Wisdom or bliss? That is the question!

I have just been reading about wisdom:  The acquisition of wisdom, its attributes and the benefits of its application.

Not sure if that a was wise thing to do – I feel stupider than ever.  Probably should have been grocery shopping, or dusting or something with more tangible rewards.

A word to the wise:  Don’t bother with all that “evolving” rigmarole.  Read a good Sherlock Holmes story instead.  Then you can go around deducing and annoying your friends.  From what I’ve learned, that’ll work just as well as so-called “wisdom.”

Of course there are studies of wisdom.  Research on the concept.  Somebody thought it would be fun and somebody else funded it.

White-coated lab geeks have furrowed their brows and made notes on their clipboards over who is the most sage, how s/he got that way and if there’s a convincing method of faking it.  (No, not really.  I was just hoping, that’s all.)

They came to some noteworthy conclusions:

First and perhaps most irritating of all, there is no correlation between age and wisdom. 

If that doesn’t make an old person feel foolish, well…

I mean, having paced myself all these years, waiting for wisdom to catch up with me, I’m more than a little miffed to learn that instead of settling around me, bestowing an aura of ascendency, wisdom apparently zoomed past me quite a while ago, most likely during my tie-dye stage.

And what?  We’re supposed to listen to young people now?! 

It’s OK though.  Really.  It’s perfect.  I’ll just plod along in my humdrum way with all the other Slowskis, oblivious, but full of opinions and ready to share.

No worries, right? 

Which brings us to a second conclusion reached by our intrepid researchers:  Wisdom does not necessarily lead to happiness.


So I say why bother?  It must be depressing for a preeminently learned person to confront all the witlessness s/he encounters each day!  I mean, what’re you going to do?  If you keep setting people straight, imparting your knowledge all over town, it won’t be long before you have no one to play with.

I mean, to paraphrase my grandpa, nobody likes a “smart donkey,” right?

And here’s the clincher, research says that the wise person seeks to understand other people and their behavior rather than judging them.

Well where’s the fun in that?  The way I see it, God wouldn’t have given us Toronto Mayor Rob Ford if He didn’t want us to feel superior to SOMEONE. 

For Pete’s sake!  If we can’t look down on Lindsay Lohan from a lofty position of self-righteousness, then…then…

Or Miley Cyrus or Charlie Sheen!  Come on!

What are we normal schmos supposed to do when our egos need a little boost?  Analyze?  Show compassion?  Empathize?  Intone, “There but for fortune go I?” 

Well I refuse!  I always hated that uppity grammar anyway.

Nope.  If I can’t have wisdom I’m going to make the most of my lack.  I’m going to work my obtuse angle.  I’ll be the best ignoramus you can find! 

Oh.  Wait a minute.  That didn’t come out like I thought it would.

What I meant to say is, I don’t want to live on the mountain top or in the ivory tower or wherever all those wise guys hang out anyway.  I’ve heard it’s lonely up there.  And all that serenity!  It’s not my style.


I’ll just be here at home, watching TMZ.

Post-Retirement Bank Account Blues

When a person retires, she might feel a little guilty about her dearth of contributions to the joint bank account.  These days it’s essentially withdrawals. 

Therefore, always in search of a quick buck, I scan the papers for work - things I could do without exerting myself too much.  I’m guilty but not stupid.  I look for the easy money. 

In one such idle investigation I ran across a couple of opportunities that seem tailor made for a lay-about like me:   

I could be an overpaid actor.  Like Drew Barrymore, who has the dubious distinction of topping Forbes’ list, I could star in your multi-million dollar movie claiming my usual exorbitant salary, and return 40 cents for each dollar you invest in me. 

I like this option as I’ve always wanted to hang out with that funky film crowd.  Others on the overpaid list include Nicholas Cage, Vince Vaughn, even Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.  Now that’s a party. 

That in itself could assuage my guilt.  But option two is equally intriguing:  Celebrity tweets. 

At as much as $10,000 per tweet – which comes to $71 per character in the 140-character world of the Twitter-sphere – I could hold my head up quite nicely. 

That’s right; celebs sell their endorsements online the same as they do on air.  For example, charging only $8000, Khloe Kardashian tweeted about jeans that make “your butt look scary good.”  It’s an ad.  It’s a paid endorsement.  Doubtful that Khloe ever sailed into Old Navy.  She just lends her name to their product and collects the dough. 

Now I don’t shop at Old Navy either and my jeans do only half that job.  But it doesn’t matter.  I could tweet about my Calvin Klein’s and their 2% spandex.  “They give when your butt demands it!  #ad.”  

