The English language is an ever-changing, malleable tapestry. It's always changing and growing. Words that never existed even ten years ago are now mainstream words that we use without hesitation. Words that existed three hundred years ago don't mean what they once did, or we stopped using them altogether.
Even the rules and styles we desperately cling to like a life raft, as our language roils and churns beneath us, change on a whim.
As a writer, I'm constantly studying language and its changes that have developed over the last nearly 30 years, since I was in high school. I've learned that we hold on to our favorite rules with a manic fever.
"You can have my Oxford comma when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers."
It's funny to watch people sputter in anger when you tell them a word's meaning has changed, or that a rule we learned in seventh grade English was never right in the first place. You wouldn't believe how mad people get when you tell them "it's okay to end your sentences with a preposition."
I love throwing one of those little language tidbits out there and sitting back to watch people's reaction. Last year, I posted on Facebook that the Associated Press said they were no longer going to prevent their reporters from starting sentences with "hopefully." The level of stubborn anger from people who said they weren't going to allow some dumb international news organization to tell them what to do was hilarious.
I pointed out more than once that "this doesn't mean you have to, it means the AP is not going to admonish their reporters over it," but these people would have none of it.
And I've caused more than one gasp in a room when I'm giving a talk and I say "you can end your sentences with a preposition." The rule was created by a Latin scholar in the 1700s who tried to impose Latin rules on a language that didn't follow those same rules. It has long been accepted by even the most die-hard grammar snobs that saying things like "in what did you step?" is the height of foppish pretension, and they all agree that this never should have been taught in the first place. But that doesn't stop the grammar bullies from reciting their 7th grade English lessons about sentences and prepositions.
Of course, I don't have room to talk. I still get agitated when someone says "she brought the drinks to Steve and I" instead of "Steve and me." But despite my loudest shouts of "Steve and me. It's Steve and ME!" at the TV news (some of the biggest offenders of this rule), some dictionaries and style guides are starting to recognize that the "and I" is Common Usage, and they're no longer loudly correcting people about it.
(Not me. I'm going to keep shouting at the TV as long as I can.)
Common Usage is that Get Out of Jail Free card when you're faced with angry grammar bullies who feel the need to correct any and all grammar "errors" even though they 1) haven't kept up with grammar changes since 7th grade, and 2) often confuse style choices with grammar rules.
This is actually something I deal with on a regular basis. I hear from would-be editors who feel the need to "correct" my work, and tell me when I've made grammar errors.
"You can't start your sentences with 'and,'" they say.
"Actually, you can. It's an acceptable method in certain types of writing. Besides, it's a style choice, not an actual hard and fast grammar rule."
"Nuh-uh," they say. "I remember when my mom gave my sister and I —" GAAAH! "— a book on grammar rules, and it said you can't do that."
I follow novelist Elmore Leonard's admonition to the grammar bullies about how they need to keep their booger-encrusted fingers off his writing. He said, "If proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can’t allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative."
And that has been my excuse for the last 25 years. Language is forever growing and changing, from new words to new rules to new styles. As a writer, I need to keep up with it, and just go with the flow. I can't cling to old myths that should have never become rules in the first place.
Hopefully one day some young writer will respond to a grammar bully one day by saying, "I happen to follow Erik Deckers' rules of writing. . ."
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself
(affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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I've been a social media user and professional for the last several years, have made many observations over the years, and seen many trends come and go. Based on my experiences, plus pulling out my hair over the things that just make me nuts about Facebook and Twitter, I've come up with these social media commandments.
1. Thou shalt not act all "healthier than thou" and post pictures of healthy food you're eating, or try to make us think that it's totally enjoyable. We all know that people who have switched to soy bacon from real bacon die a little with every piece they eat. So a status update that says "Totally loving my soy bacon. Nom nom nom!" is a lie, and an abomination in our eyes. So is the soy bacon. Also, don't say "nom nom nom" unless you're Cookie Monster.
Sub-Commandment 1a. If you have to tell people that your healthier substitute food is "just as good" as the original food, that's code for "I cry myself to sleep at night." I once saw someone post a photo of a watermelon "cake" — a large round piece of watermelon adorned with several kinds of fruit — with the caption, "Who needs cake?" My response: Everyone who isn't tricked into thinking that fruit is just as good as chocolate cake.
2. Thou shalt not post pictures of food in general. Chances are, I'm sitting in my office eating a Lonely Entrepreneurs Frozen Microwave Meal and feeling sorry for myself while you're posting photos of your double cheeseburger with a fried egg.
3. Thou shalt posting things other than motivational tweets to Twitter and Facebook all the time. They are boring and repetitive, and sometimes you contradict yourself from day to day. If they really worked, you would be so successful and busy, you wouldn't have time to post them, let alone use social media.
4. Thou shalt stop posting angry political rants from either side of the political spectrum. Chances are they came from a not-very-accurate source to begin with, but when you post nothing but that, it gets tiresome. Complex political viewpoints cannot and should not be summarized in a seven-word caption on a photo of an angry cat or Willie Wonka. I'd rather see photos of your health food.
5. Thou shalt check Snopes.com before you post anything about the government trying to take things from people, that they stopped putting In God We Trust on money, or that they're trying to sell Alabama to Mexico. (Seriously though, do you think they'd give us a good price for Alabama? I'm just asking for a friend.)
