Sunday, May 2, 2010

"Give Me Liberty...Or I'll Just Sneak In...."

Knee bone connected to the thigh bone.

Thigh bone connected to the hip bone.

Hip bone connected to the...

You get the idea.

If that little ditty doesn't ring a bell, by the way, shut down the Wii, turn off your IPod/IPad and get your damn homework done.

I revisit the old bone littany because it occurs to me that there is a cause and effect relationship in human beings that I don't believe has ever been covered in conventional medical texts.

The connection between passion and stupidity.

Admittedly, there may be empirical medical evidence of a biophysical synaptic chain reaction occuring when passion comes surging along through our veins and/or nerve fibers.

I haven't really done any seriously deep research.

Hey, if I had wanted to be a doctor, I would have started working on crappy handwriting and improving my backswing right out of high school.

I don't need any medical texts, though, to know that the connection is there and totally functioning.

In its more primal instances, it manifests in immoral, even amoral, behavior.

As in, passion, in the form of lust, for example, wells, blood rushes from head to loins and stupid is as stupid does.

I can't speak to any documentation of the phenomenon in medical texts.

But the tabloids are chockablock full.

Tiger. Jesse.

Etc.

In a more insidious form, though, the passion/stupid syndrome presents cloaked in a robe of well intentionism and do-goodism.

Still, however, generally resulting in less than brilliant behavior.

And it seems to show no prejuidice for social strata, appearing pretty naturally and automatically across all sociological groups.

From the essentially harmless, but nevertheless stupid, behavior of most hockey fans.

To, in its more extreme instances, something as spectacularly stupid as the Klan.

This burst of layman's diagnostic pondering came to me this week as I have read and/or discussed the brouhaha stirred up by the passage of the Arizona immigration law.

Something that inevitably arouses our passions.

And something that, just as inevitably, brings out the the stupid in us.

But the passage of the law wasn't the beginning of the whole passion/stupid chain reaction.

For that, you have to go back to the genesis of the creation of the law in the first place.

Passion in the form of anger.

Or, perhaps more appropriately, resentment.

At the very least...frustration.

And, again, while I don't have an M.D., a PhD. or even HBO (hey, we're all pinching pennies these days, oui?), I can see, even through the haze of all my human weaknesses and prejuidices, the exact place in the pond where the rock hit, causing all these ripples.

America is tired of not being America anymore.

And that weariness is starting to make a lot of people who wouldn't necessarily say, let alone think, things that might be interpreted as socially and/or racially prejudicial are starting to freely let fly with things that can pretty much be interpreted as socially and/or racially prejudicial.

For a while now, we've tried to retain some sense of civility about it, expressing our dismay in subtle ways.

I long ago suspected that those "America-Love it or Leave It" bumper stickers were aimed as much at illegals as they were at those whose political views were in contrast to those of the bumperer.

Then, as feelings (translation: passions) grew more, well, passionate, the "in cheek" gave way to the "in your face".

As in the newest cottage industry: TShirts, bumperstickers, Facebook pages, et al with pretty much one theme/slogan:

"I am an American...I shouldn't HAVE to press 1 for English."

From here, Lord only knows what the next "there" will be in answer to the question
where do we go from here?"

One thing is sure, though.

It will involve stupidity.

Like, for example, the Arizona law.

A law that meets the aforementioned criteria of being wrapped in cloak of well-intentionism and do-goodism.

In this case, the stupidity is not in the why but in the how.

The law simply won't work.

Because it certainly won't solve the problem and it will , bet the hacienda, just ramp up passions.

Ergo, ramp up stupidity.

Because even the wheel on the short bus goes round and round.

As with every good intention that ends up paving the road, though, there is a kernal of common sense lying patiently under the pile created by the shit storm and waiting to be harvested and replanted in a more fertile field of revision and reform.

It occurs to me that, in this case, that common sense might go a little something like this:

Visualize, for a moment, America as a spectacular country club with all the appointments and opportunites one would expect from such a facility.

And, add to that vision, the remarkable knowledge that, unlike many posh, prestigious clubs, America does not restrict its membership and does, in fact, welcome man, woman, child or any race, creed, color, gender, religion, sexual persuasion and/or political point of view.

And to join the club, all one need do is meet a few simple, basic and completely reasonable requirements.

In fact, it's almost easier to join this club than it is to get through the license/tag gauntlet at the local DMV.

All one must do is meet the requirements for membership.

Though, in this club, its called something else.

It's called citizenship.

Learn the club lingo (language), promise to be a member in good standing (affirm that you won't blow the club up) and you can pretty much do whatever you want from there on out.

As a full fledged, and authorized, member of the club.

In recent years, though, the club has seen some wear and tear.

Because those members who have honored those simple commitments and who have every right to enjoy the club's facilities have had to endure a deterioration of club services caused, almost exclusively, by an influx of people who either can't or won't make the effort to join the club.

Simply put, there is usually no room for members to enjoy the pool anymore because it is filled, side to side, diving board to shallow end, with folks who got in by digging under the fence and sneaking past the check in desk.

Not to mention the tremendous drain on club resources and supplies by those gate crashers who freely use the facilities without helping to replenish in the form of the dues that card carrying members pony up.

And the members in good standing ,upset that their willingness to make it easy for new members to join, only naturally resent that that hospitality is being abused.