That last - the # symbol, known by tweeters as a hashtag - and the word “ad” are an addition suggested by the Federal Trade Commission to clarify that the tweet is sponsored by commercial interests.  How gentle of the FTC.  Folks on the internet are sure to follow a suggestion. 

Rapper Snoop Dogg gave his cool nod to the Toyota Sienna minivan, dispelling the myth that credibility presents an issue.  Of all the rides in all the rap joints in the hood, the Dogg’s props went to a minivan.  Here’s lookin’ at you, Snoop. 

Speaking of credibility, in the bargain basement of endorsers, Lindsay Lohan pulled in $3500 a pop for tweets indicating she participated in on-line challenges for college kids saying, “[they] are SO addictive!”  This on #CampusLIVE, a website dedicated to connecting advertisers with college students.  In other logic-bending agreements, Ms. Lohan endorses wind energy, “While saving the world, save money!  I love it!” as well as a gold mining company, of all things: “R ur savings safe?  Think again!” 

Now the Queen of Community Service has 2.6 million followers, many of whom could be high school aged with undeveloped skills in discriminatory thinking.  Perhaps they are likely targets for advertisers with money to blow.  But wind energy?  Really?  Lindsay Lohan.  And to whose ears were her insights about commodity investments directed? 

When Charlie Sheen tweeted for Internships.com at the same time he was running amok and getting fired from his job on “Two and a Half Men,” 95,000 clicks went to that site within an hour.  What’s wrong in America? 

But hey, if they can do it, I can do it.  At $8K a peep, er tweet, my believability and trustworthiness are indeed for sale.    

And what products would I endorse?  I’d sign off on almost anything from peanut butter to Porsche.  But realistically, if credibility were an issue, I’d be lending the weight of my cache to Olay Regenerist Age Defying Eye Roller, and that “Lose 10 pounds in 10 minutes!” swimsuit into which I will never squeeze.   

All right.  I’m exaggerating.  I don’t really have any cache.  And my placement of prepositions doesn’t appeal to the average tweeter, though some might say that’s a point in my favor. 

Nor do I have millions of followers.  Only my husband hangs on my words and even his dedication is dubious.  That’s the snag in this scenario.  If I endorsed a minivan, it wouldn’t generate much more than a shrug.  Which is what I do when I balance our checking account. 

Sorry Honey.                  

2012 Risk - Reward Analysis

Maybe you saw this one:  A botched marriage proposal on the jumbotron at a recent UCLA basketball game.  Cameras zoom in on a section of the seats.  A UCLA promotions person in a tight T-shirt with microphone in hand stands by, grinning.  An earnest young man produces a velvet-covered box with a diamond ring.  He mumbles something romantic.  He wobbles onto a knee, opening the box for his best girl. 

But, but…the expected outcome, the one we’ve seen played out so often that we’ve begun to relegate it to the corny and redundant, is upended:  Our surprised and overwhelmed intended bride-to-be hesitated, then stood, put her head down, and ran.  She left her (former) man to face the mortifying facts:  He put himself out there, laid himself bare, and lost, in public.  Now he endures hi-def humiliation not to mention the restocking fee at his jewelers.

Right after thinking how awful it must be for him, the next logical thought among the risk-averse is why’d he do that in the first place?
Why would he take that chance?

Maybe he’s among those unfortunate ones who never learned to read the signals, the word choice, body language, and eye contact of those they pursue.  His sweet but bumbling naïveté let him down.
 
Therefore he felt certain of the outcome.  It wasn’t risky in his mind, only showy.  “We’ll be on the jumbotron,” he thought with the purest of delusions.  “It will be our 15 seconds of fame.  I’ll be the envy of my friends!  It’ll be fun!” 

Or maybe he thought, no matter the outcome, it would be worth it.  I mean, you’ve gotta give it to the guy, right?  God love him for taking the risk.  What would the rest of us do without risk takers?  The world would be Twilight Zone bland if populated solely with thrill observers.

What would we do without Extreme Sports, or Dancing with the Stars?  We get our kicks gripping the arms of our recliners when the stunt pilot swoops toward the ground.  We admire those who actually take risks to get their kicks.  We’re dazzled when someone else skis down that slope or rides that bull.
  
A quick review of my life reveals some risk taking:  I was a high school principal, after all.  That’s pretty risky.  I left the relative safety of the classroom to face the daily prospect of rejection by hundreds of adolescents, not to mention their parents, and the teachers on staff.  My daily strolls around campus were made more or less secure based on any unpopular decision I might have rendered.

