guy like me today, in a bar, I would assume he was armed.
I'm not telling those stories today. These are much more innocuous.
Going the long way. If you were obnoxious to me about being late and making it worth my while I would just go like hell in the wrong direction. Plan your day better you mindless hump. If you were nice and just needed to be there I'd do the best I could. My living depended on getting people where they wanted to go, getting rid of them as quickly as possible and getting their money. Then getting the next one and so on. I considered any other assumption to be insulting. I considered that because it is insulting. I'm not responsible for your assumptions. Although, sometimes.... Sometimes you were in a hurry. One morning I was headed up a major thoroughfare to get a fair I had bid. I was in my cab driver, hurry-up mode. At a traffic light, some poor woman's car quit working right in front of me. Frustrating would be a very kind way of saying how that struck me. I got out of the cab, told the woman to put her car in nuetral and pushed her out of traffic and my gotdamned way while saying things about her POS car under my breath. I did not wave or look back. I got in the cab and took off. I immediately forgot about it.
From my early to mid twenties thru my early to mid thirties I was a cab driver. Now, had I spent those years doing almost anything else I'd probably be a lot further along. I did manage to get an education and boy did I read and I had one helluva lot of fun! I can't imagine an occupation that would provide a decent living and allow you to read at least 800 pages a week all the while putting you in regular contact with businessmen, politicians, newspaper editors, pimps, hookers, drug dealers and relatively easy, beautiful women and ya got to carry a gun! Now, c'mon. I was in regular contact with businessmen, politicians and newspaper editors and relatively easy, beautiful women. Fairly scary. Who could blame me for being armed? I didn't have much contact with cops. I'da carried two guns. Just sayin.
That "gun" thing. I never fired the gun I carried and no one ever knew I had it. I never needed the damned thing. I will say that if I happened to meet a guy like me today, in a bar, I would assume he was armed.
I'm not telling those stories today. These are much more innocuous.
Going the long way. If you were obnoxious to me about being late and making it worth my while I would just go like hell in the wrong direction. Plan your day better you mindless hump. If you were nice and just needed to be there I'd do the best I could. My living depended on getting people where they wanted to go, getting rid of them as quickly as possible and getting their money. Then getting the next one and so on. I considered any other assumption to be insulting. I considered that because it is insulting. I'm not responsible for your assumptions. Although, sometimes.... Sometimes you were in a hurry. One morning I was headed up a major thoroughfare to get a fair I had bid. I was in my cab driver, hurry-up mode. At a traffic light, some poor woman's car quit working right in front of me. Frustrating would be a very kind way of saying how that struck me. I got out of the cab, told the woman to put her car in nuetral and pushed her out of traffic and my gotdamned way while saying things about her POS car under my breath. I did not wave or look back. I got in the cab and took off. I immediately forgot about it.
I got and completed the next fare. It was the tail end of the morning rush so I stopped at a convenience store for an orange juice and a grease bullet breakfast sandwich. When I got to the register, the manager of the store, a nice enough looking middle-aged woman told the cashier my purchase was on her.
" I saw you help that woman with her car. It's the least I can do." I did remember to thank her and I did not say, " Lady, if you knew what I was thinking when I shoved that fucking broad out of my way, you sure wouldn't reward me." In a day's work, I guess.
I always answered questions truthfully Well, for the most part. If you asked me how much it should cost to go from point A to point B, I would tell you the truth. If you asked me how much I wanted to go from point A to point B, I would tell you the truth. It's not my fault those two figures were substantially different. ( Hmmm, how much do I want ?)
I'm not sure if this was shameful. That means I think it was but, Boy, did it work. I picked up a guy at the airport. He said no one knew his street in Paradise Valley so he'd have to give me directions. A lot of people said that. People want to think they're unique particularly the more exclusive the neighborhood. I said, I needed his address for my log and chances were I knew where it was. I did not know oddly enough. In our 15 minute drive and the course of the conversation it turned out he was the manager for a very popular boxer. I'd actually made some good money betting on the guy and I told him so. I was single. I was allowed to bet on sporting events. At the end of the trip the guy gave me a $10 tip. That was a handsome sum. He stuck in my mind.
