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Thursday, April 3, 2014

OK, I’M CONVINCED, NOW WHAT?


OK, I’M CONVINCED, NOW WHAT?
Not the solution.  You know it...I know it!
Ever since the first time I heard the term “carbon footprint,” I have been skeptical about the Global Warming theory.  I have finally been convinced.

All the facts and numbers I have seen seem to validate this theory.  That did not convince me.  The vast majority of scientists, scholars and smart people believe in this theory.  That did not convince me.

I have really been more browbeaten than convinced, and I am just tired of raising doubts.  The first step to browbeating me was to stop calling it Global Warming and instead to call it Climate Change.  From that moment on, any storm or weather anomaly was blamed on Climate Change.   The final beat-down that changed my position was I was no longer a Skeptic of Global Warming, but I became a “Climate Change DENIER!

Skepticism is an intellectual process.  A skeptic wants more proof, a skeptic has questions that remain unanswered, a skeptic does not jump on the bandwagon and blindly follow what he has been told.  A DENIER is a person with his head in the sand.  A denier ignores all facts and figures, a denier looks at all the facts and in the face of irrefutable evidence refuses to acknowledge the obvious. 

A skeptic questions the existence of God; a denier votes not guilty at the OJ trial.

I will not be a denier. Climate change is real.  The planet is getting warmer.  Now what?

If we do nothing, the polar icecaps will melt, the coastal regions of the world will be under water, there will be droughts, flooding and general mayhem.  The world’s human population will be decimated.  With the population reduced by two-thirds, carbon dioxide will slowly be reduced, the overheated planet will allow growth of more plants which will further reduce carbon dioxide and the planet will cool.  It will cool after two-thirds of the human race is destroyed.  That is what generally happens in nature when a species dominates.  Oh yeah, we will also lose a bunch of polar bears.

I don’t like that scenario.  I think we are smarter than that. 

The smart people of the world tell us the solution is to conserve.  Drive less, set the thermostat low in the winter and raise it in the summer.  Stop eating beef.  Stop burning coal and gas, and instead use solar and wind power.

I guess that all makes sense, except it is not going to work.  You know it and I know it.  Even if we passed laws to enforce these changes, we cannot pass them globally.  They will have negligible impact.   There are other issues.  Windmills are killing hawks and eagles.  Lots of people don’t like that.  Solar farms take up large areas of land and they disturb their environment.  There are reports of birds being literally fried when they fly through a solar farm.  Lots of people don’t like that either.

If conservation and known alternative energy sources will not stop climate change what will?

The problem with really smart people is they will always tell you why things won’t work.  True vision requires a mind so void of facts and scientific knowledge that it can find solutions unencumbered by reality.  The world is round?  No way.  Voice delivered over a wire?  Impossible.  Radio, TV, internal combustion engine, and the internet all were considered pipe dreams.  A Polaroid camera?  Please…not going to happen.  Yet all these things came to pass.

The Cranky Old Man is just devoid of enough knowledge to offer a visionary solution to climate change.  Develop a technology that takes carbon dioxide and with a little sunlight converts it into energy while pumping water and oxygen out of an exhaust system.  Impossible?  Plants do it, why not us. 

Wait, don’t tell me why not, instead just figure it out and do it.  Smart people can do anything.  It takes a knucklehead to tell you what to do and smart people to do it. 

I’ve done my part.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

SHE'S OUTTA YOUR LEAGUE


SHE'S OUTTA YOUR LEAGUE
 
I may or may not have ever mentioned this, if so I am mentioning it again.  I have never been a ladies man.  I’ve had dates, I’ve had girlfriends, hell I’ve even had three wives, but I’ve never been a ladies man.  Most women usually see past my exceedingly good looks and charming personality and find something else way less good looking and not so charming.  So far Mrs. C has not looked that deep and still finds me charming…I guess.  Anyway, except for Mrs. Cranky I’ve never had much success with women.

The reason for my lack of success?  I reached my peak at thirteen.  It's true; at thirteen I was a very handsome lad.  I had a full head of hair; I had a powerful, athletic physique, a bright smile, reasonably good breath and very little body odor. 

It was at thirteen that I had my first kiss.  It was behind a candy store.  It was a no-tongue kiss with the most magnificent female creature that ever adorned the sixth grade.  Not just the sixth grade in Manhasset, Long Island, not just any sixth grade in New York, any sixth grade…anywhere...ever.

The first kiss at thirteen was with Heather Pintertail.

You may think I made that name up as is my wont to do, but no, Heather Pintertail was the name.  She had long blonde hair with just the right amount of curl.  She had a perfect face with a perfect nose, perfect ears and beautiful skin.  Her eyes were haunting and her figure…Oh my God she had a figure.  At thirteen she had a figure that women today spend thousands of dollars to construct. 

Heather Pintertail was a vision.  She was female perfection, and at thirteen I had my first kiss behind a candy store with Heather Pintertail.  It was all downhill from there.  When I turned fourteen, not long after that behind the candy store kiss I developed pimples, and Heather Pintertail developed a taste for older men.  I peaked at thirteen and with it my success with women also peaked.

A year after Miss Pintertail decided she preferred older less pimply faced boys; I was riding in the car with my older brother.  Chris spotted Heather Pintertail walking by the road and almost drove over a curb.  He did not recognize her from his high school because of course she was several years away from high school though visually she would have been more than welcome.

“Damn!  Did you see that?  Who the heck was that?”

“That was Heather Pintertail.  For a while, I thought she was my girlfriend, but apparently I’m not good enough for her.”

“Good enough! Boy she is so far outta your league you couldn’t even get a bleacher seat to watch her play.  Don’t be too upset though, there won’t ever be many in her league, and her league is nothing but trouble.  Did you kiss her?”

