Author: ness23456

How Many Of Us Are There?

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My UPER (Unnamed PERson) sent me a wonderful link to a nice, well-spoken gentlemen who discussed an intellectual and psychological concept you see all the time in these postings: the fragmentation of our psyche, what makes up our personalities and determines our actions. My postings use an Inner Voice (IV) and Outer Voice (OV) to illustrate inner mental and emotional conflicts. Regular readers* have been exposed to the inner dialogue IV and OV love to have about my life, its situations, and actions. Sorry for exposing myself**. Discerning readers also note there is an un-designated umpire ruling over the IV and OV debates, an entity making rulings, taking decisive actions, and writing these posts. Does that entity have a name?

Our brains are wonderfully intricate and obtuse. Ai obtuse for its “second” definition. The brain is bombarded with data from all sides, angles, and forms. Sight, sound, touch, political debate, and unfunny humor, so how does it decide what data, what stimuli to respond to? No one knows for sure, but I posit our magnificent gray watermelons take it ALL in, like a security camera, and park the data someplace in case it’s needed. Imagine the size of that data file after 73 years.

Who or what needs that data? And how is it recovered? Is there an app? And is it different for all 8 billion people? In the world of psychology, from here on out called The Circus, theories and guesses and opinions, oh my, abound. See the Pixar movie “Inside Out”, for a light-hearted examination of mental life. The Circus is different from excellent, rigorous, verifiable scientific research into the structures and mechanisms of the brain, where opinions are irrelevant.

Under The Circus’s tent you’ll find many “models” of personality that are used to treat corresponding symptoms/diseases of the “brain”, diagnosed by applying an individual’s actions to the individual model being used in the examination. Some results are good, positive, results, some are not. Fixing a broken mind isn’t as easy as fixing a broken bone. Or removing a misfiring heart. The word isn’t used anymore, but how many of us if we are looked at using the “correct” model might be labeled “crazy”? Everyone knows Freud’s name, but does everyone know what he postulated about the human mind? Ai him and read it. Or the many others*** in The Circus trying valiantly to bring their big-top show into the halls of actual science, oftentimes including simple self-help concepts meant to wrangle the mind into what it should be, according to the model of the time. I’ve been exposed to a lot of the models and could call IV, OV, and The Unnamed Umpire ID, Ego, and Superego to make myself happier. Or use the bible solution and replace all bad thoughts and lies with God’s Word. Or renew any addiction that makes thinking about things easier. Simple, profound advice when trying to understand your brain and its actions is to use anything that works for you, doesn’t destroy you, costs little, and doesn’t harm anyone else. IV OV and The Umpire are screaming in my ear to suggest you use their model. Actually, OV and IV are debating loudly while The Umpire is telling them to shut the hell up, we’re trying to be helpful, here. Like any other family, it will work out. Or not.

A thing to remember and helps: in 100 years none of it will matter or be remembered. OV wanted 200 years, IV wanted 50, The Umpire compromised.

Funny, happy ending? The fingers did exactly what they were told.

*I use “regular” because “irregular” readers don’t care or don’t know.

**It just sounds funny to admit it in writing.

***Transactional Analysis. CBT, DBT, and ACT to name a few acronyms. Maybe we need as many treatments as there are individuals?

Pop Culture? Hm.

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What is “pop culture”? The term appears in news stories and televised shows about what is happening in the world. So…what is happening?

Pop Culture appears to be a subset of Consumerism, the bane of all moral life but the driving force of American Industry. If you need a definition of Consumerism, google or Ai it. My definition is biased and uninformative, seeing as how it paints the phenomenon in a slightly demented ochre.*  For instance, take a moment right now and look around you, in your closets, pantries, and garages. How much of what you see is really needed by you? Or anybody?

Old anti-everything radicals from the 1960s were against consumerism as a type of collateral side hustle, but it fit our narrative as a supporting argument: America didn’t care about the young men sent off to die In Viet Nam, a country that is now one of our biggest trading  partners, supplying Pop Culture and American Consumers with all the useless goods they need. It is a sad thought to think the posterity of the Viet Cong are now knitting garments for anyone who needs cheap underwear.

