Fun with divestments!

This is the part where I freely admit that I have paid very little attention to what my city invests in. And not just because I hardly know what city to call "mine" in the first place. (In the five-year period preceding this blog post, I have lived in Guangzhou, Queretaro, Andong, Chicago, and New York, and I have "lived" in Phoenix, Grand Rapids, and Phuket.) Because I don't think I've ever given much thought at all to the fact that cities are investing in anything.

I mean -- if I stop to think (which I don't, ordinarily), "How does my city get money?" then it seems that "Um, sales tax?" is the answer. Isn't that what they tell us all along: property taxes fund schools, sales taxes fill city coffers, and income taxes make possible our roads and social services and all those billions of dollars of soldiers' salaries, education, housing, equipment, ammunition, etc. as they make the world safe/defend our freedom/generate greatness/get applauded at airports/kill people/lay waste to entire villages/stuff like that. (Cue apocryphal Thoreau: "No, Ralph, what are you doing out there?")

But then I go and read a little story like this one in which the city of Portland weirdly wisely gets rid of 25% of its investments in Walmart, with plans to dump all its Walmart bonds by 2016, becoming the first U.S. city to divest funds from Walmart. Leading to some oh-so-very-obvious questions, among which:

1. Only 25%? Bigger, better, faster, more!! Come on, Portland!
2. Why the !@#%&* are you so invested in Walmart to begin with?
3. The "first" city to divest? *suspicious look* How many other cities are funding fucking Walmart and its horrible, abysmal practices?
4. Um - millions of dollars in Walmart bonds? That each of our major cities is just randomly paying?

That item #4 there is the one that strikes me deepest today. Amid all the talk about "We the Corporations" and the 99% and how freedom isn't free but tax loopholes apparently are and other hullabaloo, I don't think many people have ever really talked about the fact that cities like, say, Portland are investing millions of dollars in corporations like, say, Walmart. That is pretty terrible. Not just because Walmart's evil (it is) but because this whole moneymaking things goes unseen. Our society rolls merrily along with this idea that governments and corporations are separate things going about their business separately. Only, no. No, they are not.

How did cities make money in the past? In the year 1700, what did Boston and Plymouth and Providence do? Was there even a city clerk then? Maybe not. When were city clerks invented? When were city clerks' pensions invented? Who among ye knows anything whatsoever about all this?

Bankers, that's who. Rich ones.
And their CEO pals.

It's pretty grotesque, no?

(But seriously, people. Walmart?? Just: no.)

Beer tent or bust!

There's that old saying: I never make the same mistake twice--I just make new ones. That is so me and the River Bank Run. I am totally going to conquer this 25K race! But not this year.

Careful readers of this blog may recall the River Bank Run. Brian's hometown of Grand Rapids puts on this big ol' race every year, and he has run the 25K a bunch of times, and I myself had previously indulged twice, but the third time was not my charm at all.  From the first time to the second time I ran it, I improved by seven minutes, but this time I did a major backslide. Just how displeased are we with my race results? Well, naturally I say that with all the sarcasm I can muster; I'm not particularly "displeased" because I enjoy doing things, regardless of how "successful" the outcome is.  Let's just say that after the race, one person I know, upon walking up to me, gave me her pitying look and an accompanying shoulder stroke/pat. Yikes! (I know, right? It's like, hey spectator--what was your race time this year?) Most people took a bit of a higher road with the "hey, you finished the race! that's all that matters!" approach, which is much more to my liking.

But what went wrong, exactly? Did I wear new running shorts on race day, like the first time I ran the 25K (which was totally Brian the seasoned runner's birthday gift to me the day before the race, by the way)? Nope. Did I go way too fast out of the gate, running the first couple of miles above race pace and then hitting a serious wall around mile 12? Nope! Did I screw up my eating and water drinking and have to stop and use the bathroom once or even twice along the race course, as in my first and second attempts? Nope. No, this time around was some entirely different failure. My stomach and clothes and early-miles-time were just fine, but my legs and body just lost the battle. Pretty much at mile 1, really.