And that resentment becomes anger.

That anger becomes passionate.

And stupidity is sure to follow.

No reasonable person would be offended by being politely asked to offer evidence that they are a member of the club they are trying to enter and enjoy.

From fitness clubs to social clubs to Sam's Club, each of us are asked for, and offer up, that evidence every single day.

Arizona is, however ineptly, trying to post a greeter at the door to check membership cards.

Good luck.

Because reasonable people already have, or are getting, membership cards.

The rest will rely on inflamed passions to cover their tracks.

Because they already know what I just figured out.

Passion can make us stupid.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

The Truth...Plane and Simple...

The mayor named Fiorello was a stand up guy.

The once upon a time New York City mayor once found himself disagreeing with a judge, only to be reminded that he, himself, had appointed that judge to the bench.

"When I make a mistake," he imortally opined, "it's a beaut."

That historic utterance popped into my head as I was reading about the problems fliers are having because of the volcanic eruption and the ash that is shutting down air travel all over Europe.

Because when it comes to mistakes, I've long thought that America made a pretty big one a long time ago.

Well, two if we count thinking Ellen would make a good judge on Idol.

America should never have given up on trains in favor of air travel.

At one time in our history, long before the terms "overhead compartment" "upright and locked position" and "we're number sixty three in line for takeoff" became a part of our everyday vocabulary, we moved from city to city, state to state, cross country via the rails.

And for over a hundred years, the railroads got us where we needed to go, when we needed to go, pretty much when we needed to get there.

The story is actually fascinating. Check it out here.


As is our technologically hungry wont, though, air travel pretty much put the kaibosh on the choo choo and by the 1960's, train travel went the way of the eight track tape player.

Here's a thing, though.

For all of the flash and fancy of winging it back and forth across the land of the free, there was really only one advantage flying had over training.

It saved time.

Simply put, a plane traveling at 500-600 mph is faster than a train traveling at 60-70mph.

So, in theory, you get there, wherever there might be, sooner.

Much like your household budget, though, the numbers on paper are misleading.

A little compare and contrast:

By train...you show up at the station, check your baggage and board the train.

By plane...you show up at the airport, check your baggage, bitch under your breath about being charged extra for your luggage, say goodbye to your luggage and grimace as you realize that you wore the socks with the hole in the toe and you're going to have to take off your shoes before they let you anywhere near the jetway.

By train...you take a seat next to, near a, or within easy eye shot of a pretty nice sized window.

By plane...after faking patience at the lady who will, by God, cram that overstuffed backpack in that overhead compartment come hell or high water, you wiggle and squirm your way into one of three seats that will either a) put you next to the porthole sized window, but guarantee that getting out to take a leak will involve some ability at contorting your body, b) put you in the middle between two people who will either put their elbows on your armrest and/or spend the entire trip trying to shove that overstuffed backpack that just wouldnt go in the overhead compartment in the half as much space under the seat in front of him/her or c) put you on aisle where you will be required, for the duration of the trip, to be ever vigiliant lest you get whacked in the shoulder or back of the head by people and/or flight attendants weaving and bouncing up and down the aisle possesing no discernbile depth perception.

By train...you settle back as the train pulls out of the station, gathers speed and begins to move steadily and rhythmically across the landscape of amber waves of grain...(ps...you dont give your luggage a second thought as you instinctively know that it's riding comfortably just a couple of cars behind you)

By plane...you unbuckle and get up to allow the last minute check in to climb over you to their window seat, sit back down, rebuckle, settle back and wait for the little dinging bell that indicates you and your fellow travelers are about to take your place in the line of sixty odd aircraft taxing their way toward an eventual departure...(ps: you say a quick multi-level prayer that you will a) get off the ground before your kids have kids, b)fly and arrive safely and c) your luggage will also have a safe trip and, ideally, end up where you do)

By train...when mealtime arrives, you walk to the dining car, sit down, order up and eat a nice meal...

By plane...you realize that you have learned to accept, without question, that a balanced meal can actually consist of mixed nuts and/or pretzels washed down with a plastic specimen cup sized 7-Up.

By train...you marvel at the wonder of the landscape that is the United States of America.

By plane... you marvel at the wonder of God's creation as you view the cottony blanket of clouds below you...but only if you have the seat next to the porthole sized window and can avoid being totally distracted by either a) that annoying arm on your armrest and/or b)your efforts to put a full bladder out of your mind lest you have to climb over two fellow travelers in search of relief.

By train...the train pulls into the station, you disembark, pick up your luggage and continue with your life...

By plane...the plane touches down, you unbuckle and start calculating how many minutes/hours it will be before the aisle is sufficiently clear of people trying to remove overstuffed backpacks from the overhead compartment to allow you to stand up, let alone head toward the cordial "buh-bye" and the sweet release of the jetway entrance...and the process of traversing to the baggage claim area, all the while hoping and praying that there will, in fact, be familiar baggage to claim at some point...

And by the time you factor in the waiting, delays, etc, inherant in air travel, the single advantage, saving time, is largely illusory.

In hindsight, I think a pretty compelling case could be made that, all factors considered, letting our rail system fade away was a mistake.

I'd also offer it's the kind of mistake that Mayor Fiorello would agree was a beaut.

Not to mention ironic with a capital I.

Given that the man whose wry observation was Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia.

As in LaGuardia Airport.