Tag: false impressions

Dear George Carlin,

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George Carlin’s latest and last book: A Modern Man: The Best of George Carlin, includes a section of short takes called Short Takes. He almost wrote it as a letter to future readers, and it inspired me so much that I decided to write back. 

“Most people aren’t particularly good at anything,” George Carlin wrote. “We’re all amateurs. It’s just that some of us are more professional about it than others.” 

Most of the truly impressive people I’ve met, over the years, didn’t impress me at hello. My impressions of them involved a slow build that could take days, sometimes weeks to process, until it ends coming out on a little, yellow piece of paper, similar to those that came out of computers in old sci-fi shows. The primary reason most truly impressive types fail to blow us away in the intro is that they’re not trying to impress us. There are others, of course, and they usually greet us with a little something like this: 

“Please, don’t call me Mr. Duggin,” those who’ve attained levels of authority often say in a handshake, “Call me Henry.” 

“I understand that you’re trying to impress me with your humility,” we should say to Henry, “but could you wait until we’ve felt each other out here a little bit?” I could be wrong, of course, but I think they consider the ‘Call me Henry’ hello a shortcut to impressions through humility. They’re basically saying, ‘Hey, I’m not as impressive as you think. I’m just another peon, like you.’

‘All right, well, I didn’t consider you particularly extraordinary until you said that. Now, I’m just like wow, your humility is so impressive, but if you are truly humble, why do you need to impress it upon me? What are you hoping to accomplish here?’

Is Henry as impressive as he wants us to believe, or is so uncomfortable that he hasn’t adapted to the societal norm we all use to address someone we don’t know with a prefix followed by their surname? He has, of course, but Henry Duggin is hoping to short-circuit these dynamics, so we consider him more humble, more professional, and more impressive. Henry wants us to consider the idea that only an all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips guy would demand informalities. 

When I had a “Please, call me Henry” as a boss, I tried to think of a time when I arrived at a familial link with a boss who allowed me to call him Henry in the privacy of a corporate boardroom. I know others enjoy this. I’ve seen that warm glow and those blushing smiles of euphoria on their faces when the boss dropped that invitation on them. They appreciate the gesture of a boss reaching down to touch them on a familial link, as God did in Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam, but I see it as Henry’s method of reinforcing his leadership mystique.  

“Why do you keep calling him Mr. Duggin?” they ask me. “He wants us to call him Henry.” 

“Because that’s the way I was raised,” I lie. “I was taught to address a boss as Mr. or Ms. Duggin. It isn’t intended as a compliment or an insult that I refuse to call him Henry. It’s just the way I was raised.” In truth, I feel queasy calling him Henry, because I feel like I’m feeding into his narcissistic humility.  

***

“Nothing rhymes with nostril.” –George Carlin

Thanks to the modern convenience of the search engine that George Carlin obviously didn’t use often enough, I found some words, austral, claustral, and rostral that rhyme with nostril. Sorry George! Now that we’ve established that, the next question is why haven’t any of the millions of lyricists (poets and/or songwriters), since Shakespeare, invented a more romantic, or utilitarian, word that rhymes with nostril? The Oxford English Dictionary claims that William Shakespeare invented 1,700 words, and other lyricists invented innumerable words to serve their cause, but none of them rhyme with nostril. If necessity is the mother of invention, why didn’t Mr. Shakespeare (“Please call me Willy”), or any lyricists since, invent a word to rhyme with nostril? 

How many words have lyricists devoted to the eyes and the lips? Their beauty is so self-sustained that some artists have painted nothing but eyes and lips. Lyricists have written songs and poems about nothing more than a woman’s eyes, and we could probably create a War and Peace-length compendium to the space created for lips. Artists also focus effort on high cheek bones, or a high or low forehead, but they don’t put any effort, beyond necessity, to the size and shape of nostrils.  

