Growing up in a modest single family house in the late 1980's and early 90's, my sister and I were limited in our television viewing capacity moreso than the normal 8:30 PM bedtime curfew that was imposed. There was an additional physical limitation in the form of one television for us to share. It might have also been the only TV in the house for a while, or if there was another one (in my parent's room) I doubt it too was enabled with extremely basic cable. But basic cable was a treat, having mostly only been exposed to the antenna-equipped set in our younger years. Cable brought Disney, Nickelodeon, and, unfortunately, Lifetime. But back then Lifetime wasn't just sappy "Rob Lowe as a a murderous, seductive, cop killer" films. It also included game shows. And back then, one thing a family could definitely rally around was mindless competition in a supermarket. Everyone goes to a supermarket, everyone knows what's there and generally how much stuff costs, but nobody ever gets a chance to race buggies around and throw turkeys 20 ft into them. Supermarket Sweep gave everybody a chance to live that fantasy as well as watch the ridiculous people who occasionally lacked both commons sense and physical prowess. So a chance to feel good about yourself in a sort of pre-reality show sort of way.
I often wondered if anything in the show was real. Were real turkeys actually being tossed into carts? Was real coffee really being ground for no good reason except only to race? If so, did anybody feel a little bit bad about wasting 40 carts of groceries per show (estimated average) for the sake of entertainment? It's one thing to say we can part ways with the dollar value of the food, but to throw away nourishment "when kids in Africa are starving" is tougher to accept. It's almost like how animals are not allowed to be killed for the sake of entertainment, or when only fake flounder can be displayed in fictional shows/films depicting Pike's Place Market. Perhaps only a small amount of perishable foods was being wasted? Maybe the dented cans of soup were restocked for the next tournament. Or maybe they made the winners take it all home, beaten, spoiled, worthless produce and all.
Everyone who watched had their own strategy. That was part of the intrigue. Knowing what items cost the most and then collecting your maximum 5 as quickly as possible without breaking your back or wrecking the cart into Pepsi cubes. I always thought I would head straight to the medicine aisle. I could load up a cart with Benadryl and condoms and still have room for pistachios one aisle over. But I don't think medicine was available in their fictionalized market, an omission that calls into question the self-described "super" aspect. I would also run straight to the spice aisle. The weak yet time-efficient stud that I was, loading on 5 of every ginger, tumeric, and thyme offering would spare me the pain of earning the per pound value of every meat product stuffed into my basket. But yet, that seemed to be where every contestant wound up. Almost as is the things most valued now in a supermarket were not so much back then. Back then, it was all about meat. And perhaps that is just one argument for the intellectual dominance of Mr. Bob Evans and Jimmy Dean. Not to mention Uncle Charlie. Those guys had business sense, along with great taste.
I miss those days. I miss those shows. I'm sure I can pull one or two up on YouTube and then quickly realize that I didn't miss it that much after all. But like any fantasy, the fun is in reliving it, not in actually living it.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Havre De Grace
Just the other day I had the pleasure of making a pit stop in in the little town of Havre de Grace. Situated at the mouth of the Susquehanna River in Maryland, the little historic town of 13,577 was a former stop on the "Underground Railroad!", according to the Fingertip Facts I picked up at the visitor's center. But that's hardly the city's claim to fame.
In the late 1700's, the young town quickly expanded from a meek 7 houses to 40 houses in a 15 year span. This, coupled with it's prime location just about an hour from Baltimore, made it an excellent candidate for the Capital of the United States (according to another hand-typed fact sheet with a header typed in A-Team military font, so rather official, if not accurate). But with a close vote in 1789, a tie that was actually broken by the vote of the Speaker of the House, Havre de Grace lost it's bid for the U.S. Capital to Washington, D.C. A devastating loss, one would initially conclude, but one that would pave the way for another proud American center.
Suzie, a pleasant grandmotherly volunteer at the visitor's center, skipped most of this back story in her helpful and proud description of her town. But she made sure that I knew what it was famous for. Havre de Grace is the "Decoy Capital of the World". Or so they claim, but who would dispute it? She explained her 2-part reasoning: existence of a Decoy Museum + an annual festival that draws several skilled artisans. My confused reaction, however, was why so much time and expense was put into crafting little fake ducks that would later become target practice. But I soon found out that the hunting aspect became prohibited, in part due to Uncle Sam / Uncle MD regulations. This thankfully preserved the artistic investment, and set the stage for the hand-carved models to be become revered for their ability to attract humans rather than live ducks (as successful as that purpose has become).
