MEN VS WOMEN: A Rebuttal

Recently a renowned philosopher wrote an article with several declarations regarding the superiority of women and, of course, conversely, the inferiority of the male of the human species. Most of his allegations were based on research conducted within his own home so they are to be considered suspect. With such a narrow statistical sampling, which he projects willy-nilly on the whole of male humanity, there are bound to be some errors in his conclusions.

This esteemed scholar, who shall remain nameless in the interests of protecting him from the wrath of his fellows, claims that “men are pigs”, “men are incapable of multi tasking”, “men are morons”, “men can not open a can of soup without the help of women” and again “men are pigs”. He also implies that a centuries old fact, men are better drivers, is a delusion. This formerly great thinker treads on dangerous ground.

In the interests of good science I conducted a highly complex investigation using large data sampling techniques to test my colleague’s hypotheses. Using these sophisticated surveying techniques I came to strikingly different conclusions, grounded in real research and not sullied by personal prejudice. So there.

First we’ll look at the issue of multi-tasking. In my surveys I found that 87% of the male respondents (some women responded because the men in their houses were busy watching football but I won’t report their comments) could do many tasks at one time. Some reported the ability to send text messages to their fantasy football friends while watching real football. Some reported that they could watch TV, eat dinner and think about the best way to fix the garage door all at the same time. Some said that they could listen to their wife’s description of new curtains, think about sex and drink a beer with out the least bit of difficulty. An amazing 98% of men reported that they could read and attend to certain bodily functions at the same time. Therefore, research shows that men multi-task on an almost daily basis.

Now we’ll tackle the claim that men are morons. This is much harder to dispute based on even the most scientific surveys. Some men are morons. Some women are morons. Pretty much all teenagers are morons. To test the hypothesis I asked respondents to name ten morons. Then I looked at the number of men on the respective lists as compared to the number of women. The mean average was four male morons, four female morons and two teenage morons. Not surprisingly several public figures were listed on all surveys. Politicians were cited, both male and female, most often. Certain sports figures, Michael Vick and Brett Favre being the most common, were also mentioned. Every single respondent listed Hillary Clinton and Regis Philbin. So the scientific evidence would seem to support the fact that both men and women are morons.

Next the question of soup can opening must be addressed. This research involved only three simple questions: “Can you open a can of soup?”, “How do you open a can of soup?” and finally “Have you ever, since reaching adulthood, needed a woman to help open a can of soup?” The results of the survey showed that 93.76% of the male respondents say they can open a can of soup. Only 2% ever need the help of a woman in opening a can of soup. And the descriptions of how a can of soup is opened were representative of several variations. Just over 60% said they used a can opener, 29% said they pulled the little tab thingy and lifted off the lid, 9% responded “other”, 1% said they used a Bowie knife and 1% said they used their teeth. Of the 6.24% who said they couldn’t open a can of soup 5% were handicapped in some way. Therefore the evidence is conclusive. Men can open soup cans.

Finally we must look at the claim that “men are pigs”. Now piggishness is a relative notion. Where some people might see a little dust and an out of place newspaper as an indication of slovenly living another group might think that three days worth of dirty dishes, an overflowing laundry basket and a little soap scum in the shower is not really that big a deal. My colleague cites the example of office desks as one proof of pig like behavior. My personal work space is only mildly cluttered now but when I was a store manager there was a great deal of disarray in my office. But I knew where every document and note was in that pile of confusion. So to test the hypothesis presented by the article in question I submitted four photographs for the respondents review. Each photo showed the same room in various states of cleanliness. The first photo, which is of the living room in my house after a whole day of entertaining my grandsons, represents the messiest situation. The other three photos were taken in the days following as we assaulted the levels of debris and disarray gradually returning the room to pristine condition. Each respondent was asked to label one of the photos as an example of extreme piggishness. Then I compared those results to the same survey done of an equal number of women. The results were surprising though not totally unexpected. Over 60% of both men and women selected the photograph of the room that had been cleaned up to a level of fifty percent clean as bieng piggish. Nearly 5% of the women thought piggishness was represented in the totally cleaned room. And nearly 5% of the men thought the totally messed up room was clean. So once again we find that men and women are just about the same. Piggish behavior is not the sole purview of either sex. Science has spoken.

