life

Life Is A Joke

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This is not said with sarcasm. Life truly is laugh-out-loud funny if you see not only the present but the future. The humor is obvious when you get out of your own shoes. It’s so easy, so human, so self-defeating to see life only through our own eyes, and not the “Lens of Reality.”*

The Reality is, over–, sorry, I keep using the 800 billion number, but no one will ever know. Know what? How many humans have died since the “Dawn of Time for Mankind.”**

So many of us have died since that time and yet when we are born, we still assume life will never end. Then it does. Isn’t that hilarious? You can judge your happiness by how long you were able to feel invincible, how long you knew in your bones you had free will and self-determination…if you just ate right, exercised right, studied history…maybe…

But those activities only give us a few good years before the pre-determined “Darkness of Death” descends.***

As a funny aside, as we wait for death we build bridges, languages, relationships, legacies, and a hot rod or two. We make our mark on a world no one will remember in 100 years, unless they google it. We might even think we have life figured out and know how to live and enjoy the time.

The sad thing about death that sucks the humor from our perspective is when we hit that mark, that time when the Darkness is no longer sublimated, no longer repressed, no longer denied. Thank God, He gave us this ability to note and ponder our own “Decline and Death”. Isn’t that funny? How many times have you thought about how animals live and die, like Red, my old dog? In fact, there are stories of old people who walk into the woods with the intention they will never come back out of the woods on their own two feet. It’s a form of senicide never talked about. Like senility. And sentient. And sanity. And sentence, as in Life Sentence.

Ah, who cares. As I ponder my own life and pontificate profuse and plentiful episodes of progress and prowess, the paramount point seems to be about life AFTER death. Assuming we can ponder and perceive our own death, we will understand being dead a lot longer than alive. A joke, right? We get 70, 80, 90, maybe even a hundred years here, and then the rest of eternity…where, again? Darkness? Oblivion? Heaven? The soul of an Aberdeen Angus or Belted Galloway cow in the Scottish Highlands?****

As a young man I knew the meaning of life and reveled in being the only one who knew. Now, life has finally made the old joke totally comprehended: “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him about your plans.” We should try and laugh with Him.

As I posted this essay, it’s shortness became apparent. An omen? The Male Life Expectancy number is right around the corner…

*Yep. Made that up on the spot. Like it?

**Again: made up, but I’m not so proud of this one. The beginnings of humans is so far back and so obscure, maybe there was no dawn, we spurted into existence at dusk. The Dusk of Mankind sounds ominous, though, so let’s agree to the Midday of Mankind.

***Better but only because of alliteration.

****If I am to come back as a cow, I hope it will be in a warmer climate or one where my existence is revered.

The Blinds, An Epic Saga, and Other Things

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Coming to this space sometime soon…maybe. The Righteous Crusade to replace two 1-inch slat, cordless, vinyl mini-blinds, 27-inches wide by 64-inches long, is frustrated…but still on-going. Imagine, if you will*, a feat so simple, so mundane, it defies the Herculean efforts of the bravest and smartest of men.

The Blind Fiasco has lead me to essay** about all the weird things crossing my path and ending up in The Things Unwanted File. Modern detritus, if you will, or mental flotsam. If I can get myself to stop Ai-ing everything, take a gander at the following modern nuggets.

I recently spent two weeks in North Carolina. Weeks before I left I contacted old friends and let everyone know. Jim, one friend, acknowledged my trip. But in NC he was always busy, and his last text said: “I was busy. Come back after tax time.” NC is 12 hours and 700 miles away. I am upset he didn’t say personal tax time or corporate tax time.

So many people have mentioned they are okay with things “at this point in time going forward.” Since I’ve retired my shield as a Grammar Policeman, I whole-heatedly and full throatedly(sic)*** agree…at this point. In case you’re glossing over this issue, try to imagine a point in time. Not now, but after you’re done reading.