I collected up some additional reading material and, once safely at home, noticed even more amazing decoys in the town. There is a lawn service that carves frolicking dogs out of your bushes. This must be to either ward off foxes or to thumb a nose at Mr. Scissorhands. There is also a puppet show with a convincing humanoid at it's center. This must be to attract real people to the show rather than just other puppets. Check them out below.
While it's a shame that Havre de Grace lost the chance at Capitalizing as the US headquarters, they have certainly seized the opportunity to instead lead the world in what must be a dying art. And while the bullets may now be blanks, the proud American dominance is real. And nobody messes with a rogue, elite group of American bad asses. Whether the A or De Team.
In the late 1700's, the young town quickly expanded from a meek 7 houses to 40 houses in a 15 year span. This, coupled with it's prime location just about an hour from Baltimore, made it an excellent candidate for the Capital of the United States (according to another hand-typed fact sheet with a header typed in A-Team military font, so rather official, if not accurate). But with a close vote in 1789, a tie that was actually broken by the vote of the Speaker of the House, Havre de Grace lost it's bid for the U.S. Capital to Washington, D.C. A devastating loss, one would initially conclude, but one that would pave the way for another proud American center.
Suzie, a pleasant grandmotherly volunteer at the visitor's center, skipped most of this back story in her helpful and proud description of her town. But she made sure that I knew what it was famous for. Havre de Grace is the "Decoy Capital of the World". Or so they claim, but who would dispute it? She explained her 2-part reasoning: existence of a Decoy Museum + an annual festival that draws several skilled artisans. My confused reaction, however, was why so much time and expense was put into crafting little fake ducks that would later become target practice. But I soon found out that the hunting aspect became prohibited, in part due to Uncle Sam / Uncle MD regulations. This thankfully preserved the artistic investment, and set the stage for the hand-carved models to be become revered for their ability to attract humans rather than live ducks (as successful as that purpose has become).
I collected up some additional reading material and, once safely at home, noticed even more amazing decoys in the town. There is a lawn service that carves frolicking dogs out of your bushes. This must be to either ward off foxes or to thumb a nose at Mr. Scissorhands. There is also a puppet show with a convincing humanoid at it's center. This must be to attract real people to the show rather than just other puppets. Check them out below.
While it's a shame that Havre de Grace lost the chance at Capitalizing as the US headquarters, they have certainly seized the opportunity to instead lead the world in what must be a dying art. And while the bullets may now be blanks, the proud American dominance is real. And nobody messes with a rogue, elite group of American bad asses. Whether the A or De Team.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Be Prepared
You have to wonder what the intent is of someone who tells you “expect the unexpected”. What, exactly, does that mean? I grew up a Cub Scout and in that reputable organization they had a similar saying of “Be Prepared”. Something that requires less brainpower to contemplate and which can be readily transferrable to rational, real-world actions. As in “be prepared for snow” or “be prepared for margaritas”, either call-to-action resulting in an increased supply of Morton’s.
“Be prepared” recurs as a positive message throughout most children’s programs and fables (Aesop’s are the only brand I’m familiar with). One story goes about the encounter of an ant and a grasshopper in advance of winter. The ant is busy collecting and saving food for the winter ahead while the grasshopper is not, despite the ant’s advising. Come winter, the ant is well-prepared for the frozen season while the grasshopper is not, therefore he suffers. The grasshopper eventually realizes his mistake, and his lesson in preparedness quickly becomes ours to share, minus the consequences.
But what lesson can be taught of “expect the unexpected”? If this was applied to the ant and grasshopper fable, what non sequitur turn of events would take shape? Would a second ant appear and start collecting a tax on all savings? Would the grasshopper start bullying the ant for food? Or would a giant human walking by accidentally crush them both and end them mid-story? Either way, once applied, the event is thereby “expected” and a new lesson interpreted. And, in these examples perhaps, the lesson being “that the only certainties in life are death and taxes”. With the consequential revision to the proverb now “expect a tax-free afterlife”.
