Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Smart People

This writing is full of judgments and generalities. You will find a lot of...them, they, and those statements. You will probably also find a bunch of words like – always and never. Now a smart person would never write such a piece in the first place – so if you happen to be a smart person I would suggest you read no further.
Have you ever noticed really smart people have a handicap? They know they are smart and thus they think everyone else is stupid. Even though they are super smart they have a serious flaw in their thinking and it is really quite sad. Once they come to understand and believe that everyone else is not as smart as them or in more serious cases – stupid, at least their family and friends. Family and friends stop being a source of knowledge or wisdom for them. It then appears they gravitate toward groups that think as they do, thus little new information can slip in. I have often wondered if these people are really smarter than the rest of us or do they just have an inflated view of themselves. I don’t know why I even mentioned that, I am not one of the smart people and there is little hope I could figure that one out on my own. If you are a smart person could you help me out on this point?
There is a great opportunity to learn from these smart people, since they have no problem speaking forth knowledge, asked for or not. It is like they almost cannot help themselves from sharing their vast knowledge and understandings. And, really why should they? They are smarter than the rest of us and it is their duty, their calling, their purpose to enlighten us normal folk. But now and then a problem arises in their calling. They meet another smart person who thinks it is his calling to enlighten the other smart person. They are not smart enough to recognize another smart person right off and since they think everyone else is stupid it would be illogical for one smart person to be able to acknowledge when they meet another smart person; quite a conundrum for being so smart, hmmm. It is really too bad these people do not go to a tattoo artist and have their IQ tattooed on their forehead. Then all the smart people could recognize each other and stop wasting each other’s time. These people could walk around and look for people without the tattoos and stop them on the street and impart knowledge thus fulfilling their calling and purpose. Of course my idea will never catch on because smart people would not be reading this blog in the first place. Oops – I just made a mistake I think I tried sounding like a smart person by giving out an idea that only smart people could have on their own – sorry I will try to remember my place.
If a smart person does by some fluke read this blog – I would love to know how they keep getting smarter. I have noticed smart people read a lot and maybe that is it. Maybe you have to get a book published before a smart person will listen to you – hmmm…. seems like a lot of work.
Sorry, if you have read this blog and you are really smart and I have offended you. It was not my intent to offend – I just really never thought a smart person would be reading a blog such as this.
I don’t know about you but if it wasn’t for the smart people, life would be much harder for me. Two thumbs up for the smart people – Gee that kinda leaves out the thumbless people – Sorry.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Random Ramblings…

Chocolate covered short bread cookies for breakfast, a whole sleeve. Now that probably was not my best breakfast choice but it sure was easy and tasted of course pretty good. Turned the TV on to a real snore, Meet the Press, totally painful – I am now watching NASCAR racing, at least it has a little conflict. It is also great for writing a blog while watching TV – now that’s a bonus. Oops! There just was a massive accident. I think there were at least 15 cars involved.
This is one of those totally pointless blogs. Not one possible reason for writing it. Gee that seems like life some days. Excuse me I will be right back – I need another sleeve of cookies. We will see if when I get back something can be salvaged from this mess.
I’m back – ½ a sleeve – I am trying to lose weight, you know smaller portions and all that. While eating my smaller portion I flipped through my available TV choices. Cleaning intentionally spilled red wine from white carpet, that doesn’t do much for me. Oh, here is something, a modern day girdle. This woman just went from a 43” waist to a 38” waist by walking into a dressing room and coming back out. Oh we got golf, hockey, basketball, the religious station is now all fuzzy. You know that converter box for those going digital? Yes, I still only have an antenna. I guess soon – it will all be fuzzy channels for me. Now that cannot be all bad. My rebellious side refuses to comply. I guess I will show them. Now that sounds really crazy.
My chore list is pretty long today. No one bothered doing any of my chores while I was gone fishing. Oh, that reminds me I haven’t really said anything about my trip. Awesome, horrible, hot, cold, exhilarating, boring, wet, dry, windy, calm, basically it was a trip of opposites. I did catch fish every day, no complaints there, except more would have been better. That reminds me have you ever noticed how life is almost never perfect. The coffee is either to hot or too cold – never just right. The weather is also almost always to hot or too cold – mostly to cold. Take sex that is one of those categories where I have never heard someone complain, “That was just way to hot.” Well, my wife said it once – Oh yeah, that was a dream. Take a pillow, have you ever heard someone say it is just right. My pillows are either too hard or too soft, and what is weird it changes from night to night but usually they are to soft.
I guess it's time to start those chores – maybe a couple more cookies first.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Men's Fireside Talk

A man’s conversation sitting around a campfire can take on the most interesting of flavors. When only two men are at the fire then the conversation will often be spoken quietly, personal, vulnerable, imperfections exposed, and they will actually be quite helpful each to the other. The two will empathize and encourage each other. But add that third man and the conversation changes. Add a fourth or a fifth and the men go through an instant metamorphosis. Sometimes I wonder if all of us men don’t have multiple personality disorder. The posturing begins the competiveness begins to show. Oh, it is quite well hidden as all of us men have been socialized and gained the skill of appearing humble as we strut with chests puffed out.
You might think I as the writer would be immune to such a base reaction but before I know it, I am in the thick of it, brandishing my scars giving exaggerated details of each and every scar. It happens without forethought it is like an alien creature takes over my body and there I am trying to out-man the others. Hours of men telling their stories, laughter that makes the belly hurt and not once has a single truth been told. Don’t get me wrong there is a thread of truth that runs through the gamut of stories but it is such a thin thread at times I often wonder if it is even visible. The stories take on a life of their own as they travel down a path one story leading to the next, subject after subject. Add a little alcohol to the mix and there are no limits.
If you could be in the shadows of the firelight and be a silent observer you might see the older men and the very young men stand or sit quietly, while it is the young to middle age men who are the most vociferous. Maybe the older men have gained a small amount of wisdom knowing it best to keep silent, and the youngest men are in the process of experiencing the stories they will tell in 10 years. But, these youngest are also dying to be included and be men also and tell their stories. Once in a while a youngster will fray into the battle of storytelling. Instantly their stories are dismissed and an older more voiceterous male will over power the welp and cut him off. No one is interested in childhood stories. It is the stories that made men men we want to here, stories of adventure, risk, and valor. The trouble in our feminized world unless a man has been a thug, or gone to war the stories are empty. The warrior may suffer in silence the reformed thug might be silent in shame. So, stories of conquests, bar fights, wild driving, and accidents, all fill the emptiness of the night.
The stories of daily diligence, loyalty, hard work, enduring unhappy marriages, sorrow of kids that often go astray, sticking with unfulfilling jobs year in and year out, paying the bills month after month, staying the course with ongoing medical issues, and being the secure ballast that smoothes out his family’s emotional highs and lows – these receive no part in the story telling.
I wonder if the older man sitting quietly actually has real stories of adventure, risk and valor and has no interest in proving his manhood. He has been there and done that. He sits secure with knowing eyes watching the displays of the silly talk - understanding the men are lost and bored with the dailiness of their civilized life style. But, he also knows some are being tested, some are experiencing bitter disappointments, one might be carrying a grief that would make the others hair stand on end. He also knows some will face trials and pains they cannot comprehend as they stand telling their stories and he knows they are lucky not to know what is before them. It is there in that time they will know what it is to be a man. Then later they will sit silently and listen to the stories float away along with the campfire smoke and watch it dissipate through the overhanging branches of the nearby trees.