I can't testify to that.
Judging oneself to be wise is tantamount to judging oneself buff.
And a suitably over-sized, untucked floral print shirt can go a long way toward creating that illusion.
Much the same as can a suitably over-sized, untucked opinion of one's own wisdom.
What does, it turns out, come with age, though, is awareness.
Assuming, of course, that one has eyes to see and ears to hear.
I do and I do.
And just recently I became aware of something pretty profound.
After almost sixty years of life, I am now aware of why so many things have made so little sense to me.
I am not from this planet.
I have no admittable evidence, no empirical proof, there has been, at this writing, no deathbed confession from any family member who might be privy to any interplanetary information, my "Earth birth" is pretty well documented (and available in several formats and/or sizes should The Donald come gunning for me)and my "back story" on this third rock is so diverse and comprehensive as to be the envy of anyone who appreciates an airtight undercover identity.
But I know what I know.
I am not from this planet.
And that awareness has come to me in the form of realizing that the only possible explanation for my inability to comprehend so much of what goes on here on your admittedly intriguing, even intoxicating little sun orbiting mass is that I am a stranger in a strange land.
I've suspected something was astronomically afoot for a while, but the real extraterrestrial epiphany occurred in just the past few days as I observed, with an almost detached fascination, the saga of Osama and the cacophony of conflicts this overtly covert action conjured up.
The apex of my epiphanous episode, by the way, was the moment I came across filmmaker and patriot to some/poop stirrer to others Michael Moore being interviewed by Piers Morgan and commenting, as if it were supposed to come as some kind of shock or surprise to anyone over the age of ten, that "the United States assassinated Osama Bin Laden".
Over the next few hours/days, I watched as the issues of morality and legality and accountability and responsibility began to splash over the seawall of sensibility, the noise level of the debate rising, the questions, at first whispered, now being spoken clearly, even shouted out...was the killing justice...was it execution...was it legal or illegal...was it moral or immoral...was it a necessary use of deadly force in the heat of a moment...was it the cold and calculating carrying out of a coldly and calculated plan to exterminate...
And somewhere in the midst of all the chat and chatter, I had a revelation of cosmic proportion.
I realized that I had an infinite universe's more commonality with Michael Rennie than with Michael Moore.
The former, of course, the distinguished British born actor who's major claim to fame was, arguably, his role as Klatuu in the original, and seminal, version of the sci-fi classic film, "The Day The Earth Stood Still".
And my relating to Mr Rennie as opposed to Mr Moore connected the last of the dots in my medulla, both completing the picture and solving the puzzle of my own origins.
Michael Moore was, if not advocating, implying that there was some doubt as to the justification for eliminating Bin Laden.
Michael Rennie, on the other hand, visited Earth with a much advanced understanding of the way mortal creatures conduct themselves and the inevitable need to acknowledge those behaviors and "cut to the chase", as it were, to deal with them.
On Earth, there exists a confusing and conflicted variety of rules and regs, of nuances and degrees and, in the midst of all of that confusion and conflict, a well intended, if ultimately futile, belief that evil can be overcome without good having to act without mercy.
As if, to put it in a Rachael Ray context, an omelet could, in fact, be made without breaking eggs.
Only a still primitive, still maturing, still evolving human race could cling to the belief that pure evil can be prevented, let alone controlled, with equal doses of conquest and compassion, toughness and tenderness, savagery and sympathy.
A more evolved race, on the other hand, understands that human failings are an inevitability and that pure evil, by its nature, can only be defeated by pure retaliation, free of the dilution caused by the bleeding of hearts.
The 18th century Earth author Edmund Burke is credited with having first said, " All that is necessary for evil to flourish if for good men to do nothing."
The quote does not go on to mention any need to wring hands or regret extreme action used to exterminate extreme evil.
On Klatuu's planet, they long ago recognized that the potential for evil was inevitable and, as the story plays out, created the robots to whom they gave complete control.
The result, of course, being that evil knew from the outset that the end game was extermination.
Without mercy. Without prejudice.
Without regret or remorse.
A planet not free of evil, but a planet not living in fear of it.
As opposed to a planet that still bears the burdens of wringing hands and bleeding hearts after even the most clearly defined evil has been exterminated.
I realized recently that I simply don't understand that way of thinking.
And while I can get misty with the best of them at the sound of the phrase "E Pluribus Unum", I now realize why I also totally connect to another phrase.
"Barada nikto".
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