So what were my new mistakes? For one thing, we didn't do the complete 25K training schedule, because we didn't start until we returned to to the U.S.A., so I tried to do the training in half the time, and I obviously failed at doing the accelerated version that I kind of invented. Because of that, I thought about doing the 10K instead, but then my 13-mile training run went all right, so I registered for the 25K. I obviously didn't do enough preparation, though. I tried to rectify that by eating all the right carbs in the few weeks before the race...but I really failed at sleeping well the two weeks prior. And then, spectacularly stupidly, I ran really fast -- don't know why! -- on my 3-mile run two days before the race, in what should have been my totally tapering nothing-but-easy week. I looked at my time at the end of Thursday's run and was like, Hmmm, that was really fast. Would that be enough, going too hard for only three miles, to really screw up my resting up for race day?  Maybe. Finally, I ran out of time to properly stretch before the race--we had a longer walk from where we got dropped off than we had time for and so I even failed at fully stretching. That's pretty terrible. Seriously, in the first minute of my race I thought, "Gee, my legs feel tired" as if I had done an intense workout a few hours earlier. Is that from the too-fast Thursday run, the not sleeping enough every day that week, the failure to fully stretch, or some other bonehead move? Who knows?! Here's what we do know: during the second half of the race, I walked a lot. Like, a couple different times. For maybe four or five miles out of the 15.6 miles. Quel désastre, n'est-ce pas?

I was totally mulling over my options as I willingly gave in to giving up, too. When the paramedics came by in their van and on their bicycles to check on the slowpokes, as they are wont to do for the last fourth of the people in these races (well, technically they're available for all the people, but this is the riding back and forth looking for dying/collapsing people in the last part of the run that I'm talking about) and I would be walking along, fine, but thinking, hmmm, if I take a ride back from them, will they still let me go get my free drink in the post-race beer tent?  Then I would chastise myself, no, just finish the course, silly! So I'd make myself play little run-ten-minutes-walk-five games, but I even failed at a couple of those. My legs (left hamstring and feet) were just not having it. (Oh yeah, that's another fail: I should have got new running shoes this year, seriously. But we didn't have our money from China..and...ugh...)  Being back with the 12-minute mile peeps (and eventually, listening to some fellow half-running/half-walkers next to me lament that the 12:00 pacer was about to pass us) means I get to see a lot of strugglers who are encouraging each other and digging deep to find what's in them to make it up that hill (screw that dastardly River Bank Run hill that starts between miles 9 and 10! I walked it) and to tell each other, "There's mile 11! There's mile 12!" and so on. I wasn't buying any of it. I even had my mp3 player with me --also a new idea this year, as I had not brought tunes on my previous two 25K races--and my go-to playlist songs just pissed me off.

Another thing that I have seen every year, hanging out as I do (even in the good part at the beginning of the race before I start dying) with the 10- and 11-minute mile people and not the elite runners, is someone on the phone. Yes, on the phone. During the race. I freaking hate people jabbering on their cell phones all the time, but while running a 25K it's just plain amusing. Usually it's something like, "Hi Mom! I'm at mile 4!" or "Honey, I'm halfway. I'm alive!" and so on. This year, as the aforementioned twelve-minute mile pacer was about to pass us, a random runner was on her mobile leaving a message. 12:00 pacer said, "Never seen anyone leaving a voice mail during their run before! Sorry, had to call you out there!"  Voicemail responded, "My dad called me! I had to call him back."  12:00 pacer said, "Oh, well, okay, if it's Dad" and was prepared to leave it at that (as she left us, in the dust) but then Voicemail's running buddy chimed in, "She just passed a big test for her work as an insurance actuary; she had to let him know."  WTF?!  Are you serious, lady? You're running a 25K right now!  Can't you focus on one accomplishment at a time? And seriously, this race started at 8 a.m. You have to have had at least a day since you passed this exam. You couldn't leave him a voice mail yesterday? Are you going to call him next weekend and be all, Hey dad, I was at mile 8 a week ago? ?!?!

You know what's fun, though? The people who cheer (including actual cheerleaders) and dress up and hand out water and Gatorade and pump you up and sing in bands with an accordion and write bluesy songs about the race ("You're in the River Bank Run, da-duh-da-duh-duh, you started training in January, da-duh-da-duh-duh" etc.) and also: make signs. It's always great to see signs like "Pain now, beer later" and "Your heart is in your soles" and whatnot, but my favorites this time around were two guys, maybe thirtysomething, just standing there in their t-shirt and jeans kind of style (wouldn't have surprised me if they'd had beer in a cooler) around mile seven.. The signs were simply marker on white poster board. The first guy's said "Worst Parade Ever." The second one was, "Making this sign was hard too!"  That's awesome. They were super duper fun. Way to go, random fun sign guys.