A few weeks later I picked up a guy at the airport. same story. No one knows my street yada, yada.
I said, " I do know your street. A few weeks ago I took your next door neighbor home and the reason I remember is he tipped me $10."
There was nothing unusual about the trip or the conversation. When I dropped him off he tipped me a 20. It reminded me just how competitive these people in these fantastically expensive neighborhoods were. It was actually an innocent remark on my part. The remark was not innocent at all the next hundred times I said it and it paid off like a cash register. Yeah, pretty shameful or shameless. There is a difference but not really that much. The older I get the difference is less and less.
Speaking of kinda shameful: The boxing manager/ promoter guy also gave me two complimentary tickets to boxing matches held at the Dell Webb Townhouse Hotel in central Phoenix. It was a nice place. I'm sure it still is. High-rise hotel, condos, an auditorium and a not bad steak house restaurant. In those days probably $40 for dinner for two including wine. 50 with the tip. It would be like an eighty dollar joint now. A C-note with the tip.
Anyway, I was dating this girl and I really wasn't getting anywhere. It was 1982, I was 30 years old. I was tryin to get in her pants and about to give up. She was being coy like she was in some sort of bedroom farce. I was always an Erskine Caldwell fan. She was more Doris Day. You see the dilemma. I had decided it was our last date. Like most young girls she was almost shocked and appalled at the idea of attending boxing matches but mostly bored at my obvious boorishness. She got to dress up and have a good dinner. It turns out she'd been holding out over Mickey D's and a movie before she met me. I'm sure she is now a lovely wife and grandmother. I didn't corrupt her completely but I wasn't really trying.
So, we had a nice dinner. I probably had the prime rib. I never was a big steak fan and I remember I always had the prime rib when I went there. She probably had a porter house. We had the house wine. That certainly wasn't as dramatic as having the guy open the bottle and all that but wine is wine and the carafe was only about a sawbuck. Even then the pop the cork deally was about $22. I digress.
We proceeded to the auditorium. It was grandly named (I don't remember) but actually pretty small. I don't think you can refer to a fight arena as intimate. It was small. There might have been 20 rows of seats. Even in the bad seats you could see the snot fly. We had pretty good seats.
It was a five bout card with no real main event. There were three club bouts which are actually kinda fun to watch because the skill level is so bad. The other two bouts were guys trying to go pro. These guys were about to learn some stuff inadvertently like: don't drop your right shoulder and so was I about to learn some thing that would stay with me.
By the 3rd bout our Little Miss Proper was on her feet yelling things like, "Jab, Jab!" "The left!, Throw the left!" By the fifth bout she'd ordered Black Velvet straight.
This is what I learned inadvertently. The combination of violence and the concentration of hormones in that small area had an effect. Apparently, you could get a Nun to do inappropriate things in the parking lot after that combination. I know it was hard to stop Little Miss Proper. I think it was more shameless than shameful that I repeated the experience more than a few times with various females of my acquaintance. I still think it was totally understandable.
Experience can be a hard teacher but sometimes .... not so much. We do learn from our mistakes but sometimes we learn from results. Still, don't drop your shoulder. That left is always coming.
It wasn't until well into my second marriage that it occurred to me to say to my Wife, " Check this out!"
I always answered questions truthfully Well, for the most part. If you asked me how much it should cost to go from point A to point B, I would tell you the truth. If you asked me how much I wanted to go from point A to point B, I would tell you the truth. It's not my fault those two figures were substantially different. ( Hmmm, how much do I want ?)
I'm not sure if this was shameful. That means I think it was but, Boy, did it work. I picked up a guy at the airport. He said no one knew his street in Paradise Valley so he'd have to give me directions. A lot of people said that. People want to think they're unique particularly the more exclusive the neighborhood. I said, I needed his address for my log and chances were I knew where it was. I did not know oddly enough. In our 15 minute drive and the course of the conversation it turned out he was the manager for a very popular boxer. I'd actually made some good money betting on the guy and I told him so. I was single. I was allowed to bet on sporting events. At the end of the trip the guy gave me a $10 tip. That was a handsome sum. He stuck in my mind.