And there it is, one of the problems with Consumerism: as it advertises(sic) us into a buy buy buy mindset, the powers making all the money never tell us we aren’t buying American Made Products. They don’t hide it from us either…now. So where is the so-called defense of consumerism as a driver of the economy if non-Americans are depositing their American dollars in their own nations’ bank? Do we ship them Pop Culture as a fair trade? Is there a tariff, involved?

That thought just illuminated the purpose, goal, and joie de vivre of pop culture. In the old days, advertisers, hereafter called Admen**, sat around thinking of what useless product to manufacture that people would buy in huge enough quantities to make a huge enough profit. Some of their ideas? Hula Hoops. Frisbees. Pet Rocks. Cabbage Patch Kids.****

But in the new marketing days of Pop Culture, manufacturers can watch the internet, see what “pops” and then go make it to satisfy got-to-have-it consumers. The first product coming to mind is diamonds. They used to be A Girls Best Friend when the Admen were pushing them, Now, EVERY kiss begins with a diamond company whose name begins with K, and somewhere there is a young, impressionable something or other needing to get the kiss, so he/she/they buy one. Consumerism is the model for DEI.  Why limit your markets/suckers? Sell to everyone.  A more obvious product is the people involved in Pop Culture who build a “Brand” or following and then look for products and manufacturers to take advantage of how well “liked” the Brand has become. It appears females are very good at Brand Building. That cuts the number of Admen needed in our modern economic miracle of a country.  It’s poetic karma that old Admen aren’t needed anymore.

There isn’t really enough time to rant about Pop Culture and Consumerism in a short post. A proper rant needs a whole book. But…imagine if we all bought only what we needed? There is lots of collateral damage in an out-of-control consumer economy: homelessness for example, while rich people build houses large enough to house a battalion of Viet Cong.

Consumers’ benefit when we can easily get the things we need, like toilet paper. That’s good for all of us, especially if you find one of the many brands, styles, thicknesses, and patterns that works without tearing you a new one.*** Maybe we can tone down the influence that causes us to need a certain handbag, or sneaker, no matter what it costs. (See past post about Dynamic Model Pricing.)

Eh. Money has the Power, even Pop Culture bows to it, and it’s wrong to hope for a perfect economic system when we are so imperfect, ourselves. Do this next time you need to buy something, though, ask why you want it, first, and see what happens. Unless its toilet paper. Get that one fast.

Caveat: I, too, have stuff I don’t need. When I typed “imperfect”, It meant all of us.

And was it too subtle, talking about Pop Culture and toilet paper in the same post?

*Look that up for help understanding a sentence rife with “irony”.

**There were women in adverting in the Old Days. Guess what they did?

***What a terrible play on words.

****These products experience a life after their normal sales death: collectibles.

For The Childish, The Young At Heart, And Anyone Who Wants To Be

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I’ve written about Seasonal Affective Disorder(SAD) before and it’s time to mention it again. I call it SAD because that what it is, but when it tried to grab me recently, tools to combat its kidnapping attempt were readily at hand. One tool is childishness, also known as silliness, which is not to be confused with The Ministry of Silly Walks, though if SAD keeps happening, we might need to mount an appropriate Federal response.

SAD likes to come at night and park itself between the ears before you are awake enough, to recognize its infestation and open the toll box. So it was last night, but I was on to it early. My second-floor wall of windows lets me see the world from above and as the snow fell and covered everything, the first thought was how lucky I was to face the parking lot. Other times in the year the direction I faced was irrelevant. But when it snows, I am blessed to see the beauty of the snowfall, the silent throttling of all negativity, the carpeting of the dirty, dingey world with something pure (at night only!), white, and Godlike. (Apologies for calling it God’s dandruff, in an earlier afternoon post.) From high on the…from my window then the world goes quiet, beautiful, serene…you could hear a pin drop on the soft, snowy cushions*