6. Thou shalt stop using photos of your children, or you as a child, or your pet in your avatar. I have no idea what you look like. I am pretty sure you're not a cute kitten, since they don't have thumbs, and cannot work a mobile phone. Also, thou shalt not use a photo of you at the beach at sunset, with the sun at your back, from 200 feet away. For all I know, that's a stick in the sand.
7. Thou shalt refrain from posting your Twitter conversations directly to Facebook. No one wants to see half of a conversation, such as you making lunch plans with your friends.
"Hey @edeckers, do you want to go to lunch today?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"No, I had that yesterday."
"That sounds good. What time do you want to meet?"
"Cool, see you then. #SoExcited!"
8. Thou shalt stop posting "selfies" of you making "duck lips" in the mirror. Selfies are photos of yourself. Duck lips are when you, well, make duck lips. If you do take a photo of yourself, please make eye contact with your reflection, rather than looking at your phone.
9. Thou shalt stop posting your exercise updates every morning at 6 am. I don't post updates of how long I'm sitting at my desk or on my couch. Mostly because they make me feel guilty and like I'm going to die at my desk one day, facedown in a Lonely Entrepreneur Frozen Salisbury Steak.
10. Thou shalt not post vague messages to people you don't address by name, like "I wish people who say they love you would quit stabbing you in the back and talking about you to their friends. Unfriending me and hoping I won't notice is the final straw." Everyone who sees it has no idea who you're talking to, and the person you're addressing won't see it in the first place.
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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It was a stereotype in movies and TV when I was growing up: new fathers showed up at the hospital with a tiny baseball glove for their day-old sons, secretly hoping they could play catch out in the hall before they all went home.
Even today, dads still want to play catch with their sons and daughters in the backyard before dinner. They sit in front of the TV with their young children and introduce them to baseball. They haul the entire family to the ballpark, to impart their love of the game, and instill the loyalty of their favorite team.
They buy tiny baby baseball hats and tiny baby baseball jerseys, and the kid grows up loving their dad's team, before they ever really have a chance to exercise their own decision making skills.
As Roger Angell said in his essay, "Three for the Tigers," everything dads do in their lives, they do so their sons will go to ball games with them.
So what do you do if it's mom who loves baseball?
And mom and dad love different teams?
From the same city?
Parents of mixed baseball loyalty in cities like New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles — assuming The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim are really from Los Angeles, and not, you know, Anaheim.
Parents of mixed-team marriages face a lot of uphill battles when their loyalties are divided. Either the couples become loud and obnoxious every summer, or an awkward silence settles over the dinner table at game time, especially when both teams are playing at night.
It's worse during interleague games, when the two teams face off against each other. Oftentimes, bragging rights for the household are on the line.
My brother and his wife face this struggle in Chicago as they raise their 1-year-old daughter. He grew up a rabid White Sox fan, while his wife and her family are lifelong Cubs supporters. I can tell you, there were some loud and serious discussions when she first informed her family of who she intended to marry.
(Not really, but I like to imagine there were.)
"How can you do this to us?" they hissed. "He's a. . . White Sox? White Sock? White Sox? What's the singular of Sox? Forget it. He's a damn Southsider! How could you bring that guy into our house?! He's a Veeck-head! Freaking Bill Veeck and his damn rent-a-players!"
"But I love him? We can get past that. We'll make it because we love each other more than baseball!"
"Love? You don't just marry a man for love. You have to know he's dependable. You have to know he'll be a good father to your kids. How are you going to raise the kids, when one follows the true Chicago team, and the other one is a. . . damn Sox? (Sock? Sox? Still doesn't sound right.)"
"We'll let them cheer for both teams, and when they're old enough, they can decide for themselves."
"Let them decide? Oh, that's rich! You can't let them decide. Raise a child up in the way of Ryno Sandberg; even when he is old, he will not depart from it."
"I don't see why we can't teach our children to respect both teams, and love both teams."
"Because there is only one true baseball team! All the others are fakes. As my father used to say, as for me and my family, we will watch the Cubs."
"I can't believe you're being so close-minded about this. I'm going to marry him, and if you keep pushing me like this, I may even become a White Sox fan myself!"
"You wouldn't!"
"I'm an adult! I can cheer for whoever I want!"
"I'm only glad your grandfather's not alive to hear you talk like that."
Meanwhile, on my brother's side, everything was pretty cool. The family was more liberal and open-minded, and even though his father had tried to teach him in the way of the Cincinnati Reds, my brother chose his own path to the White Sox when they all moved to Illinois.
And now their daughter is being taught to respect and love both teams. She has tiny baby caps from both teams, tiny baby jerseys from both teams, although my brother watches more White Sox games on TV with her.
Of course, she also has an uncle whose undying love for the Cincinnati Reds may cause some complications as she grows older.
"Johnny Bench, defend us in the playoffs; be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the St. Louis Cardinals."
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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Erik is out of the office this week, so we are reprinting an article from 2003. While Microsoft USA originally denied the story, it was later revealed to be completely true. Coincidentally, this column helped him discover a plagiarist at a newspaper in Ontario, Canada.
Bringing new meaning to the slogan "Where would you like to go today?" Microsoft announced their plans to make toilets with web access.
I swear I am not making this up.
The new web-enabled toilet — called the iLoo — is being developed by the MSN division of Microsoft in Britain, where a toilet is called a "loo." The iLoo would be stationed in public toilets at British summer festivals, making its first appearance at the Glastonbury Festival in June.