Of course, the payoffs were tremendous.  I knew that going in.  I’d already spent many years as a classroom teacher and counselor.  Few professions offer the guaranteed rewards of working with young people.  Just spending my time with them was so edifying as to offset any ugliness that might have come my way.  So maybe it wasn’t that much of a risk.  True risk taking requires danger of losing sufficient to counter the possibility of gain.

Maybe our aversion to loss keeps us on the straight and narrow.  That’s a good thing.  We don’t go around accepting bribes or practicing corrupt business for our own personal gain because of the risks.  We elect our representatives and hire bankers for that.  We sidestep illegal drug use and reckless sex because of the hazards they bring.  Lindsay Lohan and Charlie Sheen are our surrogates for that kind of risky business.  Better safe than pathetic.
 
Yet, there’s something vaguely dissatisfying about safety.  Constant circumspection becomes claustrophobic.  The mild and middle road lulls.  A tiny rogue chromosome wants to break free.  And 15 items in the 10-item line won’t suffice. 

This year, 2012, beckons us past the breakwater and onto the open sea.  Maybe just once, we’ll grab the mike at the karaoke bar and belt one out like Ethel Merman.  Spike our hair.  Buy a convertible or a Mini Cooper…or a convertible Mini Cooper. 

Maybe we’ll risk rejection:  Greet every person we pass in produce aisle!  Try to make every cashier smile.  Dance all by ourselves, barefoot, on the front lawn.  Climb into a raft and shoot the rapids.  Try what scares us.  That thing we’ve always wanted to do, but…

Maybe we’ll turn on the cameras.  Take the risk.  Get onto one knee.  Gamble on a happy outcome.  Double down.

So Many Heroes, Such Tiny Stamps

You don’t have to be dead to be appreciated.  Not any more anyway. 

Up until January of 2007, the US Postal Service required that a person be deceased for 10 years before appearing on a commemorative stamp.  That year, the rule was relaxed to five years deceased before such an honor.  (By USPS tradition, former presidents have always been remembered on stamps the year following their deaths.) 

But now, hoping to boost its sagging revenues, the US Postal Service has abandoned its long-standing rule that stamps cannot feature living people.  It’s a first.  It means that living sports stars, writers, artists, and other prominent people could take their places in postal history along with the likes of George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr., and Marilyn Monroe. 

The postal service got into its financial bind at least in part because of the near complete abandonment of “snail mail” in favor of email.  So there’s irony in the fact that the USPS issued its invitation for nominations of living people to be depicted on new stamps on their Postal Service website, as well as Facebook and Twitter.   

Suggestions for commemorative stamps already came in via traditional pen-and-ink submissions at the rate of 40,000 per year.  Now that the electronic call has gone out for suggestions as to whom Americans think should appear on the next round of commemorative stamps, it’s hard to imagine how many ideas will stream through the newly opened automated floodgate.  Who’s going to sort through all that stuff?  Maybe that person should have a stamp! 

On-the-street interviews and my own informal survey drew ideas for honorees from across the spectrum:  Michelle Obama for her work on childhood obesity.  Charlie Sheen, “an American icon.”  (Uh, winning?)  Lady Gaga for her creativity and individualism.  Jimmy Carter for his humanitarian work.  Alice Waters for all that good food. 

Steve Jobs.  Of course!  So sad that he passed before he could receive this particular recognition.  The thought that follows immediately is Mark Zuckerberg.  Life-on-earth changing guy.  Bill Gates.  His philanthropy may be the legacy that gets his face on the forty-three cent-er. 

Comedian Stephen Colbert has already begun his own campaign to become the first living person depicted on a government-issued postage stamp.  He has proposed a “Farewell to Postage” stamp sporting a photo of himself holding a smartphone with an email message to the Postal Service: “See Ya!” 

If fake newsmen are allowed, I’ll vote for Jon Stewart.  George Carlin should already have been “stamped,” along with Richard Pryor.  Other entertainers might be shoo-ins:  Meryl Streep, Halle Berry, Ron Howard, Francis Coppola, Eric Clapton, Paul McCartney.   

Perhaps the opportunity presents itself not only for those living folks who already get lots of attention and accolades to get even more recognition, but also for the rest of us middle class schmos to be acknowledged for the following the rules and doing what’s right.  We make the country work.  Put a face on us and that face on a stamp, because gosh darn it, we deserve it. 

Seems like categories of honorees are called for:  Educators, of course.  It might be amusing to show a frazzled middle school teacher trying to coax a seventh grader’s homework out of a dog’s mouth.  Or how about a high school principal throwing a wet blanket at a Homecoming Dance?   

