On this date (Dec. 6) in the year 346, Άγιος Νικόλαος died. His Anglicized name was Nikolaos of Myra, a Greek Bishop of Myra (which is now Demre – in modern-day Turkey). He became known as Saint Nicholas – the man who became Santa Claus. That name comes from the Dutch Sinterklaas.
We’ve all heard the stores about how he cared for people (children especially) by putting coins in the shoes they left out for him. But there are more intriguing stories about him. There’s one legend about a butcher who, in time of great famine, lured three people (either children, or adult clerks, depending on the version of the legend you read) into his shop, and butchered them – intending to sell them as either ham or meat pies (again, depending on which story you read). Saint Nick saw through the ruse and brought the people back to life.
In another story, in the cover of night (to protect his anonymity), he gave money to a poor man who couldn’t afford dowry for his daughters. Saint Nick’s gifts kept these women from a life of prostitution. Of course, since this story has been told through the centuries, I’d say his attempt at anonymity was an epic fail!
In my favorite Saint Nick tale, there was a ship at the port that was full of wheat for the Byzantine Emperor. Nicky asked the sailors to unload some of the wheat to help the local famine victims. They refused at first, because they knew that the wheat had been weighed when it was loaded on, and any shortage would be taken out of their pockets. Nick promised that they wouldn’t have to pay anything, so they agreed and unloaded enough wheat to last 2 full years of both eating and sowing. When the sailors finally arrived at Byzantium, the weight of the wheat hadn’t changed a bit – they were off the hook.
I like these stories. In a time when our society is totally focused on selfishness, greed, and finding new ways to make the rich even richer while telling the poor that they don’t need any help, they just need to get a job… it’s nice to read about people who are remembered (and even venerated) because of selflessness and generosity.
In a world where we have it easily within our power to eliminate global hunger (financially, the US could contribute sufficient money without making a dent in our budget), it’s heartbreaking when we see that it’s only the selfishness and greed of a few hundred people that is keeping us from ensuring that everyone in the world has sufficient nutrition for a healthy life.
I know it’s not enough that we simply celebrate the generosity of some (I am blown away by the Giving Pledge by Gates, Buffett, et al), but maybe the example of Saint Nick, Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, and others can be inspiring as we enter the holiday season.
Merry Christmas all… and seriously – peace on earth, and goodwill to men (and women!)…
On this date (Dec 1) in 1955, Rosa Parks was arrested for not punching a bozo in the nose… I mean, she was arrested for not giving up her bus seat for white passengers when ordered to do so by the bus driver.
Parks received quite a few honors over the years, including the Springarn Medal, the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the Congressional Gold Medal, and a posthumous statue in the capitol’s National Statuary Hall. I doubt the awards and honors made up for the years of crap she put up with, but I am sure she appreciated them.
James F. Blake, the bus driver who called the cops on her and signed the warrant for her arrest was awarded by not getting punched in the nose.
This incident is an excellent example of a case where simply because something is legal doesn’t make it Right – and doing something illegal isn’t necessarily Wrong.
Rock on, Rosa! I’m pysched to remember that you’re in a place now that’s much better than Montgomery, Alabama.
On this date (Nov 30) in 30 BC, Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator died. Tradition holds that she died from a pain in the asp (rim shot)…
Cleopatra remains a powerful figure in the worlds of art, literature, and even philosophy, held up as a great beauty who held the world of men in the palm of her hand. Blaise Pascal, in his masterwork Pensées, noted that her profile changed history.
“Cleopatra’s nose, had it been shorter, the whole face of the world would have been changed.”
Perhaps there’s something to that. Perhaps there was some vast creative spark that became an inferno upon her death. Look at these folks, all born on Nov 30 – the day Cleopatra kissed the snake:
1667 – Johnathan Swift – genius satirist
1835 – Mark Twain – genius humorist
1874 – Sir Winston Churchill – genius blowhard
1937 – Ridley Scott – genius director
1947 – David Mamet – genius playwright
1952 – Mandy Patinkin – genius Inigo Montoya
1955 – Billy Idol – genius lip-curling self-dancer
1957 – Colin Mochrie – genius Canadian improv artist
1965 – Ben Stiller – genius Tom Cruise impressionist
Obviously this is just a partial list, but it does make one wonder, doesn’t it?
As a quick side note, for those who are wondering why my history lesson moved from my Facebook status to my blog, it’s simply a matter of hot air. Facebook’s status size limits are just too restrictive… sometimes I just gotta ramble!
I am sorry that I have fallen behind on my answers to “Ask Mikey” – I have no excuses aside from the normal: busy with work, occupied during the holidays, alien abduction and probing, didn’t think about it, etc.
But we’re back – with a question that’s probably only interesting to me… and possibly (though doubtful) to the one lovely and talented reader who asked the question.
“Mikey, what are you thinking about?”
Great question…
Like so many great questions – like “Why do flammable and inflammable mean the same thing?” or “What great national sin resulted in reality TV?” – this one has no simple answer.