And while some people may appreciate the seamless integration between technology and basic bodily functions, others aren't so wild about it.
"iPoo on iLoo" said one computer weblog.
The iLoo will have a wireless keyboard and height-adjustable plasma screen in front of the seat so iLoo users can sit and surf at the same time.
Will iLoo users be called iLosers?
There will also be a Hotmail (MSN's email service) station, complete with waterproof keyboard and plasma screen on the outside for those waiting in line.
There was no word whether the keyboard inside the iLoo would be waterproof.
MSN UK spokesman Matthew Whittingham called it the first "WWWC" referring to the European term for toilet: WC, or water closet.
MSN UK's marketing manager Tracy Blacher said, "People used to reach for a book or mag when they were on the loo, but now they'll be logging on."
Aside from Blacher's gaffe in mentioning "logging on" when referring to an Internet-based toilet, Microsoft may be taking the whole Internet thing a little too far.
"The Internet's so much a part of everyday life now that surfing on the loo was the next natural step," Blacher told reporters.
No, the next natural step is to surf the Internet in the car, in a phone booth, or through a cerebral implant lodged firmly in my brain, NOT in the toilet.
I can only imagine the planning meetings. Several sleep-deprived MSN executives were sitting around a conference table, trying desperately to come up with a new idea, and discarding the outrageous or impossible ones, like creating an operating system that doesn't freeze up or crash every 30 minutes.
Finally, one young executive, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, leaps to his feet and shouts "I know! Let's take a computer and stick it in — are you ready for this? — a PORT-A-POTTY!!"
Sounds great on paper, but I don't think Microsoft has considered all the drawbacks.
For instance, I'm one of those people who absolutely must wash their hands before leaving a bathroom, and I cringe whenever I see someone leave a public restroom without washing first. So I absolutely refuse to open the door without using a paper towel.
Problem #1 with the iLoo? Hygiene and cleanliness. Unless the iLoo keyboard comes with those disposable plastic covers, I'm not touching a keyboard that hundreds of other users touched after they. . . you know. Call me crazy, but I don't want to use the same computer other iLosers with poor personal hygiene and poor aim have had their germ-infested hands on.
MSN officials say they're also trying to get toilet paper imprinted with web addresses for users to visit. This is Problem #2, and it's a two-ply.
First, no self-respecting company should pay to advertise on toilet paper. They should be worried that iLosers will instead use their ads to make their feelings known about the company. So, if Microsoft is hoping to generate revenue from the iWipe (my term), they'd better not hold their breath. Although since the iLoo will be in a public Port-A-Potty, maybe they should.
Second, if they do get advertisers, it will probably be companies who pay to put their competitor's logos on the toilet paper, relying on the implied message of using that company for bathroom hygiene. If I were a politician, I'd gladly pay to put my opponent's face on a few thousand rolls of toilet paper.
While I applaud MSN UK's innovation and attempts to integrate the Internet more fully into our lives, they may be going too far. I'd rather see computer screens on a refrigerator, useful for finding recipes, or maintaining shopping lists. Web-enabled televisions, with the computer processor built right in would be a big seller. Even installing the Internet and a GPS finder in a car is a great idea, as it would make getting lost nearly impossible. But putting the Internet in a bathroom is crossing the line.
After all, it's the one place where we should all be unplugged.
(Note: I would like to take a minute and recognize the complete luck at my prediction in that next-to-last paragraph — the Internet and GPS finder in a car. You can do this to some degree with GPS and Internet radio, but the new Google driverless car is a few years from being commercially available.)
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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Fellow humor writer Jenny Isenman recently offered her list of 40 things every mom needs to know by the time she's 40.
That got me to thinking about all the things that dads need to know, do, or have by the time they're 40. So here's my list, gleaned on my last 16 years of being a dad, and 45 years of being a son. But there are only 27 items, because Guys are simple and don't require as much stuff. Plus, I tend to ramble, and didn't have the space to get 40 items.
By 40-ish, dads should know, do, or have:
1. Three hammers. If you build stuff, you know that one hammer is not enough. If you live in a condo or apartment, then two hammers is acceptable.
2. A socket wrench set. You should also have a spark plug socket, even if you can't find the spark plugs in your car.
3. You should know how to find the spark plugs in your car.
4. Build something, whether it's a spice rack, a workbench, or an entire house.
5. Teach your kids to build something.
6. Teach your kids basic first aid, because you've never actually built anything before.
7.. Play catch with your kids, sons or daughters.
8. Take your kids to a baseball game.
9. Take your kids to another sporting event. It can be any sport you want, but every dad should still take his kids to a baseball game.
10. Instill in your child at a very early age the love of your favorite sports team. There is nothing wrong with making your child think you will love them less if they cheer for a division rival. (Note: Actually, that is very wrong. Please don't do that.)
11. Don't cringe when people call you "sir." They've been calling you that since you were 30.
12. Build a bookshelf. Bonus points if they're evenly spaced and level.
13. Fire a gun. You don't have to be a hunter, but you have to have pointed a firearm at something and pulled the trigger. Even if you're opposed to guns, go to a firing rang and squeeze off a few rounds, so you at least know what you're opposed to.
14. Go fishing. Bonus points if you actually catch something. More bonus points if you filet it and cook it.
15. Go camping. In a tent. Not an RV. Despite what the commercials say, sleeping in a hotel room on wheels is not camping.