No, it seems that there is no appropriate context for the message to be delivered or any logical interpretation to be gained therefrom. It ultimately boils down to a philosophical mind trap where you can continually try to think of what might happen, then immediately cross it off the list because you thought of it. Or a way to beat yourself up after something unexpected happened because you couldn’t have possibly predicted it would happen, and even if you did there wasn’t much you could do about it. You are, as it is stated, only supposed to tailor your expectations accordingly, not actually do anything about them.
Nah, I will just stick with the mantra that was programmed well into my developmental bear brain. The one that makes sense, short on negatives, and is fable-ready. Would you expect anything else?
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Kick Me
Who uses a “Kick Me” prank?? And does it work? I really am curious. It seems like the stereotypic prank, yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen it used in person, and if I had then it was either unobliged (i.e. nobody actually kicked the loser) or short-lived, the first person that did fessed up like a momma’s boy and the prank was over.
What is the evolution of this classic prank? Innovation uses a light bulb as a symbol. Pranks use a “kick me” note taped to the back of an unsuspecting victim. Which, luckily nowadays, tape is even removed from the equation since a Post-It can be used. Bright, eye-catching, trademarked canary yellow and all. Further proof of it’s simplistic prankster ingenuity.
Perhaps the joke is not in actually kicking the person but in establishing the lack of observation + unusual fetish of a prey. In which case, perhaps “I like really tight ropes” or “Just For Men” aptly situated just above the hind area would be more adventurous. These would also serve better in assuring the prankee, upon discovery of the note, of their general submissive and demeaning role in all things social.
What if the note said “Love Me”? What would people’s reactions be? Would they stare questionably as if “Did this guy seriously put this note on his own shirt and stroll nonchalantly through our bridal party as if he had no clue?? I feel oddly sympathetic and attracted to him, and, and, and maybe I could actually Lov… “[ END SCENE]
I can think of one instance where verbatim compliance with the directive would have come in handy recently. If Billy Cundiff could have squared up against a pigskin donning a “Kick Me Straight” label in a playoff game then perhaps Baltimore would still be kicking more balls in Indy this weekend. But as it was, the label must have fallen off or have been altered to “Hang Your Head in Disgrace”.
I don't usually follow blind directives like a handwritten note taped to someone's back. However, if it said "Student Walker" or "Didn't Bathe", my aversive reaction would probably match the intended response. I do generally follow slightly higher quality directives, although still randomly targeted. Like fortunes in a fortune cookie. Or The Valentine's Day candy hearts that say Hug Me, or something cheesy like that. Perhaps it's not that the message is delivered in an unusual way, but that it is typed. That tells me someone gave more than an initial thought to the message, proofread it for accuracy, then committed to printing it on a worthy medium. In which case, the validity is already halfway established, even it is about to be eaten.
I wonder what they do in the school for the blind? What is their equivalent of a Kick Me note? Does it still say Kick Me but in Braille? And do they just walk right up and paste it on the front of somebody? Seems like it may be a tad more cruel than just pasting it on a non physically-handicapped person, but they have to joke around somehow. Plus according to Mr. Quaid's acknowledgment in National Lampoon'S Christmas Vacation, when administered by a mule to the head, it can actually cure blindness. So perhaps the roots of the directive are in faith and miracles, in which case it is not so much a prank but a pathway to peace. And a trip to the Super Bowl.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Tolling
Anybody else not a complete fan of E-Z Pass? The RFD tags Velcro-ed under your windshield or on your bumper. The technology is great, allowing you to speed through turnpike interchanges 40 mph faster than the posted 15 mph limit (the human safety limit, not a technological one). It also saves you from combing through the change bin for $2.00 in quarters and pennies. Remember those days? But as simple as it is to whiz right on by the checkout line it is equally easy to ring up a huge bill without you fully knowing until it arrives in the mail. Or worse yet never really knowing if your account auto-replenishes (convenient feature offered in some states) and you just see irregular charges on your credit statement every few months. "Guess I drove $35 worth on the turnpikes this month", but in reality you have no idea when and where the tolls were incurred unless you diligently monitor your account and statements. And then check them.
