We cleaned their lockers out today.
Broke the locks and threw away,
All the stuff they left behind.
This may seem a bit unkind,
But we trashed it all,
Except for books.
They will likely,
Give us dirty looks,
When they see,
What we just did.
How we shamelessly got rid,
Of all of their nice stuff,
But life is often tough.
We gave them lots of notice,
And told them we would do it.
We gave them all a deadline,
But many of them blew it.
Wheelers and dealers,
Bankers with knives,
Slicing and dicing up,
Every day lives,
Buying and selling,
As much as they’re able,
With nary a clue,
About my kitchen table,
No ounce of concern,
About who gets burned,
Just their own bottom line,
Does a profit get turned?
No ethical squirms,
As they rape and they pillage,
Just financial concerns,
As they sell off each village,
Families out borrowing,
Just to buy milk,
While they lay around,
Counting threads in their silk,
Gambling and playing,
With everyday savings,
All steered by the market’s
Random psychotic ravings,
People so powerful,
Yet incredibly dumb,
Who need to be finally,
Brought under our thumb.
I’m soft and out of shape and old,
I often forget that, truth be told,
I may not look it, but I am,
Quite old enough to be called ma’am.
I’m overweight and easily bruise,
Though I still get carded buying booze.
Real men know how to play the guitar and are always willing to lend another man a hand changing a tire.
I very rarely choose a proper noun as a featured word, but this article over on Dictionary.com about the origins of the state name California really caught my eye. California is a Spanish word so I probably assumed the state was named after some Spanish missionary. However, the story behind the California name is actually quite fascinating.
Apparently, when the Spanish began exploring the Pacific Coast they mistakenly thought California was an island. In fact, some of the earliest maps of this region depict California as separated from the mainland. “This is considered one of the greatest, albeit short-lived, cartographic errors.”
Not only that, they decided name the newly-discovered “island” after the mythical island of California from the novel Las Sergas de Esplandián, “The Adventures of Esplandián,” written by Spanish author Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo.
In the book, the mythical California is ruled by Queen Califa and populated only with female warriors who brandish gold weapons. They even harness their animals in gold because it is the only mineral on the island.
The legend of Califa and her island was well known among New World explorers. In 1536 when Hernán Cortéz arrived in Baja California, he believed he had landed on the legendary island.
Labeling it “California” on the charts led to future explorers thinking this was the actual island from the story, inhabited with Amazon-like women almost drowning in gold. Of course 300 years later gold was discovered in California which led to the Gold Rush, statehood, and the state’s nickname, “The Golden State.”
The State of California's bizarre flag.
Until next time…
Today is the National Day of Sweden. It’s also International Kiss a Swede Day. In the interests of common decency, I won’t tell those of you who don’t already know what “kiss” means in Swedish. Look it up.
Here is the most random photo I could find.
It’s a fairly low-key day. In fact it didn’t even become a “red day” (that is, a national holiday) until 2005. Swedes, it would seem, are a little uncomfortable with celebrating their Swedishness and tread carefully on their national day.
After all, that could lead to patriotism, which could lead to nationalism, which would naturally lead to National Socialism (Nazis).
There is superstition…the writing’s on the wall…
Today’s word is a noun, a concept really, defined as, “a belief or notion (not based on reason or knowledge) in or of the ominous significance of a particular thing, circumstance, occurrence, proceeding, or the like.” I find superstition as a concept to quite fascinating. The idea that certain objects or actions could possibly affect the outcome of random future events is something that occurs in every nation on earth. However, like art and literature and other things created by humans, superstitious beliefs are culturally specific. Things that considered bad or good luck in one country have no significance whatsoever in others.
In the United States for example, it’s said to be bad luck to open up an umbrella indoors. Certain numbers are considered good or bad luck. The most well-known of these is the number 13. I’m not sure if it’s really true or just an urban legend that certain tall buildings and sky scrapers deliberately leave out a thirteenth floor because of the ominous significance of that number. However, in Japan the number 13 has no significance and the number four is bad luck. This is because the Japanese character for the number four looks similar to the character for death, or something.