A recurring ad for a simple exercise machine repeatedly touts the machine’s exercise-related benefits but can’t the resist the “sales tag” line: “It’s so easy it does all the work for you.”

If you’re lonely and in a multi-level building, elevators are a great way to meet people. It’s amazing how surprised people are there is someone on an arriving elevator wanting to get off, or there is someone outside the elevator waiting to get on. An adept conversationalist could expand, the “Oops. Sorry” into something more substantial with very little effort. Of note, this morning I had my chance with an attractive woman with two arms full of groceries, but I deferred to the possibility she’d purchased frozen foods and let the chance slip through my metaphorical fingers as the doors closed. But next time…also, if you are that woman and you are reading this…knock on Apt 208’s door, please? I did push her buttons. On the elevator.

Lots of people are “planning on utilizing” things. In innocent conversation an inquiry is often made for clarification but a satisfactory response has not yet been made at this point in time, forcing the listener to utilize his or her imagination. Ask Ai about this. It’s funny. Ever hear the phrase “Utilize it or lose it?”

An oddity: Voxpop, the NPR station show mentioned last essay, did a show on plants. I have a lifelong aversion to vegetables, but after 45 minutes of fresh spinach munching by show participants, I plan on utilizing my car tomorrow to get some fresh spinach and give it a fair shake. May use my teeth to try kale, too. Such is the power of good entertainment. And good grammar.

Another strange occurrence: as an often anarchistic conversationalist, I have for years responded to this question “Can I ask you a question?” with this answer: “Seven.” Explaining why would take too much time, but after 60 years of puzzled looks, the bit is now retired. In fairness, at least one time in the 60 years of answering “Seven”, it should have been the answer to their next question. At least one time. Imagine the look on the questioner’s face. Dreams die hard.

*Google it. Better yet, Ai the phrase. You’re welcome.

**From the French “essayer”, which means “to try”.  “An essay was originally considered a trial or an attempt at expressing an idea, rather than a final, definitive word on a subject.” Perfect use above, then.

***Where did “sic” come from? If you’ve got ten minutes of free time, Ai it.

Blind Finding the Blinds?

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God, through His subscription streaming service, Life, has interesting ideas about human existence and the years we spend on earth. For our senior years, for example, He has instructed the powers that be at Life to make our last years as challenging as possible. The point is to test us seniors and see which side of The River Styx* we end up on, and how high up in Heaven or how low in Dantes Circles we go. An example of this late-in-life testing is simply getting dressed. All of us remember jumping out of bed, throwing on some clothes. and heading off to work, play or party…when we were young. It might have been ten minutes from awake to turning the ignition key.**

If we tried doing the same thing this late in life, we’d eventually make a call to a close relative or friend to come get us up off the floor. And—because we get stubborn as we age–it would be a lot longer than ten minutes before we surrender all pride and get to a phone, even if we planned ahead and left it near us. Damn socks. Invent slip-ons, like shoes, dammit.

Senior life then becomes a life of leisure and disregard for the world’s major events, but with a close, annoying, aggravating, non-symbiotic relationship surrounding the Activities of Daily Living (ADL***).

As a younger old man****, my patience was lost on nearly every test thrown my way in my new Old Man career, with the resulting invective stream: “Dammit! WTF! Why me? Why now?” You may have read about some of these adventures in very old essays.

But a simple reading of the room—”commonly called paying attention” –revealed while annoying things were happening, they weren’t just happening to me. The pain is cohort-wide.

Now, with understanding and patience firmly tucked into the frontal lobe, I aspired to get replacement blinds for my apartment windows. This was going to be a long story, but the preface appears to have taken up most of today’s available space. The incongruous but—sadly–modern twists and turns of the War for The Mini Blinds will have to be delineated and explicated in a future essay. It’ll tug at your heart strings, whatever the hell they are.

