I've Failed Again

 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.

  

                     ABOUT                                              GLOSSARY 

"Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans." -Alan Saunders

Dear Gentlereader,

Once upon a time, a garrulous geezer set out to write a series of "cheat sheets" for his grandkids (the Stickies), and anyone else who might be interested. The idea was to pass along an old dude's helpful hints on how to go about living a life on planet Earth for three score and ten or twenty. 

According to Merriam-Webster, garrulous means given to prosy, rambling, or tedious loquacity, as well as pointlessly or annoyingly talkative. While I could easily make a case that the use of the word loquacity in this definition is an oxymoron, given that...

{Stop!}

Thanks, Dana. Relatively recently, I tried again, and managed to complete Cheat Sheet 1. I've worked on part two for several weeks now, and despite numerous rewrites, I can't seem to climb out of the literary ditch I fell into, and it's become clear to me that a good Samaritan isn't coming.

It's time to execute plan B. 

That is to say, to stop throwing good money after bad, and move on for the sake of my mental health. If you're a fellow geezer/gezzerette, you're likely aware that Medicare is highly concerned that we may be subject to the "mental health crisis" that many people think a lot of our fellow Americans are having. 

While I stand behind the thoughts and notions expressed in C.S.1, which are rather broad and general in nature, I got carried away with specific thoughts and notions when trying to continue the series. It's finally dawned on me that my biweekly column is where I should explore specifics; in fact, it's what I've actually been doing for several years now anyway. 

Suffice it to say, my cheat sheets concept is officially cancelled with the approval of the corporate office.

{Biweekly? I thought you only published every other week, not twice a week. Did I miss a memo?}

Nope, it's still every other week. The English Language Police Department's guidelines state that the word for twice a week is semiweekly, although they admit semiweekly and biweekly are commonly used interchangeably, and that you need to spell out exactly what you mean when you use either word. 

{As your daughter and her friends used to say, what-ever! Can we move on, please?}

In her defense, she and her friends were teenagers at the time, as for you...

{Why don't you kiss my...}

You don't have one, and hey, this is a more or less family-friendly column, don't make me rat you out to the blue-haired ladies in the HR department. 

{Are you talking about ladies of a certain age or blue streaked lefty ladies?} 

Deck cleared, here's some unsolicited advice, boys and girls. Even if you've unfortunately been born into a wealthy family, which luckily is not a problem for either my daughter or my grandkids...

{Wait-wait-wait, unfortunately born into a wealthy family?}

Yup. That's as bad as achieving fame and/or fortune prior to reaching the age of 25 or so, by which time the average H. sapien has (more or less) achieved physical and mental maturity according to science. 

Personally, I think 30 is a more realistic number. When I was a callow yute, the saying, "Don't trust anyone over 30," officially credited to one Jack Weinberg (now 85), was in vogue. Nowadays, I think the opposite is true; I view anyone under the age of 30 with distrust. Full disclosure, I'm a geezer who tends to look askance at everyone under the age of 50.

H. sapiens, like diamonds and gold, require processing/polishing before achieving maximum brilliance. 

If you're cursed by being born into wealth, unless you're blessed with parents with the inclination and time to go to the trouble of getting across to you that this ain't normal, that life for most people involves endless struggle and compromise just to get through the day, there's a good chance you might not know what life is really like for most people.

The same thing holds for those unfortunate enough to achieve fame and fortune prior to physical and/or psychological maturity. 

{Are you trying to say that young rockstars, popstars, and "influencers"...}

Yes, especially influencers, not that there's a shortage of older influencers that... never mind, that's a whole other column. 

{You dodged a digression!}

Life being life, we're all subject to finding ourselves out and about one day, minding our own, when life jumps out from behind a rock and sinks its teeth into our bum. If you haven't been properly "processed/polished," and this also applies to the spoiled spawn of people of modest means, the bite could prove to be ultimately fatal rather than merely requiring yet another band-aid. 

Irregardless of whether you suffer the curse of being a member of the Lucky Sperm Club, suffer under the yoke of the equally awful curse of childhood fame and fortune, or are just another Joe or Joan Bagadonuts (whatever your preferred pronouns), you need to look yourself in the eye and acknowledge that you've got to share the playground with the other kids.

