Yesterday Borepatch and Plumbum et Circenses kicked over some cyber-rocks and found my post Are We Not Men buried underneath a pile of disinterest. Soon my little corner of the Internet was awash in viewers! Thanks! Both are now on my blogroll…which is like being famous in a town that has twenty residents. I encourage my readers to click over to both of them.
I missed all the excitement. My computer was off and I was out doing homestead chores in the snow. (Yeah, my life is that glamorous!)
Since my hit count soared while I ignored my blog I’ve decided the thing that keeps my blog obscure is me. Too bad! I’m posting anyway. Stay tuned for a series of posts about something you’ve never cared about but which matter deeply up here in Siberia…furnaces. (Yeah, I’m that great at marketing.)
I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can be depended upon to meet any national crisis. The great point is to bring them the real facts, and beer.
…and as far as I can tell that’s an actual quote and not a brilliant writerloser with a blog me embellishing the truth making shit up.
My commute is pretty easy. I carefully compromised between the rural location I want and the commute that I’m forced to accept. (If it weren’t for daily commuting I’d live farther from civilization…possibly Death Valley or Pitcairn Island.)
A home should be located as far as possible from nosy neighbors.
I drive a flat, straight, two lane, divided, non-interstate highway with minimal traffic.
My morning commute is on the perfect road.
Envy me! Being accustomed to mountain passes and canyons where cliffs and rocks and switchbacks and dragons and volcanoes make driving a lot more exciting, this road fascinates me with it’s simplicity. I sputter down either of two huge lanes between shoulders upon which you could land a Cessna. If, for some reason, I can’t keep the car on pavement there is a big fat, mowed, grassy, gently sloping, median.
Nothing is perfect and whenever there is a blizzard I pass a morning crop of wrecked cars. Sometimes I see the accidents as they occur. Always impressive! They tend to follow a pattern; the vehicle (which is by definition going too fast) hits a slippery patch. It gradually drifts off the pavement and/or begins spinning like a politician covering his ass. Then it charges over the ditch (if there is one) and careens into the deep snow.
Those of you who dwell in southern climates cannot know the joy of winter driving.
It’s terrifying but I can’t imagine anything better for a soft landing than a mowed grassy “lawn”. It’s the vehicular equivalent of smashing into a pillow.
Local residents demonstrate snow conditions. According to the authorities it's better to hit steel than brutally soft snow.
There are exceptions but usually the aftermath isn’t too bad. Sometimes the car takes damage from it’s adventure…crumple zones do what they’re engineered to do and the repair bill goes astronomical. Fortunately, (quite often in fact) the event mandates nothing more than a tow truck to drag the vehicle out of the snow and a new pair of underwear for the driver. What luck! Nobody’s hurt and the damage is minimal. Count your blessings.
Unfortunately in 2008 there was a hiccup in the economy and politicians everywhere went apeshit. The Obama squatted over our country and shat a big steaming heap of stimulus money debt. Some of this wretched excess went into shovel ready “improvements” to my boring, irrelevant, lightly used road. A gobsmackingly large pile of money evaporated as a couple guys spent the summer installing several miles of guardrail. (Apparently this was supposed to create jobs. How’s that working out for us?)
It's a little known fact that guardrails were inspired by World War II tank traps.
This is the epitome of top down decision making. On some roads a guardrail might prevent a long theatrical plunge followed by a funeral. So they “upgraded” on my flat simple road?
The justification was that guardrails were needed to separate the two directions of travel. In my opinion, several hundred feet of sloped grass between them is plenty. Yes, conceivably someone could thunder off one side, careen down the wide sloping median, fly across the depression in the middle, rocket up the wide slope on the other side, and then, with whatever momentum is left, manage to hit someone. Such collisions are rare because a crashing vehicle needs to be moving like greased lightning just to get across the median. It can only occur when there’s no snow and even summertime wrecks usually grind to a halt in the soft turf. Cross-lane accidents are tragic but you can’t protect against everything and relatively speaking this section of road was very safe.
Aside from the wasted money I’m not opposed to safety. However, I was livid because they made minor fender benders into much worse events just to protect against very rare and largely theoretical accidents. What formerly would be an undamaged car lodged six feet into a snow drift is now a totaled heap impaled on a guardrail. I don’t know what it might do to drivers but I do know that it mangles vehicles. In order to minimally reduce a theoretical and rare event they created an expensive sure thing that happens a lot.
Good thing there was a guardrail! Otherwise things might have been dangerous.