A few weeks later I picked up a guy at the airport. same story. No one knows my street yada, yada.
I said, " I do know your street. A few weeks ago I took your next door neighbor home and the reason I remember is he tipped me $10."
There was nothing unusual about the trip or the conversation. When I dropped him off he tipped me a 20. It reminded me just how competitive these people in these fantastically expensive neighborhoods were. It was actually an innocent remark on my part. The remark was not innocent at all the next hundred times I said it and it paid off like a cash register. Yeah, pretty shameful or shameless. There is a difference but not really that much. The older I get the difference is less and less.
Speaking of kinda shameful: The boxing manager/ promoter guy also gave me two complimentary tickets to boxing matches held at the Dell Webb Townhouse Hotel in central Phoenix. It was a nice place. I'm sure it still is. High-rise hotel, condos, an auditorium and a not bad steak house restaurant. In those days probably $40 for dinner for two including wine. 50 with the tip. It would be like an eighty dollar joint now. A C-note with the tip.
Anyway, I was dating this girl and I really wasn't getting anywhere. It was 1982, I was 30 years old. I was tryin to get in her pants and about to give up. She was being coy like she was in some sort of bedroom farce. I was always an Erskine Caldwell fan. She was more Doris Day. You see the dilemma. I had decided it was our last date. Like most young girls she was almost shocked and appalled at the idea of attending boxing matches but mostly bored at my obvious boorishness. She got to dress up and have a good dinner. It turns out she'd been holding out over Mickey D's and a movie before she met me. I'm sure she is now a lovely wife and grandmother. I didn't corrupt her completely but I wasn't really trying.
So, we had a nice dinner. I probably had the prime rib. I never was a big steak fan and I remember I always had the prime rib when I went there. She probably had a porter house. We had the house wine. That certainly wasn't as dramatic as having the guy open the bottle and all that but wine is wine and the carafe was only about a sawbuck. Even then the pop the cork deally was about $22. I digress.
We proceeded to the auditorium. It was grandly named (I don't remember) but actually pretty small. I don't think you can refer to a fight arena as intimate. It was small. There might have been 20 rows of seats. Even in the bad seats you could see the snot fly. We had pretty good seats.
It was a five bout card with no real main event. There were three club bouts which are actually kinda fun to watch because the skill level is so bad. The other two bouts were guys trying to go pro. These guys were about to learn some stuff inadvertently like: don't drop your right shoulder and so was I about to learn some thing that would stay with me.
By the 3rd bout our Little Miss Proper was on her feet yelling things like, "Jab, Jab!" "The left!, Throw the left!" By the fifth bout she'd ordered Black Velvet straight.
This is what I learned inadvertently. The combination of violence and the concentration of hormones in that small area had an effect. Apparently, you could get a Nun to do inappropriate things in the parking lot after that combination. I know it was hard to stop Little Miss Proper. I think it was more shameless than shameful that I repeated the experience more than a few times with various females of my acquaintance. I still think it was totally understandable.
Experience can be a hard teacher but sometimes .... not so much. We do learn from our mistakes but sometimes we learn from results. Still, don't drop your shoulder. That left is always coming.
It wasn't until well into my second marriage that it occurred to me to say to my Wife, " Check this out!"
Saturday, July 15, 2017
A Hot Time in the New Town Tonight!
I love factoids. One of my favorites is this: A disproportionate number of times the person performing the National Anthem at a National Hockey League game takes longer than a minute to do so, the home team loses. Does it actually mean anything? Nah. Is it true? Yep. Either that or the guy that told me that just thought I should pay more attention to the National Anthem. Either way, you'll figure out how the stopwatch on your phone works and you'll never watch a hockey game the same way again. Let's see what else I can ruin.