  

Even if you aspire to spend your life pursuing enlightenment in a cave/monastery/hut/etceterut, personal self-sufficiency is highly unlikely. Even if you can make a pizza that's as good as your favorite pizza parlors, you're not going to be able to round up all the ingredients without interacting with other people. 

{Pizza?}

Granted, I'm probably a member of a relatively small cohort of people who can't imagine why anyone would bother getting out of bed in a world without pizza, but the example still serves to illustrate how dependent we H. sapiens are on other H. sapiens. 

If you're (more or less) normal, you've been dealing with the leader/follower/sharing/etcetering thing since you were two years old. You've (hopefully) learned that, although if reality made any sense, your fellow humans would submit to your tyranny and do as they're told, life ain't like that unless you're a successful dicktater, like the Pooteen or Little Rocket man, for example.

If you didn't, there's a good chance you may be about to be locked up somewhere. That is to say, if you failed or dropped out of socialization school, or worse yet, no one even enrolled you, we boring Normies will be forced to deal with you, and vice versa, for the rest of your and our lives. 

Warning: many of your fellow H. sapiens don't suffer from suicidal levels of empathy. So, as my late wife, Ronbo, used to say, get a grip.  

Have an OK day, 

Colonel Cranky

Scroll down to comment, share my work, or scroll through previous columns. I post links to my columns on my Facebook page so you can love me, hate me, or call for my execution via social media. Cranky don't Tweet (Xclaim?).

Copyright 2025-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved

 

   

 

  

Another Stupid Column

Image by Kanenori from Pixabay

Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.

  

                     ABOUT                                              GLOSSARY 

"True genius resides in the capacity for evaluation of uncertain, hazardous, and conflicting information." -Winston Churchill

Dear Gentlereaders,

Did you know that there's a "simple English" version of Wikipedia for "...people with different needs, such as students, children, adults with learning difficulties, and people who are trying to learn English."

I use it all the time because...

{You're a stupid simpleton?}

Depends on who you ask, I suppose. Being a natural-born overthinker and current events enthusiast (junkie), I employ various and sundry strategeries to keep from drowning in the Information Ocean. 

I use it all the time because often a simple, brief answer to a given question is all that I need. Standard Wikipedia articles can be lengthy and highly detailed. And yes, Dana, I'm aware, like most of my millions of gentlereaders no doubt, that Wikipedia entries often contain inaccuracies.

However, I find that the very idea of an encyclopedia that anyone can contribute to, but who are restrained by the fact that anyone else can call them out, and that's maintained primarily by volunteers, to be an interesting endeavor.

Also, there's the fact that you can find articles about stuff unlikely to be in a mainstream encyclopedia like the Encyclopedia Britannica, which still exists (online only), by the way. For example, Wikipedia has an entry about one of my favorite almost-famous, sorta/kinda rock stars, James Dewar. 

{Who? What's so special about him?}

Depends on who you ask, I suppose. But you just gave me an excuse to post the following:

I'm certain that hard-copy encyclopedias (yes, Virginia, they still exist), as well as the thousands of outdated volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica that are still out there — which was considered the Encyclopedia when I was a kid — also contain errors.  

I'm a fan of the simple English version because I believe that whenever possible, you should keep it simple, stupid (KISS). Originally a design principle that dates to 1960, it's a notion that easily scales. An input addict's gotta do what an input addict's gotta do while treading water in the Information Ocean. 

Say, I wonder if simpleton is politically incorrect? And what about stupid, for that matter? Gimme a sec, I'll be right back.

[INSERT PAUSE HERE]

As Mr. Spock would say, fascinating. I find that occasionally adopting the viewpoint of a logic-loving alien from another planet can be a helpful navigation aid when sailing the Information Ocean. 

{You do realize that...}

Don't start, Dana. I know Mr. Spock is a fictional character. 

Simple English Wikipedia, which henceforth I'll be calling Wikipedia Jr., provides no specific information about simpletons. Stupid is not specifically discussed either, but there are links to multiple entries about this, that, or some other stupid thing; literally. Check it out if you don't believe me. 