Upon reflection, since we just celebrated Thanksgiving here in the US, I think the easiest way to represent what I’m thinking about at the moment would be to use a pie chart.
Here is the guide to my thoughts at this moment, with a corresponding number that represents the percentage of my current brainpower dedicated to each item.
A. There’s snow on the ground here in Colorado… WOOOOT! – 7%
B. ¿Cuántos días hasta que yo diga “White Rabbit” a mis amigos? – 4%
C. Will our next world war really be thanks to that ugly Korean woman, Kim Jong-il? – 8%
D. Smallville is almost over – is Clark ever gonna put on that bloody costume? – 6%
E. I know some folks believe the Mayans predicted that the world will end in December of 2012… does that really mean that Sarah Palin is going to be the next President? – 9%
F. Seriously… how great is cheese? – 19%
G. I was really hoping for my flying car before we learned to teleport – but I guess teleporting would be OK. – 5%
H. “…in the meadow we can build a snowman, and pretend that he is Parson Brown…” – 6%
I. It seems to me that Americans are back to distrusting smart folks… how can I make money off that? – 32%
J. I hope WikiLeaks doesn’t report that incident from my Freshman year of college! – 10%
K. Mmmmmmm pie! – 4%
Astute readers might notice that this adds up to 110%, and might wonder why… but I don’t like to brag…
There ya go – a snapshot into the mind of Mikey. Objects in this pie chart might appear closer than they actually are. Thanks for the question.
If you have a question – if you have given up on ever finding the answer – if you feel like Mikey would be more likely to know than, say, Wikipedia or Jeeves, then by all means, ask away!!
A lovely and talented reader in the D/FW metroplex asked me this brilliant question: “Hey Mikey, it seems to me that people have gotten louder lately… what’s up with that?”
I have to admit that my first impulse was to answer the question the way I would have a few years ago… something like “If the music’s too loud, you’re too old! It’s time for you to start yelling for the kids to get off your lawn!”
Back when I used to go to the library (before modern technology turned us all into insular agoraphobic pseudo-hermits), it always made me cackle evilly when people spent their energy hissing “shhhhhhhh” at everyone around them. My personal favorite was “Keep it down – I can’t concentrate!” I’d giggle in a maniacal fashion. Like it’s my fault you can’t concentrate? If you would learn to concentrate, then you wouldn’t have to be a whiny old person… ya see, it’s in the very definition of the word… if you were truly concentrating, it wouldn’t matter to you if I was having a conversation over here at my table. Maybe you just need some practice… here, I’ll keep talking, and you try to learn how to concentrate.
But then, at some point, it caught up with me. Somewhere in the 22 years between my junior year in high school, and my 5th wedding anniversary, I started to notice unnecessarily loud sounds.
I’m still able to deal with loud sounds that have a real purpose. Planes are pretty loud, but I have a hard time flying without them. The ones that drive me to insanity – the sounds that take me from mellow mild-mannered Mikey all the way to murderous malevolent Mikey – are the ones that are completely pointless and avoidable.
Here are three examples…
The first sound: car stereos. You’ve all seen it. You pull up to a red light, and everything’s fine. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, comes this fifth horseman of the apocalypse – and he
stops right beside you. He’s young – and usually alone (why do you think that is, Mr. Rocket Scientist?). His acne-enhanced visage is twisted into a permanent sneer that says either “I know that I weigh maybe 90 pounds fully dressed, but my snarly face and the stainless steel chain that connects my right nostril with my left eyebrow say that I’m really tough – in case you hadn’t already noticed it by the agonizing screeches of vocal-chord-shredding uber death metal thundering out of my 10,000 watt monster stereo system“… or “I realize that I’m not old enough yet to vote, but I’m sure that I’m offending your suburban sensibilities with my back window tinted to the point of complete opacity, my cap tilted at a completely arbitrary, and yet rebellious, angle, and the seismic thudding of a misogynistic hardcore hip hop song with lyrics that might offend you if you could hear anything other
than the fault-line threatening bass line.”
One theme here is overcompensation. What are they compensating for? So many things… Their increasingly poor hearing… their quesionable taste in both music and cars (really, does a sound system powerful enough to put a vehicle into space really make up for the fact that you’re in a 1989 Ford Escort?)… youth… intellect… lack of a girlfriend…
The other theme here is authenticity. The message that the sneer is supposed to communicate is “I don’t care what you think! If you don’t like the music or the volume or the car or my nasal accessories, then you can just bite me!” The problem is, their necks don’t really believe that. When one of these Nobel Prize winners pulls up next to you at a red light, does he simply look forward, waiting for the light to change? No way… he spends an enormous amount of energy craning his neck around until he makes eye contact with everyone at the intersection, his carefully practiced snarl engineered to portray his disdain for you.
The problem is, where would he be without you? If there was no one around to piss off, what kind of fun would he have? He needs you – or his entire schtick is wasted. He absolutely
cares what you think!