But a warning, here, for anyone who thinks senior life is all napping, streaming, and ranting: It is, mostly, but we do face a life of paper cuts no younger person can imagine or would have the will to endure. We achieve patience by knowing it happens to everyone who gets the privilege of being “Aged”. We view it as a blessing. Ask any senior and they will tell you how happy they are to be so old. Ask, I dare you.

There isn’t much room left for anything but a quick joke. If I’ve told it before, sue me. And if you are offended, good. Its nice to finally get credit for doing something. Of note, my ancestors–and therefore moi–are citizens of the butt of this joke and do not mind you laughing, as long as its with us and not at us. We’ve come a long way as an Ethnic Group and are proud to be part of making someone else’s life a little brighter.

A Polish man locked his keys in his car.

It took him an hour and a half to get his family out.

Tomorrow, we pick on Italians! Another robust branch of the family tree.

*Yes, I know. I am Unitarian Universalist. Deal with it. Think “Literary License” aka “Poetic License”. Qualified immunity.

**We didn’t have push button start in those days.

***Real thing. Google it, especially young people. Best to learn about it, now, and be ready.

****You get that, right?

Ai, Ai, Oh No…

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Apologies to those who know the story and song of Old Macdonald’s Farm. He had all sorts of animals, but we never know if he is happy about it*. How could he be happy with all those animals to feed? He must have been a billionaire. Ai says there is no real ending to the Old McDonald’s Farm song, it can go on until the singer gets bored or tired or runs out of animals.

Life kind of feels like the song, now. Except for a new animal every verse substitute a new trouble, war, or unhappy event. As an essayist, it is harder and harder to come here and write something happy, something peppy, something uplifting. It is so easy to write WTF essays, “why is this happening essays”, and warning essays. Probably shouldn’t use the word easy, because writing about what is wrong in the world (in my opinion), is not easy, it’s annoying, and seems pointless. It’s not even cathartic anymore. There is a sense the turbulence of this world is not necessary, and that my golden years should be full of—at least—apathy, and not despair, unhappiness, anger, resentment.

I tried to sign up for DirectTv, yesterday but their website wouldn’t approve any of the 5 credit cards I tried. “Oops! There is a problem. Please try later.” The Ai chat bot took all my information, guided me to the website, and walked me though every step to get me to where I already was and then Ai asked: “And what does your screen say?” Oops. I asked for an agent and after a 5-minute wait one came into the chat and typed: “So how can I help you?” I typed “Oops! There is a problem. Please try later.” And the rep started by typing the same questions the Ai bot did. Hey! This is progress? This is better?

See how easy it is to complain?

 This essay will be an effort to not complain. I vow to find more positive things to write about, more good news to share, more ideas to inform or uplift, not brow beat or spotlight anger. Yes, most of the usual space has been used up already with the normal bleating, but there is still room for a few paragraphs of light.

The Rich have taken over the United States and will soon take over the world. And they don’t give a crap about anyone Not Rich. How can they be stopped?

Sorry. Old habit. As a retired person my days are my own to shape and one of my favorite times of those days is 2pm to 3pm. I recline on my favorite couch, put my tablet on my chest, and listen to NPR. The hour begins with 15 minutes of news and then the VoxPop show cuts in and a gentleman named Ray Graf opens his mouth. This only happens Mondays through Fridays, but VoxPop is enough to make a day better, and have that “better” last for at least the hours until VoxPop comes back on the airwaves. Ray has a way of yakking that is not only entertaining, but informative, and…bright. Happy. Content. Unhurried. Almost therapeutic. No more will be said except he is not available in all NPR areas. Wait, maybe VoxPop is, and can be heard over the wonderfully cluttered Internet of Ideas and Chaos. The station broadcasting Ray Graf’s VoxPop is WAMC, out of Albany NY. It’s unclear if anyone outside New York State can get his show, but try, and get back to me, will you? Google or Ai “VoxPop with Ray Graf” and see what happens in your area. I’ve not said much about the actual show, hoping the mystery will pique your curiosity and get to you look for it, so…do it. Now. It might get you off the snide** of current life and back into the gentle but challenging currents of real life. Real normal life, not Rich and Powerful Life.