Then the machines come. Big, ornery machines, throwing the snow aside as if angry for the snow’s hubris. The machine march begins with one large, Transformer-like, crab-walking, black exhaust spewing noisy mother-, sorry, big freaking thing. It makes mighty sweeps through the parking lot grid as if it were PacMan high on a Power Pellet. Then, the smaller worker bees, the fine-tuners come out and scurry around the grid, snipping, here, cutting here, and leaving piles of used, white fabric in the main grid for PacMan. As if divinely designed, Pacman takes all the snow off stage left to a pile I can imagine is snow heaven. Or snow purgatory? Probably just a big pile, but you get the drift.**

As if that wasn’t enough entertainment, these little black stick figures began to move about. Most were unrecognizable with coverings of enormous bulbous-ness and fluffiness, but there was a figure in shorts. His appearance was brief. Most walked with high strides, as if practicing for Monty Python. They all walked towards mounds of snow from which lights shown, as if someone had a remote starter for their cars and they had, oh, yes, exactly like that.

Tai Chi*** has a movement called “Stroking The Birds Tail”. Every one of the stick figuers must be a Tai Chi master cause they also used “Moving The Clouds Away”, and finally, “Lotus Flower”. No one did “White Crane Spreads Its Wings”, but my neighbors’ knowledge of ancient Chinese movements was not only impressive, but surprising.

What was I talking about, again? Oh, yeah, being SAD. The malady had not completely been expelled until this thought: I can’t wait to tell “unnamed person” (UPER) about this. She (hint) will love it.” In other words, a fun time was made better by knowing there was someone to share it with, someone who would actually listen. UPER is a “high S with some I” personality so I knew when she heard the story there’d be no roll of the eyes, no wonder about what might be wrong with this person, this me, babbling on about snow. I had faith.

Fun, friendship, and Faith…was that the point of today’s post?

Oh, right SAD. Let’s not waste anymore time on that stupid subject.

*Apologies for really mangling that metaphor. Pin? Snowy cushions?

**I am so proud of that pun. Wait, how many knew it was a pun?

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

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Yeah, it is. Was. And will be for at least two more days. Happy Feckin’ New Year.

There is no way to describe the feeling of an upstate New York Lake Effect Snow Bomb(NYLESB*). No way. But I have to try, it is the only thing to do to save sanity. I’ve videod NYLESB every mid-night because it is beautiful as the flakes dance and drift and fly over the parking lots and the cars, often sideways in the biting, cold wind. Then, I noticed every night has been the same for…a month, a year, forever? And how gray is gray, anyway? Each day is a pulsating, electric rainbow of gray, light gray, dark gray, medium gray. It’s making my hair gray, driving me to not care a f#$% about punctuation and spelling. Oh, nooooo.

A weather person on a local station did an outdoor report on the amount of snow falling during this latest assault. She was covered head to toe with fabric but her exposed cheeks were bright red. The male news anchor inside the studio said this when the outdoor reporter finished her report: “Thanks for that report, Hannah and remember, stuff like this builds character.” Mic drop.

I lived in upstate NY for my first 30 years and it was never like this. Or was it? Maybe this is just another way age effects and affects us? As a 30-year old, did character building influence my opinion and recording of past snow events? Was there ever a time when new snow meant get outside and play, or at least shovel the driveway? We used to burrow snow forts into the two-tiered snowbanks caused by the snowplows with the wings. Later in life there was a news story about kids getting killed when another passing snowplow buried them. So it goes, as a famous person said more than once.

Yeah, that makes sense: we can build character with any event if we are ignorant enough. Or naïve enough? Inexperienced? Stupid?

In looking at this through the distortion of a half-full glass, it is a great way to get an idea of how Arctic and Antarctic researchers must feel when they purposefully place themselves in either of this Earth’s frigid, frozen poles. Hey, more good news. Thanks to climate change they may not be frozen much longer…all that ice and snow is migrating to Upstate New York.

What’s the big deal? At least we’re alive, right?