My theory that smacking into snow is better than whalloping a steel shaft hammered into the ground never seemed to impress anyone. Today, on my morning commute, I saw events carried out exactly as I predicted. A generic sedan slid off the road in a generic accident. The car was entirely undamaged. Once it gets yanked out of the snow it probably can be driven home. The paint wasn’t even scratched. Except the rear quarter panel, rear bumper, trunk, and rear door which all hit the guardrail. Those sectors looked like they’d been trampled by a herd of Wildebeast. It was pointless. That car wouldn’t have made it to the other lane if I’d pushed it with a bulldozer so a cross lane accident wasn’t in the cards. Obama’s stimulus guardrail did nothing but damage some poor schmuck’s sedan.
I should staple a picture of that damaged car to the forehead of the next guy with a “shovel ready” idea and unearned money ripe for disposal. Just for the record, if anyone wants to benefit humanity by improving a road…stay the hell away from me.
Last Saturday a maniac shot several people. Tragic. The media jackals began to run with it and I went into a self imposed media blackout. I hate to see tragedy used for political points. I find the whole idea tawdry.
I expected a slew of generic gun control articles to hit front pages by Sunday. It’s as if knee jerk articles are already written and stored on a MacBook somewhere (it would have to be a MacBook!). The press waits for an excuse to print what they’ve already decided and the details of the actual event are almost irrelevant. I expected they’d rush to spew the usual verbiage about how this would never have happened if ammo were taxed, or trigger locks were required, or certain scary looking rifles were banned, or gun shows were outlawed. It could be a crazed maniac that escaped prison, broke fifty laws, and used a clothespin as a weapon; I’d still wind up hearing about how gun banned Europe is better than us American knuckle draggers. Plus, of course, there is the requisite cut and paste paragraph blaming George Bush and/or global warming.
I’m opposed to gun control and it’s depressing when the press starts beating that dead horse again so I avoided the initial feeding frenzy. By Monday I reluctantly rejoined society and read the news. Some was exactly as predicted. It wasn’t caused by George Bush but it was caused by Sarah Palin and FOX news. Who didn’t see that coming? On the other hand the blame game didn’t last as long or go as far afield as usual.
As for the knee jerk call for more gun control? I though it was uncharacteristically muted.
Also, there is a growing acceptance of the fact that people who go on crazed murderous rampages might be…crazy and murderous. Wow!
This is a breakthrough! A giant change in attitude. Sure the media wallowed in their own pet theories but they came to their senses eventually. I’d set the bar incredibly low but was pleased when they managed to clear it.
I didn’t hear the bulk of the chatter (it’s been a busy week) but while I was stuck in my car I thought I picked up a subtle but positive undertone on NPR. It felt like they wanted to nudge their intellectual allies away from the gun control path. It wasn’t much but I’m sure I picked up a subtle vibe. Perhaps some of the left are trying to tell the rest of the left; “don’t go there”? Maybe I’m wrong but I thought I heard a shadow of reticence.
Perhaps this reluctance to go off the rails is like what Borepatch heard:
The press could have gleefully wallowed in their own crapulence. Instead they pulled back and didn’t skate on thin ice as much as I’ve grown to expect. Something has changed. I see it as a good sign.
There may be parallels on the right too. After the Republican sweep in November many people, myself among them, demanded that the Republican party and it’s newly elected majority restrain it’s base impulses. The jury is still out on how well the Republican party can follow that loud and clear signal.
If part of the right spectrum was saying “don’t go there” after an election sweep and part of the left was saying “don’t go there” after a tragic shooting; could there be a small movement of restraint? It’s hard to say. If I’m right, 2011 may wind up being a refreshingly sane year.
Everyone knows that Apple is an evil entity jointly operated by Satan and Dick Cheney. They employ iNinjas and Huey Lewis to destroy all that is good and holy. Never turn your back on an iDevice! You’ve been warned…
However it never occurred to me that Steve Jobs could get me fired from my job. That’s as illogical as blaming the President for hurricanes and tidal waves.
Apparently my world view is too narrow. Enter Lindsay Garvey. Everything you need to know about her is in the picture I drew using my artistic mastery.
I drew this myself. Someday I hope to upgrade to crayons.
Hat tip to View From The Porch and the Boston Herald. (Note: Boston seems to be working overtime to increase the national quotient of uncool. Is there something in the water?)