Sorry. Old habits die hard.

*Or what tense of verb to use. Is Old McDonald alive? Dead? Mythical? The song does say he “had” a farm. Did it get repossessed? Fall into ruin? Or does he and the farm come back to life every time we sing about him? And where is this “farm”? And why the hell should we care?

**The Internet of Ideas and Chaos is often what we make it. Google snide, for example, and enjoy.

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

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Is that enough blahs for you?

When there is some dead space in my overactive life*, I Watch television. Sorry. Hope this doesn’t affect your vision of me as a hand-on-the-chin Rodin thinker, but television/media is the Window to the World.

Sidebar: Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker” was meant to be a clothed, self-portrait of the sculptor sitting atop the Gates of Hell, admiring the Circles of Hell and pondering Dante’s poem. Rodin, to his credit, noticed the figure had a more powerful message and purposely stripped it naked. It is thought to be the first artistic expression of an intellectual with muscles. It was publicly unveiled in 1904. Yet, to this day we still think of brainy people as nerds and weaklings. Since intellectuals are so smart, how did they let that image proliferate? Or…is it an image they prefer, so they get underestimated? We all know, now, we can’t trust those intellectual types and their woke ideas, but are they playing us, leading us around by the nose? Take your clothes off, sit on an uncomfortable granite slab, and give it some thought.

I left Upstate New York and traveled south by car a few weeks ago. The trip began with long pants, solid shoes for walking in the snow, two layers of clothes, and gloves. 24 hour later—after an overnight rest—I was in shorts and sandals and cranking up the AC. Durham, NC is going to set a record today of over 90 degrees. When I drive home in a few days the weather in NY will be snow, sleet, and freezing rain. The range of climate is not the impressive part. What is impressive as hell is how easily we can move between these varying climates. We take it for granted. If it was Gunsmoke days, it might take weeks, even months to find a different biome. It is a wonderful world.

But not for News, and Information is slowly rotting, as well. The first problem with our news and information disseminating systems, is Capitalism. The ever-present need for profit means, these days, commercial time in our media centers is paramount, content be damned. Forget the need for a commercial every three seconds and note the timing, when something neat is about to happen or be revealed, your media cuts to an advertisement. We see you, you capitalist shites. We know what you’re doing. But can we do anything about it? The Window to the World is covered over with bumper stickers.

But hold on, what about that damned “content”? It is apparent** there is a lot of money to be made by…talking. Blah blah blahing. Spitting words. Mangling sentences. Mouthing opinions either believed or tailored for certain information silo consumption. News is now 5 seconds of fact and 23 hours and 55 seconds of talking heads, each with his own ass-inine(sic) take on some ass-inine(sic) subject. News  head: “America dropped $10 million dollars worth of bombs on the Middle East, today. Here to discuss it is our Talking Head Panel (THP) of experts.” Of note, there is always at least one female with the flowing tresses of modern fashion, and at least one man with a beard hiding his wattle. (Don’t pretend you know what a wattle is. Look it up.)

With our information silos, you can find any THP discussing any subject you want and offering any opinion you agree with or would like to argue against from the safety of your living room, you troll. And how about CNN actually including on-line comments in their news reporting, now? Should anyone care about the opinion of one lazy, partially informed, but supercilious listener/watcher/critic/snark? (For full effect google “supercilious.)

Thank, God, this essay ran out of room before something stupid got printed.

I’m going to watch me some Gunsmoke on Grit*** and hope the world goes on without me.

            *”Dead” is probably not a good word for a senior to use, but you all know what I mean.

**”At this point in time going forward to the future.” Ha.

***Or Rich Steves travel show on PBS. A true Window to the World.

Some Senior Things

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These aren’t complaints, just observations. If you’re old, they can help, and if you’re young, they can both inform you about what it means to be old* and give you a glimpse of your future…if you’re lucky.