Some nostrils are thin, others wide, and some take on a more oval shape. There are even some that appear to take on an unusual pear-shape that almost achieves a point. We might think these variations would excite artists to invent words to capture the perfect nostril, but they haven’t, because the nostril(s) is never strikingly beautiful or ugly. They’re just there. They might be more attractive than the other orifices, but they’re never so stimulating that we would rank a persons’ degrees of attraction based on the size or shape of their nostril. To my mind there aren’t any subconscious visual stimuli regarding their sizes and shapes either. Maybe there are, and I just don’t know it.  

Picasso believed beauty arrived in angles and symmetry, but if the nostril achieves either of these, the artistic credit goes to the nose. The point is, no artist I know of has expended artistic energy, beyond necessity, to the nostril. If they did, they might’ve invented a word that rhymes with it we all know by heart by heart, or they would’ve used some artistic license to use austral, but how does even the gifted lyricist, create beautiful rhyming sentences around a “southern” nostril, or a nostril from the south? If they attempted to soundboard a rhyme with claustral, what artistic benefit could they achieve with a nostril that is “secluded”. “I felt claustral in her nostril,” or “his nostril left me claustral.” The artist’s interpretation of such lyrics could lay in the affect of feeling lonely in her presence, which would be a beautiful sentiment worthy of exploration. If the lyricist was in a band, however, my guess is that his bandmates would suggest they know where the lyricist was headed, but they might caution him that the general public might misinterpret the lyrics to mean that his beloved is booger-free, except for him, dangling on a precipice. To declare that the poet’s lover was such a beauty that her nostril appeared rostral, or “a scale in reptiles on the median plate of the tip of the snout that borders the mouth opening”, just doesn’t achieve a level of artistic appeal most artists seek when they’re trying to impress upon others their talent for expression. So, we can’t fault George for not knowing that there are words that rhyme with nostril, because no lyricist has ever sought to capitalize on what could’ve been an artistic first for someone.   

***

“Everything is still the same. It’s just a little different now.” —George Carlin

In the not-so-distant future, future earthlings will have not-so-distant emotions, if we believe George Carlin. If we believe time travel movies, however, we will all have exaggerated emotions. The characters therein are either overwhelmingly happy, in a creepy, surreal way that suggests they don’t question anything anymore, or they’re incredibly unhappy, because of that whole Armageddon thing. Some of these movies were made in the 50’s and 60’s, and in the 50’s and 60’s, we apparently thought that 2000 man would have all these exaggerated emotions. No one predicted that not much would change in the ways of human nature and human emotions. If we 2000 men and women could send a message back, we might write, “Everything is still the same. It’s just a little different now.”

With that in mind, how do we view 2100 man? We don’t, because to our figurative schemes of thought, if there is an Earth, it will be uninhabitable. Interpersonal relationships will evolve to intrapersonal relationships, or on the inside, or within. If we smile, it will be strained, and we will no longer feel the need to leave the house. In truth, the future will probably evolve to everything being the same, just a little different. 

2100 man will also, apparently, lose any and all skills at problem resolutions, and they apparently won’t feel the need to survive either, if current time travel movies are to be believed. We won’t be happy or sad. We will enter an era of acceptance. We’ll just accept things the way they are, and the fact that life is rotten and death is close at hand. If these characters have water or food shortages, they just learn to live with it. Geniuses, who fix things, are apparently nowhere to be found in the future, and the only thing 2100 man will do is accept life the way it is and learn to accept the fact that they’re just going to die soon as a result. I would submit that these writers know as little about humanity as we do the future.  

***

“Not only do I not know what’s going on, I wouldn’t know what to do about it if I did.” “The nicest thing about anything is not knowing what it is.” “When I hear a person talking about political solutions, I know I’m not listening to a serious person.” —George Carlin