Ahh, slowness. I had an 11:40 mile pace the first seven miles, but my race average was 13:17, so you see where slowing down and dying and giving up will get you. That whole walking-a-few-miles thing made me so pathetically far behind that one of the running-coach-race-y-people jogged to me to motivate me at the final turn (which has one more stupid !@#$% short  mini-hill before the sprint to the finish) and ran alongside me for a bit, making me run with him. (I was, frankly, considering continuing walking, which I had been doing all through miles 14 and 15, thank you very much, all the way until that sprint-to-the-finish, but he made me run up the mini-hill, too, silly inspirational-dude.)

Running is so very interesting to me. I love it. I love the things I think about while running, I love the things I learn about my body, and I usually love pushing through the hard times to pursue the goal. This weekend, I skipped the whole pushing-through thing, but I'll get back to that one again, later. The worst thing was that I didn't get to hang out in the beer tent and have fun after the race because Brian (who finished the 25K an hour+ faster) and his friends (who did the 5K and 10K, starting and ending much earlier) had long since finished hanging out by the time I rolled in. And we didn't make a plan with his parents (yet another mistake) for them to, like, go home (although I know I had vocalized the idea that no one should be responsible for waiting for me, but I failed to make a plan) so they hung around watching the race and waited for me and then I had to, like, skedaddle pretty quickly with them because they'd been there spectating for hours and were so ready to go and I was like, Oh. OK. No fun times.

My next 25K is going to be so awesome. Things are going to change, I can feel it! (said the perdedor...)

No, really, don't touch me

Continuing yesterday's musing about the importance(?) of being polite...

My greatest fear is that some airline is going to start letting people use their cell phones on airplanes. I can't tell you how horrible that will be. As I have pointed out to many people, listening to one end of a phone conversation is actually a traumatic experience. It is physically unnerving to hear the punctuated vocalizations, uneven pauses, and up-and-down decibels. It's not like listening to background chatter at all. When you are sitting in a coffee shop or a bus or some other place where people are chatting (no, not a movie theater, assholes) it can be almost like elevator music or ocean waves or whatever--perfectly ignorable. And then someone takes out their damn cell phone because god forbid they just sit down and shut up for five minutes of their lives. The worst is when you run into One of Those. The people who finish one phone call and instead of putting the phone away or even putting it down immediately start scrolling through their contacts, trying to figure out who will be next to fill their lonely, unimaginative existences while destroying the serenity of all around them.

I think quiet cars (on commuter trains and whatnot) are the greatest thing ever.

Perhaps we could designate one flight per day for all of the people who want to either talk on their stupid phones OR travel with kids that aren't taught that they have to behave differently on airplanes than they do in other places? That would be fine. Let them all fly together, and leave the rest of us in peace.

I have a lot of sympathy for the "Get off my lawn!" people. By this, of course, I mostly refer to metaphorical lawns, although the other day I did watch a small child from next door toddle across the grass of the house I'm staying in (that's right, it doesn't even belong to me!) and my first thought was "Ugh, that kid totally thinks he can stray into someone else's yard..." or, rather, "Ugh, that kid's parents totally don't care if he toddles across someone else's yard"...what that experience taught me is that the main reason I mostly want people to get off of my metaphorical lawn is simply that I don't have a real lawn, and if I did, I would want people to get off of that, too.

It's like this, essentially: don't touch me, don't touch my things, and don't touch my mental things (i.e., give me my mental/emotional/psychological/whatever "space").

I understand there are some of you who don't go through your days with these feelings?  What must that be like?

Some folks describe themselves like this: "I'm a people person." I'm pretty sure I've never uttered those words about myself, although I do like to meet smart, interesting, funny people (usually in that order). And obviously I only truly like people if they read and they are non-violent and they like cats. I tolerate other kinds of people all the time, because I live in society, but I wouldn't say that I like them, no. Where is it written that it's better to like more people, anyway? Is there some kind of prize at the end of life, some I-liked-the-most-people award?? I think not.

How serious am I about this?  (Do you really want to ask?)  Well, let's see. This all comes in the spirit of thinking about being polite. And what's polite about bothering people? Nothing. So if someone wants you to get off his lawn, metaphorical or otherwise, then maybe you should get off of it. What inspires these thoughts right now? Oh, I don't know. It's just that I'm in a very Virginia Woolf-esque phase of my life. I am writing and editing and trying to write more and sifting through and creating and embarking upon many writing projects and ideas and I am following through on creative intentions and just generally trying to do all that and yet I lack those two things, those two keys, oh yes, Virginia, the all-important wealth and a room of one's own. Constant frustration!

