Making Excuses: A Talent Quickly Mastered
Though some skills are years of training and education in the making, others come quite naturally.
Tag: strip (page 2 of 2)
Too much Weight Given to Stats
Analytics! Sounds like a substitute curse word for Shaggy of the Scooby Doo gang. Zoinks! And it’s a bit of a mystery to me why statistics seem to be overtaking common sense and the good ‘ol fashioned eyeball in governing business decisions. Consider the practice of applying metrics to talent evaluation in the world of sports (see here For example). The capabilities of athletes are being projected based on statistical research as much as on watching their highlight reels.
Social media decisions are driven by data as well. Moreover, The number of hits, friends, reTweets, etc. that a person amasses on their accounts can genuinely affect their emotional outlook on said media, on communication, on their relationships, on their life even.
I’m calling for a simple backpedal. Let’s allow statistics to help promote our decisions not determine them.
Lab Rats are of Great Benefit to Men
Rats. They have the icky factor in spades. Needless to say, these vermin are unwanted. But that is exactly why they are valuable to us humans. They have been purposed, above all other creatures, for scientific testing. They are not so much our enemies, these lab rats. They are our surrogates.
Here’s a fairly thorough article which details the history of the lab rat: http://theconversation.com/animals-in-research-rats-16634.
Check out the story and then, the next time you see one of these fine little fellows, you’ll be thanking them for how they’re helping humanity before you let out a blood-curdling scream.
Microbrew Restaurants on the Rise in America
In the early 2000s, microbrew restaurants were seldom seen outside of large U.S. cities on the East Coast, Pacific Northwest and Rocky Mountain state. But visits to the craft beer brewhouses of the day (Sierra Nevada in Chico, California for example) helped convince wannabe brewmasters that their dreams to open similar home-crafted beer restaurants could indeed come true.
And so an explosion happened; Word spread of the quality beers produced by a growing number of dedicated, small batch beer distributors and restauranteurs. Word also spread, in some cases, about the quality food that was being offered. Goodbye no-frills pub grub.
In recent years, more and more craft beer restaurants opened. These businesses are succeeding. Today they can be found in all major U.S. cities and in many smaller cities and towns. Craft brewery restaurants are even beginning to open in downtrodden neighborhoods and are helping to turn these neighborhoods into must-experience destinations.
Craft brewing is changing the beer industry. What once may have seemed like a fad has now even captured the attention of large-scale distributors like Budweiser who recently parodied craft beers in their television ads. Mockery is the most sincere form of flattery, right?
The rise in popularity of these restaurants followed a similar rise in the healthy foods segment of the grocery industry. Stores like Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and even lo-fi chain ALDI (with its Fit & Active selections) changed the marketplace with their selections.
Despite the higher costs of “healthy alternatives” people bought them, causing large grocery chain managers to section off areas of their stores just for these foods, foods which became increasingly available as more producers realized their products now had a place in the market.
Consider how ubiquitous the marketing terms for such foods have become, terms rarely used twenty years ago. These foods are advertised as local, natural, seasonal, environmentally friendly, hand crafted, whole grain, organic, gluten free, grass fed, farm fresh, farm to table, with no artificial flavors, preservatives or sweeteners and absolutely no Trans fats.
Many of these same terms are used to describe microbrews. Will you drink to that?
Pinocchio and the Truth
“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist.” – Keyser Söze
I recently revisited the story of Pinocchio, the little wooden puppet who became a boy only to discover that his nose would later spring to life, and would do so repeatedly–every time he told a lie. Pinocchio’s nose stood up for truth, unconcerned with the shame its actions brought upon the young lad.
Though I empathize with young Pinocchio because of the social embarrassment the growth of his nose certainly caused, I also envy the instant Pavlovian work that took effect in his life; the very moment he would fib (stimulus), his nose would grow (response). In my life, I often lack an immediate cue after I’ve strayed from the truth.
In fact, I am capable of living out years with my deceptions, unaware of their existence. I can also intentionally weave elaborately constructed tales that are spun from lie upon lie. So I need to think twice before laughing at the apparent lunacy of Pinocchio for fibbing time and again after recognizing what his nose would do as a result.
Knowing the consequences of deception is not alone fully sufficient to enact change. In my life I’ve found that the sheer act of engagement in telling lies can cloud my mind, causing me to more easily believe they are truth. These implied or spoken fallacies move me further away from the truth of my condition, that I am flawed.