Anytime someone proposes solving a problem with political solutions, the yang to that yin should be, “What then?” What happens when “we” attempt to resolve a problem from the outside in? Every effect involves a countereffect, and some unforeseen consequence that we forgot to imagine. “We just wanted to fix the problem?” the political solutions proponent says. Their intentions were more important to them, and hopefully to you, than their attention to detail. Political solutions involve the invisible hand putting a thumb on the scale, but most of us don’t know what’s going on, so we try to find someone who does. We turn to someone who has great hair, with a side part, 3-4 inches on top, and about an inch on the sides and back. He has a suave, confident hairstyle that matches what we associate with knowledge and power, and she has a chin that harmonizes with the face, and is well balanced. It’s not too small, too wide, or retracted. It’s also well-rounded, and she has beautiful arms. So, when our preferreds say something to us, it sticks, because in some way we haven’t fully explored, we want to be them. If we sound like them, because they sound like they know what they’re talking about in a way we find inspirational, we hope that we might be sound as inspirational as they do when we repeat it. We still won’t know what’s going on, and we wouldn’t know what to do about if we did, and now we know that they didn’t either. Their proposed solution now is to fix all of the problems their initial political solution created, with another political solution, but they sound like they know what they’re talking about now. Their presentations are so artful, no ums or uhs, and isn’t that somewhat, sort of, important enough? The “What then?” guys are often nerdy guys who wear some kind of gel (ick), and they wear some kind of clip-on to keep their ties straight.  

Yesterday I Learned … V

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Yesterday, I learned that every job has its drawbacks. I learned this when I informed a group how much I now love green bean casserole, and one of my friends said, “I can never eat it again. The sight of it makes me want to hurl.” She explained to us that when she was a member of an Emergency Medical team, they received a call for an overdose. When on this call, she performed mouth to mouth on the victim, and the victim vomited into her mouth. He vomited the last thing he ate, of course, and that happened to be green bean casserole. Today I learned that while every job has its drawbacks, I don’t think I’d be able to become an EMT after hearing this. I come from a long line of strong stomachs. My dad spent a majority of his life eating Swanson’s Mexican TV dinners, and he lived a relatively long life. Yet, I have to imagine that if I was an EMT trainee, and one of the on staff veterans said, “This job has it’s drawbacks,” and they explained the possibility that while trying to resuscitate a victim I might get vomited into my mouth, “I’m out,” would probably my response. “It happens,” is something they might add, “and you have to prepare for that possibility.” If they, then, provided a visual anywhere close to the stomach-turning display in the season 2 finale of Amazon Prime’s Catastrophe, I think half the training class might politely stand and proceed to the nearest exit in an orderly fashion.

Yesterday, I thought about how many exciting opportunities I missed in life. I thought about how cautious I was, and I was cautious, too cautious at times. I probably didn’t have as many opportunities as I think I did, but some were undeniable. I didn’t cash in on them, I tried to avoid talking about them, and yesterday I tried to figure out why. Today, I realized that I based some of these decisions on the unique brand of crazy I knew they had deep inside their Cracker Jack box.

Some of us loved the unique taste of the molasses, caramel confection of popcorn and peanuts the Cracker Jacks company offered, but most of us did not. The flavor isn’t awful by any means, but if someone told the individual, who decided to package and ship the Cracker Jack product, that it would prove a sales juggernaut for over a hundred years, they would probably be surprised. When they heat the confection at a fair, or some outdoor venue that offers it fresh, the adoration for the confection is more understandable, but there was always a certain, stale taste to it in the Cracker Jack Box. Yet, as kids, we always asked for Cracker Jacks as a treat, because the prospect of a prize in each box was tantalizing. The prize often turned out to be as disappointing as the flavor of the super-sweet molasses-flavored caramel coated popcorn and peanuts, but the next time our parents offered us an open invitation to the store shelves, we chose Cracker Jacks again. “Candy-coated popcorn, peanuts and a prize” proved a provocative marketing slogan to those of us of a certain age who couldn’t wait for our surprise. Several other enterprises have taken the prospect of a “prize in each container” to greater lengths, but I don’t know if a company did more with less than the Cracker Jack Company and later Borden.