Is it a lack of creative space (physical) that leads to a feeling of lack of (mental/emotional) personal space that makes one crankier and more willing than ever to be annoyed by humanity in general? Talk to me, artists.

Was it the past year living in China that sent me over the edge? That is a strong candidate. China's throbbing humanity goes way beyond personal crowding and inability to walk up an escalator and crosses all the lines, right into bodily functions and wanton fluid-spewing, with an added bonus of scarcity mentality and eating of cats and dogs. It doesn't get much easier to hate humanity than living with those kind of thoughts every day.

Is humanity actually becoming more annoying? Although things like Buzzfeed, Fox News, and the misuse of the word "literally" argue strongly for the idea, I don't think this is the case. I think humanity has probably always sucked roughly the same, but it's just that the population grows, so there are fewer refuges and stuff.

And then there's the whole fact of being in the Midwest, where they have the audacity to say chatty good morning things to you before serving you your coffee...

Yes, I'm (partially) kidding. I like sarcasm and I am one of those who is greatly amused by the "How much do you hate people?" quiz. But seriously, I don't know if it's a late 30s thing or what, but lately I just more and more find myself wondering why everyone can't just be quiet once in a while. Every once in a while, don't you just want a day when you can sit around without having to acknowledge anyone's existence? Is that so much to ask?

Don't Touch Me (I'm a real live wire)

So there's this Talking Heads line running through my head today...

"I hate people when they're not polite..."
(from, I'm sad if I have to tell you this because you are missing out, their song "Psycho Killer" of course)

Now, I could probably leave the modifying clause off of that sentence, as I tend to hate people a good lot of the time. But this gets us nearer the point. I was thinking about the whole concept of being polite. Which is worse, do you think: to be rude or to be mean?

I realized that I generally go through my days thinking it's far worse to be mean, and I'm just starting to discover that/wonder if all you other people are actually the opposite, and all care more about being polite than about being nice.

And thinking about this, with David Byrne's voice in my head, it's like a whole new perspective on the world. I am not a mean person. I really don't believe in doing things out of malice. This includes making fun of people, even when it's, like, the bros all giving each other shite just to be a jerk. This includes stirring things up on the internet and mocking something just because you can (such as the new Cubs mascot). This includes punching people (and all violence, really). All of these things with spiteful but no other motivations really bother me. I actually, really think people should be nice. It bothers me when people are mean and jerky. If I am having a disagreement with someone and I say, "That's so mean!" in my mind that is it. Game over. They lose, because they were just being mean. I've obviously learned that some people don't look at things that way. (Is it Taylor Swift and me against the world?)

But what about being polite? So different. I am afraid that I am not really a polite person. This isn't intentional, usually. (Unlike the motive of malice!) But for one glaringly obvious example, I really believe in saying what you think. (Motive: saying what you think.) And I sometimes forget that there are people out there, merrily going about their lives all the time, holding back and refraining from saying what they think in this or that situation, apparently out of politeness. Also, there's the whole thing about dropping an argument just to discontinue the argument. (Motive: ?? Being afraid to argue?)  Once someone told me, "You know it's not always the most important thing to have to be right in every situation." To which I responded - um, it's not? Sure it is! Why wouldn't it be?! Whoever's right, is right. Now, if it's a difference of opinion, two people could be right, or no one could be right. But the point is, if you are right and you're trying to show the other person why X is right and Y is wrong, but the other person insists Y, apparently a lot of people think at that point you should just drop it and let the person go on thinking Y is right. But Y is not right! How can people do this? This baffles me.

So, because I am an adult (I mean, you know, more or less) and because I am smart I know how to "be polite" in certain situations, like "being professional" and "formal occasions." But today's Talking Heads-accompanied thinking is not really about holding the door open and stuff. I once used this blog to try to determine whether or not I am a literary snob. (Verdict: probably.) Today, let's use it to see if I am polite. Let's say you typed into a search engine the query "How to be polite"...what would happen? You might get a WikiHow checklist along the lines of the following:

1. Be gentle, not forceful or insistent
Oh dear. Not off to a good start. Leaving aside the misogyny (that men are allowed to be far more forceful and insistent than women are), I wouldn't even begin to try to argue that I am gentle rather than forceful in my conversations. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I need southern belle finishing school in the worst way.

2. When in doubt, observe others (topics, standards of formality, what are they doing with their coats, etc.)
OK, I'm better at this. Especially when entering new social gatherings or new workplaces, I'm super into hanging back and observing at first. It's only when I know people and situations do I start being ...er...forceful and insistent.