Standard Wikipedia has a brief entry titled Simpleton about the history of the word, but nothing about political correctness. In fact, it includes jokes about simpletons! Standard Wikipedia has a detailed entry for stupidity that mentions nothing about political correctness either. 

Undeterred, the times being what they are, I turned to the Goog's version of artificial intelligence, Gemini, which now lives in my Chromebox. It moved in and made itself at home in the course of an update. Just follow the link if you don't know what a Chromebox is, if you're interested. 

    

According to Gemini, the word simpleton is definitely not considered to be politically correct. "It is an outdated, insulting term for a foolish or unintelligent person that is often associated with ableism."

{Abelism?}

According to Wikipedia Jr., "Ableism refers to the bias, prejudice or discrimination against disabled people." Wikipedia Sr. offers a similar definition, followed by a lengthy and highly detailed article. Ableism, it seems, is... 

{Calling standard Wikipedia Wikipedia Sr. sounds sexist to me.}

Ableism, it seems, is common all over the planet Earth.

 {Why don't you ask Mr. Spock?} 

In fact, you can now get a degree in Disability Studies at various and sundry colleges and universities. On a related note, you can also minor in Sanism, which is discrimination on the basis of mental disorders or cognitive impairments.

Which brings us back to simpleton and stupid. As a public service, here's a link to a Harvard Business Review article by Rakshitha Arni Ravishankar titled Why You Need to Stop Using These Words and Phrases, which decries using the word stupid early on.

What about simpleton?

I didn't get that far into the article. 

Yet another public service! I feel compelled to ensure that my millions of gentlereaders, or any innocent H. sapiens who have stumbled across this column, are aware of the latest news about hemorrhoids and smartphones.

A study conducted at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston, the results of which are published in PLOS One — which, according to Wikipedia, "...is a peer-reviewed open access mega journal published by the Public Library of Science (PLOS)..." — determined that smartphone users who use their phone while sitting on their porcelian thrones have a 46% better chance of developing hemorrhoids than those who don't. 

{Did they title the study Plop One by any chance? I think that...}

Given the replication crisis, which according to Wikipedia Sr., is "...the growing number of published scientific results that other researchers have been unable to reproduce." I should probably check to see if other studies have determined this is true. 

[INSERT PAUSE HERE]

Wikipedia Jr. has nothing to say about this subject. Wikipedia Sr., on the other hand, has an article titled Bathroom Reading that begins with the following, um, interesting sentence. "Bathroom reading is the act of reading text while in a bathroom, usually while sitting on the toilet and defecating." 

The article mentions all sorts of fun facts like "The psychoanalyst Otto Fenichel believed bathroom reading was an indication of early childhood trauma. He wrote that the activity is 'an attempt to preserve the equilibrium of the ego; part of one's bodily substance is being lost and so fresh matter must be absorbed through the eyes.'"

{That's a goof, you made that up!}

Nuh-uh! Follow the link. 

{Did you find any corroborating studies?} 

Despite at least five minutes of intensive research, I found no specific corroborating studies, but interestingly, the World Wide Web (of contradictory knowledge) provides no shortage of links to all sorts of articles about reading while resting.

The closest I came was an old The Guardian article with the wonderful title, Is reading on the loo bad for you? about a "study" that actually wasn't.   

{Reading while resting?}

Where do you think the term restroom comes from?

I've decided to let Gemini have the last word: 

"Reading on the toilet is a widespread, often harmless habit that can offer a quiet break and an opportunity to catch up on reading, although it may increase the risk of hemorrhoids if done for too long due to the posture. While there is a slight risk of germ transmission, it is generally minimal with good hygiene practices. You can find a variety of reading materials to suit your preference, and it's a common way to pass the time in the "smallest room". 

{Hold up there, Sparky. You have nothing to say about the Wikipedia scandal that everyone's talking about? Wikipedia's been accused of having been captured by the Wokies.}

They have? Heavy sigh, hang on a sec.

[INSERT PAUSE HERE]

I consulted Gemini again since I did promise, um, it — "I don't have pronouns. I am an AI and don't have a gender" — the last word.