There is value in actually getting a ticket and stopping and paying a toll in person. Whether by cash or credit, the exchange requires understanding of the fee and a determination of whether or not it was reasonable (not that you can opt out at that point but if it was $20 instead of $2 then you could alter your route differently next time). When the system is completely automated and occurs without notice of the fee, then this evaluation gets deferred and more than likely forgotten. Today, for instance, I had the luxury of driving most of the new ICC, intergalactic connector MD-200, or a quick and quiet bypass around the worst highway on the east coast: I-495 around DC. On approach, I noticed one sign before I entered onto the controversial course indicating a fee of $0.55. But it was fast and I wasn't sure if this was a flat rate, or a recurring charge, or a suggested donation. But as I continued onto the highway, I noticed something peculiar every couple miles. Tolls were being collected. Over and over again. I couldn't be sure since there was no explicit sign near any of the toll stations, plus there was no physical station, just E-Z pass like structures that you fly under in an instant and know that you've paid something.
I continued to wonder "How much am I paying for this joy ride?". And I never got my answer. I simply reached the end of the road and continued on a toll-free MD highway. This experience is not unique to the ICC 200. On most turnpikes throughout OH-PA-MD-NY-DE-NJ, I find that the tolls are not generally listed anywhere. In part because there are different on and off ramps for entry and tolling is adjusted accordingly. As one can still usually confirm by getting an old-fashioned ticket with the rates printed daily. But when you roll through the gate, you normally get a thumbs up in the form of the word "PAID" displayed on the monitor. Damned if I ever know how much I paid, the system must not be swift enough to share that information with us. But wouldn't that little bit of information be nice, let alone rightfully available for us at the time we are incurring the charge? Especially with the frequency and ease with which rates can change once they are completely automated.
I checked the PA Turnpike, one of my more frequent uses, and, sure to my estimation, the rates have increased as frequently over the last 8 years (4 times total) as they had the 34 years prior. A trend where now if I hear about a toll increase anywhere I am somewhat numb to the effect. They must be using an E-Z Toll Increase gadget to pull off that level of expediency. I also later checked the ICC 200 when I could safely access the web. Turns out, not only can they freely adjust rates over years to come, they already do it DAILY to charge more during rush hour. And yes, they do charge very often, at the E-Z Pass-looking stations that are distributed every 1/2 mile. With that kind of non-sense you almost need a taxi-like meter running so you can watch your money disappear at every 1/5th mile, plus the base charge.
The only other odd thing that caught my attention as I was driving a busy suburb of DC today: I noticed an unusual amount of bums at every major highway stop light intersection. Slowly making their way up and down the middle of traffic like pan-handlers for charity usually do with a Fireman's boot or a Santa hat, depending on the specific fat man occasion. I of course ignored them at every opportunity, even cranking up my music in another display of "not interested, keep walkin". But now I think all they wanted was a few cents, maybe a buck or two. Something readily dug out of a pocket or change bin while sitting there waiting on the light. It's not easy to do these days, especially after being institutionalized with the cold, credited transactions that are so swiftly performed in every business large and small.
Then I realize that perhaps it they accepted E-Z Pass and got me to my destination 10 seconds faster I would have automatically complied with an $8 pledge and never given it a second thought.
There is value in actually getting a ticket and stopping and paying a toll in person. Whether by cash or credit, the exchange requires understanding of the fee and a determination of whether or not it was reasonable (not that you can opt out at that point but if it was $20 instead of $2 then you could alter your route differently next time). When the system is completely automated and occurs without notice of the fee, then this evaluation gets deferred and more than likely forgotten. Today, for instance, I had the luxury of driving most of the new ICC, intergalactic connector MD-200, or a quick and quiet bypass around the worst highway on the east coast: I-495 around DC. On approach, I noticed one sign before I entered onto the controversial course indicating a fee of $0.55. But it was fast and I wasn't sure if this was a flat rate, or a recurring charge, or a suggested donation. But as I continued onto the highway, I noticed something peculiar every couple miles. Tolls were being collected. Over and over again. I couldn't be sure since there was no explicit sign near any of the toll stations, plus there was no physical station, just E-Z pass like structures that you fly under in an instant and know that you've paid something.
I continued to wonder "How much am I paying for this joy ride?". And I never got my answer. I simply reached the end of the road and continued on a toll-free MD highway. This experience is not unique to the ICC 200. On most turnpikes throughout OH-PA-MD-NY-DE-NJ, I find that the tolls are not generally listed anywhere. In part because there are different on and off ramps for entry and tolling is adjusted accordingly. As one can still usually confirm by getting an old-fashioned ticket with the rates printed daily. But when you roll through the gate, you normally get a thumbs up in the form of the word "PAID" displayed on the monitor. Damned if I ever know how much I paid, the system must not be swift enough to share that information with us. But wouldn't that little bit of information be nice, let alone rightfully available for us at the time we are incurring the charge? Especially with the frequency and ease with which rates can change once they are completely automated.