This all started with ignoring snow and ridiculing bureaucrats. Pondering Code Enforcement Officers with handcuffs and authority to arrest lit a fuse. Getting hassled about shoveling snow is not about snow. It’s about getting hassled. Americans shouldn’t accept shit. We are collectively failing in our duty to be difficult to boss around.
Americans who stand up are too rare. Americans are rarely difficult to manage ON PURPOSE. Americans who don’t like being told what to do AND ACT UPON IT are uncommon. Americans who are a pain in the ass to bureaucrats BECAUSE THEY CHOOSE TO are unusual. Make a decision that you’ll never easily eat shit and you’re already freer than the average person and a model American citizen.
The snow shovel Nazis are petty tyrants. Petty tyrants are just bullies. Bullies hassle the weak. Don’t be weak.
Don’t volunteer for bullying. I have proof that it is voluntary. A fine for shoveling snow “wrong” won’t happen to me. It happened in Boston. It might be happening in Chicago, or Detroit, or Portland, or elsewhere. But not to me. I’m rural, hunkered down, and hard to force. There are benefits to being “difficult”. Enjoy them!
Seeking greater freedom doesn’t have to be flashy. Significant freedom is earned by small efforts and minor decisions. We all know what to do. Step one is to stand up.
Forget dark mutterings about revolution. It’s mostly hollow posturing. Boston, home of the sixteen snow shovel Nazis, has fire breathing talk show hosts, Tea Party voters, and libertarian bloggers just like everywhere else. The population is not entirely Kool-aid drinkers. Some Bostonians must hate the snow shovel Nazis. Do they endure them because there is a gun to their head? No, but seeking alternatives or fighting back requires effort they won’t expend.
There’s no sign the snow shovel Nazis are resisted. The neighborhoods they terrorize aren’t depopulated. Property values don’t go down where snow shovel Nazis prowl. Cities with bloated overreaching bureaucracies may be bankrupt (everywhere!) but they’re not deserted. About 589,141 people live in Boston. None are held there by force. If 589,141 people don’t choose to stand up to the small hassle of a $50 shoveling fine…don’t expect them to suddenly cry freedom like Braveheart. You’re on your own.
Seek freedom in your own heart. You know a mass movement isn’t right around the corner because society hasn’t yet ostracized petty tyrants. A snow shovel Nazi might have a family; which means women are actually willing to marry such creatures. Maybe they attend church. Maybe they feel pious after a week of giving $50 tickets to weeping innocents who shovel snow “wrong”. Folks might think a snow shovel Nazis is an OK guy when he’s not badgering people. Maybe he is? Don’t expect society to give a tyrant the boot and don’t expect tyrants to change until it happens. Until a petty tyrant is an unemployed pariah who never gets laid he’ll continue hassling people.
Depressing? Not really. Who wants be part of a herd? Stand alone if that’s what it takes to be free.
You’ll get your chance soon. Within the next few weeks we’ll all have the first of 2011’s many encounters with petty tyrants. Some pinhead will hassle you about shoveling snow, or having a BBQ, or your vehicle, or letting the kids play in the yard, or…well everything. That’s your chance! React like the free man that you are. When they want to hassle you, make ’em work for it!
Free men make life hard for petty tyrants. Will you play that role? Will you make a ruckus (shout “don’t touch my junk” perhaps?). Will you grudgingly comply to the very barest minimum while making darn sure it’s unpleasant for your assailant? Will you evade with stealth, planning, or adaptation? You don’t have to go out in a blaze of glory. Just make it hard to hassle you. Make them wish they were leaving you alone. Make a scene. Be a pain in the butt. Show up at a meeting with a petition, fifty friends, a rabid lawyer, and an attitude. Lose the form, contest everything, don’t sign what you don’t want to sign, don’t say “thank you” for a ticket, don’t pay for a service you didn’t get, don’t accept a “service” you don’t want, chew out a supervisor… vote. Holding freedom in your heart begins with making things awkward for aggressors.
Avoid the natural habitat of a petty tyrant. I’ve been in situations where they thrive. (You probably have too.) I left. They stayed. The countryside has a few petty tyrants, cities have hordes. I got outta’ Dodge. Evasion isn’t as uplifting as victory but it’s better than submission. Other life choices matter too; the incursion of debt, where you choose to live, your relationship to your job, how you spend money. For each decision, consider how things would play out if a petty tyrant insinuated himself in the situation. Being prepared for a tyrant encourages them to bother someone else.