16. An autographed piece of sporting paraphernalia. Whether it's a baseball, football, basketball, or any other piece of sporting gear, it needs to have a celebrity's autograph. And encased in one of those plastic boxes.
17. You should have a miter saw. (You don't actually need one, I do. My birthday is coming up, and I'm hoping my family will read this and get the hint.)
18. Driven at least one 1,000 mile car trip.
19. Threatened to turn the car around if the kids did not behave, or promised that there will be trouble if you have to stop the car.
20. Stood next to your child's room and hollered for him or her to come shut off their bedroom light.
21. Grilled steak or hamburgers on your grill. Chicken doesn't count. Veggie burgers definitely don't count.
22. Fretted about the thermostat setting. Declared that no one but you was allowed to touch it.
23. Told your kids or wife to "shut the door, we're not heating/cooling the outside."
24. Sat through interminable Disney movie after interminable Disney movie.
25. Cried at every Disney movie. Throw your back out trying to turn away so no one sees you.
26. Gotten a sports injury playing a sport you had no business playing at an age you had no business playing.
27. Have a tattoo. (Note: this is not actually necessary for every dad to have. I just want to get one, but my wife won't let me.)
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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Pittsburgh high school senior, Suzy Weiss, is bitter — BITTER! — at America's Ivy League schools because she didn't get admitted to her dream college. So she ranted at all colleges in the country in a Wall Street Journal op-ed piece.
"For years," she wrote, "we were lied to. Colleges tell you, 'Just be yourself.' That is great advice, as long as yourself has nine extracurriculars, six leadership positions, three varsity sports, killer SAT scores and two moms."
So now Weiss, who was "herself" by not participating in any extracurricular activities, not organizing any charitable events, and not doing any sports, is blaming everyone else but herself for not being the kind of person an Ivy League school wants in their student body.
"I've never sat down at a piano, never plucked a violin. Karate lasted about a week and the swim team didn't last past the first lap," she wrote. "I should have done what I knew was best — go to Africa, scoop up some suffering child, take a few pictures, and write my essays about how spending that afternoon with Kinto changed my life."
That's quitter talk: I should've. I never. I didn't. I quit after a week. I quit during the first lap.
If that's "being yourself," it's no wonder the schools didn't want her. Herself is a quitter. If you can't manage karate class for a year, and can't even swim one lap on the swim team, just how quickly are you going to fold on the first day of classes? Why go to all the trouble of bringing you into a situation that's actually important, when you can't even stick around for the little things?
It's the way you act toward the little things, in the little situations, that tell people how you're going to react when it's important.
If Weiss wants to know why her schools didn't want her, she only has to look as far as her newspaper editorial: I never, I quit, I should've.
How about "I never should've quit?"
No one likes a quitter. I'm fine with losers, I just can't stand quitters. They're sad, depressing, and never have the ability to stay with anything long enough to see if they like it. And you can't count on them to be there when you need them.
I don't mean people who quit something after trying something for years and years, and finally give up because all the fight's gone out of them. I mean the people who try something for five minutes, whine "this is too hard," and then go home.
At least with a loser, they're out there trying. I can respect a loser. I can get behind their efforts. Even the people who lose and lose and lose, year after year after year — looking at YOU, Chicago Cubs! — get respect from those of us who appreciate their determination. When the Indianapolis Colts were 3–13 in 1998, Peyton Manning's first year, they didn't quit. They fought and played in every game.
"Well, at least we were ourselves," was not their rallying cry. They didn't blame the coaches for not making them lift weights. They didn't whine that "wind sprints didn't last past the first 10 yards." They worked hard at their jobs, even when they weren't very good. And the following year, they were 13–3.
In the 2012 Olympics, U.S. BMX racer Alise Post flew over her handlebars during a race, and planted her face into one of the small hills. Dazed, she tried to stagger across the finish line, fighting off the two Olympic officials who tried to help her off the track, until one of them put his arm around her waist, and walked her across the finish line. That's not quitting. That's gutting it out to the bitter end.
When someone like Suzy Weiss is given all the opportunities in the world — well-to-do parents, a good high school, plenty of extracurricular activities — and squanders it all to "be herself," she doesn't have a right to be bitter at the universities who rejected her. She needs to look in the mirror at the one person who is responsible for her complete and utter failure, the one person who kept her from pursuing her dream, the one person who couldn't even stick out karate classes for a single week.
Instead, Weiss topped off her rant with this little gem, "To those of you disgusted by this, shocked that I take for granted the wonderful gifts I have been afforded, I say shhhh—'The Real Housewives' is on."
A TV show where a bunch of whiny do-nothings who have opportunities handed to them by someone else and then complain about how hard life is?
Sounds about right.
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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"I just don't get it, Kid," said Karl. "How the hell do you take Easter out of an Easter egg hunt?"
Are we still talking about that thing in Seattle? I said.
"Yeah, $#@&! Seattle," growled Karl. "The blasted parks and rec department wants to be inclusive of everyone and so they take out the word Easter from their Easter egg hunt, and think that magically makes everything all better."
We were sitting in First Editions, our favorite literary-themed bar, watching a friend read from her novel-in-progress about Dizzy Gillespie's wife, Lorraine Willis Gillespie.
Well, you have to admit, having a Christian-only holiday celebration does leave out other people who might want to participate, I said.
"So let 'em participate. No one's stopping them." Karl plonked his beer mug on the bar. Our friend looked up, startled at the noise, but continued reading. She had gotten to the part where Dizzy had tried to cut Cab Calloway with a switchblade during a fight, and the audience was riveted.