3. Be nice. Always be courteous...if someone annoys or insults you, don't get into an argument...
Well, I would actually prefer a distinction here between nice and courteous, because as I said there is such a difference between being not-mean and being courteous. But if it's about withdrawing from annoyances rather than arguing, then I obviously fail this one.

4. Start a conversation by asking questions about the other person. Oooh! I do that!

5. Shake hands firmly and look your acquaintance in the eye while doing so. Totes. And you know, I would like to add here that shaking hands is an accepted (in the U.S. anyway) social contact and hugging is NOT ALWAYS APPROPRIATE!  I am not a hugger, and I definitely don't want to hug everyone who goes around initiating hugs, and I happen to think it is really impolite when people hug you without tuning in at all to the fact that you are not hugging them back. So there. Hands off, people. Back away.

6. Know the proper dinner etiquette. This is my jam. ("They don't even chill the salad forks!") I will quote Martha Stewart if necessary. I don't want to hear or see you chew, and I don't want to hear your clinking and scraping silverware, and it's not just because I loathe mouth noises with every ounce of my being. I just can't believe there are people anywhere who think it's OK to smack food or talk with their mouths full, unless they were raised by wolves. (Which: no one I know.) Now, that said, when people are jamming out around the barbecue or just loafing around enjoying a pizza all greasy-finger style or when they are in China eating with their life partner in a casual place and something slippery  falls from their chopsticks, I couldn't care less if they eat with their hands or whatever, in silly casual moments. I know that proper polite hosts never serve their guests something that puts them in a difficult situation in the first place! And don't pick your teeth at the table. Gross.

7. Have a laugh which shows you are having fun without being loud. 
I've never really thought about this. Or been told about my laugh. Does that mean I pass? Not when I was a riotous 17-year-old dorm resident, obviously, but now that I am in normal life? I think I pass. When I really crack up at something, I think I tend more toward the silent, tearing up kind of hysteria, anyway, not cackling.

8. Be graceful and show elegance. 
Goddamn it, I already said, I want to go to southern belle finishing school! For reals! Although I *can* walk with a book on my head. But otherwise, fail.

9. Be aware that etiquette and manners vary depending on the cultural region you are in. Yes. Aware. I cover my shoulders lots of times for cultural reasons. I like awareness. Although I shouldn't have to watch people urinating or have children wantonly flashed at me on the streets anywhere -- are you listening, China??!

So, that's YES for culturally aware, reasonable laughing, dinner etiquette, shaking hands, asking questions, and observing others (6) but a big fat resounding NO for grace/elegance, always being courteous, and (gulp) being gentle rather than forceful or insistent (3).  While my overall score is a "win," who are we kidding? I am not polite. David Byrne hates me, even though I'm not a psycho killer.

Gentle. Not forceful or insistent. I just...how.. I can't even... ???  OK, I'll try.

Could we use a man like Herbert Hoover again?

Normally, I write about books over on the ol' Literary Supplement, but what I have to say after finishing An Uncommon Man: The Triumph of Herbert Hoover is far less about Richard Norton Smith's book, which had some pretty serious flaws, and more about Hoover, the man.

Strengths: Efficiency. Thrift. Churned out a lot of words. Anti-militaristic. Fed people (entire starving nations, in fact). Supported equal pay for women, the end of child labor, etc.  Worked hard. Worked tirelessly, into his ninth decade. Self-made man, as they say. Traveled the world. Known to offer up a pithy comment or two. They loved him in Belgium. And Poland. Random acts of generosity. Enthusiastically supported young people, from Scouts organizations to Boys' Clubs to answering thousands of letters people wrote to him, well into his old age.

Example: He agreed with a young woman that "the chances of a female president were improving; after all, 'the men have not done too good a job of government...in the last forty-seven years' and wishing her well 'if you are a candidate for President about thirty years hence."

Another girl, Kathleen, told him she wasn't yet born when he was president and she wanted to be not president, but a doctor. He wrote, "My dear Kathleen, You were saved a lot of trouble by not being born earlier. I am glad you want to be a doctor and not President. We do not have enough doctors, and there seems to be a sufficient number of candidates for President." --from p. 383 of An Uncommon Man 


Weaknesses: Probably wasn't meant to be a president, namely because he didn't excel at the compromising political schmoozing of it all. (On second thought, maybe this is a strength.) Listened a little too carefully to some of Joseph McCarthy's fears, although not the rabid paranoia.