Moms!  Without question moms should get a stamp.  I’d like my mom to represent all the single moms who struggled to provide for their children.  Dads too.  Modern dads engaged with their kids.  Nurses and doctors deserve a nod for their devotion to others. 

Why not stick representatives of American life and cultural phenomena on the corner of an envelope:  Someone who danced with the stars, got lost, hoarded, picked, or remodeled.  No!  The Biggest Loser!  Perfect.

Don’t overlook the over-looked:  sanitation workers, baristas, dry cleaners, and convenience store clerks.  Postal workers themselves! 

What about those who are so often maligned?  Lawyers?  DMV clerks?  No?  Oh well. 

Today the early commemorative stamps are prized by collectors.  But back in the day, the appearance of commemorative postage stamps caused a backlash among some stamp collectors!  They balked at the prospect of laying out ever-larger sums to acquire the burgeoning proliferation of stamps.  So in 1895 they organized to blacklist what they deemed to be excessive stamps, forming the Society for the Suppression of Speculative Stamps.  Really.   

We might need a curmudgeon stamp.

Think You Can Do Better?

In a week comprised of infuriating recalcitrance, pinnacles of human drama, and absurd maneuvering for profit, some notable examples of leadership dilemmas and decisions have emerged for our consideration.

Governor Jerry Brown has stepped up with an unflinching proposal for dealing with a feral state budget. Then, met with partisan politics instead of teamwork, he displayed a political civilian’s sensibilities when he chastised Republicans in Sacramento: So…you’re not going to vote for putting the proposed tax extensions on the ballot in June. You’re not going to vote for restricting redevelopment funding. You’re not going to do anything to address the budget; and yet you still pick up a paycheck?

If he’s feeling a mite frustrated, we everyday folks can relate. There’s a lot of heehaw going around in the Sacramento Corral about the bold moves needed to wrangle the state’s budget, strap a saddle on it, and ride dressage; but what does he get for his good faith efforts? Hoof dragging. We see a lot of bucking and snorting, reminiscent of unbroken colts, but no forward movement nor ideas for a better way. The Governor must somehow finesse a concession from the legislators he’d like to give the spurs. And finesse may not be his long suit. What cube of sugar will it take to get them moving?

And make no mistake, when the Republicans do offer up their counter-proposal, the Democrats also balk and stall. Meanwhile…well, you know.

President Obama finds himself in a classic leadership pinch. When he’s circumspect, holding back, measuring the will of the United Nations and the Arab League before committing United States armed forces to battle in Libya, his detractors grumble that he’s tepid, indecisive. Then, when he takes assertive action, they cry out that he’s extended himself beyond his purview. These howls come from the very representatives who publicly asserted that the international community could not/should not stand by watching while a maniacal tyrant makes good on his promise to slaughter the citizens he claims to love. “You must act!” they say. “Wait! You didn’t consult us! You acted too quickly! You should have waited. You waited too long! Now hurry up and get out! And don’t leave before you finish the job!”

As chapters are dashed off in the history of the world and pages turn daily, we can’t help wondering what leadership will emerge across the Middle East. The impetus for revolution in Egypt, Libya, Bahrain, Yemen, didn’t come from nowhere. Yet it seems to have gushed in a stunning upsurge of human spirit and the will to be free. But when the old is out and the new is in, who will step forward to facilitate the formation of these fledgling democracies? How will they raise their newborn children?

Finally, from the sublime to the ridiculous: How about this for a leadership model to emulate? CBS brass is in negotiations to bring Charlie Sheen back to “Two and a Half Men.” As they say on Facebook, SMH (shaking my head). We can only imagine what WikiLeaks would reveal if there were “diplomatic” cables among CBS executives about Sheen’s seemingly deranged rants, sad escapades with prostitutes, and paranoid slurs of his bosses, no, his former bosses; no, wait for it – his bosses-to-be.

Yes here they go, working to put him center stage again in their brightly lit prime time venue. This must be where a leader assesses such things as Sheen displayed to be personal, and therefore unrelated to the public performances that made them all so many millions of dollars. What’s really important after all? And will we help them out by tuning in? “Winning!”

Can we do it? (Or, should we do it?) Should we/can we look at what’s onscreen and not think of what’s taken place behind the veneer? How about Michael Vick? Can we root for him and his team while scratching our best friend’s ears? What about Bill Clinton? Only after this many years are we starting to separate the flawed human being from the work he did and is doing. Is that fair?

Maybe it’s not for us to say, but we certainly have our opinions, our righteous indignation, and our certainty about what should be. We’d love to set ‘em all straight and tell ‘em how it would be if we were in charge.

How does that saying go? The one about what you wish for…?