Anyway, what I find really interesting about superstitious belief is that even people who swear they aren’t superstitious nevertheless find themselves altering their behavior because something is considered good or back luck in their culture. When I was living in Japan I remember being at a department store picking out an umbrella. Several others were there and they were all opening and closing different umbrellas in order to try them out. I’d heard people say that opening an umbrella indoors was bad luck, though I never seriously believed it. Yet, I found myself reluctant and almost uncomfortable with the idea of opening the umbrella inside the store. It was weird. How can the action of opening an umbrella indoors possibly have any affect on anything? And yet, I hesitated.
Some of the most superstitious people are actors and sports people. They might have been wearing a particular pair of socks and had an unusually good game or performance, so they decide that those socks must have certain powers and if they wear them for every single performance or game then they’ll have a greater chance of succeeding. Of course it’s all bullshit, and often they realize it’s bullshit, yet they still don’t feel ready to perform unless they’re wearing their totemic item.
Enough for now…
So lately I’ve been feeling a bit down in the dumps. Lots of stress coming from everywhere and that led me to be a real unpleasant person to be around. Nobody wants to be around somebody who complains all the time, and my wife, bless her heart, is an angel for putting up with my ceaseless complaining. Luckily, something clicked in my head and I now realize that I have got to grow up and be a Man, and act like one too. Nobody likes a whiner, and losers don’t get anywhere. I don’t want to be a loser, or a whiner, so I have to pull myself up by my boot straps and quit worrying and complaining about things that I have no control over. Misfortune, misery, disaster, the Man has to punch through it and carry on. Carry on without complaining. Deadwood’s Al has great advice on this subject:
If anyone lives up to the title of “random misanthrope,” it’s my dad. I got a letter in the mail from him a couple of days ago. It contained a personal check for $300 and a piece of paper (dated May 5) upon which was written the most…well, I suppose the right word is random, nonsensical unrelated ideas. These are not the thoughts of a rational mind. The most lucid thing he wrote was the last line, “Please do not cash the check until after the 1st of June.”
No worries there. There’s no way I can “cash” anything. The only way to deal with checks sent from the United States is to send them right back and have them deposited in my Wells Fargo bank account. A few years ago I did some freelance writing work for a website and was paid $50 per article. I was paid by check and the checks were sent to my address in Sweden, where I would endorse them and send them to my mom in California, where she’d deposit them in my bank account. Then I could withdraw the funds here using my Wells Fargo ATM card. I considered just having them sent directly to my mom’s house, but then I wouldn’t be able to endorse them.
At least he remembered to use the correct address this time. I never got last year’s annual check and letter because he sent it to my old address and then it disappeared. It was never returned or forwarded. I tried to explain this to him when I saw him in February but I wasn’t sure if he understood. He did after all. It just took him almost four months to do anything about it.
One thing you have to understand about my dad is that he moves very slowly. Snails seem like cheetahs in comparison.
Today is Ascension Day or Kristihimmelfärdsdag (Christ-Heaven-Lift-Day) as it’s called here in Sweden. According to the New Testament this was the day when Jesus made his bodily ascent to heaven, which took place 40 days after the resurrection. So it’s a religious holiday and a “red day,” which in Sweden refers to a day on which one doesn’t have to work but for which one still gets paid. Sweet.
Such days are highlighted in Swedish calendars with red ink, and thus they have come to be known as “red” days.
Sweden is a funny place in many respects, and by funny I mean slightly odd. In most countries, religious holidays are times for family get-togethers, visits to churches and cemeteries, and moments of quiet reflection. Here in Sweden the major holidays of the year: Christmas, Easter, and Midsummer, are always celebrated on their “eves.” I used to wonder why but I have it figured out now.
The day before any religious holiday or red day is considered an acceptable time to get totally and embarrassingly shitfaced, so the actual day can be used as a hangover recovery day. Practical. Logical. Typically Swedish.
Bye for now…
Random Misanthrope 