I covered the "eyeball drying out, going blind, dream thing", right? Have I said Ambrose Bierce called true love a mental disorder usually cured by marriage? Didn't I just cover staring at car wrecks and the wonder of birth? I trashed westerns and the Indians in general. Did I mention spouses? If you don't hate your significant other after a few years you're just not doing it right. Familiarity is supposed to breed contempt. It's actually a healthy but completely unpleasant component of any long-term relationship. Sorry. Ahh well, whatever doesn't kill ya gives you a hell of a limp. Here's to limping to the finish line with your true love. Spending 30-40 years with the same spouse gives you a whole new appreciation of the idea of a participation trophy. So much for that "trophy wife" thing. Trophies collect dust and the good ones tarnish. Again. Sorry.
Here's an interesting factoid. Nearly 50% of those who marry, in defiance of popular wisdom and social norms stay that way for life. That seems like a remarkable lack of imagination to me. It must be confusing to the children. Stephanie has two dads. Of course, she does. Doesn't everyone? Oh, you mean....never mind.
I like this factoid, it explains so much. The average American lives and dies within twelve miles of where they were born. Oh, we travel probably more than most but for permanent living we tend to stay home. That's been true thru out history. Sure, the hunter-gatherers just kept walking but that's pre-history. Once they developed agriculture they pretty much settled in and wrote histories among other things sedentary people do. You could say parochialism replaced tribalism if you were bored.
Up until about 300 years ago Europeans stayed put. You can actually gauge the amount of isolationism and lack of travel over even relatively short distances by the development of the vernacular languages. Gawd, now I'm boring myself. My point is: It takes a certain kind of inner aggression to pack up and move thousands of miles away and make a totally new life. Think of crossing the North Atlantic in a boat like the Mayflower. That's some balls! I wouldn't cross Boston Harbor in the damn thing and it's doubtful if you could get a permit anyway.
That inner aggression explains the difference in the development of Western Europe and the United States over the last centuries. I think it's why we lead the way in any real metric. If you factor in the death toll from a couple devastating wars they pretty much managed to kill off the aggressive people who were left in Europe, you can understand why the place wants paint. We can also see the effects of that aggression here. So many of the Sunbelt cities are made up of economic refugees from the Northeast and the Upper Mid West. Everyone is from somewhere else. Now we're getting into the second generation in those places. You can see it in the courts and the entertainments and in the way people drive. Geez. Ya take your life in your hands. I was a cab driver for 10 years in the Sun Belt. Definitely part of the problem. Sorry. I always was a little aggressive. They made me drive a bright yellow car. That wasn't by accident.
Nightlife is different. If you're in the town where you grew up and everyone knows you, you tend to behave. If you're somewhere that no one knows your Mom or your cousins you tend to act up. Women certainly do. Men seem to be pigs no matter where they happen to be.
So, those are some of my favorite factoids. Here's another: All instruments searching for intelligent life are pointed away from Earth. Even the reasonable, adult explanations for that factoid amount to the same thing. Think about it. But not too much.
I covered the "eyeball drying out, going blind, dream thing", right? Have I said Ambrose Bierce called true love a mental disorder usually cured by marriage? Didn't I just cover staring at car wrecks and the wonder of birth? I trashed westerns and the Indians in general. Did I mention spouses? If you don't hate your significant other after a few years you're just not doing it right. Familiarity is supposed to breed contempt. It's actually a healthy but completely unpleasant component of any long-term relationship. Sorry. Ahh well, whatever doesn't kill ya gives you a hell of a limp. Here's to limping to the finish line with your true love. Spending 30-40 years with the same spouse gives you a whole new appreciation of the idea of a participation trophy. So much for that "trophy wife" thing. Trophies collect dust and the good ones tarnish. Again. Sorry.
Here's an interesting factoid. Nearly 50% of those who marry, in defiance of popular wisdom and social norms stay that way for life. That seems like a remarkable lack of imagination to me. It must be confusing to the children. Stephanie has two dads. Of course, she does. Doesn't everyone? Oh, you mean....never mind.
I like this factoid, it explains so much. The average American lives and dies within twelve miles of where they were born. Oh, we travel probably more than most but for permanent living we tend to stay home. That's been true thru out history. Sure, the hunter-gatherers just kept walking but that's pre-history. Once they developed agriculture they pretty much settled in and wrote histories among other things sedentary people do. You could say parochialism replaced tribalism if you were bored.