As the whining continues, it should be pointed out I am nice and warm inside a swanky apartment building with heat, light, and a fitness center on the first floor. My front wall of windows allows me to turn The Chair to sit and watch the dropping of NYLESB’s snowflakus gigantis, levitating from The Chair only when I really, really want to, or when nature calls for a warmer activity in the throne room. There are some who may not be as lucky. It is a time to ponder the homeless, or the poor who cannot afford heat, or the cat who runs under cars in the parking lot. What happens to them? Can anything be done?

And there it is, dammit, character. Do I get credit for it or does Mother Nature? God? Is my character-building the result of free will, and would it have happened without the warm apartment?

No one gets credit until something gets done. Thinking of good character is not being a good character. When that snow stops, watch out, world, you’re gonna get fixed. (Yes, I was going to type something else.)

But right now, back to bed.

This piece is riddled with red and blue lines, warning the grammar and spelling police are awakening and preparing my arrest. Am I worried? If you don’t hear from me look under the big snowbank to the left of the building.

*This sounds a little “rainbowish”? Anyone offended?

The Santa Claus Conundrum

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Ai defines conundrum, a uniquely curious and funny sounding word, as “a confusing and difficult problem or question…often used to describe a situation where there is no clear right answer or where every solution has a downside”. There are lots of conundrums* in the world today, ranging from the important and sad—Wars–to the idiotic, like who will win this season’s “Survivor”. ** But right in the middle of that continuum is Santa Claus.

As a fan of Santa Claus his existence, to me, is not a conundrummm(sic). Logical reason: if he is not real*** why is he still around? Why hasn’t he been sent to the trash heap of strange gods and myths such as Cardea and Sterquilinus:  the former, The Roman God of Door Hinges, and the latter The God of Manure.

We should admire Santa Claus for his manufacturing and logistics prowess. His manufacturing operations should be the envy of the modern world, with his ability to ramp up to economic quantities of scale and yet pivot to special niche gifts. This agile and on-time production record would be a good reason why modern manufacturing trade associations may be behind the effort to label Santa Claus a Myth. The logistics groups, too, must be envious of the Claus Corporation’s lightning-like speed of product delivery and accuracy. Envy is not only a green-eyed monster but a wonderful motivator. Shipping firms are probably working overtime to delegitimize the Big Red Fat Man, as well.

The konnundrum(sic)? It has two parts, really. 1. How does he do it? And 2. Does he really do it? There is no hard, recordable evidence for an answer to either question. No one sees Santa or any Santa-based employee make a delivery, for example. And not even the CIA can find evidence of a manufacturing site and if Santa was flying all over the world delivering un-scanned packages, air defense systems would be flashing “end of the world” warnings for hours. Imagine the decisions nuclear key holders would have to make. And yet, there the presents are every Christmas morning, The Post Office forwards Santa’s mail, and fully grown, highly educated adults propagate Santa’s existence. Simply, he endures. For centuries. Would a wooden stake end it all? Maybe, if he could be found.

For the sake of sanity, and to end this post, let’s answer the conundrummer(sic) with this: Santa is a real myth. Minor gods of hardware and feculence disappear because they have no real purpose, no real need. Have door hinges ever been accused of being evil? But Santa does fill a need. His body image could use some help but his message of naughty or nice is important.  It is probably the first time (and only time?) loving, caring parents get a chance to introduce wrong and right to a growing brain in a growing body while it’s still just a smaller version of themselves…and pays attention.  When those bodies get to a certain size conversations get more difficult, if they happen at all.

So let’s support Santa for as long as we can before the internet and Ai render him to the Useless Myth Compost Bin (UMCB).

Fun, relevant fact: Ai says “the etymology of conundrum is itself a conundrum”. One source might be Oxford college students who made up their own Latin-Based words for their own language of “pompous sounding” words. Slang. In the 1500’s. Those crazy kids. Thank God, it doesn’t happen these days. Yes, that is Ironious. (Copyright pending.)

*The more the word is used the funkier it sounds. Where did this word come from?

**Why should we care who is the best at lying and cheating to win $1 million dollars?

***What is “real”? A whole different discussion and an integral part all conunnnndrums(sic).

Senior Hacks, Tips and Warnings For All

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Just in time for the holidays, here are some “things” to make senior—or any life—easier, safer, and better tasting.