Fascination factor: High. He was born in 1874 and died in 1964. The year he was born, Thomas Edison was inventing the duplex telegraph, Jesse James was robbing trains, and Hoover's eventual alma mater, Stanford University, did not yet exist. By the time he died, he had gone from meeting with Charles Lindbergh through advising against dropping the atomic bomb to congratulating John Glenn on orbiting the Earth. He also outlived, among others, his wife Lou, his pal General MacArthur, and Eleanor Roosevelt, not to mention his successor FDR and John F. Kennedy, whose father the ambassador to England had known Hoover for a while.

The man got around. He met everyone from Hitler to Eva Peron, and he was friends with other presidents from Woodrow Wilson to Harry Truman, with FDR being basically the exception (he spent time with and was consulted by Eisenhower AND Kennedy). Bottom line is that Hoover had a fascinating decades-long pre-presidency career and an accomplished decades-long retirement, but all most people know about him is "the Depression!" And really, he was unfairly blamed for the so-called Great Depression, as if any one person caused it or could solve it single-handedly, and it's interesting to note the complicating factors of his administration, such as: Congress. The economic policies of his predecessor, Calvin Coolidge. The fact that FDR was his own brand of crazy, when he swooped in to "save" the day -- and the fact that FDR used some of Hoover's ideas and already-started-before-FDR-got-there tactics.

Other  fun facts gleaned from this bio, in a more-things-change-the-more-they... way:

*In the aftermath of World War I, "Washington sports fans cheered a uniformed sailor for shooting to death a fellow spectator who refused to stand for the national anthem."

*In a 1935 speech, Hoover noted the way some politicians stifled dissent: "They set up a glorious ideal to which we all agree unanimously. Then they drive somewhere else or into a ditch. When we protest they blackguard us for opposing the glorious ideal. And they announce that all protesters are the tools of Satan or Wall Street. When we summon common sense and facts they weep aloud over their martyrdom for the ideal."

*"If America joined the [World] war [II], he said,  and was rewarded with victory, 'then we will have won for Stalin the grip of communism in Russia and a greater opportunity for it to extend in the world. We should at least cease to tell our sons that they will be giving their lives to restore democracy and freedom.'" -p.298

*In a 1954 critique of foreign policy, he noted: "We should cease to jabber about leading the world. Sometime the world will turn on us with remarks as to where we have led to."

Furthermore, I hereby declare that we should bring back the name Herbert. Come on, hipsters, get with me on this! I previously mentioned, during my reading of the William H. Taft bio, that I really like President Taft's brother Horace--he was a fun guy!--and that I kind of wanted to bring back the long-forgotten name Horace. Well, now I'm adding Herbert to my list. If I have twin sons, perhaps they'll be named Horace and Herbert. Or maybe I should just get two puppies or kittens for this purpose.

While I learned a lot about Hoover, I should probably check every fact in this book, because author Richard Norton Smith and his editors apparently couldn't be bothered to do so themselves. I've ranted elsewhere about the incorrect statement that the Hoover Dam is on "the California/Nevada border" (hello, can you read a map?) but that isn't the only fact Smith gets wrong herein. So, I do advise you to learn a thing or two about Hoover, but maybe check out some other sources while you're doing it.

And may we all hope to be as accomplished and prolific in ninety allotted years on this Earth!

Seller Beware!

What would that be in grammatically correct Latin? Caveat vendit? Caveat vendor?

So, I'm just sitting there innocently working on my things and listening to some tunes when a JCPenney ad comes on advertising the store's "biggest sale of the season," taking place now through Saturday. I wasn't really listening, in an active listening kind of way, rather just allowing the save-big-discount-save-money-discount-blah-blah to wash over me, subconsciously knowing the music would come back on soon. Then, that telltale advertising voice shift happened, and the bright and chipper "Come save money!" gave way to the "NowI'mgoingtotalkreallyfastforthefineprintdisclaimertalk" lower voice. And this latter voice informed me that "biggest sale of the season" refers to the duration, the most days of sale, but that there might be another sale later that lasts for fewer days but has more items on sale.

To which the only possible logical response, of course, would be: Oh, you selfish stupid lazy entitled consumers of the US and wherever else your sorry selves are located, what the !@#$&* is wrong with you and why don't you go back to whatever !@$&* glacier you stepped out of?!  (As Julia Sugarbaker would say.) This is what we need disclaimers about now??! Because otherwise some jerkwad (I'm tempering my language right now to try to keep this blog reasonably family friendly) is going to come screaming into JCPenney and say whine-whine-whine you owe me money give me a refund i want my money back i am stupid i suck i have no life whatsoever but you said the BIGGEST sale and then later you had a BIGGER sale and I'm a total f****** loseramus but give my money whine whine pout I am terrible and horrible and give me my money. Ye gods, do I ever feel for JCPeneny, having to deal with and anticipate shite like that. It makes we want to go shop their "Biggest Sale of the Season" just to support them in the face of the abject loserdom that is US consumer society. Because I know from my Borders days that these kinds of things are what consumers waltz in demanding all the time.