Months ago, I recommended Dollar Store reading glasses strategically** placed all over the house and your car so you’d always have a pair at hand. My personal record is 10 pair. Of note, they are now $1.25 apiece. Damn you, Biden***. The Dollar Store has not changed their name, by the way.  They ought to. As a new hint, do the same with magnifying glasses. Not sure what they cost, now, but most corporations are run by perfectly sighted young people who seem intent on making important product information on labels as small as possible. A recent bout with a room air freshener concerned small black type over a dark red background. It was so hard to read I needed my Jewelers’ Loupe. Look it up, they are invaluable but won’t be found in the Dollar Store. Also, you won’t need 10 of them, two or three will do unless you do a lot of package content reading in the bathroom. And you certainly won’t need one while you’re driving.

To all of us, stop trying to tell everyone else about how bad our life is. I’ve noticed a disturbing trait, lately, among us old people: Condition Competition. As a veteran of malady management, myself, it’s hard to not want everyone to know how well you did, if you did well, and how bad you’re doing if you didn’t. Since young people never listen to us, we seem to be using each other for these reports. And as we solemnly detail our struggles, it hurts to hear back from the listener a litany of troubles worse than our own. Trust me. As I recently began regaling a conversational partner about winning skirmishes against cancer, AMD, and arthritis, he countered with a double-lung transplant at age 18, followed by the loss of both parents in an accident a year later. Well played, sir. My options were to lie or retreat to complain another day, and hope for someone less well-off. Remember, seniors: sonder.****

The Loss of Things is a never-ending affliction which can be managed if one remembers it is the natural way of life. I’ve been fortunate to lose things slowly and incrementally, the best way to lose them since you never really know they are gone until you sit down and write about it. See? This is healthy, right? Vision is the obvious thing to illustrate this phenomenon. As noted in the first paragraph, my vision is slowly and incrementally (SI) fading into the sunset. It’s hard to imagine going blind in one fell, swoop, so thank your lucky stars if SI is the way your best traits go. SI effects everything: hair, libido, athletic ability, mental acuity.  Everything except toenails. Note to young entrepreneurs: invent a way to stop toenails from growing or a liquid that makes them fall off. A liquid preferably applied with a long stick.

Always look for flat, level, ground. This is a hard one, especially with bad vision, but no fall is worse than the one you do in public simply because a small incline or decline suddenly appeared under your feet. Sad to admit it, but “Training Wheels” for seniors might not be a bad idea, if we could get seniors to admit–and commit– to using them. So far, my only concession to a sudden change in position is a google watch with a built-in fall sensor. If I drop and can respond in 15 seconds, there’s still a chance to regain some dignity. If I don’t answer in 15 seconds, it calls 911 and all bets are off. This is also helpful if you live alone and die. My apartment property maintenance man said this when asked how he would know if someone was dead in my beautiful but one bedroom apartment: “It would smell. Eventually.”

Maybe seniors shouldn’t buy any more air fresheners.

And make sure your google watches are fully charged.

            *Be nice to your Grandparents!

            **As opposed to haphazardly placed. Or willy-nilly placed

            ***And Trump, and Musk, and Bezos, and everyone else responsible.

            ****Ai it.

Odd Things Overheard or Stumbled Across

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Several universities and national defense departments are researching how to use Quantum Mechanics in guidance systems. Anyone with a smidgen of science knowledge knows our current navigation apps rely on Global Positioning Systems (GPS) that use radio waves and satellites to pinpoint location and travel. Radio waves move fast but not enough to combat “drift”, and the “accumulation of error over time”* as the waves must go out to the satellite then come back. It doesn’t help that sensors on both sides of the transmission have built in “noise”, creating minor errors. These errors wouldn’t bother 19th Century sailing ships, but our current electronic drones, aircraft and sea vessels could really use an exact location to “let loose the dogs of war”, so to speak. A Tomahawk missile flying 1,000 miles into enemy territory at 500 miles an hour needs nearly perfect navigational guidance to hit the target. Quantum Mechanics** may be able to give an object (nearly) exact location every second and remove (nearly) all “drift”. You can use google or Ai and spend the next few weeks reading about this or take my word for it. Or just not give a crap. GPS is enough for us.