As we made our way out into the world, and we met a number of exotic and beautiful people, some part of our subconscious kept this disappointing allure of a surprise near the bottom of the package in some deep recess of our subconscious. We knew who these people were, and we found their special brand of crazy such a unique characteristic that we considered it engaging and endearing. Imagine, we thought, waking up to meet a new person, in the same person, every day. Chaos and unpredictability can be exciting in the short-term, and when we wrap it up in beautiful packaging, it can be difficult to remain rational. This idea that the surprises inside the box might be disappointing has always stayed with us. We don’t draw any correlations between this innate sense and the disappointment we experienced when we opened the Cracker Jack surprise, but Cracker Jack taught us this emotion well during the formative years of our life. If we ever have a chance to meet those exciting prospects, years later, it dawns on us why we decided to go with what we knew, as opposed to ceding to our impulsive desire to chase the prospects of exciting things. We learned that what makes us healthy, wealthy and wise in the long term is often more important than the prospect of surprising and exciting opportunities.

My kid said something political yesterday. He didn’t know what he was saying. He was repeating what he heard. Some might consider it cute when such a complicated thought comes out of a kid’s mouth. Some might not view statements with which they agree as political. I did, and I found it a little disturbing. Today I realized that I don’t want my kid to be political in any way. I’ve heard kids who have words put into their kid’s mouths by their parents, and it doesn’t sit well with me. Kids aren’t democrats or republicans, they’re kids, and I don’t think we should let our agenda get in the way of their childhood. We should consider it our job to make their childhood last as long as possible.

Yesterday I realized that some of us have problems answering direct questions with direct answers. “I’m going to place my question in the form of a question. Your job, if you choose to accept it, is to say yes or no. I don’t want to hear equivocations that contain sections and subsections of the “yes and no” answer. I don’t care if you’re right or wrong, or if I’m right or wrong. I don’t even care if your answer hurts my feelings. Just spit it out for the love of all that’s holy and unholy.” Today, I realized that when I answer direct questions in a direct way the recipient often misinterprets my answer. Their feelings get in the way, they dream up sections and subsections of my answer, and they think I’m wrong about everything all the time. After experiencing this a number of times, it dawned on me that most people answer our questions the way they want us to answer theirs.

Yesterday, I realized that other people don’t always have it better than me. My dad was one of those guys who thought everyone had it better than him. He could walk out of the most flea-ridden, dilapidated home with a week-long smile. “That’s the way to live,” he would say. Influenced by my dad’s thoughts, I revered his people. Even though most of them weren’t living the ideal life, I thought they had something going on that I wasn’t able to process yet. Today, I realized that most of those people were younger than I am now, and age tends to emulsify delusions. My dad believed in them though, so I believed in them.

Yesterday I realized my friend’s parents were younger than I am now when I first met them. I remember thinking that they had it all together, and they knew more about life than anyone I ever met. I believed my friend’s propaganda about his parent’s level of intelligence and success. Today, I realized I bought into all that because he did.

Yesterday I learned that when we have nothing to complain about we will find something. Today, I learned that one of the reasons we complain is that we’re not happy, and the idea that something new can make us happy often results in disappointment and more unhappiness. I also learned that buying things makes us happy, and when that happens begins to abate, we repeat the formula, until we realize we can’t buy happiness.

Yesterday, I learned that there is a blueprint to success, and it should be our goal in life to learn it and follow it. Some try to deconstruct and reconstruct that path in a contrived manner. They are rarely successful. Today, I learned that those who won’t follow it are afraid of the risks involved. “What if we fail?” they ask. I’m a firm believer in the fact that the greater the risk, the greater the success if one succeeds.

Yesterday, I learned that politicians are here to help us. Some of them devote their lives to serving in government. Today, I wondered how often we should be grateful for their lifelong devotion to public service, as it pertains to a representative sitting in one of our seats of government for 20+ years. Some might herald such a lifelong commitment, but I think we can all admit that serving in the federal government provides a representative an undue level of influence almost unparalleled in America today. I think we can also suggest that some 20+ year representatives fall prey to satisfying their own narcissistic will to power.