If you are a male, have high pressure in your shower, have installed a flexible, adjustable showerhead, and you’re still flexible yourself, be very careful when the “High Pressure” nozzle is being used in a sensitive, below the belt area*. Painful, embarrassing consequences CAN be avoided with adequate forethought. It’s possible this applies to females, too. Comment, ladies, if it does.

A wonderfully adventurous and free spirited, brand new “high S with some I” female friend sent a pic of her enjoying axe throwing at a local establishment. We won’t talk about what she wore but it was holiday festive and skimpy. I expected chain mail or a flak jacket, possibly an entire suit of armor to cover every inch. As a veteran of The Dart Wars in Binghamton during the Middle Ages (the 1980s), I personally witnessed participants cut down—or rather pierced—in their prime by errant and unintelligent** darts, sometimes thrown from exterior locations near the open bar door. Imagination painted a scene where a drunken, ex-dart player fired off an axe round without aim. The axe place had sense enough to install netting to at least slow down any unexpected, misguided chopper, adze, or hatchet. As an added danger, picture an athletic young person admiring the smooth, arcing wood cutter rotating through the open air. Then add a couple pitchers of beer and the gambling mentality infecting all male (females, too?) activities, and axe’s are soon flying with Armageddonish  results. The tip if you go to one of these places? Make sure your health insurance is up to date***, try not to sign the liability waiver, and alert your lawyer he may be needed soon. Axe drop, for this subject.

Air fryers are “the bomb” for us single guys. Convenient fast and easy to clean. Warning: make sure to rinse completely after washing. Dawn soap does not go well with, well, anything. This warning is here because of the perforated platform used in the fryers. Rinse your holes!****

Last year, my first winter back in NY, I was disabled and in recovery from hip surgery so outside activity was limited. This year, I am free to move about the country, but the sniggles and tangles of winter are still revealing themselves. Black ice is a problem for all us but weather—lately–has conspired to leave water on apshalt, lower the temperature, then drop a small dusting of snow. Add this to the slope that leads downhill from my apartment building entrance to the parking lot, and crab-walking to my car, with baby steps, is necessary. Young people can fall and get up anytime. In fact, they often do it on purpose and call it exercise. A fall for an old person isn’t as much fun. The tip? Beware Mother Nature, she is out to get us. Don’t trust The B!$#&.

Related winter issue: If your car has a Weather-Tec type floor liner, make sure to empty it when the weather swings as widely as it has been. Getting in with slush and ice on a bad day is okay when the liner traps it, but then it thaws, the water is clear and you step in and get the bottom of your pants wet as if you peed all way down to your ankles. Not cool, MN.

There’s more but we ran out of room, so later, gator, and Happy Holidays! Peace.

*Originally, the sentence ended at “used”, but then I wondered if someone might not know the sensitive area being referred to, so I did the extra work. For those who needed the extra words: Here’s your sign. For those who don’t know what that means, google Bill Engvall. And if you don’t know how to google, that’s okay as long as you get your sign.

**Mentioned in case new Ai driven Smart Darts are out there. We were old school and guided our own, back in the day…and loved it.

***And will cover this type of “peril”, and insurance term for risk.

****For a bonus, holiday giggle, add this sentence to the first paragraph.

Not What You Think

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To begin, a very sincere apology to a dear friend who thinks this will be about Death. She was told to watch for it and “enjoy” it, too. What an idiot, I am. Who wants a post about death four days before Christmas? Stupid, fargin, icehole bastige.*

This post should be uplifting, upbeat, about love and happiness, maybe even with a few strong words about materialism.

Or maybe it should be about friends and family. Aren’t they the ones who uplift us, make us feel good, and make holidays so special?

Eh, maybe. Sometimes, I guess. Of the 73 Christmas gatherings personally witnessed, seldom was it with the same family and the same friends. A sad thing about the modern world is how families disperse, spread out, move, and then need to make herculean efforts on trains, planes, and automobiles to get back together for holidays. Why do we do that? Would a Star Trek transporter beam for all make it easier? It would for those who really wanted to get back, but do we all really want to go home for the holidays?