My colleague states in his final paragraph that women could rule the planet but that the reverse would be catastrophic. He states that without women men would simply not exist. Well, duh? How scientific is that? Everyone, even narrow minded science guys like me, know that it takes both a man and a woman to create a new person. And as for ruling the world that’s probably handled better as a joint effort as well. Any time throughout history where either sex has been dominant the job gets kind of botched up. So maybe if a balance could be struck things would run a little better. But that’s not science, just common sense. My colleague’s article can be read at www.pboureysthoughts.blogspot.com Even though it reinforces stereotypes that we men should be fighting against it’s funny, in an unscientific way, and probably pretty close to the truth at his house.

Have a fine day.

SPORTS: A Rumination

Sports are not a major obsession for me. Some of my friends and family are avid fans but I have avoided that particular virus. Cheering wildly for a group of millionaire athletes who have no particular loyalty to the city they represent, other than the inflated paycheck they get seems a little silly. I’d rather cheer for the owners. At least they have an investment in the enterprise.

There was a time when I followed a baseball or hockey team to some degree. But now my interest is usually only sustained during the final round of playoffs. And I never developed any interest in basketball. Football is pretty much an excuse to drink beer and eat wings, and that also only occurs during the playoffs. Of course not having regular access to TV limits my involvement in the sporting world. That seems to be how people get hooked into fanaticism. I’m old enough to remember when baseball games were on TV on weekends only, as were most sports programs. Boxing did show up on Friday nights sometimes. Weekday ball games were something I tuned in the transistor radio for with the little earplug thing stuck in my head. Nowadays if you’ve got premium cable or satellite you can watch sports all day every day. Professional, college and amateur sports are always available.

Baseball, basketball, football, soccer, tennis, golf, car racing, bowling and hockey are regular fixtures on the tube. In addition you can find track and field, lumberjack competitions, beach volleyball, inside volleyball, table tennis, boxing, wrestling, fighting where guys try to maim each other and darts. I know I’ve missed something. Oh yeah, horse racing, skiing, rodeo and dog sled racing show up every now and then. Of course the Olympics, summer and winter, come along every few years. That’s a lot of sports going out over the airwaves. A serious fan needs to devote a great deal of time to the pursuit of his pleasure. It can involve complex scheduling and lots of highly complicated recording technology. Sleep deprivation ensues. Marriages are broken. It’s not easy for the true fan to get through his days and nights.

Attending professional sporting events is a high dollar proposition. My fixed income won’t allow for the purchase of tickets. I see folks who drop a couple hundred bucks on an afternoon at an Eagles game in Philadelphia. That money would only cover tickets for two and parking a mile from the stadium. Baseball isn’t quite as high but it isn’t cheap. And the NBA tickets are a joke. So although attendance is usually pretty strong in most markets the TV is the cheapest way to watch the pros. I have a cousin who likes his hometown hockey team so much that he got a job as a security guy at the arena. Either he really likes the team or he’s just too cheap to part with his cash. Or both.

When I look at the social networking internet sites I notice quite a bit of friendly banter about various sports teams and events. Some people are avid Yankee or Red Sox fans. Others favor the Dodgers or more obscure teams like the Nationals or the pitiful Orioles. But loyalty knows no bounds. A team can be solidly entrenched in the cellar, forty games out of the running and loyal fans will still be following their team. Of course the $40.00 tickets won’t be selling so hot towards the end of the season, unless the Yankees come to town for a game.