A science show on NPR had a scientist who made a strange statement. He said, and I paraphrase “No one has ever actually seen the universe.” His argument is when we look at things, our eyes don’t really see things, but see the color reflecting off those things. He says there is no color in the universe and the color we see is the reflection of light. Each thing the light bounces off of absorbs or reflects certain wavelengths of the light, and we never see the naked planet or moon** or star we think we are seeing. I’m pretty sure that is how everyday life is, too. It sounds a bit Matrixey, but what if what we think we see, we don’t see?

I’ve had enough trouble in life understanding non-solid things like love, hate, faith, and religion. Now, the solids can’t be trusted?

As science progresses farther and further*** we have to wonder what we will find, and if we want to go there. Months ago, we learned time might not be linear and may move in a circle or other strange dimensions. Now, what if “real” isn’t really “real”? Continued scientific  research could find us going full circle back to birth, or the Big Bang, and what then? Do we repeat things? Overlap?  Share dimensions? Maybe Vonnegut’s Tralfamadoreans were actually  guides, not fictional characters.

As a young essayist, sophistry was a favored tactic during debates about all things major in life. Ai says “sophistry is the use of clever but false arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving someone.”

So…what exactly are all our scientists up to? Are they spouters of sophistry, changing facts with each decade with intent to…what? Should we make them cease and desist**** all scientific endeavors?

Or is sophistry being practiced, now, in this space?

Anyone need a beer? I’m buying.

            *Per Ai. Interesting fact: you are never really exactly where GPS says you are.

            **Thank you for not giggling at the idea of a naked moon.

            ***I stand by this usage by applying my literary license.

****The ever-humorous Ai describes “cease and desist” as a formal “knock it off notice.”

Bidets and Bemusements

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Mark Twain wrote in 1869: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow mindedness, and many of our people need it solely on these accounts. Good, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”

It’s easy to read this quote and understand its practical, real-life application but it works metaphorically as well. Read on.

We have 232 American Athletes in Milan, Italy, for the 2026 Winter Olympics. Reports are that some of them don’t know what to do with an oval-shaped, probably porcelain, floor mounted, water spitting “accessory” on the floor of their Italian lodgings. Wonder how many of you readers know what a bidet is and what it is used for, mostly.

As with any device designed for one activity, it is never guaranteed the device will not find an alternate use.  In the case of the bidet and young people, especially young men, contemplating the alternate uses of the bidet will not happen, here. Do it on your own time.

Imagine the prejudice, bigotry, and narrow mindedness being “wiped away” (Pun. Hope you get it.) by our athletes’ exposure (Another pun?) to this device. Keep in mind it might not be a learning moment if they aren’t instructed in the original intent of the bidet, and enjoyed its alternate uses, only. Let’s hope there is one responsible, experienced adult somewhere near the athletes.

There is an ongoing controversy about whether Hip-Hop* belongs in The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Let’s forget for this discussion Hip Hope has its own Hall of Fame and ask: what is “Rock and Roll”? For once, AI has a great description: “It is a high-energy collision of cultures that defined the 20th Century.” It is a surprising remark from the usually staid and stuffy Ai but captures what this old man knew about Rock and Roll from its beginning’s way back in the 1950s: it’s a “Screw You, World” movement. Rock and Roll told us to have a good time while you can because the world is going to start trying to make sure you don’t. Fight it. Feck them all. We didn’t trust anyone over 30 and never imagined we would ever be that old. Until we were. Sigh.

What about Twain’s quote and the Hall of Fame Controversy? Hip Hop is an indirect descendant of Rock and Roll attitudes and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is correct in offering the Hall to anyone who wants to upend the world’s status quo.