Up until about 300 years ago Europeans stayed put. You can actually gauge the amount of isolationism and lack of travel over even relatively short distances by the development of the vernacular languages. Gawd, now I'm boring myself. My point is: It takes a certain kind of inner aggression to pack up and move thousands of miles away and make a totally new life. Think of crossing the North Atlantic in a boat like the Mayflower. That's some balls! I wouldn't cross Boston Harbor in the damn thing and it's doubtful if you could get a permit anyway.
That inner aggression explains the difference in the development of Western Europe and the United States over the last centuries. I think it's why we lead the way in any real metric. If you factor in the death toll from a couple devastating wars they pretty much managed to kill off the aggressive people who were left in Europe, you can understand why the place wants paint. We can also see the effects of that aggression here. So many of the Sunbelt cities are made up of economic refugees from the Northeast and the Upper Mid West. Everyone is from somewhere else. Now we're getting into the second generation in those places. You can see it in the courts and the entertainments and in the way people drive. Geez. Ya take your life in your hands. I was a cab driver for 10 years in the Sun Belt. Definitely part of the problem. Sorry. I always was a little aggressive. They made me drive a bright yellow car. That wasn't by accident.
Nightlife is different. If you're in the town where you grew up and everyone knows you, you tend to behave. If you're somewhere that no one knows your Mom or your cousins you tend to act up. Women certainly do. Men seem to be pigs no matter where they happen to be.
So, those are some of my favorite factoids. Here's another: All instruments searching for intelligent life are pointed away from Earth. Even the reasonable, adult explanations for that factoid amount to the same thing. Think about it. But not too much.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Yes Sir! That's My baby!
Since this is something I couldn't possibly have any real knowledge of, being a man, I'm going to comment with authority. Listen up.
Robin Williams said a man couldn't understand giving birth unless he'd passed a bowling ball thru the head of his penis. Owww. I do know; if pregnancy happened to me I would consider it a catastrophe. The women I've known going thru their first pregnancy certainly seem to have shared that opinion. They were all willingly pregnant, filled with love and the wonder of bringing to the world a new life and scared shitless. Now, they knew millions had done it before and it should be no problem. They hadn't done it before and it sure seemed like a problem to them. Sure Honey, make it all about you. None of the videos available of the process seem particularly reassuring. Certainly not attractive. Apparently, they insist on showing those videos to young women in high school hygiene classes. They might want to rethink that. Just sayin. The subsequent, second and third pregnancies were pretty much like riding a bike.
One thing about the first time mothers I've known: Looking back, they were all so very young. I can't remember ever being that young but I remember them with the pleasure and nostalgia you only gain thru age. They all have become dynamic, accomplished people. Come to think of it, the children have grown to be just remarkable people. For some reason they all seem to be a little sarcastic.
As a first time father, I was part of a dim past. The men stayed in the waiting room, smoking cigars. Can you imagine smoking in a hospital? Smoking cigars and as I remember, passing a discreet flask. We were also waiting to find out the gender of our offspring. Imagine that. In those days the men filled out the birth certificates. Luckily, I spelled my daughter's name correctly. Yeah, they quit that not so bright idea and not so bright jokes as children's names proposed by drunken fathers became a thing of the past.
And then something became common which I still, actually, disapprove of. Men were invited into the delivery room to welcome the new whelp into the world. (No wonder they're a little sarcastic.) I don't know who started that. I assume whoever started it regretted the idea once they tried it. I'm certainly glad to be so old no one will ever extend that "privilege" to me again. It is not like a car wreck. You can look away but you're not allowed. You better not.
They tell you, you should refrain from intercourse for 3 weeks after giving birth. Refrain!? After seeing that who the hell would want to? My daughter, upon giving birth the first time, declared she was never going to have sex again. She's a wonderful girl but she seems to have lied. I'm not surprised. She lied to me for years about the first time she had sex even though I never asked. I hope she keeps it up. I think all kids should lie extensively to their parents about their sex lives.