I know some of you actually are gullible enough to believe that he genuinely likes the sound of his music at that volume. For those people, I’d like to schedule an appointment with you. I have a prime investment opportunity that I think would interest you… you can’t lose! I like loud music. There is truth to the old adage “music is meant to be felt”… but they didn’t mean in your spleen.
The next sound: overly loud motorcycles and pickups. You’re laying in bed, in that exquisite space between awake and asleep, loving the silence, preparing to take the dive into a
delta wave paradise. And then your peace is shattered by the ridiculous rattling roar of an oversized engine, tuned up intentionally to be as loud as an attack helicopter. Of course they don’t just go by. They stop right outside your window, and rev the engine for 11 or 12 hours. Once they’re satisfied that everyone in the county is awake and angry, they take off, with one last tremor-inducing rev.
What’s especially irritating to me is that they spend extra money just for the pleasure of wreaking this sonic havoc everywhere they go. They buy aftermarket exhaust systems or specially rigged mufflers, just so they can have that mind-numbing sound.
And why? You guessed it… just like the adolescent musical morons, it’s overcompensation. In this case, the thing that is being compensated for is most often treated by products
like Cialis (if your truck isn’t loud enough to fracture foundations for four hours, consult a doctor immediately).
Now I should say that I’m not talking about all motorcycles. Some bikes are just loud naturally… I am talking about the ones that have had extra work done on them specifically for
the purpose of being louder – so they can generate demolition-level volumes in quiet, residential neighborhoods. I make this qualification partly because it’s true – I admire some bikes – and partly because I don’t want to unnecessarily offend any biker gangs. (Those who do it to trucks, I don’t mind offending you… can you imagine anything sillier than a ‘trucker gang’? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!)
Again, I realize there are some folks out there who have bought into the myth that ‘louder pipes save lives’ – thinking that if the bike is loud enough, it will announce your presence to the other drivers around you, and protect against traffic accidents. We could talk about things like the Doppler Effect, the fact that police motorcycles and touring bikes don’t need it, and the fact that your WWI-era spiked helmet and Village People fringed jacket already anounced your presence to the drivers around you… but it would be more fun to just skip right to that investment opportunity!
The third sound is: people on mobile phones. There you are, with your loved one, about to enjoy the lovely spinach artichoke appetizer your waitress just brought, and suddenly your romantic date is shattered by “Yeah? Oh, hey Mark. No, it’s fine, I’m just having dinner. What? I said I’m just having dinner. Yeah. No. Yeah. Well what did they say? What? No, I said I’m just having dinner. Right. So what did they say? Really? They said that? Well I guess I could run that by legal. I said I’d have to run it by legal. No. Yes. No, I’m having dinner now. Oh, it’s ok. What did marketing have to say about it? What? No, I said marketing. Right. OK. Sure, but what about Europe? No, Europe. Right. I see. I could just go… blah blah blah blah blah…” And he’s not just speaking at a normal volume. The mobile phone triggered something in his head that forces his voice to nearly yelling levels.
So far, I have managed to resist the overwhelming urge to take their phone, firmly but gently say into it “I’m sorry, Mark, but he has to go now – he’s being committed to an asylum. He’ll have to call you back”, pour ketchup all over their phone, and then go back and sit back at my table. Some temptations are just more tempting than others!
Like the guys with the trucks, the most annoying part of this is that it’s completely avoidable and unnecessary. First of all, the noise around him from the other diners effects his hearing, not the hearing of the dork on the other end of the phone. Talking louder doesn’t help him hear better. And secondly, it hasn’t been the early 90s for a long time. Technology has improved. Hands-free sets sound good nowadays. I have a bluetooth device that’s so good, my wife can hear me when I mutter (Important safety tip, guys, be sure and find out whether or not your wife can hear you before you start muttering!). Not only is the mic sensitive, the earphone is clear as well. With today’s quality earpieces, you can actually have a conversation without quacking “What? What?” every few seconds.
Now what about the folks who are worried that they’ll look like a bozo if they wear one of those devices? Well, for starters, I’m not saying you have to wear it all the time… you just put it on when you’re going to talk on the phone. And let me tell ya, if it’s a choice between looking a little bit like the runt of a Borg litter in public, or having me pour ketchup all over your phone – which do you think would be the most embarrassing?
Thank you for your question, dear reader. I realize that I only scratched the surface of possibilities. I didn’t even broach any of the other potential meanings of loudness you could’ve meant: like pervasiveness (the ever-increasing social volume of the shrieks from Fox News and fans) or sartorial expressions (the seizure-inducing loudness of some of the outfits worn by today’s Gaga-oriented individuals) or personality descriptions (the boisterous, raucous behavior of your average frat-party attendee). But hopefully I at least covered a little of what you were asking.
Remember, if you have a question, and no one else can help – and if you can afford it, maybe you can get Mikey to answer it!