But some old rock stars are disagreeing, hoping to exclude Hip Hop, and keep the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame just…rock? No Roll? One 70 year old rocker said: “Hip Hop doesn’t speak to me. I’m not from there. I don’t understand its language.”** He essentially was saying because he didn’t have the same life experiences, he didn’t “get” Hip Hop. One has to wonder if he had travelled to the urban areas, the inner cities, and outer cities where Hip Hop happened, would it have made the Rocker think differently?

Twain was informing us just because something isn’t part of your life, doesn’t mean it has to be bad, dangerous, or unworthy. Once you get to know someone or something, your mind may change. Even better, do not let YOUR ignorance*** of a “thing” get in the way of knowing the truth about it.

Sounds a lot like the 2026 Super Bowl Halftime Drama.

*If you don’t know what it is, google it. Add The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to your search.

**Cherry-picked paraphrase, not a word for word quote, so no attribute. I like the guy who said it and feel he may see things differently, eventually.

***The good, “accidental” Ignorance we all suffer from before we know or learn. Not the bad, purposeful ignorance of not caring enough or being curious enough to learn.

 Death. Death. Death. Death. Not again…

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It’s typed four times in clearly readable Calibri* because typing it three times didn’t make the word sound as ridiculous as it should. Say it four times really, really fast…you’ll get an idea of how strange it is to worry about The Word. We accept a lot of things in life out of our control, why is “that one” any different? If I was 6 feet 8 inches I’d be a retired, rich former NBA basketball star, in the Hall of Fame. Being normal height hasn’t made me fall on the floor lamenting and grieving.

In “Slaughterhouse 5”, Kurt Vonnegut introduces the Tralfamadorians who view death as simple transport, a journey to another place, a minor station in life. Their view is life is never-ending since they exist in 26 dimensions representing all stages of their lives, and they can transport into any stage at any time. Want to revisit your gestation? No problem. Death? Only take a second, unless you want to stay longer. Any time in any individual life is always being played out in some dimension, somewhere, sometime. Death is merely another pearl in a necklace to be enjoyed, admired, and revisited. Neat, right?

Philosophy, science, and science fiction are not as far apart as the rational among us might think.  Learned and tamed Quantum Entanglement could explain the mechanics of the Tralfamadorian dimension travel, for example. But it might be wise to not expose young minds to any of these thoughts, as they leave a lasting impression with sometimes controversial side effects. Billy Pilgrim’s story of travels to his other dimensions was learned when I was 16, when death was not only unnecessary to consider, but touching life anyway, with car accidents, drugs, and the Viet Nam war…in the 1960’s dimension.

It isn’t any pedantic puzzle to solve, then, how an attitude towards death can be skewed, and become slightly comic. Sure, death is inevitable, and could come suddenly, but so what? If we simply move to another dimension, what’s the problem? In religious arguments with all sects, it was the same question: if the dead are actually going to the heaven you describe, why are we sad for them?

From then on, at funerals, I was a reasonably handsome, silent man in a nice suit with tissues in every pocket. The paper product’s sole purpose was to allow grief to transfer from the breaking hearts of grieving widows, mothers, daughters, sisters, and anyone else, to those flimsy papers, then the pockets, and finally, disposal. Rarely were more words than these exchanged: “It’s so nice of you to be here for______.” Accidents, the unlucky military draft, and suicides caused the scene to be repeated often and ended with a final straw**, the death of mom. I didn’t need to be the strong silent Man With Tissues. Where she was going would be a lot better than where she’d been. I was happy for her.

It’s easy to understand grief and loss surrounding death. They have been companions often, but when Death suddenly appears, the theory or assumed reality of where the dead are going should outweigh any selfish sense of loss, shouldn’t it? If given a choice, especially for eternity, we’d all choose heaven instead of sticking around to keep relatives and loved ones from crying. Wouldn’t we? Wait, if everyone went to heaven…

It’s hard to see how the medical world fits into a discussion of death. When doctors cure cancer, it is only a temporary victory, a battle won even though the war will be lost. Is our happiness for the cure and few extra years really that big a deal? It helps to wonder about what would have happened if the world never became “developed”, and we lived the laws of nature, not medicine and man. Is living with someone else’s heart, for example, worth it? Is donating your organs to someone else your goal in life?