It’s also a tough time to consider income equality and homelessness. Nothing like a hundred presents under the tree to make you wonder where the homeless beggar the police just chased off his corner is going to sleep.  And what presents do billionaires buy for their families? Their own planes, trains, and automobiles so they can get home easier? Even worse, if you drew Elon Musk’s name in a Secret Santa party, what would you get him? Would he even show? And what would he give if there were no dollar limit?

But the saddest part of the holidays is who really gets forgotten: Jesus, the birthday guy. Name anyone who really knows and lives the teachings of Jesus and reminds others of His ways**. Would he accept a present? Would He*** accept it and re-gift to someone who needs it?

In years past the Christmas Holidays meant so much to us because it was time off from work, time off from stress, and time to give and receive gifts. All in all, good reasons for families to get together, good reasons for celebration.

But there are billions of people in the world who know nothing of Christmas and Jesus. Is that a bad thing?

The biggest mistake we make at Christmas is not remembering, not reading more, not learning, and not accepting the life-style Jesus set for us. Why is that? We can do small things in small ways to honor that lifestyle, and we can do bigger and better things if we are blessed with way more than we need. Who needs a new Lexus with a bright, red ribbon out in the driveway? Or a keepsake blood diamond from an African mine? And better, yet: why do we celebrate Christmas with advertisements like these?

As a very young man exposed to J.D. Salinger in the middle of the 1960s materialism/consumerism boom, “The Jesus Prayer” and “The Way of the Pilgrim” were read with great care…and with great effect/affect. Those of you who know both, think any modern world leader is aware of either? Wait, are you?

As for my friend, hope you liked this subject better than death.

*Again: from Johnny Dangerously, and Michael Keaton, 1984.

**Apologies to the very few who do know, and do–at least– try.

***Note the alternating H or h for Jesus’ pronoun. Can the world even agree on that?

One Miscellaneous Note and a Rant about The Rich

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Last post, the font WordPress uses in published posts was unknown. It appears my beautifully clear Calibri ruminations were published by WordPress in Times New Roman with serif feet and flourishes, everywhere. It can’t be said for sure, because there are several other fonts available that use feet and flourishes, but if it looks like a flourish and smells like feet…

A new report was online this week about Dynamic Price Modeling (DPM). I’ve talked about it before under its old name: Price Modeling. Adding “Dynamic” makes it sound less stodgy, more, well, dynamic. First, a reminisce about pricing from the days of old. In pre-DPM times, a business looked at the costs involved in making a product. First are “Fixed costs (FC)” that don’t change no matter the quantity of product the business produces. These are rent, insurance, things you need for one product or one million. “Variable Costs”( VC) are the things consumed during production like raw materials, energy, shipping, labor, etc. Businesses total these costs for a certain period, then divide the sum by the number of products produced and find a “total cost per item”. Businesses use the total cost per item to decide the selling price of the item, its Retail Price. It is an important step because too high a Retail Price will limit total sales, but too low a Retail Price causes lower profit, and lower profit means business failure. We used to call it “Cost Plus Pricing” and it was a complicated and ongoing struggle to reach the perfect price for sales success and maximum profit. Most often Cost Plus Pricing did not yield a Retail Price of $100 for an item with a total cost of $1. Supply and demand market forces kept Retail Prices in line with total cost and businesses survived with modest profit.

Imagine a New Pizza Shop (NPS) making the best pizza in your area.  They sell pies for $15, make a nice profit and are happy. Then, a new pizza place realizes they can make a similar pizza and sell it for $12. Or a different new, newer pizza shop opens and sells their similar pizza for $16. Eventually local pizza eaters (The Market) will figure out the best pizza for the best price and that company will survive. Using Cost Plus Pricing, most pizza shops often “find” the perfect price through trial and error.