Resolve right now, in the first month of 2011, to be “difficult to hassle”. Sling it right back at ’em. Don’t feel bad about it. Bullies choose their role. Choose yours. It’s a free Citizen’s right and duty to harangue, defeat, hassle, slow, evade, and outright wear down petty tyrants whenever we encounter them. Bullies need incentives to seek another line of work. Provide the incentives.
Once you’ve got the hang of it, you’re “free on the inside”. Freedom is not a place and it is not a gift. Freedom is a way of being. You must seek it yourself. People who boss you around consume your freedom. The weight of their burden is more than you think. Set it down and you’ll have a spring in your step you didn’t know you’d lost.
Fighting city hall is a bitch. Everyone will pressure you to “go along”. Don’t. It is never the duty of an American to make life easy for a petty tyrant. Choosing to stand up is one of many choices that makes you free. It’s worth it.
You didn’t read it did you? Sigh: I’ve got to do everything don’t I? OK fine, I’ll paraphrase:
“It’s snowing like a son of a bitch. I could get to town but only with a lot of effort. I’ve got the gear to clear the driveway but I don’t feel like it. I think I’ll sip whiskey instead.”
You’re back from reading it? So soon? Bullshit, you’re lying! Since you didn’t read it (I can tell) I’ll grab a few quotes from the the initial article at the Boston Globe; “Snow Police On Patrol”.
Let’s begin with an introduction to a petty tyrant:
“In a city where there is too much snow and no place to put it, Sergeant Steven Tankle enforces the rules.”
At first I imagined some nerd cajoling folks to shovel the sidewalk. Instead he comes off like RoboCop but less human.
“Tankle works for the Boston Code Enforcement Police… Think of them as the snow police: They wear badges, carry handcuffs, and make meter maids seem popular. Run afoul of them and face a fine of up to $200.”
Handcuffs? A guy who deals with snow has handcuffs?
Aside from the handcuffs I’m not surprised that there is such a thing as Code Enforcement Police. I knew Boston had eleventy zillion laws. [Note: I haven’t verified this. There may be as few as ten zillion laws.] I suppose it’s logical that some are about snow. What did surprise me is the detail involved:
“City ordinances require residents to shovel their walkways within six hours after a snowfall and specify in nitty-gritty detail that the path cleared be no less than 42 inches wide.”
At least Mr. Tankle is the only clipboard carrying monster out there right?
“Officer Daniel Donovan, on patrol yesterday, issued a $50 ticket…”
So there’s two of them?
“The Boston Code Enforcement Police were out in full force, all 16 of them.”
“Earlier this year, City officials projected a budget deficit of approximately $140 million.”
Oh no! A deficit! What can be done?
“The $140 million gap would have resulted in as many as 1,000 layoffs…”
I know sixteen employees that wouldn’t be missed.
At any rate Boston did some shifting of funds and wage freezes and…
“…these efforts decreased the deficit and saved 446 jobs, the FY 10 budget still projects 565 layoffs.”
So 565 folks got canned but they spared the sixteen I’m thinking about. Apparently 16 guys for snow enforcement is essential for civilization.
Back to the snow and it’s staff of sixteen overseers. (Note: this staff has nothing to do with actually removing snow…just assessing fines on residents.) With all that brass keeping an eye on snow, Bostonians should grab a shovel and get with flinging it right? Wrong! Criminals sometimes clear snow incorrectly:
“A young couple was shoveling snow off their Honda, badly.”
You can shovel snow BADLY? How? In my book, shoveling snow is shoveling snow. How can it be wrong? The best place for snow is “not on my car”. The ground qualifies as “not car”. I’ve never bothered airlifting snow from a car to a nearby lawn. The idea is as foreign to me as FedExing it to Norway.
Luckily the bureaucracy sprang into action to maintain order and keep us safe from our unhinged ways! Snow on the road is bad. Swish snow from a car parked on the street to the ground and you’ll face Code Enforcement wrath! For example; when a Code Enforcement Officer found a band of evil doers he stepped up to the plate!
“He pulled up to the possible perpetrators, three people clearing snow from their cars.”
“‘What are you doing?’ Tankle asked. ‘Clean all this up, or you’ll get a $200 ticket.”’
“Everyone in the group stared at the pile of snow in the street.”
Of course they had a lame excuse:
“Mendes Teixeira, one of the shovelers, said they were not the guilty ones. ‘It was there before,’’ the 25-year-old said, looking perplexed.”