My lovely and caring wife told me I didn't have to be present. She was trying to spare my sensibilities. Such a beautiful, sensitive girl. Yeah, I didn't fall for that. Lying bitch. I only slipped once in the course of two births. A shave-tail doctor asked me if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord. I slipped up by saying, " What the fuck am I paying you for.?" My wife, from across the room, laughed out loud. The doctor looked as though he'd been hit with a wet fish.
In truth it's a wonderful experience that shouldn't be missed. Of course, I mean the waiting room with the cigars and the flask. Some things should remain a mystery. I think the true, weaker sex should be shielded.
Robin Williams said a man couldn't understand giving birth unless he'd passed a bowling ball thru the head of his penis. Owww. I do know; if pregnancy happened to me I would consider it a catastrophe. The women I've known going thru their first pregnancy certainly seem to have shared that opinion. They were all willingly pregnant, filled with love and the wonder of bringing to the world a new life and scared shitless. Now, they knew millions had done it before and it should be no problem. They hadn't done it before and it sure seemed like a problem to them. Sure Honey, make it all about you. None of the videos available of the process seem particularly reassuring. Certainly not attractive. Apparently, they insist on showing those videos to young women in high school hygiene classes. They might want to rethink that. Just sayin. The subsequent, second and third pregnancies were pretty much like riding a bike.
One thing about the first time mothers I've known: Looking back, they were all so very young. I can't remember ever being that young but I remember them with the pleasure and nostalgia you only gain thru age. They all have become dynamic, accomplished people. Come to think of it, the children have grown to be just remarkable people. For some reason they all seem to be a little sarcastic.
As a first time father, I was part of a dim past. The men stayed in the waiting room, smoking cigars. Can you imagine smoking in a hospital? Smoking cigars and as I remember, passing a discreet flask. We were also waiting to find out the gender of our offspring. Imagine that. In those days the men filled out the birth certificates. Luckily, I spelled my daughter's name correctly. Yeah, they quit that not so bright idea and not so bright jokes as children's names proposed by drunken fathers became a thing of the past.
And then something became common which I still, actually, disapprove of. Men were invited into the delivery room to welcome the new whelp into the world. (No wonder they're a little sarcastic.) I don't know who started that. I assume whoever started it regretted the idea once they tried it. I'm certainly glad to be so old no one will ever extend that "privilege" to me again. It is not like a car wreck. You can look away but you're not allowed. You better not.
They tell you, you should refrain from intercourse for 3 weeks after giving birth. Refrain!? After seeing that who the hell would want to? My daughter, upon giving birth the first time, declared she was never going to have sex again. She's a wonderful girl but she seems to have lied. I'm not surprised. She lied to me for years about the first time she had sex even though I never asked. I hope she keeps it up. I think all kids should lie extensively to their parents about their sex lives.
My lovely and caring wife told me I didn't have to be present. She was trying to spare my sensibilities. Such a beautiful, sensitive girl. Yeah, I didn't fall for that. Lying bitch. I only slipped once in the course of two births. A shave-tail doctor asked me if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord. I slipped up by saying, " What the fuck am I paying you for.?" My wife, from across the room, laughed out loud. The doctor looked as though he'd been hit with a wet fish.
In truth it's a wonderful experience that shouldn't be missed. Of course, I mean the waiting room with the cigars and the flask. Some things should remain a mystery. I think the true, weaker sex should be shielded.
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Being the Boss.
I was in the building trades for 35 years. It was OK I got nine and 7/8ths fingers and my back isn't really all that bad. My shoulders sure could be better but I never wanted to be a pitcher or go sculling. As a matter of fact, I never liked moving around much unless I was getting paid for it. Retirement suits me.
I actually retired about 3 years before I quit going to work. I just didn't mention it to anyone. I remember when I turned fifty I said to my daughter that I was a little concerned. I could still do all the demanding things I had always done but no man can deny the calendar. I was worried the day would come when I couldn't do those things. Sure enough, that day did come. It turns out all those things were unpleasant and I didn't want to do them to begin with. The younger guys would see me doing something and say, " Here, I'll do that." and I would think, ' Cool.'
Hmm, the younger guys. I must have looked like Methuselah to them with my gray hair, snow white beard, suspenders on my tool belt, my nine and 7/8ths fingers. It was pretty easy to encourage them to do the heavy lifting.