Now imagine NPS is using DPM. It offers pizza for $15 and immediately learns * The Market is buying $12 pizzas. NPS now has to make a decision about lowering its price. But what if through DPM, NPS learns almost the entire “Market” is buying pizza from NPS. DPM suggests NPS keep raising prices until they learn The Market will no longer buy NPS pizzas. All this happens instantly in this day and age.

Lowering prices, in my opinion, will almost never happen because of The Rich People. In our pizza shop world we assume The Market will work efficiently and reward the best pizza shop the most business. The Market will end up with the best pizza at the best price.

But with DPM, NPS eventually “corners” The Market with their best pizza at a decent price. Under DPM, NPS will eventually realize more control over the pricing than The Market has, and prices will rise and soon be out of proportion to a “total cost plus” formula: profits will soar.

Now add The Rich People to The Market, with unlimited disposable income and no correlated sense of affordability: DPM driven prices and profits will soar for NPS and non-rich people will no longer afford a pizza without taking out a loan. DPM can lead to the old school, black-hole monopoly, where only the very rich can afford anything as retail prices break free of “total cost” and rise to whatever The Market—and The Rich–will pay. It’s happening already in real estate and retail commerce. There are many markets where the same item from the same factory with the same total cost is sold for a different price. Eh, still okay, right? But what happens when a company realizes selling their product at a 15% profit in Market A is not worth selling it there because they can make 50% in Market B?

I’ve run out of space, but the point of the post is Dynamic Pricing Models are already eliminating non-rich people from some markets**. Where and when will it happen next?

*The local pizza market is not a good example, mainly because there isn’t enough profit in local pizza sales to justify the cost of Ai and the energy needed to maximize DPM. But car sales, real estate, Walmart, all are using DPM in the pursuit of maximum profit.

**The DPM market effects are not new. The speed at which they now happen, is. In the past, gaining control of The Market took time and often was constrained by slow communication systems. See the “Robber Barons” of the past, DPM pioneers.

The Holy Font Wars

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Font, font, font. Said three times really fast it sounds geeky, like a bad cheese. Aged Extra Sharp Font. To font or not to font. I do not know what font WordPress uses when this is published, but I have historically written in Times New Roman (TNR), a carryover from journalism days. In fact, I never really thought of font unless someone required a certain font. If they did, I selected it from the 1,837,312* font types available in Word and other processing apps.

But I always returned to the old “eye-shade and ink-stained sleeves” newspaper roots and wrote in TNR. TNR was invented 93 years ago by a typographer for the British “The Times” newspaper. He complained about the readability of the paper, which was using Times Roman font, now known as Times Old Roman. TNR was a huge success and became the global standard for books and legal documents. It was Microsoft Word’s default font until 2007, when Calibri replaced it. Being stubborn and superstitious, TNR was moved into my personal word processing default position, and no other font was used on purpose. (There was a time when testing word processors in the 70s and 80s when the installed font was never even known, or font selection was limited, which didn’t matter as long as it was readable.)

Fonts were never a big deal, though sometimes size mattered. I remember playing around with myriad and varied fonts sizes, years ago, when a certain page count was required and discovered certain fonts take up more space than others, making filling a page easier. But generally, fonts are so inconsequential I called TNR “New Times Roman” for most of this post until editing, when I noticed the New and Old Times Roman boo-boos.** It didn’t take long to fix, but it made me wonder if this inconsequential post should be continued.

Wait, it’s point is coming back to me.

The Biden administration, in its push to help the disabled and generally disadvantaged among us, mandated Calibri for all administration paperwork in 2023. The administration cited three reasons for the change:

  1. Calibri readability is better because it is “sans-serif”. It has no “feet” or decorative flourishes. Ai it.
  2. TNR was designed for paper newsprint, while Calibri was designed for digital computer screens.
  3. The cleaner lines of “sans serif” Calibri worked better with modern Optical Character Recognition software.

Those are some very good reasons for a simple, unobtrusive change, right?

Before writing this post, I typed two sentences, one on top of the other, one in TNR, and one in Calibri. The difference is astounding,*** especially to 73-year-old eyes using 1.75 magnification “reading glasses” just to see the desk. I am now a fan of fonts, and this post is Great British TNR free, and 100% pure Microsoft Calibri.