I checked the PA Turnpike, one of my more frequent uses, and, sure to my estimation, the rates have increased as frequently over the last 8 years (4 times total) as they had the 34 years prior. A trend where now if I hear about a toll increase anywhere I am somewhat numb to the effect. They must be using an E-Z Toll Increase gadget to pull off that level of expediency. I also later checked the ICC 200 when I could safely access the web. Turns out, not only can they freely adjust rates over years to come, they already do it DAILY to charge more during rush hour. And yes, they do charge very often, at the E-Z Pass-looking stations that are distributed every 1/2 mile. With that kind of non-sense you almost need a taxi-like meter running so you can watch your money disappear at every 1/5th mile, plus the base charge.
The only other odd thing that caught my attention as I was driving a busy suburb of DC today: I noticed an unusual amount of bums at every major highway stop light intersection. Slowly making their way up and down the middle of traffic like pan-handlers for charity usually do with a Fireman's boot or a Santa hat, depending on the specific fat man occasion. I of course ignored them at every opportunity, even cranking up my music in another display of "not interested, keep walkin". But now I think all they wanted was a few cents, maybe a buck or two. Something readily dug out of a pocket or change bin while sitting there waiting on the light. It's not easy to do these days, especially after being institutionalized with the cold, credited transactions that are so swiftly performed in every business large and small.
Then I realize that perhaps it they accepted E-Z Pass and got me to my destination 10 seconds faster I would have automatically complied with an $8 pledge and never given it a second thought.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Perspective
As vast and informative the internet can be, there's one aspect that is extremely difficult to gauge. Exactly how vast is it? And where I am at any given time with respect to what everybody else is checking out? How intently are people actually visiting a site? What is their level of engagement? Are they simply breezing through some pics or are they regular visitors?
This issue boils down to perspective, something that the electronic world does not readily convey like the physical. I can thumb through thousands of novels on an e-reader, but I can't estimate the time required to finish a single tale by simply looking at the tablet. Or I can purchase millions of songs from i-Tunes, but I can't readily say which ones I am into at the moment, not like a couple of recently listened-to CD's sitting on a desk can enable.
The web, to me, is infinite. Certainly not in the literal physical or electrical sense, but considering how much information changes every instant, there would never be a baseline opportunity to begin charting all of it's waters. Websites are born and fade away every moment. News and comments feeds are live all around the world. Information is endless, but what of it is actually newsworthy, entertaining, intelligent, or credible? Social networks provide some means to learn who's into what, but only if it's a popular topic. Not everything that is created is meant for tweeting or friending. Yet that is the direction it seems everything our society is hooked on. You can friend The Today Show. Or Tweet to Tom Selleck (whether it is actually him or one of hundreds of faux names you can't always tell, again because of perspective).
Despite the endless topics and discussions on the net, it seems incredibly hard to break from routine and to actually explore something new. Something that doesn't originate from the same 5 websites that you frequent for news, status updates, and sports. On a quest, once, I typed "random search generator" on google and found that others have already experienced this same dilemma and attempted to solve it. The couple sites I first saw didn't look too credible, and I wasn't keen on clicking something with no visible web address or indication of what was behind door #3. I also saw a site called StumbleUpon (yes, I forced myself not to exclaim that I stumbled upon their site). It looks like a Pandora but for everything on the net, not just music. And it looks like you have to explain what topics you are into without relying on automatic trackers that online advertisers use to prey on their victims, er customers.
I guess what I would want most would be something like where you spin a globe and point your finger at the next destination. Something free-spirited and romantic but without risk of ending up on Mars. Or something like channel surfing, a casual and open-minded act where you can browse an eclectic assortment of tastes by just hitting the channel button (less popular and slower nowadays, but fun before digital). Surfing, in general, represents a tidal adventure without prescription or known course. A simple mission to ride on a personalized platform, plus a conquerable body of water. The internet is not conquerable. So doubt we'll see internet surfing anytime soon.