They used to ask me for advice after they figured out that, appearances aside, I wasn't really going to fire them or beat them up or both. I would never do that although when I was much younger I did resign from employment once by just cold- cockin the guy. In my defense, years later we actually became friends albeit not close friends. I did go to his funeral. That's a different story about how nothing good happens late at night. I digress.
Oh, advice. I noticed early on that the work-a-day world was not blue-collar and white-collar. In the trades the world is really t-shirts and golf shirts. No-collar, collar. There are great piles of heavy stuff that need lugged about. The guys in t-shirts were doing that lugging and the guys in golf shirts were telling them where to lug it. A golf shirt costs about a dollar more than a t-shirt. It didn't take me long to figure out to buy golf shirts instead of t-shirts. It also didn't take me long to buy the next grade up of any tool that you would use constantly; tool belts, hammers, tape measures. Two reasons there: They last twice as long and it makes a better subliminal impression. I was right. That few dollars almost immediately translated into more responsibility and the wages that go with that responsibility. It does help if you actually know what you're doing but not as much as you might think. Clothes make the man.
The old timers, hmm. The old timers were just mean. The guy who taught me most of my trade talked to me like I was mentally deficient for so long I was beginning to believe him. After I'd been working with him for about 6 months we went to a job where my real employer and his crew were working, to help them finish up. I was on a step ladder fitting a piece of cabinet grade, 6 inch crown mold. Even then this stuff was about $125 for an 8 foot length. You didn't order more than you needed. The trick was: Don't screw-up. It's a high-end skill. That not screwin- up thing.
So, I'm on the step ladder and I hear the big boss ask my boss, who has berated me mercilessly for months, " Should he be doing that?"
This effen guy says to him, " Don't worry about Jimbo, he's good." My head almost exploded! I'll tell you one thing. That old timer retired nearly 20 years ago and has been dead for 10 years. I'd go to work with him tomorrow if I could.
I tried never to be that way. I corrected people when necessary and praised them as often as possible. I always asked people to do things instead of telling them. I would say things like: " I'm trying to think how we did this the last time. Didn't we do this or that?" It was all bullshit. We sure were gonna do things my way. That's why I was there but I always thought things got done faster and easier with more willing hands. I also used to tell people I'd rather be told 50 things I did know rather than not told one thing I had missed. That was true. Over the years that idea saved a fortune.
There was another thing I did intentionally. I always acted as though coffee breaks were 15 or 20 minutes long instead of 10 minutes. I always acted as though lunch was 40 minutes sometimes 45 instead of 30. I still think those "stolen" minutes of idleness made for much more productivity and the times a break had to be skipped or lunch cut short everyone was willing.
I'm a pretty good carpenter but two guys I worked with and for over the years were much better. They had this in common: When it came time they were the best laborers on the job. That created an atmosphere where shirking wouldn't even occur to people. I always tried to emulate that.
One thing I used to do that was kinda mean. In the trades you work with a lot of young guys and young guys like to raise hell. I know I did. So, when a guy would stumble in all hung over and short sleep I'd give him the worst task on the site and every few minutes I'd make sure to tell him how long it was until quitting time. " Only 5 hours and 40 minutes to go." "Only 5 hours and 10 minutes to go." And so on. They never did it twice. They did say some rude things but they never did it twice.
So, that's how I went about things.
Why do I mention this? I'm not sure. Maybe I think we could use more civility or people look better in golf shirts. I know I could and I do. Probably just a string of stuff that still makes me laugh. It's not like I miss the sweet smell of saw dust or the smooth feel of perfectly sanded hardwood. A pay check would be nice sometimes. A little saw dust in my coffee might be nice. I love the smell of saw dust in the morning. It smells like money! And it has the aroma of old friends.
I actually retired about 3 years before I quit going to work. I just didn't mention it to anyone. I remember when I turned fifty I said to my daughter that I was a little concerned. I could still do all the demanding things I had always done but no man can deny the calendar. I was worried the day would come when I couldn't do those things. Sure enough, that day did come. It turns out all those things were unpleasant and I didn't want to do them to begin with. The younger guys would see me doing something and say, " Here, I'll do that." and I would think, ' Cool.'