You may be thinking that it was just a joke. That in this particular advertisement, JCPenney is making fun of the "NowI'mgoingtotalkreallyfastforthefineprintdisclaimertalk" voice that we hear all the time in ads. But that doesn't account for what happened yesterday.

Yesterday, the news went viralish that Cheerios or General Mills or some cereal corporate entity or other was including mandatory arbitration in their terms and conditions if you "Like" them etc. on social media. Meaning you can't sue them later when they say their cereal is "a healthy morning treat" and you find some jackass lawyer to support your jackass loserdom and you try to take them to court so you can get thousands or more dollars from their deep pockets when you say that "healthy" is a term reserved for the medical establishment-approved Ritalin and Prozac that big pharmaceuticals are pumping through your stupid, loser, jackass body and they totally wronged you by daring to claim that their cereal was "healthy" and oh by the way your 300-pound meat-eating dairy-drinking Walmart-shopping preservative-purchasing park-in-the-closest-spot-and-never-walk-on-any-errand-in-your-life self had better be compensated for such an egregious affront to your health.

Guess what, asswads? (trying, trying, trying to use gentle language, and failing) You have agreed to SO MANY mandatory arbitration clauses. Probably for Facebook itself -- and your car insurance -- and your credit cards -- and god knows how many other things. AND IT'S NOT ANYONE'S FAULT BUT YOUR OWN if you aren't reading the terms and conditions you agree to. You are NOT entitled to any of this shite! Any of it! You are not entitled to Facebook, or Cheerios, or Baby Einstein, or whatever.

Get the mighty !@#$&* over yourselves.

This really, truly makes me feel sorry for corporations. No, they are not people. They are corporations. You know who "people" are? "People" are the consumers who actually walk into a courtroom trying to get money from corporations who said their cereal was "healthy" or their Baby Einstein DVD was "educational" instead of those people focusing on real, actual, malevolent corporate wrongs such as those perpetrated daily by our military-industrial complex, for example.  Jeez, I hate people so much. The people that would find it anywhere within the realm of their possibility to sue Cheerios for claiming to be healthy. I hate those people. I hate them. This is the basis of my hatred. For today anyway.

Mom, what's a chaperone?

So, the other day or week or whatever, a piece in The Atlantic started doing its viral thing, thus popping up in my Facebook news feed. It's called "The Overprotected Kid," and it details a lot of incredibly obvious stuff, like how kids need to play outside and discover things on their own and not always have parents breathing down their necks. It talks about how it's actually good for kids to not know how they're going to get out of a predicament, and then to get out of that predicament, because that's called growth. But we have reached the point, chronologically, where we now have college kids who have never had to get themselves out of predicaments, and I really wish that the college professors would stop capitulating to their whining. (I should rephrase: I wish they had never started. I wish not a single solitary grade had EVER been changed. Ever. Because: consequences, people!)

One of the interesting lines in the article was that kids are growing up now with the assumption that they are always being watched, and therein lies the problem. Now, of course the parents today offer up lots of good reasons to always be watching their and other kids, chief among them because otherwise the kids are going to be kidnapped. As the Atlantic author points out, child abduction by strangers is as uncommon as it ever was, and it seems to me that basing your entire life around those odds is kind of like doing your monthly budget with the assumption that you are you going to win the lottery. Yeah, you might (especially if you play), but it really has no practical purpose in your plans. Most missing children are either abducted by someone they know, which is often a parent, or they are runaways. And let's not forget that independent teenagers and adults can also be stranger abducted, as horrible cases like the recent one in Ohio remind us (and as Criminal Minds likes to remind us also--why doesn't that create some abduction-of-adults paranoia to accompany the abduction-of-kids paranoia?)