Yesterday, I learned how important it is to have a philosophy for just about everything we do. Today, I learned that we all have some advice to pass on. As someone who didn’t date as often as I could have, I’m probably the wrong person to turn to for dating advice. I didn’t enjoy dating, because I hated all the messy emotional entanglements. I didn’t want to get into a relationship, find out I didn’t like it, and end up hurting a girl’s feelings. On top of that, I avoided women I thought might end up hurting my feelings. My friends and family told me that I overthought the matter. I probably did. On the few dates I went on, I probably wasn’t very good at it. I enjoyed women learning more about me than I did about them. I have talked to enough people who loved to date and did it as often as they could, however, and the following is a list of advice I heard from them: 

1) Most of us are very insecure individuals and dating people reveals our flaws. The people we date will break our hearts and leave us as if we’re starting over, but it’s important to date as often as we can when we’re young.

2) Don’t marry the first person with whom you share a spark. The reason we love the stories of the high school sweethearts who stay married for thirty years is that they’re rare. I’ve heard some theorize that we’re so different every ten years that we’re almost completely different people. I’m not sure how true that is, but there’s enough truth to it that if we marry a person who isn’t willing to change with us, it can get messy and result in a messy separation.  

3) A friend of mine came from a culture of arranged marriages. She said she believed arranged marriages were the ideal way for young people to marry. We didn’t agree with her, but she had an interesting point, “We don’t make quality decisions when we’re young. Our parents not only view matters from a perspective outside romance, but they’re wiser and they have more experience.” Most of us stated we wouldn’t want to see what our parents pick for us, and we thought we were wiser and more experienced than our parents were. This conflict introduced the strange mixture of confidence and insecurity we had when we were young. We’re confident that we know more than our parents do, and we have a general sense of arrogance in this regard, but we’re so insecure about our choices that we tend to stick with the one who brought us.

4) We shouldn’t stay in a relationship for the sole reason that we’ve invested so much time, effort, and emotion into it that we don’t want to start over again. We’ve all been burned, and we remember that when things start to go awry with our current significant other. We don’t break up with them, because we don’t want to go through that turmoil again.

5) “I didn’t enjoy dating either,” one person said, “but don’t make the mistake I made of thinking that you might be letting the right one slip away.” Such an admission is always uncomfortable to hear, and we’ve all heard some people openly admit it, but we rarely hear it when the significant other is listening in on the conversation.

6) Date the good the bad, and the ugly. That trail will help us make an informed decision when we think we’ve met “the one”. When we date, we see qualities in another that we enjoy in some and those we don’t in others, and we learn a lot about ourselves along the way.

7) Date with the mindset that you know nothing about the other party. Those who experience success in any field learn to focus on what they don’t know as opposed to what they do. We should use this mindset when it comes to dating. We should enter into every relationship with the mindset that don’t know anything about the other party of a relationship, except the qualities that they enjoy sharing with us. Most of the people we date aren’t dishonest in the sense that they’re lying or being phony, they’re just their best self when you’re around.

8) Meet their friends and family and watch how they interact with them. How different are they around their people? Are we seeing the person they are around their friends, or are we gaining quality insight into who they are? What are the differences between the person we know and the person their friends and family know?

9) Introduce your significant other to your friends and family. When we’re young, we walk around with an “I don’t care what anyone thinks” mentality. Dump that in these encounters. If they find faults with our significant other, our initial instinct is to suggest they don’t know them as well as we do. That’s going to be true, but is there anyone who cares more about the decisions we make than our family? As someone who has lost a number of intimate family members who cared about me, I now know what a precious commodity they are in life. It doesn’t mean they’re right of course, but their perspective is one we should value. Also, know that most of our people are not jealous, and they aren’t overreacting. They know that we’re proud of this individual we selected, but they care about us, and they don’t want to see us make what they regard as a mistake. Is it a mistake? They don’t know, and we don’t know, but our best bet is to make an informed decision.  

10) If the relationship moves into a more serious phase, take a vacation with them to take them out of their element. Watch how they act around flight attendants, waiters, and hotel staff. How do they react to unnecessary delays, cancelled hotel reservations, hotel amenities, and all of the other mishaps that happen on vacations? 

11) The final, and perhaps most crucial question, who are we around them? Are we putting our best foot forward? We all develop a façade of sorts around the people with which we spend significant amounts of time. We are different around them than we are our mother, for example, or our best friend. Do we like the people we are around them, and if so why? If not, can we change that persona, and if we do, will they still like us?