We had actually been drifting in and out of this conversation for the past 30 minutes, and this was our third time around. The city of Edmonds, Washington, which is near Seattle, had removed the word "Easter" from their Easter egg hunt, and now just had an "egg hunt." In fact, they had been doing it for the past 13 years, but it was only this month that a bunch of people had gotten their robes in a twist about it.
Wouldn't you feel funny if you wanted to go to an event for Ramadan or Chanukah, and weren't of that faith? I asked. Wouldn't you feel out of place at a pancake breakfast fundraiser at a Jewish temple?
"Ah, but you forget, Kid. My first wife was Jewish, and so I've been to Chanukah and Yom Kippur and Passover," said Karl. "And I've fasted with friends on Ramadan. Did I feel funny? Maybe a little, but I still did it, because I wanted to support my friends and family, and understand their cultures a little better."
Yeah, yeah, nobody's as open-minded as you. But given that Easter is a Christian holiday, don't you think people from other faiths will assume that Easter isn't for them?
"Possibly. So why can't they just explain it in the title? Call it the 'Easter Egg Hunt for Everyone of All Faiths.'"
Or just call it 'Egg Hunt.'
"But who the hell hunts eggs for fun?"
Foxes?
"Be serious, Kid. We're talking about the dismantling of tradition and history. What's next, taking the 'thanks' out of Thanksgiving so we can appease the chronically ungrateful?" Karl waved down Kurt the bartender. "Kurt, a couple more Cole's porters, please."
What the hell do you care anyway? I said. You're agnostic.
"Well. . ." Karl paused and took a drink. I could hear the gears grinding as he thought about his answer. He finally sighed and set his beer down.
"If I had to be honest with myself, I'm being nostalgic. I remember when I was a little kid, about five or six, in Lansing, Michigan, and the city had an Easter egg hunt. I always got a little wicker basket stuffed with fake grass and lots of candy. And I loved hunting for eggs. My parents watched from the sides and I got to have a little adventure in the park."
So your resistance is really less about religion and more about you just miss being a little boy?
"Shut up, Kid." Karl turned away and tried not to be obvious about swiping at the corner of his eye. He turned back.
"Look, Easter is Easter, Christmas is Christmas. It's a fun, magical time for little kids, and I think we're sucking the magic out of it when a bunch of wooly-headed bureaucrats start telling everyone how to feel and what to believe.
"No one makes Muslims stop fasting on Ramadan, and no one makes the Jews call the Menorah 'holiday candles.' These are traditional religious practices that other people continue to follow without worrying about being forced to change to be inclusive. I think we should just show the same respect to all religions."
Yes, but the Easter egg originated in pagan times. It was a symbol of fertility and rebirth, and the Easter bunny was adopted as an additional symbol because of how quickly rabbits reproduce. It's not like Jesus had anything to do with the eggs. In fact, the Christians co-opted the symbolism of the eggs into the celebration just so they could convert the pagans.
"So they weren't originally part of the Easter celebration?"
Not in the least, Karl.
"Well. . ." he thought for a minute. "I guess that's okay. At least jelly beans are still an official part of Easter."
Yeah, about that. . .?
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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Erik has been sick this week, so we are reprinting a column from 2001, which only seems like a few years ago.
Parents, educators, and humor writers across the country were shocked and amazed several years ago when we discovered that American high school students were seriously deficient in simple geography. That's when the now-famous statistic "one in four high school students can't identify Canada on a map" was bandied about like a ping-pong ball in a wind tunnel.
Now we're pretending to be shocked — but we're not really that surprised — by news out of Norfolk, Virginia that American teenagers are equally as bad at simple American history.
Colonial Williamsburg, a living history community dedicated to educating people about life in America in the 1700s, polled 1,020 US teenagers between the ages of 12 and 17 on basic fourth-grade level history questions.
What they found may shock you. But then again, if you have a teenager between the ages of 12 and 17, it probably won't
Answer this simple question: Who was the first president of the United States?
If you said George Washington, you were right, as were 90% of the teenagers surveyed. Sure, 90% is pretty good, but that also means that one out of 10 teenagers didn't know that George W. (no, the other George W.) was the father of our country.
How about this one? What country did America win its independence from?
Twenty-two percent didn't know it was England, fourteen percent of them thought it was France, and one percent thought it was Canada.
"When you look at these numbers, it means that more than five million U.S. teenagers don't understand the true meaning of Independence Day," Colin Campbell, president and chairman of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation said in an online press release. "In fact, one in eight teens thought Independence Day involves a large rabbit who hides colored eggs."
Okay, he really didn't say that. But you believed me for a second.
If you didn't know we won our independence from England either, don't feel too bad. To decorate for Independence Day, a church in my community has hung a picture of Abraham Lincoln, our 16th president. He was elected 84 years after we declared our independence.
Here's an easy one for you. Who fought in the Civil War? The North and South, the East and West, the US and Canada, or the US and Great Britain?
Believe it or not, 13 percent of the respondents thought it was the US and Great Britain, five percent thought it was the East and West, and two percent thought it was the US and Canada. (Hey, we had to win our independence from them somehow.)
So were you one of the nearly one in seven who guessed the US and Great Britain? Don't feel too bad. When I took the quiz on the Colonial Williamsburg website, I discovered they had inadvertently highlighted that answer as the correct one.