I imagine I can always try generating random words by flipping through an (unabridged) dictionary, then inputting those into random search engines and start clicking away. Then I can get my virtual passport stamped as I visit all of the culturally significant destinations on the first 20 web hits. But that's the thing. There would probably still be millions of hits. How would I know what is relevant, non-biased, or just worth my while to look at? Every site gets the same face value respect of an equal size font link and short description, unless it is clearly marked as a "sponsored" advertiser. Much like how an old store sign weathers and fades, I think outdated or inactive website links should be displayed in aging fonts. Or porn site links should be flashy and cheesy. Or tax preparation sites should remain the same dull blue.
All this ranting gets me thinking that perhaps somebody has already proposed a remedy, and that perhaps this remedy is already posted in the sea of knowledge, but has yet to be discovered. In which case I might as well continue my explorations and hope to stumble upon gold. Or at least a shorter passage to India.
This issue boils down to perspective, something that the electronic world does not readily convey like the physical. I can thumb through thousands of novels on an e-reader, but I can't estimate the time required to finish a single tale by simply looking at the tablet. Or I can purchase millions of songs from i-Tunes, but I can't readily say which ones I am into at the moment, not like a couple of recently listened-to CD's sitting on a desk can enable.
The web, to me, is infinite. Certainly not in the literal physical or electrical sense, but considering how much information changes every instant, there would never be a baseline opportunity to begin charting all of it's waters. Websites are born and fade away every moment. News and comments feeds are live all around the world. Information is endless, but what of it is actually newsworthy, entertaining, intelligent, or credible? Social networks provide some means to learn who's into what, but only if it's a popular topic. Not everything that is created is meant for tweeting or friending. Yet that is the direction it seems everything our society is hooked on. You can friend The Today Show. Or Tweet to Tom Selleck (whether it is actually him or one of hundreds of faux names you can't always tell, again because of perspective).
Despite the endless topics and discussions on the net, it seems incredibly hard to break from routine and to actually explore something new. Something that doesn't originate from the same 5 websites that you frequent for news, status updates, and sports. On a quest, once, I typed "random search generator" on google and found that others have already experienced this same dilemma and attempted to solve it. The couple sites I first saw didn't look too credible, and I wasn't keen on clicking something with no visible web address or indication of what was behind door #3. I also saw a site called StumbleUpon (yes, I forced myself not to exclaim that I stumbled upon their site). It looks like a Pandora but for everything on the net, not just music. And it looks like you have to explain what topics you are into without relying on automatic trackers that online advertisers use to prey on their victims, er customers.
I guess what I would want most would be something like where you spin a globe and point your finger at the next destination. Something free-spirited and romantic but without risk of ending up on Mars. Or something like channel surfing, a casual and open-minded act where you can browse an eclectic assortment of tastes by just hitting the channel button (less popular and slower nowadays, but fun before digital). Surfing, in general, represents a tidal adventure without prescription or known course. A simple mission to ride on a personalized platform, plus a conquerable body of water. The internet is not conquerable. So doubt we'll see internet surfing anytime soon.
I imagine I can always try generating random words by flipping through an (unabridged) dictionary, then inputting those into random search engines and start clicking away. Then I can get my virtual passport stamped as I visit all of the culturally significant destinations on the first 20 web hits. But that's the thing. There would probably still be millions of hits. How would I know what is relevant, non-biased, or just worth my while to look at? Every site gets the same face value respect of an equal size font link and short description, unless it is clearly marked as a "sponsored" advertiser. Much like how an old store sign weathers and fades, I think outdated or inactive website links should be displayed in aging fonts. Or porn site links should be flashy and cheesy. Or tax preparation sites should remain the same dull blue.
All this ranting gets me thinking that perhaps somebody has already proposed a remedy, and that perhaps this remedy is already posted in the sea of knowledge, but has yet to be discovered. In which case I might as well continue my explorations and hope to stumble upon gold. Or at least a shorter passage to India.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
For Charity or For Pride?
Yesterday was the annual Polar Bear plunge in the Chesapeake Bay. One of perhaps several around the country. How do I know this? Well, it's covered quite extensively in the news, all sorts of print and television articles. You hear about it for days leading up to the event, during the event, and afterwards. You also hear about it from locals in town, brave or crazy souls who take the plunge..... for charity.
C'mon, give me a break. You mean to tell me that the whole exercise is rooted in helping others? A humble act of kindness not meant for any real attention or recognition? Sure, yet that is what the articles claim. Thousands of crazy folks dive into the frigid waters for charity's sake. Or you hear about it firsthand from groups or individuals who have nothing to prove other than they are taking the dip "for the ___ foundation" or to "help raise money for our friend ___ who is in need".