I always thought that enthusiasm for sports was a particularly American personality quirk. But when I went to England a few years back I learned otherwise. The British are just as whacked as we are. They follow football (soccer over here), rugby, golf, tennis and cricket. Some Brits even follow American football and baseball. Then when I met a young man from Ghana I found out that sports are a major deal in his country. Soccer is the big obsession but they also pay attention to boxing and several American sports. Then a Canadian guy told me that sports were huge up there in the great white north. They even follow a really weird ice game called Curling. As far as I can tell it involves sliding heavy rocks down the ice while other guys sweep with brooms in a vigorous manner ahead of the rocks. It’s strange I know but it is Canada.

So I guess my absence from the world of fandom and my minor objections to the costs, both financial and spiritual, aren’t going to diminish the importance of sport in the country. My only hope is that folks pay as much attention to what happens in politics as they do to the Little League World Series. Then we’d have the best of both worlds; an electorate that knows the stats of the president, senators and congressmen and an entertained bunch of fans.

Have a fine day.

GARNETS AND GRIT

Last Saturday my wife and I, as part of our fortieth anniversary gift, got to visit the Barton Garnet Mines in North River, NY. We did not come away materially richer but we did learn a few things and we had a good time.

To get to this rather unusual tourist attraction you make a turn off RT 28 between North River and North Creek. If that’s not specific enough then I have to apologize for the lack of well know landmarks. It is somewhere near the headwaters of the Hudson River tucked behind Gore Mountain and its attendant ski area. So you make this turn off 28 and start driving uphill. You drive uphill a lot. There are even little signs; “Keep on Going”, “You’re getting there”, “Only 1 ½ miles to go” and “You’re almost there”. Finally you reach a rather ramshackle building with a small parking lot. The building houses a store and some museum artifacts about the mines. It is also the place to pay for your ticket and start the tour.

A young lady soon announced that the next tour was leaving and everyone piled into their cars and followed the tour guide in her jeep down to the mine. After a short ride down hill we entered a huge pit cut into the mountain. The cars all park in the center of this pit and everyone gets out and gawks. Sheer rock cliffs surrounded us on three sides. The cliffs are several hundred feet high. Down in the bottom of the pit are two large ponds with a spit of rocky ground between them. The tour guide gathered her little flock near a huge highly polished slab of garnet impregnated rock and delivered her little lecture. She told of the accidental discovery of the vein of garnet about 150 years ago. She talked about the geology of the site. She talked about the history of the mine and how it progressed from a pick and shovel operation to one involving explosives and mechanical processes. Then she invited everyone to grab a little pail, shovel and strainer, or a five gallon bucket and do a little mining for the precious stones. I noticed that some folks had skipped the lecture and proceeded right on to the digging and sifting. The guide explained that people come back again and again to try to find the larger gem quality rocks.

So my wife and I went out along the edge of one of the ponds and scratched around in the dirt. Finding garnets is easy. There are millions of “bb” size pieces lying everywhere. There are also large boulders with chunks of the crystals embedded within. But getting the right rocks to produce a ring or necklace is another story indeed. People were gamely trying all around us. Some used small strainers that they filled with soil and rock, and then shook them in the water displacing the muddy bad stuff leaving the more likely good stones behind. Other folks took five gallon buckets, filled them with water and then poured them out, eroding away a sloping piece of ground. We tried both ways but obviously didn’t have the patience to keep at the job. We found a few small pieces and saved them. But when we went to have them weighed to pay the dollar a pound fee for hauling stuff out, the girl looked down and said that fractions weren’t her strong point and told us to just take our treasure for free.

Mostly I was interested in the way the mountain had been cut into. The power that people can harness to, literally, move a mountain is amazing. What is more amazing is that the first fifty or sixty feet of the pit were taken by hand tools alone. This is hard, ancient rock that was moved by picks and shovel. I have a hard time moving a few pieces of sod around the yard and can’t imagine the effort that the miners had to expend in lopping off that mountain top.

Garnet is not a particularly valuable gem as these things are measured. But it is useful, primarily as an abrasive. Tiny pieces of garnet are embedded into grinding wheels and sandpaper which can be used to smooth and finely polish just about any other material. It’s hard stuff. Since I wasn’t willing to load up a bucket of the stuff and make sandpaper for myself I left a little shorthanded. And since there weren’t any good quality jewelry type stones laying on the surface of the ground I lost out in that area as well. But I learned something, breathed some good mountain air and met some interesting people.
So I guess you could say I had a fine day.