Code Enforcement Officers know that excuses are the work of foolish peons out to subvert authority! Time to issue an order:
“Tankle told the group to move the snow from the street to a snowbank.”
And Code Enforcement Officers know how to make sure peons can’t escape the long arm of the law!
“He said he would come back to make sure they did and took their license plate numbers just in case.”
Ignorance of the law is no excuse either. Remember the first couple with the Honda? Officer Donovan knew what to do with them:
“The couple, who did not want to be identified, froze in shock. They wanted to know what they had done wrong. They said they had no idea about the law.”
Another lame excuse? Don’t they know what’s good for them?
“The woman began crying.”
What’s this? Weakness? Time to boss someone around!
“‘It’s illegal to throw snow in a city street,’ he said before handing them a $50 ticket.”
At least this is rare. Wise men know to use their power judiciously:
“This month’s blizzard has brought a flurry of tickets, 173 yesterday alone, compared with 20 issued in all of December 2009.”
173 tickets in one day? I suppose society needs to be educated about how to properly shovel snow:
“City officials said they have issued pamphlets and brochures alerting residents to stepped-up enforcement.”
At least residents appreciate their work:
“Tankle, an officer for 15 years, said that angry violators have thrown cans of soda at him…”
Well at least things haven’t gotten violent:
“…he has occasionally had to call for police backup when a ticketing turned threatening.”
At least only a trained police officer has that kind of authority:
“…he [Tankle] has never had to arrest anyone.”
He has the power to arrest? Over snow?
…
Let that all sink in. A staff of sixteen? You can shovel snow…wrong? Fines from $50 to $200? Handcuffs? Power to arrest?
Over snow?
I smell a bureaucracy that’s gone too far.
The Munchkin Wrangler did too. He concluded that they were not nice guys. I believe he used the word “blockwart” which is derived from city block level Nazi party operatives.
I disagree. Comparing them to Hitler’s machinery is so passe’. It’s my considered opinion that we have here examples of the common garden variety petty tyrant (see also: bully).
In my next post I’ll explain why petty tyrants should be met with resistance even if it’s merely a matter of deliberately being hard to boss around.
Despite the raging blizzard outside, Castle Curmudgeon is not snowed in. It’s almost snowed in.
Almost snowed in is when you could get out even as Mother Nature is hell bent on burying you. This means you’ve got equipment (a snowblower/tractor/nuclear accelerator) that can handle snow. Deep snow. You must have adequate fuel and the reasonable assumption that your machinery will start. Your vehicle must be a 4×4 (and if you’re smart you’ve got two of them!).
You also need proper clothing; a jacket which weighs sixty pounds, a hat lined with the fur of a dead animal, and boots which are suitable for use in space. Comfort and mobility are irrelevant.
I meet that criteria. I’m not stuck. If there was an emergency (such as running out of coffee) I could get out to town. I could suit up, fire up something to move the snow, and hammer the snowdrifts until I’ve carved a path to the road.
Shovels are for pussies!
Then I could unearth the 4×4 from under a drift, chain up, and white knuckle it to town where I would get hemmed in by a herd of lemmings.
When travel conditions are sub-optimal, smart people stay home.
Or…
I could sit here in front of the wood fire with a glass of whiskey and a good book.
I could get out there and shovel snow until my arms fall off. Yeah right...
The snow looks real pretty when it’s on the other side of the window. The pantry is stocked, and I don’t have to get to work for a couple days. Why not wait until the storm is over? Perhaps that makes me lazy? Under the circumstances, being a lard ass is just wise time management.
A few weeks ago I read The 75 Things Men Should Be Able To Do. (Warning! All men who read it may will suffer brain damage from the dissonance between truth and horse shit. Any woman who knows men will also find it uncomfortable.) Esquire puts the bar low and then dives under it. It’s a tragedy I have to live on the same planet with that level of weakness.
Then I read this, this and this. Plus I stumbled into Robert A. Heinlein who’s variation on the theme is a list for all mankind rather than just the larger hairier half:
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” Time Enough For Love, 1973, Robert A. Heinlein
The game is on.