Don't get me wrong, I am glad that some charitable donations can be made as a result of these unusual endeavors. But don't tell me that charity is the root of participants motives. Don't even tell me that charity is a motive. Because it isn't. Anybody who claims to do anything for charity, or who announces that they donate money to anyone, is no longer acting in a selfless manner. But this is a common thread in much of any publicized charitable acts, not just exclusive to the Polar Bears. What sets the Polar Bears apart is the additional pride, attention, and improvement in social status they seek by humbly stripping to their briefs, "braving" the cold, and performing an act that would otherwise not be considered socially acceptable or normal.
How about next year, instead of jumping into the Bay, why not donate $20 (or whatever the fee is) to UNICEF and quietly hit yourself on the head with a hammer? Oh wait, nobody else is doing it, you probably won't get on TV, and you'll probably fall a few rungs on the social ladder. Why do you think an organization can even get away with charging people for jumping into a freezing body of water? (Yes, an organization, not the end recipients of all the funds - middlemen are making a cut from your non-sense, so in part some of your "donation" is probably going to tents, food, or response personnel to ensure your death can't become litigated.). It's because they know that people are willing to pay for an improvement in their social status. It's no different than touting a Chanel purse, sporting Abercrombie, or driving a Beemer. But at least in those instances there's no false pretense of charity.
But what's further amazing in this classic chest-thumping gorilla exercise is that now so many people are part of the club that a more extreme variation has evolved for the true donators. Instead of plunging once into the murky water, participants can jump once an hour in the water for 24 hours. Whoa! I can't believe how much you care about others! I wonder what will come next, agreeing to shave all hair (i.e. insulation) from your body before jumping in. Only the strong will endure.
Next time just call a spade a spade and confess your longing need for belonging. Or get drunk and have a good time without regard for the veiled true cause. Whatever you do, humble thyself just one notch and don't accept any recognition in the name of charity. We're already giving you props for stripping and flapping around like a polar chicken.
C'mon, give me a break. You mean to tell me that the whole exercise is rooted in helping others? A humble act of kindness not meant for any real attention or recognition? Sure, yet that is what the articles claim. Thousands of crazy folks dive into the frigid waters for charity's sake. Or you hear about it firsthand from groups or individuals who have nothing to prove other than they are taking the dip "for the ___ foundation" or to "help raise money for our friend ___ who is in need".
Don't get me wrong, I am glad that some charitable donations can be made as a result of these unusual endeavors. But don't tell me that charity is the root of participants motives. Don't even tell me that charity is a motive. Because it isn't. Anybody who claims to do anything for charity, or who announces that they donate money to anyone, is no longer acting in a selfless manner. But this is a common thread in much of any publicized charitable acts, not just exclusive to the Polar Bears. What sets the Polar Bears apart is the additional pride, attention, and improvement in social status they seek by humbly stripping to their briefs, "braving" the cold, and performing an act that would otherwise not be considered socially acceptable or normal.
How about next year, instead of jumping into the Bay, why not donate $20 (or whatever the fee is) to UNICEF and quietly hit yourself on the head with a hammer? Oh wait, nobody else is doing it, you probably won't get on TV, and you'll probably fall a few rungs on the social ladder. Why do you think an organization can even get away with charging people for jumping into a freezing body of water? (Yes, an organization, not the end recipients of all the funds - middlemen are making a cut from your non-sense, so in part some of your "donation" is probably going to tents, food, or response personnel to ensure your death can't become litigated.). It's because they know that people are willing to pay for an improvement in their social status. It's no different than touting a Chanel purse, sporting Abercrombie, or driving a Beemer. But at least in those instances there's no false pretense of charity.
But what's further amazing in this classic chest-thumping gorilla exercise is that now so many people are part of the club that a more extreme variation has evolved for the true donators. Instead of plunging once into the murky water, participants can jump once an hour in the water for 24 hours. Whoa! I can't believe how much you care about others! I wonder what will come next, agreeing to shave all hair (i.e. insulation) from your body before jumping in. Only the strong will endure.
Next time just call a spade a spade and confess your longing need for belonging. Or get drunk and have a good time without regard for the veiled true cause. Whatever you do, humble thyself just one notch and don't accept any recognition in the name of charity. We're already giving you props for stripping and flapping around like a polar chicken.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)