“Yeah, behind the candy store.”

“Consider yourself lucky.  You’ve kissed the best and it didn’t cost you a thing.   Girls that look like that are trouble, with those looks everything comes too easy and ultimately they bleed you dry.”

My brother may not have said that last part but if he did he was right. 

After my behind the candy store kiss I have had many unsuccessful relationships.  There have been many women who preferred washing their hair over dating me. I have gone through a broken engagement and two failed marriages. 

Like I said I’ve never been a ladies man.  I peaked at thirteen. 

I think my luck turned around at sixty-two with Mrs. Cranky. 

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

BRUCE MILLER AND THE SHAVING CREAM WAR

 


The “Shaving Cream War” is from my self-published, little read book “I Used to be Stupid.” I am publishing it here because of Melynda @ http://pmmkpl.blogspot.com/2014/03/bring-it-kids.html who recently published a post about practical jokes…it reminded me of this story, and it is April 1 so...
This story comes in the middle of the book so some events and places may need explaination…probably not.  So here for your reading pleasure is the story of:


 
 
 
BRUCE MILLER AND THE SHAVING CREAM WAR

 
Freshman year at Lafayette College I was assigned to a painted cinder block room on the third floor of Marquis Hall.  When not studying or at class, I hung out with Frog and Dick Steifkin.  They both resided on the second floor.  We were all from Westfield so we had something in common.  We were only acquaintances in High School, but became good friends in College.


The three of us also became friends with Bruce Miller.  Bruce roomed on the fourth floor.  I am not sure how we met; I think it was Bruce who approached us.  Bruce was from Plainfield, our High School rival.  When he saw we were from Westfield he greeted us with some good natured ribbing about how lucky we were to have beaten their superior football team the year before.
 
We, of course, ribbed him back.  The back and forth ribbing led to friendship.  Bruce was very funny and a bit of a prankster.  We had some good times together.


One afternoon, Frog returned from class and found a huge sign on his door, “WESTFIELD SUCKS!!”  Had to be Miller he surmised.
 
Frog and Steifkin turned the sign around and inscribed in equally large letters, “WESTFIELD 14 – PLAINFIELD 12!!”  They took it to the fourth floor and duct taped it to Miller’s door.


Miller escalated. 


With Frog and Dick in their room, Miller snuck downstairs and sprayed a layer of shaving cream on the floor outside their door.  Miller knocked on the door and hid in the stairwell.  Steifkin answered the door, saw no one and stepped into the hall.  His bare feet stepped smack dab into the shaving cream.  The Woody Woodpecker laugh running up the stairs gave the culprit away….MILLER!!


Steifkin planned his retaliation.  He found a large manila envelope, filled it full of shaving cream and marched to Miller’s room on the fourth floor.  Placing the open end of the envelope slightly under Millers door, Steifkin stomped on it hard.  Shaving cream exploded into Miller’s room.


For some reason Bruce decided to one up this prank on me.  We generally did not lock our rooms, so access was easy.  While I was at class, Miller snuck into my room.  He then duct taped a full can of Gillette menthol over the entrance.  A string was taped to the nozzle and the other end of the string was attached to the back of the door.  A desk was moved in position to block the door such that it would only open at the max amount to pull the nozzle and yet not yank the can from the wall. The trap set, Miller retreated to his fourth floor lair.


I returned from class tired and a bit cranky.  I opened the door and stepped into the doorway.  First I heard the noise and then I felt the shaving cream.  Baffled by the stream of foul menthol smelling shaving cream, I stood motionless unaware of where the attack was coming.  I looked up and the mystery was solved by the constant blast of shaving cream now directly in my face.  By the time I moved and closed the door to stop the flow from above, I was covered head face and shoulders in Gillette menthol foam……MILLER!!


Without removing the shaving cream I immediately proceeded to the fourth floor and MILLER!  Looking somewhat like a rabid dog, I burst into Miller’s room.  Miller was expecting me.  He was sitting on the edge of the window sill with an evil smile on his face.


“I’m going to kill you, you fuck,” I blurted out, foam spraying from my mouth.  A prank such as this demanded that I at least shove a handful of shaving cream in the offenders face.  Miller should have accepted this without a fight, allowing me a face saving admission of his superior prank.  I was laughing as I announced I was going to kill him, so Miller knew I was there only to acknowledge his prank and get minimum (guy’s rule) payback.  Miller was not about to allow me this retribution.


Bruce leapt out the window onto the 14” ledge bordering the building.  He ran, not walked, not crept, but ran along the fourth floor ledge some thirty feet before escaping into the open window of another room.  I watched him run, laughing all the way with that mad man Woody Woodpecker laugh. I could not believe what I was seeing.  Miller ran bare foot along a fourteen inch ledge; certain death lay fifty feet below and he laughed the whole way.
 
Clearly the shaving cream war was over.


Maybe, I used to be stupid; Bruce Miller was crazy.
 
_______________________   


Whatever happened to Bruce?
 
If Google can be trusted, don’t you know he became a Psychiatrist!


Dr. Miller is Chief of the Division of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry in the Department of Psychiatry. He supervises child psychiatry fellows in consultation-liaison psychiatry and child and family psychotherapy. He is an internationally recognized physician-scientist focusing on psychobiologic mechanisms by which child/adolescent stress and depression affects physical illness and somatization in children. His translational research program takes place in the Center for Child and Family Asthma Studies, (Women and Children’s Hospital of Buffalo) of which he is founder and co-director.


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SPECIALTIES
Child and Adolescent Psychiatry
Psychiatry
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EDUCATION
1972 MD, Child Psychiatry
College of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey
1968 B.A., Biology
Lafayette College