I present my Abridged List Of Things A Man Should Be Able To Do:
1. Drive. Wheels are wings and men must drive to fly. Driving doesn’t mean point the lever at “D” and keep a minivan between the lines. Chimps and teenagers do that. I mean pilot the machine…well. Men use clutches. Men operate motorcycles, ATVs, tractors, delivery trucks, and forklifts. All men anywhere must always be capable of using a truck for what trucks were meant for. Men tow trailers, handle mountain passes, and maneuver through city traffic. Men can back up to to a loading dock with that ancient forgotten esoteric skill called using the mirrors. Men drive without a GPS because men can…
2. Read a map. A Boy Scout on foot with a compass is a young man in training. A hulking bodybuilder fiddling with a GPS on the dash of his minivan is… well… disturbing. Reading a map leads a man to…
3. Go outdoors without becoming a flake. A man can traverse his natural environment without paved trails, signs, or a guide. A man can and has started campfires from natural materials. A man can and has slept outside; occasionally without a tent. Men who get lost, take their bearing, get their mental shit together, and endeavor to get un-lost. Men do not call for help unless the wolves are circling and things are very grim. Luckily men rarely get that desperate because they …
4. Are equipped. A man can and has equipped himself for his particular environment; whether that be desert, tundra, or anything in between. I don’t care if you live in a condo in Manhattan…if all you’ve got on your feet are little sneakers to mince around shoveled walks then you’re just a foppish weakling. Speaking of shoveled walks…
5. Men shovel. Dirt, shit, snow. Doesn’t matter. They do it. Why? Because it has to be done. Men do not count on someone else to do their dirty work. This extends to all forms of…
6. Work. Men earn their keep. No man is a net loss to society. Children, college students, pets, and politicians can live fat and largely irrelevant lives because men are out there keeping turnip farms and steel mills functioning. “Work” and “job” are related but not identical. External forces may eliminate your “job” but only you can stop “working”. A man who is temporarily unemployed should be fixing the roof and stacking firewood. If the condition of unemployment stays too long you’re overvaluing yourself. Step back and realize your true value; somewhere there is a ditch that needs digging and you were a shitty banker anyway. Men understand that sometimes civilization gets more benefit from a drainage ditch than a symphony. It is through hard (and intelligent) work that men endeavor to…
7. Keep civilization running. This is a big one. When things break, men fix them. If you reach for the cell phone before you reach for the screwdriver you’re not a man. If a man’s car won’t start he is required by all that is good and holy to look under the hood. Fixing things is not about stuff…it is about maintaining civilization. Sadly, things are merely half of the equation and the other half is a man’s responsibility to…
8. Keep assholes in check. The world has no shortage of assholes. This has led to war, misery, and degradation. Men want to enjoy freedom and prosperity for themselves and their loved ones. Therefore a man will always try to protect his people. Whoops! Does that make me sound like a knuckle dragging non-PC redneck? Too bad, it’s true. Men do not always succeed; whether evil arrives in the form of Stalin or a carjacker sometimes bad guys win. But the blessings of the world are moot if we’re at the mercy of assholes and men know that. I don’t care if you’re a wispy vegan gymnast or a behemoth cage match fighter, if you are a man you hold within you the responsibility to judiciously apply force if it’s necessary and the wisdom to know when that time has arrived. Few men will ever need to use that ability. That’s the point. They do not need to use it because it is known to be there. Men, especially those who understand the gravity of what I’m saying, do not take their responsibility lightly. Speaking of heavy responsibilities, a man may have to…
9. Raise a child. This is not required. A man may wisely determine that kids are useless snot nosed expenses and buy a bass boat instead. However, once the deal is done and another soul is on this earth, he makes darned sure that his kid isn’t going to be tomorrow’s feral loser. It is not enough to pass on his genes and skip town. Dogs can do that. Children incur obligation. Which relates to the bliss and confusion when a man must…
10. Be a husband. Again this is not required. However once a man gets married he does his best. How does he do this? Damned if I know. I’ve been married forever and have no clue how marriage works. In this I’m absolutely not cutting any slack based on strict legal or religious definition of “married”. If you’ve got an extra toothbrush in the bathroom and it’aint yours you’ve got a job to do. A gay man in a committed long term relationship may be an admirable “husband”. A straight guy with a string of ex-wives and a history of train wreck relationships is just a childish horndog who is out of his league and should stay aloof lest he cause more pain. Which brings me to a the ability to…
11. Be alone. A man can stand his own company. Humans spend far too much time congregating in groups and chatting loudly about minor transient issues. This is nothing special. Geese do it. A man can and does periodically spend time with his own thoughts. A man is not frightened by silence.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
John Dryden: 1631-1700
“Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde”
Beware of the anger of a patient man.
D. H. Lawrence: 1885-1930
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
Czeslaw Milosz: 1911-2004
In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.