When I called and pointed the error out to Tim Andrews, the Director of Public Relations at Colonial Williamsburg, he said he appreciated the irony, but that the mistake was quickly caught and corrected. And since he's not around to disagree with me, I'm taking full credit for pointing it out.
Andrews, who works in the back office, doesn't get to wear any of the traditional costumes the rest of the CWF staff wears. Which I suppose is for the best, since Public Relations Directors were usually burned at the stake as witches in this country until 1987. When I, secretly posing as a serious journalist, asked him if the CWF had any recommendations to President George W. Bush for teaching history, he said the CWF encourages ". . . more hands-on history educating and continue strong funding for teachers and educators."
Speaking of President Bush, he actually fared pretty well in the quiz. 96% of the teens knew that he was president. Two percent thought it was Al Gore, two thought it was Bill Clinton.
So how did you do on the quiz? If you have more than a passing awareness of American history, you scored at least 90 percent. So hold your head high this holiday weekend, place your hand on your heart, and sing our national anthem, the "Star Spangled Banner," with pride because you know that Francis Scott Key wrote it, while 31 percent of the teenagers didn't.
They think it was Britney Spears.
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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In all my years of writing about school administrators who suspend students for the dumbest reasons known to man — a teenager holding an ibuprofen; making a gun with a finger and thumb; or, having a replica baseball bat in a car — this case may actually take the cake.
Last month, an unnamed 16-year-old Cypress Lake High student in Fort Myers, Florida was involved in an altercation on the bus when student Quadryle Davis pointed a loaded revolver at another student and threatened to shoot him. Our 16-year-old wrestled Davis to the floor and took the gun away from him. The kid believed Davis was going to shoot the other student, so he jumped on Davis, saving the other boy's life.
And got suspended for it.
In fact, there were three students who tackled Davis and they were all suspended.
According to a story on TheBlaze.com, the student's referral slip said he received an "emergency suspension" because he was involved with an "incident with a weapon." That's because, according to a statement by Lee County School District spokesman Alberto Rodriguez, "If there is a potentially dangerous situation, Florida law allows the principal to suspend a student immediately pending a hearing."
Allows, Alberto. Allows.
That means a principal may choose to suspend a student. He or she is not required to suspend them. This isn't Olympic figure skating.
Rather than err on the side of common sense, the school administration, led by principal Tracy Perkins, chose to make what may be the most boneheaded decision of the school year.
Zero Tolerance is a fungal growth on the brains of many school administrators, causing them to refuse to exercise any discretion or consider any mitigating circumstances, like "he saved someone's life." In this case, they suspended the unnamed student because he didn't sit idly by to see what might happen. According to some people, he may have saved several lives with his actions.
But that's not how Cypress Lake High administrators see it. He stepped in, that made him "involved," and so now he was punished. Like the scene in The Incredibles where Bob "Mr. Incredible" Parr's boss refused to let him leave the office to stop a mugging.
By this logic, the victim should have also been suspended, since he was "involved" as well.
It gets worse. According to a story on WTFX Fox 4, the teenage hero was interrogated for four hours against his will by school officials and the Lee County Sheriff's office.
"He was consistently denied access to his mother or to an attorney," said Jeffrey Nadel, president of the National Youth Rights Association.
Based on my own in-depth understanding of the law, gleaned from hours and hours of watching Law and Order, the police are not allowed to question minors without a parent present, and they definitely aren't allowed to question anyone once a lawyer has been requested.
Nadel is fighting to have the suspension expunged from the kid's record, and he's considering a lawsuit against the school district to get it done.
"He should not have a suspension on his record for his heroism," Nadel told WTFX. "If the district signals to us clearly that they are unwilling to do the right thing, then a lawsuit is definitely in the cards."
Nadel says if they file a lawsuit on the student's behalf, it would only be to cover attorney fees and force the district to remove the suspension from his permanent record.
Personally, I think they need to go one step further, sue the bejeezus out of the Lee County School District, and get his college education paid for. Hopefully he can go somewhere far away from — and smarter than — Lee County.
Meanwhile, according to TheBlaze.com, the alleged gunman was only charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon "without intent to kill." They reported that the sheriff's office said the gunman's charges are "based on our findings at this time."
In other words, he told us he wasn't really going to do it, so we're going to lighten the charges. But the kid who didn't feel like waiting around to see was subjected to four hours of illegal questioning.
If Cypress Lake wants to suspend someone, they need to suspend or even fire the administrator who said, "You know, we need to take a strong stand against being involved in incidents involving a weapon. Let's suspend the kids who saved the other boy's life."
That may end up being the smartest decision they'll make all year.
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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My family doesn't like brown bananas. They prefer the bright yellow ones with a slight greenish tinge. The kind where they're still bitter because they're not yet ripe.
I'm the only one who likes brown bananas. Not icky brown, when they're completely mushy, but when they start getting their spots. Like a leopard.
"Bananas are not like leopards," said my son. At age ten, he usually believes everything I tell him, but he wasn't buying this one.
"Sure they are," I said. "Bananas are like leopards. When they're born, they don't have any spots. They're smooth and brown, kind of orange. But as they get older — and this all happens within a few hours after they're first exposed to sunlight — their spots begin to emerge."
"Daddy, I don't think that's how leopards work."
"Sure it is. They kind of work like fawns, only in reverse. When a fawn is born, they have spots."
