CSotD: Humpday Philosophy
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Learning that the NYTimes has condemned its kid-news feature to on-line made this Dark Horse particularly stand out for me. I spent a decade editing a weekly kid-written insert for the Denver Post, and one of the problems my young reporters faced was that whoever they interviewed would say “Follow your dream,” which is the kind of silly, flaccid thing you say to a kid you’re not taking seriously.
My instructions were that, when someone said that, they should ask for an example of how the person did that in their own life, which would produce something more meaningful and possibly interesting.
The issue here being a case of survivorship fallacy, because for every famous actor or best-selling novelist who says that, there is a mountain of people who, as Horse suggests, might better have put their time and energy into something else.
But, of course, nobody interviews them.
There’s also the pitfall of seeming a little too ambitious. My grandfather had an informal policy of denying credit even for things he had done. He wasn’t adamant about it; he’d just brush it off with “well, it was a group effort” or something similarly deflecting.
He said it not only made him seem charmingly modest but led people to credit him with things he hadn’t done.
Different sort of false reasoning. There are a little over a million kids playing high school football, and 1,696 playing in the NFL. I suppose there is a similar ratio of kids in drama clubs and those who become rich and famous movie stars.
The money side would be irrelevant if the NFL played for funsies, but last year it generated about $21.2 billion in revenue.
You may certainly argue that it’s making way too much money and that a more stripped-down league wouldn’t have to charge $175 for a ticket in the nose-bleed seats, but it’s awfully hard to explain why the superbly talented young athletes who bash their bodies into oblivion don’t deserve a fair share of the income.
Barney extends the point that, if the money’s out there, you’d be a fool not to grab it. That’s not how he put it, but I’ve often said that, if I signed some deal where they laid a million on me, I’d head for an island somewhere and spend the rest of my life on the beach.
That’s why nobody is going to hand me a million bucks. I’m not the type who winds up in that position.
A deeper conversation is happening over at Arlo & Janis, where Mary Lou is talking about the difference between having been a pregnant teen and now being Gene’s pregnant wife.
I’ve been re-reading Testament of Youth, Vera Brittain’s memoir of her time as a military nurse in World War I, and I’m once again blown away not just by the depth of her observations but of the difference between how Robert Graves or Wilfred Owen saw things and how a woman describes them.
I don’t expect Mary Lou to hit that depth with her thoughts, but she has a story to tell.
There are all sorts of such moments that will pass you by if you aren’t listening.
Learning to listen has a lot of benefits, and, as Yogi said, “You can observe a lot by watching.” In this scenario, the person she should be listening to is that little squirrel in the corner.
This isn’t a male/female thing. Either partner can play either role.
And it goes on just as long as one person never hears what they’re saying and the other never listens to what they’re hearing.
A major element in Daddy’s Home is that Pete is about one step short of getting it and so lives in constant fear of saying the wrong thing. Then again, what difference does it make where in the refrigerator the juice is placed?
Therein lies the rub, because in most couples, one is bound to be more organized than the other, and either can cross the line into obsession. I don’t really see my surroundings and spent a number of years with a woman who couldn’t, for example, stand to see cupboard doors left open.
Fortunately for the relationship, while I didn’t care about cupboard doors, I did care about her feelings, and, on the other hand, she learned that it was easier to just close the damn door than to complain about it. Neither of us was inclined to take it all personally.
I’ve seen what happens when neither cares about order, but I have no idea what happens when two people who are compulsive on the topic get together. I guess they’d better be compulsive about the same things.
Because anyone who thinks that Certs is a candy mint is just plain wrong.
Speaking of being just plain wrong, being a plumber isn’t such a bad life, as long as you stay nimble enough to squeeze into odd places.
Second semester of senior year in college, I had a pregnant wife and was becoming increasingly aware that nobody was hiring Philosopher Kings, much as Plato had, theoretically, valued them.
It occurred to me that we should have set up an exchange with the local VocTech college, where their students could come learn great thoughts to think while we learned skills that might actually put bread on our tables.
In the words of the Sundance Kid, “You just keep thinkin’, Butch. That’s what you’re good at.”
Speaking of books you should read, Sunday’s Wallace the Brave somewhat recreated an early event in Beau Geste, in which the brothers have model ships equipped with tiny workable guns, one of which misfires and puts a lead pellet into John’s leg, requiring jack-knife surgery and bringing up the topic of Viking funerals.
It is both a ripping yarn and a good mystery, and inspired two solid sequels, Beau Sabreur and Beau Ideal, despite author PC Wren having spent no more time in the French Foreign Legion than Tom Clancy did working in intelligence.
If you’re going to just stream the movie instead, I recommend 1939’s:
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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