Obviously, I think children should be prepared, as I was, for what to do in "stranger danger" situations. Sometimes you should  talk to strangers, politely, especially in places of business. If it's not one of those times, you should not be afraid to scream, make noise, run away, etc. And no, I'm not advocating for kids to be alone outside all the time --by all means, walk to school with friends, have curfews, keep in touch, come in before the streetlights go on, let your parents know where you are, and all the rest -- but my god, my nephew is ten-and-a-half years old and he is still not allowed to do anything by himself, or even, say, walk through the neighborhood with his eight-year-old sister but no parents to my dad's (their grandpa) house, which is less than half a mile away. I think I was babysitting other people's toddlers when I was ten-and-a-half. I walked to/from school without adults (with friends) from age seven or so. I've seen the car pick-up line at my nephieces' school. It hurts my brain. (This is also due in part to the reconfiguring of gifted education in that school district, making it a magnet program at only one school that necessitates driving longer, non-walk/non-bicycle distances for all the families who live in the zone of other elementary schools but have to schlepp their kids to the one gifted magnet school, and that's annoying and horrible for lots of other reasons too, but also my nephew could not walk the less than half a mile through the residential streets home from elementary school in second grade when he still attended in their very own neighborhood. Is second grade too young? Not with a friend, I'd say, and I daresay that's a good grade to start the whole Mom-walks-to-the-end-of-our-street-then-watches-you-go-down-the-street-toward-school thing even if the kid is alone, but I don't daresay that to my sister, because then we just have a big fight, because I'm not allowed to talk about parenting until I have my own kids or maybe not even then, although my sister herself admits she is "highly paranoid" -- her words, not mine)

OK, that parenthetical bit was so long you probably even forgot we were in parentheses, eh?

The point is: watching. A day or two after seeing some parental friend types post and ruminate about that piece ("Why can't I just send my kids outside to play?" mused the attachment parents, with the obvious implications just hanging there in cyberspace), I was typing something in a Facebook post or comment and it red-squiggly-underlined the word "chaperone" and I was struck. Aghast, I thought, 'My god, is this what it's come to??? We don't even use the word chaperone anymore in this modern/attachment/helicopter parent 21st-century?? Because kids are always being watched so they wouldn't even know what a chaperone is, because there's just always an adult there?!??!! There is no distinction!' Then I realized that the Facebook/Google/Blogger/internet spell-checking overlords apparently prefer the alternative spelling "chaperon" that I think looks incomplete and that I have never before this sentence used in my life.

But I was a little worried for a minute there.

Impact on my Mind

Whenever I hear someone talking-head-like say that something impacts something else, as I just this moment did on The Diane Rehm Show (it happens on public radio a lot), I recall a Designing Women moment when Julia is frustrated by a woman and says that woman is "such a--yuppie!" and Charlene says "Julia, you hate that word!" and Julia says she knows but how else could you describe someone who "uses impact as a verb"?!

I have continued to laugh/marvel/shake a fist at various yuppified verbings of words that make their way into our world in an irritating way (unlike fun verbings that have whimsy or poetry to them), with "partner" being a particularly irksome one. That was one Borders consistently tried to use to save its dying self; as a merchandising supervisor and corporate trainer I was always being asked to "partner" with this or that other department, and it was pretty terrible. (I don't think I even need to remind you all here that Google is not a verb. You can, however, perform a search using Google. While the registered trademark may sadly become accepted rather than just wrongly used as a generic one day, like aspirin or Kleenex, that's no reason for you to verb it. I will also slap you if you slip up when photocopying and use Xerox as a verb.)

Beyond impact-ing and partner-ing, there's also the need to think outside the box while focusing on outcomes during our teamwork and other best practices. Corporate jargon, as someone (Noam Chomsky?) has pointed out, has really become the Orwellian double-speak of our day, rather than military or government overlord speak (except for the massive extent to which corporate jargon permeates said military, because military-industrial complex), and we have all accepted it and happily brought it into our daily self-helping conversations.

But the point is: impact. WWJD (what would Julia [Sugarbaker] do?) in the face of the internet barrage of selfies and tweets and Upworthy and  everything else? I miss her. If you aren't intimately acquainted with the antics of the ladies (+ Anthony) of the Sugarbaker design firm, you have missed out. Think about the discussion they could have about the way people constantly post pictures of what they ate for dinner. I suspect Charlene would be the one to snap a pic of her meal, or maybe Suzanne would do it, going crazy with some bewildering app on her phone, and Mary Jo would fret about Claudia and her friends judging the adults' cooking by posting it on Facebook, and Julia would find it all so tacky... I long for a TV sitcom with the cheerful-yet-substantial, scathing-but-not-petulant, intelligent, political, personal, ferocious, beautiful brilliance of Designing Women to address these 21st-century issues. Any suggestions?