"What's a fawn?"
"A baby deer."
"You mean like Bambi?"
"Yes, like Bambi. And leopards are like that, but only in reverse. When a deer is first born, it has spots. But because their fur is so short, you can see the spots on their skin, and it gets on their fur. As the fawn grows bigger, their fur grows longer, their mothers get shot by hunters, and they finally grow out of their their spots. But leopards work the opposite way — as they grow, they reach their spots, and those appear on their fur."
"But that's not what they said on the Discovery Channel," said my son.
"What does the Discovery Channel know?"
"A lot. They're a TV channel. You have to know a lot to have a TV channel."
"That's not true. To have a TV channel, a group of greedy investors come up with a way to get advertisers to give them a lot of money. Since no one will just pay to put commercials on a station that shows nothing but commercials, they need to put something interesting on. So, someone made a TV station for sports, and someone made a TV station for food, and then someone else made a TV station for cultural and artistic programs. And then those people decided there was more money to be made in programs where people wallow in their own filth and misery, and they took the culture and art away."
"What are you talking about?"
"Bananas. Now pay attention."
"What do TV stations have to do with bananas?"
"A lot. You know that food channel I mentioned?"
"Yeah."
"Well, bananas are food. Now let me finish. The station owners come up with some terrible programming they think a lot of people will watch. If a lot of people watch, they can sell air time for a lot of money so advertisers can reach people who like terrible TV shows. And the dumber the shows, the more people will watch, which means they can charge more for ads. And that's what it takes to have a TV station."
"But what does all that mean?"
"It means you can't believe everything you've seen on TV. Which means all that BS you heard about bananas from the Discovery Channel—"
"Leopards."
"What?"
"Leopards. I learned about leopards on the Discovery Channel."
"Well, I'm talking about the Food Network and bananas. You see, bananas turn brown, because they're reaching full maturity. When a banana starts getting brown and spotty, that's when it reaches its peak, because it tastes more like a banana than any other time in its life."
"But why?"
"Because all the true essence of the banana flavor is in the skin. And when it has a chance to sit, it soaks into the banana, filling it with flavor, sort of like how you let a wine age. When a wine ages, it pulls all of its flavor from the oak barrel and all the different fruits they put in the wine barrels."
"Fruit like bananas?"
"Absolutely. A lot of wine is made with bananas. Anyway, as the flavor runs out of the skin, it gets empty in that spot, and the skin turns brown."
"Really?"
"You bet. So when the banana turns a really spotty brown, like freckles—"
"Or a leopard?" asked my son.
"Yes, like a leopard — then that means the flavor has run out and it's ready to eat."
"Are you serious?"
"Hand to God, son. Hand to God."
My wife, who had been reading on the couch, finally spoke up.
"If you don't know how something works, just say so," she said. "This is why I don't let you do home school with the kids."
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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"Kid, I don't think I can take it any more," said Karl, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair.
But we were having a good time, and now you're tired of it?
"No, not you, this," he said, waving an arm at the room.
What, you mean First Edition? Was Kurt watering down the rum again? We were sitting in the literary themed bar for Manly Mojito Night, celebrating Papa Hemingway's favorite drink, and lying to each other about our current book projects.
Karl shot me a look that somehow incorporated a middle finger without him ever raising a hand. "No, Indiana. I'm just so damn. . . tired. This place is depressing."
But you're one of Indiana's biggest supporters. You talk constantly about state trivia, you sent your kids to IU, and you've named your last three dogs 'Hoosier.'
"I know, Kid, I know. But I've been here for 64 years, and I'm getting tired of the cold, gray winters."
What brought all this on? I asked. Karl pulled a newspaper out of his coat pocket and whacked it on the bar.
"Here."
I read the headline out loud: 'Indiana Second Most Depressing State.' I yelled a word that rhymed with bull spit. Kurt the bartender cast a worried glance at me, and I signaled for two more mojitos. I skimmed through the article, while Karl continued.
"It says we're the second most depressing state in the country. Health Magazine compiled different health and mental health statistics, as well as economic factors, and found that we were second only to Arkansas."
What could be depressing about Indiana? I love this place. We've got great summers, gorgeous falls, and character-building winters. We've got every sport you could ever want, including the biggest auto race in the world. And we've got a literary and arts tradition that dates back to our earliest days. We're even going to turn 200 in three years. What more could you possibly want?
Karl stared at me for a few seconds, not saying a word. "I don't know, Kid. That's how depressed I am. I can't even think of a witty retort to that."
You must have been depressed for decades because I have yet to hear you make a witty retort.
He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and raised his palms up. "See?" he said.
This was bad. Even at his drunkest and most maudlin, I had never seen Karl like this.
"I think I have SAD," he said.
You mean, you are sad.
"No, not sad," he said, catching the lower case tone in my voice. "SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. It means I'm not getting enough vitamin D from sunlight, and so my energy levels and mood are very low."
That's easily fixed. Go to a tanning salon once a week, and get a bed with UV-B rays. Ten minutes, and you'll feel great. I know a lot of people who do it for the vitamin D.
"But what about the rest of the report? It says that we've got a sluggish economy, high unemployment, and massive budget shortfalls, which are having an impact on our mental health centers, and we've got a shortage of psychiatrists." He buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply. "No wonder we so depressed."