Yada, yada, yada... Yada, yada, yada... "While critics point to evidence of left-leaning bias in political articles and recent content moderation decisions, supporters emphasize Wikipedia's robust policies and processes for addressing and mitigating bias."

Ain't it good to know we can count on AI and the internet when we're looking for definitive answers? 

Have an OK day, 

Colonel Cranky

Scroll down to comment, share my work, or scroll through previous columns. I post links to my columns on my Facebook page so you can love me, hate me, or call for my execution via social media. Cranky don't Tweet (Xclaim?).

Copyright 2025-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved

 

Coffee, Counterfeit Speed, and Weed

The endless summer is ending.

Image by Felix from Pixabay

Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.

  

                     ABOUT                                              GLOSSARY 

“Two of my favorite things are sitting on my front porch smoking a pipe of sweet hemp and playing my Hohner harmonica.” -Abraham Lincoln (maybe...)

Dear Gentlereaders,

Coffee, it turns out, at least for now, is officially good for you in moderation. If you're unaware of this, or don't believe me, check out the Worldwide Web of Contradictory Knowledge (WWCK), or just ask your favorite artificial intelligence. 

{What if a given gentlereader isn't online?}

Given that this column is published in cyberspace but not in meatspace, except for that one old Luddite trapped in a geezer storage unit in West Virginia (long story), this is a moot point. However...

{Wait-wait-wait. Whaddaya mean by "at least for now?"}

Well, Dana, even if you're not a current events/input junkie like me, you're likely to be aware that these sorts of pronouncements are subject to change when/if enough new studies come along to debunk the current orthodoxy. 

"Trust the Science" should be rendered as trust the science but pay attention because the science is subject to change, particularly when it comes to food, drink, and psychology. For example, we recently went from moderate alcohol consumption is good for you to alcohol is poison in short order.  

But for now, you can relax (if you haven't had too much coffee) and enjoy the fact that your coffee addiction isn't as problematic as you previously thought. Well, assuming, of course, that you're not consuming more than 400 milligrams of caffeine a day. 

{400mg? Says who?}

There have been a lot of studies done, and "medical experts" seem to agree on that number, including the folks at the FDA. If you follow the link, you'll find a lengthy, highly detailed web page devoted to the subject. 

Coffee-consuming consumers, most consumers I suspect, know what coffee jitters are. And given the popularity of "energy drinks," you don't have to be a coffee lover to know what consuming too much caffeine can do to your brain/body.

A good friend of mine thought he had consumed enough caffeine to accidentally kill himself several years ago when he and I were both still young enough to think we were bulletproof and ten feet tall. 

Like I said, this was a very long time ago. 

We were both Goody Bar men who worked out of a Good Humor depot in suburban Pittsburgh at the time. A Goody Bar man and/or a Goody Bar lady was an individual who was employed driving a Good Humor ice cream truck and sold, you guessed it, Goody Bars. 

For the record, as far as I've been able to discover, the term Goody Bar was/is(?) a local Yinzer word for Good Humor Bars restricted to the greater Pittsburgh area, youse know what I mean?

{Cool, yet another column about ice cream trucks.}  

Ackchyually, Dana, as indicated by the headline, it's a column about coffee, counterfeit speed, and weed. Given that it's possible to like, literally die from overdosing on caffeine, your snark is not appreciated.

{Haughty sniff. Anyway...}

Anyway, although Good Humor trucks, in fact, all sorts of ice cream trucks you might've encountered working the streets of your neighborhood had just crested the hill and were about to start down the slippery slope on the other side, and then vanishing, the depot in question was still jammed with white ice cream trucks with blue lettering built to Good Humor's specifications at the time.        

In a far corner of that depot that was at the opposite end of where the company offices and a hooge, outdoor walk-in freezer were located, there was a large Oak tree that was actually located behind a chain link fence on an adjacent business's lot. 

As I said, it was a large Oak tree. Several of its branches overhung the corner in question and provided a canopy that shaded a truck owned by local legend...um, Steve. Steve was an entrepreneurial sort who helpfully provided weed to his fellow drivers to supplement his ice cream sales. These same people were known for "toking up" with each other in that same corner before going to work.  