Only until we know for sure, only until we have made that journey, it’s open season on end-of-life issues and we will discuss them forever, by ourselves or our progeny.

Conclusion: The journey matters. Not The End. Say it four times really, really fast.

Final note: The Calamities of the past three years stress-tested the opinions expressed in this post. Winning the battle rang the bell that saved them for another round. Can’t wait to see what’s next.***

And apologies for bringing this subject up for the umpteenth time. It’s not my fault if people keep dying.

PS Looked it up and the last time you were lectured about Death was January 11, 2026, when Bob Weir died, a Grateful Dead. See? It’s not my fault.

*Which the wordpress gods will change to New Times Roman.

**There is never a “Final Straw”. And loss never ends.

***Sarcasm?

Things Not Understood Volume 107

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If only life granted us unlimited, natural intelligence, or at least the chance to upgrade our aging internal CPUs. So much happens so fast, and we hear about it so fast, understanding anything is next to impossible. Lest you think otherwise, it’s not just politics, though that was an arena historically predictable. Liberals debated Conservatives, and both felt the world was ending when they lost an election. Sometimes they married each other. That still happens, but now candidates lie to get elected, never follow up on campaign promises, and get reelected next election, anyway. All bad things in a marriage, too. And no, it’s not just Trump. What in God’s name can disqualify a candidate in voters’ eyes, anymore?

Not all unable-to-be-understood things are bad for us. Whole milk is back as a school lunch item and beef is so good for us, it’s on top of the Food Pyramid. Suck on that, vegetarians.

Our national health department notes an epidemic in Africa and jumps at the chance to study it. How? By purposefully NOT giving a control group proven, life-saving vaccinations to see how they compare to the group that gets the vaccinations. Isn’t that just wrong? Or better yet, un-understandable?

Ai has the power to do what, again? Everything? Yup. It could write this post for me. Maybe it did. How would you know? It’s gotten so confusing there is a video on-line of researchers “abusing” Ai robots to see what happens. The robots learn to fight back and go all Scarface on the researchers. What’s not to understand? Why we abuse anything, why bullying a machine counts as abuse, how robots learned the martial arts moves it used, and did anyone get paid for this? Or get grant/taxpayer money? This story has a second depth of un-understanding (UU): It’s an Ai generated fake video. Why, again?

Quantum Mechanics (QM) and Quantum Entanglement (QE). The UU nature of these things is how fast we learn about them but how slow we use what we learn*. Like the Hydrogen engine. Or Cold Fusion. UU, all of them. In an age when a viral video circles the world in less than the time it takes to sneeze, why are not using clean burning Hydrogen Engines in our cars? Why has Cold Fusion not lowered Electric and heating bills?  Why did the Bills fire their coach and promote their General Manger? (Digression. Sorry.) QE has the power to revolutionize not only communications, but maybe the transport of materials, too. Think Star Trek transporter beams. And while we are at it, how can we send people into space and yet not have “space”, (homes), for people on earth? UU? Yes, yes. Maybe we’re going to space to find a place to send all the homeless?

Ah, who gives a crap, anyway. Not literally, of course because everyone craps. That’s easy to understand. But we appear to be—in this day and age—hurtling toward major changes while most of rest in our recliners. Oblivious.

A better word from self-proclaimed genius criminal mastermind, Vizzini**: “Inconceivable”.

More to the point, the response from the heroic Inigo Montoya: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Amen.

*Assuming there are no secret, government funded projects going on for defense purposes…which there probably are…

**Don’t make me name the movie. If you haven’t seen it, yet, why not? Inconceivable.