Karl, have you forgotten how to read a newspaper? Check this out. First, the article says the states are ranked in alphabetical order. We fall second behind Arkansas and ahead of Kentucky because of the alphabet. The odds of these ten states being depressing in alphabetical order are astronomical. That means we don't know our number. We could be the 41st state, and not the 49th.
Karl raised his head and looked at me. I continued.
Second, this headline, plus all the other headlines about the subject, keep talking about Indiana being a 'depressing' state. The correct term is 'depressed.' It means we're unhappy, morose, and just plain sad. To be 'depressing' means we cause sadness, which we do not do. We're not Rhode Island.
And lastly, our economic conditions aren't that bad. Our unemployment is on par with the national rate, we have a budget surplus of $2.15 billion, and we just increased education funding without raising taxes. So the 'economic outlook' of these reporters is incorrect. As far as I'm concerned, Indiana shouldn't even be on the list. We're doing fine, and those Health Magazine hacks can suck it.
Karl rubbed his eyes hard, and took a big drink of his mojito. "Kid, believe it or not, that actually helped. Thank you. I needed that."
You're welcome. You need to cheer up anyway. I just read a study that says pessimistic people live up to six years longer than their optimistic counterparts.
"Oh God, you mean this could go on longer?" he groaned.
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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Several weeks ago, fellow humor columnist Jenny Isenman wrote about women's "move-a-body-friends," those friends who would help you move a body with no questions asked — or at least only a few, with "why?" not being among them.
It's often been said, especially on Facebook, that while a friend will bail you out of jail, a true friend will be sitting next to you, saying "Man, didn't we have fun?" But the move-a-body-friend (MABF) will hide you out at her place until the heat is off.
But Isenman says you only get one or two MABFs in your lifetime. These are the friends who will tell you "'That skirt/dress/jumpsuit makes your butt look fat,'" when that skirt/dress/jumpsuit actually makes your butt look fat" or "pretend I need you to fix my bra strap to save you from a tedious conversation with a boring mom at the playground or that annoying guy at Starbucks."
Isenman has come up with a list of 20 expectations she has for her MABF, so it's a high standard to live up to.
Men have a similar type of friend, but there's only one super strict requirement that we have of this person, which makes this type of friend extremely rare. While most men will help their friends move a body, no questions asked — except maybe, "can I have his cordless drill?" — there are very few friends who fit into this higher, much stricter category:
The Discuss Your Feelings Friend.
For many men, discussing their feelings with another man is one of the most intimate, vulnerable parts of a relationship we have with anyone, let alone another dude.
Discuss Your Feelings Friends will often share things they men won't mention to their other friends, let alone their wives or girlfriends. We'll discuss our. . . you know. . . "personal" health; when we're feeling sad and it doesn't involve our favorite sports team losing; and, the strong emotional feelings (love or otherwise) we have for our spouse or significant other.
But unlike Isenman's 20 things the MABF will do, there are just three things the Discuss Your Feelings Friends (DYFF) have to do for each other.
Loan tools: Yes, neighbors borrow tools from each other, but that's different. Neighbors ask to borrow tools, and they're always loaned with a sense of reluctance and dread, because the owner assumes the tool will come back broken three years later.
But the DYFF is happy to lend tools because he knows his friend will take extra good care of them. Besides the friend has a new miter saw he's been wanting to try out. Plus, every Guy likes to play I Have The Best Tools, and the best way to win is to swipe your neighbor's tools and tell everyone else they're his.
Lifting: My wife told me most women will not offer to help each other lift heavy objects. They'll usually stand and marvel, "wow, you can lift that?" but won't move a muscle to help, even when the answer is a barely grunted "no-o-o!"
On the other hand, men usually offer to help each other carry heavy objects. And unlike asking for directions, most men will even ask for help when they need it. However they don't want to appear too weak, so they usually won't ask until they've nearly pooped themselves trying to lift twice their body weight, which they haven't done since 1997.
The DYFF already knows what his friend's limit is, and grabs the other end of the heavy object without being asked, or before the first fart squeaks out from the effort. While the lifter may protest to any other Guy so he won't appear weak, when it's his DYFF, he'll gladly accept the help, and will even slack off a bit and hope the friend won't notice.
Laugh at Your Misfortune: Remember, the Discuss Your Feelings Friend is, first and foremost, a Guy. And while he wants the absolute best for you, and feels sad when things go wrong, you can guarantee he'll laugh at your misfortunes when he can get away with it. That's how Guys cope. We laugh at each other's misery.
Lose your job? Your DYFF is going to crack jokes about you having extra free time to help him clean out his garage. Are gray hairs sprouting in your beard or on your head? He's going to repeat the grandpa jokes you told him when he started going gray. Your girlfriend dump you? He's been storing up jokes about her ever since she invited her annoying friends to Sunday afternoon football.
Discuss Your Feeling Friends may have 70% fewer requirements than Jenny Isenman's move-a-body-friends, but that's because we don't put as many conditions on a friendship as women seem to. We never worry about whether something makes us look fat (we just don't care) or whether we're talking to someone annoying (we just make up an excuse and leave). We're happy to accept our friendships unconditionally and without expectation, and we take what we can get.
Besides, Guys know they look dreadful in jumpsuits, so we never have to be told they look bad.
The second edition of Branding Yourself: How to Use Social Media to Invent or Reinvent Yourself (affiliate link), and my other book, No Bullshit Social Media: The All-Business, No-Hype Guide to Social Media Marketing are both available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Books-A-Million, or for the Kindle or Nook.
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