Can anyone understand why the Trump people recently decided to go back to TNR? They had these reasons:

  1. Restoring “Decorum and Professionalism.” TNR conveys a more “formal and professional” tone. Oh, and tradition. “Make American Type Flourishy Again.” Irony? Tone-deafness?
  2. Opposition to DEI. Trump people declared the move to Calibri a “wasteful program linked to DEI.” God forbid.
  3. Unified Identity. The change (back to TNR) aligns with President Trumps’ “One Voice For America’s Foreign Relations” Directive. Thank God?

You probably know how I feel about each font but Lucas de Groot, the Dutch inventor of Calibri, opines the return to TNR is “sad and hilarious” at the same time. Well said, and who cares about poor people with bad eyes. And switching back to TNR won’t cost a cent.

All players in this mega-important official United States policy issue should be thanked for opening my eyes to better writing and reading. (Get it?)

And the things you guys make me learn. Amen.

*Do I have to tell you that is an exaggeration? Hyperbole? Untruth? Whatever else you do, do NOT do a deep dive into fonts with Ai. Do do.

**That was a good time for Ai to be of service. Slacker.

***Try it yourself.

Another Amusing Thing About Old Age?

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As if physical decline (PD) wasn’t enough by itself, there is mental decline (MD) to worry about as a bonus for living longer. A strange oddity about MD is how does one observe said decline if one is the victim of said decline? Aching knees and joints are positive (WTF! Positive??) indicators of PD both my inner voice (IV) and outer voice (OV) easily recognize and process. Neither IV or OV is happy about it, but knowledge is power, and uncertainty is emotionally crippling. So when it comes to MD who will be the canary in the coalmine, IV or OV? Those two are already debating the issue in internal memos and hints of MD are leaking out through OV. IV has noticed lately, memories recounted by OV are being…embellished. Not outright fabricated stories but as IV searches the files it is finding inconsistencies in the tales OV is passing off as historical fact.

There are several memories (about five) from my past which are important milestones, or “forks in the road” for life as it unfolded. The memories used to be accurate recollections of times when life could have gone either way or at least changed direction. OV has retold those stories for years without inner turmoil or even discussion. The recollections were part of the story line of my life, with each recollection supporting each decision made and subsequent, related actions taken. Each story had its flaws, and its revealing moments where I might not have looked my best, despite persevering, and moving on with life.

But many times, in the last 34 months, as the stories have been recounted for medical professionals, new friends, or old friend wanting to know more, IV has raised its hand and suggested “That ain’t the way it happened.” For example, I’ve always told the story of a young, long-haired, hippy, radical Colgate freshman being escorted out a rural bar at the end of a shotgun. The listener is left free to assume a political or societal issue related to a liberal hippy in rural America. But here is what IV says: it was a drug deal gone bad, and I’d stepped on the toes of a local dealer running his operation out of the establishment in question. IV correctly points out I was a common criminal not a rebellious, anti-war icon. My power as an umpire over OV and IV is questionable, but there is no reason to believe IV wrong, as IV’s version of events paints a negative picture of the hero OV must want me to be.

But the real important issue is two pronged: 1. When did the story change? All of my internal voices knew the exact truth in November 1970, so when—and how—did the story change? And 2. How many of those “very important” memories have been infected with the “Need To Make It Better Virus? (NTBV). And is there a cure for NTBV and its possible variants?

My first hope is OV, IV and me are normal issues and the upgrading (upselling?) of memories is a normal function suffered by all who age gracefully. In other words, my extremely agile mind-group has found a way to get me to believe I’m not only normal, but also special for noticing it.

And I am heroic, as well, for talking about it in this open space.

Okay. To summarize…I may have some personality issues needing therapy and it is not heroic to note that, it is good, common sense.

But what if all of this is woke mumbo jumbo. What if IV is wrong? What if OV HAS been right all these years? What if…

All I know, now, is I wish God made easier signposts for MD. We need them.