Hmm, the younger guys. I must have looked like Methuselah to them with my gray hair, snow white beard, suspenders on my tool belt, my nine and 7/8ths fingers. It was pretty easy to encourage them to do the heavy lifting.
They used to ask me for advice after they figured out that, appearances aside, I wasn't really going to fire them or beat them up or both. I would never do that although when I was much younger I did resign from employment once by just cold- cockin the guy. In my defense, years later we actually became friends albeit not close friends. I did go to his funeral. That's a different story about how nothing good happens late at night. I digress.
Oh, advice. I noticed early on that the work-a-day world was not blue-collar and white-collar. In the trades the world is really t-shirts and golf shirts. No-collar, collar. There are great piles of heavy stuff that need lugged about. The guys in t-shirts were doing that lugging and the guys in golf shirts were telling them where to lug it. A golf shirt costs about a dollar more than a t-shirt. It didn't take me long to figure out to buy golf shirts instead of t-shirts. It also didn't take me long to buy the next grade up of any tool that you would use constantly; tool belts, hammers, tape measures. Two reasons there: They last twice as long and it makes a better subliminal impression. I was right. That few dollars almost immediately translated into more responsibility and the wages that go with that responsibility. It does help if you actually know what you're doing but not as much as you might think. Clothes make the man.
The old timers, hmm. The old timers were just mean. The guy who taught me most of my trade talked to me like I was mentally deficient for so long I was beginning to believe him. After I'd been working with him for about 6 months we went to a job where my real employer and his crew were working, to help them finish up. I was on a step ladder fitting a piece of cabinet grade, 6 inch crown mold. Even then this stuff was about $125 for an 8 foot length. You didn't order more than you needed. The trick was: Don't screw-up. It's a high-end skill. That not screwin- up thing.
So, I'm on the step ladder and I hear the big boss ask my boss, who has berated me mercilessly for months, " Should he be doing that?"
This effen guy says to him, " Don't worry about Jimbo, he's good." My head almost exploded! I'll tell you one thing. That old timer retired nearly 20 years ago and has been dead for 10 years. I'd go to work with him tomorrow if I could.
I tried never to be that way. I corrected people when necessary and praised them as often as possible. I always asked people to do things instead of telling them. I would say things like: " I'm trying to think how we did this the last time. Didn't we do this or that?" It was all bullshit. We sure were gonna do things my way. That's why I was there but I always thought things got done faster and easier with more willing hands. I also used to tell people I'd rather be told 50 things I did know rather than not told one thing I had missed. That was true. Over the years that idea saved a fortune.
There was another thing I did intentionally. I always acted as though coffee breaks were 15 or 20 minutes long instead of 10 minutes. I always acted as though lunch was 40 minutes sometimes 45 instead of 30. I still think those "stolen" minutes of idleness made for much more productivity and the times a break had to be skipped or lunch cut short everyone was willing.
I'm a pretty good carpenter but two guys I worked with and for over the years were much better. They had this in common: When it came time they were the best laborers on the job. That created an atmosphere where shirking wouldn't even occur to people. I always tried to emulate that.
One thing I used to do that was kinda mean. In the trades you work with a lot of young guys and young guys like to raise hell. I know I did. So, when a guy would stumble in all hung over and short sleep I'd give him the worst task on the site and every few minutes I'd make sure to tell him how long it was until quitting time. " Only 5 hours and 40 minutes to go." "Only 5 hours and 10 minutes to go." And so on. They never did it twice. They did say some rude things but they never did it twice.
So, that's how I went about things.
Why do I mention this? I'm not sure. Maybe I think we could use more civility or people look better in golf shirts. I know I could and I do. Probably just a string of stuff that still makes me laugh. It's not like I miss the sweet smell of saw dust or the smooth feel of perfectly sanded hardwood. A pay check would be nice sometimes. A little saw dust in my coffee might be nice. I love the smell of saw dust in the morning. It smells like money! And it has the aroma of old friends.
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