Soup from a Nail Revisited

My fifth grade teacher told our class the tale of a man who during the Middle Ages would travel from village to hamlet claiming to be able to make soup from a nail.  The townsfolk would gather around a caldron, presumably in the town square, which they’d fill with water and build a fire underneath.  All would draw near as the stranger produced a nail from his vest pocket, muttering some incantation before dropping the nail in.  He’d stir the “soup” with a ladle and proclaim, “Yes it’s coming along nicely.  If only we had some cabbage to flavor it.”  One of the locals would scurry off to fetch an oxcart of cabbage; the scene would be repeated with turnips, or beets, or whatever they ate in those days.  The man would then divert everyone’s attention long enough to slip the nail out of the caldron, again mutter some magic words, and – voilà: soup from a nail.

The moral of course is that he did not in fact make soup from a nail; he made soup in spite of the nail, which was a simple prop to divert attention.

As much as we may like to think we’re too clever to fall for some ruse that obvious, we are often too quick to draw a line from cause to effect.  A forklift operator takes a corner too sharply and damages some shelving.  He was listening to loud rock music through his ear buds, so that must be what caused the accident.  But, he was also wearing a blue shirt at the time, so maybe blue shirts cause accidents.  He had a cheese Danish for breakfast that morning.  Could the cheese Danish be the culprit?

We are bombarded with these messages in advertising.  A man drives this or that brand of car and he gets the girl; a woman’s adoring family smiles approvingly because she gets their clothes cleaner with this or that laundry detergent; a wife gazes at her husband adoringly as they walk hand-in-hand because he asked his doctor about this or that prescription drug.  You want to be like these people?  You buy the product.

In this election year, there will be a veritable blitzkrieg of recycled “soup from a nail” arguments.  There were more jobs when this party was in office, therefore they created jobs.  The deficit was smaller when the other was in charge, therefore they must be more financially responsible.  Another candidate was able to obtain “bi-partisan support” for his referendum, therefore he can get people to work together.  They will pounce on every “hot button” issue with this convoluted logic.  As I’ve stated repeatedly: it’s all smoke and mirrors, it’s sleight of hand, it’s confounding.

It’s soup from a nail.

(P.S. The forklift operator crashed because he’d been up half the night playing Fallout 4 and binging on energy drinks.)

Things That Still Work

People love to talk about things that are broken. Stuff that just doesn’t work anymore. And, if you take a minute to look around, you’ll find lots of things that don’t work anymore. A quick inventory included anything any level of government is in any way involved in, “Obama is a foreigner” conspiracy theories, the dog-and-pony shows that pass for elections, and 87% of pay phones.

But, rather than dwell on our failures, I propose we recognize and (in most cases) embrace things that still work:

The Internet:
Yes, it’s flawed; it’s saturated with annoying ads, and there are cyber-snakes hiding behind every URL and link. In order to fully appreciate the internet, one would had to have grown up in an era when if you wanted to know the population of Madagascar, or the lifetime batting average of the Cleveland Indians you’d have to trudge to the public library, find a reference book the size of a mini-fridge and look it up. If you wanted to know what the weather was going to be like the next day, you’d have to stay up and watch the eleven o’clock news. Now, with the click of a mouse, one can have the greater part of the collective knowledge of humankind at their fingertips. And, for now anyway - it’s free.

Duct Tape:
Usually misspelled duck tape, it’s still as sticky as the day it was invented, and has found thousands of useful applications.

Compassion:
If we’re defining working here as achieving the desired results, then compassion still fits the bill. The ability to empathize and care about another human being is a mutually beneficial situation, and as long as that is the case, compassion still works.

Listening:
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. We love to talk. We love to hear ourselves talk. But, all the talking is for naught if no one is listening. And listening is a lost art. Listening for nuances, for intonation, for what‘s not being said. Listening to capture the essence and message of what’s being communicated. Listening can be a powerful thing.

Deceit:
Manipulation of the truth for one’s greater gain has been with us since the dawn of man and, sadly, is still practiced successfully every day.

Volunteerism:
In good times and bad, we’ve demonstrated that we will cheerfully and enthusiastically give of ourselves for the sake of giving, expecting nothing in return. My hat’s off to those of you who choose to do so.

My 1960’s Vintage Canary Yellow Osterizer Galaxie Dual-speed Blender:
Made in the U.S.A. baby!

Rearranging the Deck Chairs

I’d like to preface my remarks here with the following disclaimer: If you still believe in Santa Claus, stop reading - now.

Okay, then. To get to the issue at hand: I have come to believe that the way we elect our government officials is a lot like how we lie to our kids about Santa. At first, when they’re way young, we want them to believe. We tell them to believe in this jolly old man in a red suit that comes down the chimney (even if we don’t have a chimney), and brings us toys and stuff. Hell, we want to believe it ourselves. We want to reclaim a tattered remnant of our innocent youth. And, that‘s completely understandable.

As the kids get older, however, it becomes more difficult to sell the lie, to get them to swallow the whole jolly old man from the North Pole routine. They start asking questions. They hear things from other kids. They wonder how elves make smart phones and High School Musical DVD’s in a workshop with a hammer and nails. Eventually, you fess up: “Yes it was your Father and I all along. Don’t look at me like that - we spent enough on you to buy a new BMW 535i“.

We weren’t just lying to the kids all those years; we lied to ourselves. We wanted to believe we still lived in a world where a person’s word meant something, where character still counted, where the good guys win in the end. Where everything could be cured with gingerbread men and tree trimmings.

And every couple of years, we engage in that same fantasy, as we march out of the polling place, head held high, proudly displaying our “I Voted” sticker, believing we have made a difference. Confident we have made the “right choice” because our party, or our movement, or our platform is the best for us and our fellow Americans.

You can almost hear the sleigh bells, and smell those chestnuts roasting on that open fire.

I submit that regardless of the person or party you vote for, it is not the right choice. And, I submit that deep, down inside - you already knew that. You choose what you perceive to be the lesser of however many evils, although in your heart of hearts, you know none of them would spit on you if you were to burst out in flames in front of them.

For the majority of my adult life, regardless of the political affiliation of those in the white house (and state house, and house of delegates, and senate), several things have happened:

Millions of American jobs have been lost to other countries.
The personal wealth of the average working-class American has steadily dropped.
Housing, fuel, and heath care costs have sky-rocketed.
Our infrastructure has slowly crumbled.
Many of our streets have become increasingly unsafe to walk after dark.
Our national debt has increased.
Our quality of life has suffered, and
We can no longer seriously consider ourselves to be an economic superpower.

Yet we persist in not only tolerating, but engaging in these semi-annual dog-and-pony shows foolishly believing that the ship will be righted if only “our guy” wins. Our entire political process is about two shampoo and auto insurance commercials away from becoming a really bad reality TV show, because nothing any candidate says during the campaign has any relevance whatsoever once the polls close.

I submit that all we’re doing is rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. We know the ship’s going down, but it is the ship we’re on, and, well - we want it to look nice. We see others rearranging deck chairs, and there’s a certain comfort in being part of a group - any group. Even if that group is about to plunge into icy, shark-infested waters. At least we won’t go alone.

And the band plays on.