And I hope you have one too.

DILLON HILL B&B: A Review

I don’t like bed and breakfast places. That’s a pretty foolish thing to say because I’ve had only good experiences when we’ve used them. But there’s something about the idea of inviting myself in to a complete stranger’s home that bothers me. It’s okay with relatives but not with strangers. That being said this past weekend may have completely cured me of my little phobia. We stayed in the Dillon Inn Cabins and Bed and Breakfast in Wevertown, NY and couldn’t have had a better time.

For our fortieth anniversary our daughters gave us a gift that was a little different. Not everyone gets a tour of a mine followed by a night in a farm house as a gift. Leave it to our kids to come up with that. The best part is we really enjoy that kind of idea. I’ll write about the mine tomorrow. Today let me tell you all about the farm house.

The Dillon Inn is located on a dirt road on the edge of the hamlet of Wevertown, NY in the Adirondack Mountains. Close by is Gore Mountain, a major ski area, and the headwaters of the Hudson River. The driveway to the Inn is cut out of a hillside and lined on one side with an impressive wall made of local boulders. A large white farm house surrounded by beautiful lawns and gardens comes in to view at the top of the hill. Along the edges of the clearing are two cabins, also white, and also attractive. The overall impression of the building and grounds is one of beauty, order and comfort. A welcoming committee of three rather happy Bassett Hounds came bounding up to show us the way in.

A bed and breakfast is only as welcoming and as friendly as the hosts. The accommodations could be as luxurious as a five star hotel but if the owners in residence are cold and imperious then pleasant memories will not be made. At the Dillon Inn the owners, Mike and Nina Dougherty, are friendly, kind and genuine folks who welcome their guests warmly and sincerely. They will provide as much privacy as a guest wants or some interesting and enjoyable conversation. Always accommodating and never intrusive is the balance that they achieve in an effortless way. Mike was more than happy to share the history of the home and the work they have accomplished to make it the showplace it is today. Nina talked about the gardens that embellish the grounds and about the everyday operation of the Inn.

The living room with a beautiful stone fireplace was comfortable and inviting. The entertainment center was well equipped with TV and a substantial library. A screened in porch provided a bug free outdoor sitting space. The dining room is a gorgeous and warm space with windows overlooking the back yard. Each guest room is unique in decoration, all tastefully done and comfortably furnished. We stayed in the Sawmill Room which is paneled in natural woods and accented with wood furnishings surrounding a lovely four poster queen size bed. The rooms all have plenty of natural light plus lamps and recessed ceiling lighting that allow the guests to set whatever level of light they like. All the rooms are quiet and well insulated. Every room has a private bath equipped with an excellent modern shower. Linens and accessories are of the finest quality. Mike and Nina have made an old farm house into a really fine place to spend a night or a week.

The breakfast prepared by Nina was superb. On the morning of our stay she served a perfectly cooked frittata with broccoli, mushrooms and cheese. This was accompanied by bacon, home fries and an excellent whole grain toast. Coffee, which each guest can make to his or her liking, and juice, rounded out the menu. In the evening a fresh and delicious home made apple tart was set out for snacking. Mike and Nina also had several recommendations for other meals at local restaurants. We went with their suggestion of the Black Mountain Lodge and were completely satisfied.

If you’re a skier the Dillon Inn has packages available featuring the great facilities of Gore Mountain. If you’re a “leaf peeper” the Inn is situated in a beautiful area for your particular interest. Whitewater rafting is a very short ride away from the Inn and hiking trails are just a few steps from the front door. Many other attractions are nearby including the mine tour.

So if you need a little quiet time or if you want to give a sure to be appreciated special gift contact the Dillon Hill folks. Their website is www.dillonhill.com and it has photos and lots of other information. The photos, as beautiful as they are, don’t really do the place justice. Take it from a guy who didn’t really care for bed and breakfast places, this is an ideal place to stay. If you like reasonably priced comfortable, quiet, luxurious and hospitable accommodations then you can’t go wrong here.

Have a fine day.

GRANDFATHER TALES

This past weekend I was talking with some of my cousins and we were remembering some of the good times we had with our grandfather, my mother’s dad. He was a good man and a memorable character who died a long time ago at a ripe old age. He enjoyed doing things with his grandchildren and more than once led them into situations that could have been perilous. But we survived and had a good time doing it.

Sometimes Grandpa would take a bunch of us on little excursions to pick berries as they came into season. He was a berry picking machine. We’d pile into his car, which he drove with wild abandon totally ignoring all the laws and other drivers. He was prone to sudden starts and stops and was one of the main reasons that seat belts are worn in the US today. He would drive way out in the wilds of the Northern Adirondacks to his secret berry picking places and we’d get to work. If you’ve ever picked wild blackberries, blueberries or raspberries then you know the discomfort associated with the task. The bushes will scratch exposed skin and create a torrent of flowing blood. The blood attracts flies and mosquitoes large enough to carry off a small kid. Even in the far reaches of the Adirondacks temperatures can rise from mild to extremely hot in a matter of minutes. Or they can drop thirty degrees and be accompanied by freezing rain just as quickly. Grandpa ignored all those natural wonders and couldn’t understand why we were such whiny little sissies. He would urge us on as he filled pail after pail with nature’s bounty. Some of us would slip away to a nearby stream or pine forest to escape the incessant toil. When we would get back to the berry bushes they’d be picked over by Grandpa and the older kids. Back at the car he’d look at our meager few ounces of berries and shake his head as he lit a cigarette. But he didn’t make too big a deal about our poor performance.


One time when some of us were teenagers Grandpa decided to take four or five of the boys to visit my paternal Grandparents who lived in a little mining town down in the mountains. All those grandparents were on good terms, though somewhat formal in their conversations. It was Mr. and Mrs. Bourey and Mr. Messier. First names were not used. So four teenage boys were loaded into the car and we were on our way. Somehow, along the way, one of my cousins talked Grandpa into letting him drive. My cousin had his permit and he convinced the old fellow that he really needed the practice. This cousin was considered responsible although those of us who were close in age knew better. So Grandpa pulled over and my cousin took off. The weather wasn’t bad but there had been a light rain and the road wasn’t dry yet. My cousin’s experience on wet mountain roads was non-existent. But he wanted to show his skills to us and he was hitting the gas pedal pretty heavily. Grandpa was hollering away trying to get my cousin to slow down. As the car went over a ridge and down into a very steep curve it began to hydro-plane. The road had just enough water on it to provide a nice slick surface. My cousin tapped the brakes. Nothing happened. We were through the curve but the momentum of the back end of the car caused it to start fishtailing. The fishtail turned into a spin. We were spinning, fairly slowly, down the center of the road as the mountain gave way to a flatter area. Fortunately no cars were headed towards us and no cars were behind. We didn’t catch the edge of the road which could have flipped us over or tossed us off the mountain. Grandpa was murmuring prayers we had never heard before. As the car settled to a stop facing up hill, the way we had just come from, my cousin very calmly did a nice three point turn and headed on to the village which was just ahead. Grandpa gave up on his hollering and his praying and we went on to have a nice visit with the other old folks. There was never another word spoken about the incident, except among us teenage boys who thought it was one of the coolest things that happened that summer.

Grandpa had been a widower for a long time when he got himself a lady friend. Some of the relatives weren’t too happy with that turn of events, thinking that he was too old and it was not too dignified a thing for senior citizens to be dating. (Although they didn’t call it dating. It was “keeping company”.) But the teenage kids in the family didn’t disapprove. In fact we would cover for him when he would sneak out to play cards with his girlfriend. We would say that he was taking us to a movie at the drive-in or to a ball game up at the other side of town. For our complicity we would get rides, cigarettes and the occasional small loan. Although when it came to the smokes we gave Grandpa more than he got from us. He was always supposed to be quitting smoking but he couldn’t seem to give it up completely. Those were the days before the government pronouncements of the health risks of smoking. For a time Grandpa even rolled his own on a little machine he bought. We thought that was very cool because we could sneakily make up a bunch of cigarettes and he wouldn’t even notice that the level of tobacco in his can had gone down.

Playing cards was a big part of Grandpa’s recreational regimen. He was always trying to get a few kids to join him in a game of Canasta or Five Hundred. The problem with those games was that he hated losing. If he started to fall behind in the score he would try and distract us so that we would make a bad move. Sometimes I think he might have even cheated a little. But it was a big kick for us to hear him start his inventive version of cussing when he was losing. He could say a lot of words that came close to the real curse words without actually committing the “sin”. We all laughed at him but it was affectionate and loving laughter. And I think he did a little performing just for our sakes.

Those are a few memories of Grandpa M, some of the best stored up in the old brain. Some days they help me to get perspective on life. I hope they help you…

Have a fine day.

COUSINS

This past weekend I spent some time with some of my cousins. I have a lot of cousins; first, second and third, once removed, twice removed and on and on. There are also spouses of cousins (I call them cousin-in-laws) who are integral parts of the family. On my paternal side of the family I have seventeen first cousins still with us and on the maternal side there are twenty-three. So, if my math is correct, that’s forty living first cousins. Another three have passed on to the big family reunion in the sky.

I like my cousins. They don’t all fit into easily categorized groups. Some people might say we have the good, the bad and the ugly. But I wouldn’t say that. Some of them I haven’t seen for years. But I know that when I do see them we’ll pick up on the latest news in a matter of minutes and continue conversations that were started long ago. This past weekend I saw a cousin that I hadn’t seen in thirty years or so. I’ve followed his progress through other relatives so I knew a little about his life and travels. But it was great seeing him and sorting out the details, separating the facts from the rumors. As a family, we have a way of exaggerating or embellishing personal accounts of absent relatives. Some might say we all like a good story, especially a story that has a punch line and some kind of insult tucked inside. We tend to laugh a great deal.

My paternal side cousins, with a few notable exceptions, are quieter and more serious than my maternal side. The paternal cousins enjoy more one on one conversation tempered with a certain reserve. Their humor is understated and occasionally sarcastic. They’re a lot of fun to be with but they’re a much more reserved group than the maternal crowd. The cousins on my Mom’s side are a boisterous bunch. Mealtime conversation will go in many, many directions at the same time with frequent interruptions, jokes and (usually) friendly arguments. And there is a little bit of loudness involved. But all of my cousins are good folks. They’re more than just a bunch of relatives that I “need” to be nice to. Every one of them I consider to be a friend as well as a relative.

In an effort to tell a little bit about one of my cousins I’m probably going to embarrass her. I’m not even going to mention her name but family members will know who I’m talking about. She is on the maternal side of the family, which is appropriate because she’s a maternal kind of lady. If there is one cousin I can think of who embodies the spirit of a strong and happy family it is this super person. Along with her husband, a fine fellow and excellent bread maker, she has set the standard of hospitality and kindness that all of us strive to achieve. She is optimistic, uncannily cheerful, always helpful and generous and extremely good looking. Her house is always as open as her heart. And her heart is always, always open. Does she have a slight temper? Well, maybe. But even on the rare occasions when a little outburst shows up she will be quick to try and mend the situation and forgive and forget. If I don’t stop here other family members will swear I’m making this stuff up just to get on her good side. But I’m always on her good side. So those of you who know who I’m talking about, give her a pat on the back once in a while. She deserves more than that but she’ll never look for it.

Other cousins from both sides of my family also stand out in my mind. Some I think of as mentors. Some I think of as confidantes. And others I can call on when I need a good laugh. There might even be one or two who would lend me a power tool. With so many excellent people in one large family I judge myself to be a very fortunate guy.

Usually I have a point for these little articles. Today my point is less obvious. Not everyone has a huge family with a high degree of harmony. Some folks have small clans that are contentious and unable to get along. Harmony doesn’t happen by accident. It requires someone to take the lead and set an example. Then it takes a few more family members to follow that lead. It all grows from there. Our family has been fortunate to have quite a few good leaders, one of whom I mentioned earlier. And I’ve always been happy to follow a good leader.

So have a fine day.

TODAY'S NEWS: An Interpretation

Talking to the Kids

I don’t mind if the president gets on the TV and talks to the kids about trying to do a good job and staying in school. Heck, Mr. Bush was reading a story to some elementary school children when the 9/11 attacks occurred. Some of my fellow “Right-Wing Wackos” were all in a tizzy about today’s speech. They were worried that the president was going to try and warp all those little minds with a lot of socialist propaganda. My opinion is that the attention spans of about 85% of the kids listening didn’t allow them to pay attention for more than the first three or four sentences of the speech. The other 15% are the ones who will do well and stay in school anyway, and they would be able to discern whatever baloney the president would throw their way. I read the text of the speech. It was pretty much a little pep talk and most of our student bodies have already forgotten what was said. Next May or June attend the graduation ceremonies at a high school near you. Ask the graduates as they file by if they stayed in school because of the speech President Obama gave on September 8, 2009. If one in ten thousand replies with a yes then I’ll give the necessary apologies and kudos to the big guy. Until then, I’ll hold my applause.

Talking to the AFL-CIO

On Sunday, or was it Monday, Mr. Obama gave a speech at the big union picnic event of the AFL-CIO. He congratulated all those union folks, mostly union heads and officials, for all the fine work they have done throughout the years. He got them pumped up pretty good. They were a receptive crowd, some of the president’s most ardent supporters. Of course the unions have been doing all they can for many years to destroy American commerce. I know union members and former union members who actually hate the whole idea of being forced to join a union so that they can hold a job. I also know former union members who watched as their unions made it so expensive for the employers to do business in this country that the plants closed and their jobs just disappeared. About eighty or ninety years ago unions were working to improve safety and other conditions in the workplace. They helped to negotiate better wages and benefits for the working people. But like any bureaucracy, and believe me union management is exactly that, it becomes impressed with its own agenda. And the big unions like the Autoworkers, Steelworkers and Teamsters became greedy, unreasoning entities with no real regard for the people they supposedly represented. Not unlike the Congress of the United States. So I’m glad Mr. Obama had a nice time at the picnic. But I’d be willing to bet that if an election was to be held in November, and a viable opponent was available, he wouldn’t win. Too bad we can’t test my theory.

Popular Culture News Items

That couple with eighteen kids is expecting again. How about that? That other couple with a bunch of kids is split up, or maybe they’re not. The world is enthralled.

That poor athlete who had some confusion about gender is having a make-over. She runs track. The only time anyone pays attention to track is when the Olympics roll around or when there’s a drug or gender scandal. Can we say “who gives a hoot?”

There are a whole bunch of doomsday movies coming out this fall. Some of them might be entertaining. But I’d be willing to bet that most of them are pretentious and full of scenarios based on bad science and un-supported speculations. I’d also bet that they’ll make a ton of money.

Ramadan is ending. Lots of Muslims are celebrating and ending their fasts. I don’t recall too much media attention about Christians who strictly observe the Lenten season ending their fasts this past Easter. I must have missed it. The holy season of Ramadan didn’t stop the fanatics in some places from blowing up men, women and children. Hypocrisy is the same no matter who the practitioners are.

And finally, this important bit of news; Queen Victoria’s underwear, apparently a size 3x, have been added to a collection of royal apparel. Royalty, and all those who are enamored of it, are truly strange people. The idea that being born into a particular family adds some special quality to a person is really absurd. Unless, of course, your name is Kennedy. Then it’s okay.

Have a fine day.