To become a real boy, Pinocchio had to be saved and restored. An admittance of weakness and imperfection was required. I, like Pinocchio, am in need of help. I need the Master’s handiwork to be made new. Attempting to achieve a genuine makeover any other way would be fruitless.
Fire – the Storyteller’s Fundamental Friend
It’s such a treat to listen to a story that’s told by a fire—
especially an outdoor fire (apologies to presidential fireside chats and digital firespaces of the 21st century). The snaps and hisses of burning wood provide a lovely soundtrack to accompany the teller’s spoken words. The dancing light and shadows created by the flame add drama to the teller’s face. The lighting and music established, the storyteller need only be concerned with his or her primary function: to tell the story.
Mysteries and tales of revenge and horror play out especially well by the evening blaze, but any tale will do. Before theater popcorn and movies, youngsters would be drawn to these natural outdoor cineplexes. Here, the same source would light the stage and pop the kernels. Here, they’d gather to be mesmerized, and often to be scared to death by the storyteller’s tale. No Hollywood director had so intimate an encounter with an audience.
The next time you’re looking to escape modern entrapments, go and experience a story delivered in the age old way. Yes, consider calling on a friend who owns a fire pit. Or better yet, build one yourself. Then you’ll have a story to tell.
At the Auction…
It’s thrilling to win in a competition—even when victory is sealed sheerly because one offers to pay more money for an object than the next guy. That’s precisely the victory I experienced many years ago at an auction house near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In fact, I don’t even remember what I “won” the right to purchase. What I do recall is the feeling I got when the auctioneer pointed at me with his gavel and said, “SOLD! To the sharpest dressed man in the room.” I felt a popcorn popper rush of energy, a surge of adrenaline like back in my high school sports playing days.
Local auctions didn’t always get my heart pumping. But the PBS television series Antiques Roadshow put a light on the possibilities of discovering rare and unique items at neighborhood estate and garage sales. The show’s appraisers became rock stars; when they stood onstage, I listened.
I even visited a Roadshow taping, traveling five hours with some dusty old wares to Hartford, Connecticut. Though my items were essentially worthless—family heirlooms I should continue to treasure, as I was told—I did find my way on camera…accidentally. My father and I were caught on tape as we wandered around the Roadshow set aimlessly, searching for the collectibles appraiser. Though not an ideal television debut, as I sat and watched my image on plasma, my heart did begin to race. You could say I felt an auction house high.
Remembering…
Remembering back to the holidays and birthdays of my childhood thirty some odd years ago, I realize that I’ve forgotten many of the presents I was given. Generally speaking, I could count on my uncle for a Lego set (at the time the only options were Lego town or space) and my grandparents on my mom’s side were always good for an outfit. I never did much appreciate the clothes they gave me–but I was always grateful for the wrapping paper. You see, my grandmother would wrap my gifts with the pages of the Sunday comics, aka “The Sunday Funnies.”
I loved reading comics.
I especially loved reading them on Sundays, when they were given the color treatment. I would come home from church and stalk the house for the paper, so I could get my hands on the latest escapades of Beetle Baily and Hagar the Horrible and Heathcliff and Garfield and–am I forgetting any other orange cat cartoons?
My hometown paper had a couple pages of color comics, but my grandparents? They lived much closer to New York City, and their “big city” Sunday paper had two or three times as many cartoons! Those that didn’t end up as gift wrap sat in a pile in gran’s attic, awaiting my arrival. Truthfully, there wasn’t much for a kid to do at my grandparents’ house when the weather outside was poor, so I just sat–sometimes even in the attic, immediately after grabbing the topmost pages from the pile–and read and read. I would read so many colored comics that my fingertips would ingest the ink from the pages and my eyes would begin to see halftone dots everywhere I looked.
Looking back, my grandmother, alive during the Great Depression, was probably just being thrifty when she chose to wrap my gifts in Sunday funnies. But in doing so, she presented extraordinary blessings–blessings of laughter and artistic appreciation that stimulate me to this day.
See the evidence as follows:
(My crack at a punchy 1-panel comic, a la “The Far Side” or Bizarro.”)
I’ll venture to post a cartoon such as this every week.
Scream? Ghosts Make Me Yawn.
A Halloween-themed mini comic.
New England Patriots Deflategate
Back in the Revolutionary days, George Washington and other patriots crossed the Delaware.
In recent times, Bill Belichick, Tom Brady, and other Patriots crossed many Americans when it was discovered that 11 of 12 footballs used by their offense were deflated (Intentionally?) to a level beneath NFL standards.