I know what you're thinking, gentlereaders; you're asking yourself the obvious question. Given that weed was illegal at the time, and given the reputation of people who drove ice cream trucks, and given that these same people spent their workday behind the wheel of fairly large and heavy vehicles, why was this tolerated by the people in the offices at the other end of the world parking lot?

I can't speak for them, but I assume it was for the same reason the drivers spent their days working long hours in the heat (the majority of ice cream trucks weren't/aren't air-conditioned) and taking a lot of crap from both kids and their parents. 

Money.

Amazingly, while I was there at least, there were no accidents or incidents related to weed consumption that I'm aware of. 

{I've got a question. Why was Steve "locally famous"?}

Given that this is a (more or less) family-friendly column, dear gentlereader, you might want to stop reading here if the sexual adventures of others give you the vapors. 

[INSERT PAUSE HERE]

Steve was locally famous for once being caught in flagrante delicto with a comely companion by one of the office denizens.

{Huh?}

He was getting a blowjob in his ice cream truck. 

{Moving on...wait, what's any of this got to do with coffee and "counterfeit speed?"}

There was an interesting, short-lived phenomenon going on in the Pittsburgh area at the time that came and went in short order. Back then, as now, it was possible to buy clearly labeled caffeine pills at your favorite outlet for over-the-counter drugs.  However, someone was opening pop-up stores selling what they called "legal speed" (amphetamines).

These pills were not amphetamines; they were caffeine pills disguised as illegal amphetamine pills. Real amphetamines, available only by prescription or from that shady friend of your friend, came in various forms. If you're old like me, you may remember the famous "black beauties," plain back capsules, but I understand they came/come in all sorts of other shapes and sizes as well. 

I confess to being an individual who smoked entirely too much weed in a past life, but I was never a pill head, so my knowledge is limited. In fact, I avoided partying with pill heads of all stripes as strenuously as I avoided hanging out with juicers back in the day. I didn't care for all the drama (he said self-righteously).

Long story short...

{Too late.}

Although I remember these pop-up stores (there was one in my neighborhood), when I went a-googlin' I could find nothing about them, so I can offer no proof they existed. In my defense, local authorities found a way to quickly shut them down anywhere they sprouted. And, I can't remember how it quickly became common knowledge that they were selling cleverly disguised caffeine pills. 

{Probably all that weed you were smoking.}

Harumph! I do clearly remember the friend who told me about what he thought was a near-death experience from taking too many of them. He and some of the other members of the Oak Tree Smokers Club used them to counteract the effects of smoking too much weed. 

As in, "Screw this, I'm going to park my truck, get something to eat, and take a nap."

One hot summer day, Steve found himself sweating far more profusely than he thought was normal. He then noticed that his heart was beating abnormally fast, and it felt like it was accelerating. While he was dealing with some customers, he noticed that his hands were starting to tremble, and he was hit with a blinding headache. 

He quickly concluded the sale and made for the nearest, safe spot. There's no official name for these spots, but all experienced ice cream vendors know where to head on their routes when things get weird, such as when they want to give a kid a bitch slap, or when privacy is needed for some reason. 

He pulled over, got his frozen towel out of the freezer, and draped it over his neck. Then willed himself to calm down while trying to decide what to do next. Cellphones weren't a thing just yet, so he couldn't dial 911. He didn't want to knock on someone's door looking and feeling like he did in the middle of his workday in an area he frequented six, sometimes seven days a week. 

So being bulletproof and ten feet tall, he decided to just suck it up and wait it out. Fortunately, he didn't have the massive heart attack he thought he might be having and reasoned that it was the "legal speed" that was the source of his problem. 

Once he knew he was going to be okay, he tossed his remaining pills into the bushes in disgust and went back to work. Winter always feels like it's just around the corner when your income depends on warm weather. 

{Say, I don't suppose that he...}

No, he didn't hear a celestial choir or a comforting voice telling him to go into the light. 

Have an OK day, 

Colonel Cranky

Scroll down to comment, share my work, or scroll through previous columns. I post links to my columns on my Facebook page so you can love me, hate me, or call for my execution via social media. Cranky don't Tweet (Xclaim?).

Copyright 2025-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved