Tagged: Blogging

How To Respect

(If you’re short on time, skip to the bottom for numbered instructions.)

He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed there was at least a correlation between the two.  He thought it was more likely cause and effect than correlation though.  But he knew it didn’t have to be.  He knew that laziness was the real culprit.

Of course, he couldn’t blame anyone in particular.  It certainly wasn’t the aggregators fault; they were just amassing the information.  Likewise, it wasn’t the people who provided the information’s fault.  All they did was volunteer knowledge–itself a pretty harmless action at worst.

There seemed to be no other option.  It had to be the individual.  Was the individual person the guilty party?  Yes.  He was sure of it.  He knew it all along.  He tried to pretend the responsibility didn’t fall on a single person’s shoulders, but it was clear now.  As much as he wanted to shrug off the burden, a singular sensation passing through his body signaled that he was right.  Everyone was accountable for the lack of respect permeating the culture.

In an instant, his mood changed.  He felt cheery and seemed to see the world in a different light.  If the problem had been identified, there could now be a solution.  Of all people, he should have seen this bright conclusion earlier.   It mattered not.  He wouldn’t allow these thoughts to dampen his mood.

Up until recently, there did seem to be a direct relationship between how much information a person knew, and how wise they were.  Naturally, the information age has saturated mankind with data.  As a result, everyone acted on the belief that there were answers to life’s problems.  People thought that information was wisdom.  The mistake is forgivable.  Nonetheless, it must be addressed.  The starting place, is re-learning how to respect another person.  He knew this point was tricky, as not every person behaves in a way that deserves respect.  He also knew that people rise to the occasion, and in this country every person has the same inherent right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  In this manner, at least, all people deserve respect.

So how does one give respect?  See below.

Instructions for How To Respect:

Step 1 – Listen.

Step 2 – Ask, “What are you going to do?”

The Secret to Avoiding Danger

To begin, I learned that an email containing my last blog Special Fourth of July Interview with A Mugwump was not sent.  Read it.

For today, read on to reveal the secret.

Censorship is murder.  To be a human, as opposed to all other known life forms, requires an unfettered ability to communicate one’s value (in the form of words, images, or music) to other humans.  And an external restriction of a person’s expression of value is the same as telling them they have no value.  In other words, to censor is a malicious attempt to end the censored’s life.

Defining censorship in this way is meant to cause careful consideration of censorship.  Exploring censorship at its most basic level is the only way to get to the root of the issue, by definition.

The fairly recent article, “The Ed Sullivan Show and the (Censored) Sounds of the Sixties”* is the case study in question.  In it, Ian Inglis discusses the widely popular Ed Sullivan Show and its unique experiences with censorship.  That television show showcased up and coming performers every Sunday night.  Popular wisdom states that if a performer appeared on the show, he/she would achieve great material success.  The article discusses three now well-known performers and their experiences with Ed Sullivan’s censorship.

First, after being selected to appear on the show, Bob Dylan was asked to perform a totally different song than the one he had planned to perform on the show.  Second, the Rolling Stones were asked to change a lyric; they did.  Third, The Doors were asked to change a line from one of their songs.  They paid lip-service to the request, but when live, they did not change it.  Inglis concludes, “Ironically, one consequence of the censorship suffered by all three performers was that their positions were unequivocally enhanced (Inglis 571).”

Inglis rather wordily describes the simple fact that censorship is murder.  Each instance demonstrates this perfectly.  First look at what happened to the Rolling Stones.  Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote the song in question, “Let’s Spend the Night Together.”  Before their performance, an outside entity changed the lyrics.  Logically, though subtlety, this means that while the performers looked similar to the Rolling Stones, they were in fact some other band, some new band.  By allowing their lyrics to be changed, in effect, the Rolling Stones murdered themselves for that night.  Next, take Bob Dylan.  He wouldn’t concede to the censor, so he didn’t perform on the show.  It is now clear that The Ed Sullivan show never wanted Bob Dylan to perform.  They wanted someone who looked, acted, and sounded like Bob Dylan to perform.  When they couldn’t get what they wanted, they murdered him.  Finally, take the Doors.  Long live the Doors.  They played the game, they fooled the “man”, and they played their song, uncensored.  The only performers who remained unscathed, then, were the Doors.

In my own life, an even more appalling proof that censorship is murder took place when I was young.  My mom censored my sister from the New Kids On The Block “Step By Step” album.  To the uninformed, this may not seem like murder.  But those of us who are close to the situation know that the New Kids On The Block died after releasing that album.  The New Kids On The Block never released another original studio album after “Step By Step.”  The five men who made up that group did eventually release more original songs, but under the name NKOTB instead.  How can this be explained except to say that censorship is murder?

The question remaining is why did Ed Sullivan and my mom choose to murder these performers?  To discover the answer, we must turn inward.  Violence is often committed against those who we find threatening.  Murder is the fullest expression of violence and is resorted to when all other attempts fail.  Time and time again we see that if humans feel they are in danger, they remove the danger.  If necessary, they remove the danger through violence.  What danger can possibly exist in the form of words, music, and/or images?  In and of themselves, they are unable to physically harm a person.  Therefore, the danger in question must be regarding the mind.  A short story can help explain the deficiencies in this way of thinking.

Aircraft pilots are people who professionally deal with avoiding death on a daily basis.  To draw the metaphor, we could say they professionally deal with avoiding danger of any sort.  This is very different than most other professions.  But it is common knowledge within the aviation community that at the end of the day a pilot really just wants to have successfully completed the same number of landings as takeoffs.  The point being that a pilot counts success as being alive at the end of each daring flight, not whether or not some particular mission was accomplished.

Pilots avoid danger.  Censors believe they protect people from danger.  It should prove very instructive, then, to learn how pilots avoid danger.  Pilots avoid danger, not by actively avoiding danger.  Over time, the community of pilots discovered that if they attempted to avoid danger, they only compounded the danger already inherent to human flight.  Instead, they fly correctly.  They focus their energy on learning the right way to fly.  Naturally, this matches the safest way, but it is important to note that pilots think in ‘correct vs. incorrect’ not ‘safe vs. dangerous’ terms.

Regarding words/music/images, the same principle should be applied.  Artist’s (people) should not be censored because their art may cause harm.  They should be encouraged to achieve their fullest potential.  Regardless of whether the work is appropriate or inappropriate, it may have value.  The only way to measure the value is to determine its quality.  Ancient wisdom would have us believe that there is a time and place for everything.  Rather than focus on the–as demonstrated by pilots–ineffective idea that danger can be avoided if it is censored, how much better informed could a population be if it only cared about quality?

Returning to the thesis then, we need to remind ourselves that what we’re really discussing is freedom and value.  If Ed Sullivan would have simply acknowledged those three performers had value and the public wanted to see them, not look-a-likes, the results would have been untainted.  As it stands, the saying, “there’s no such thing as bad publicity” rues the day.  Would those three performers have had such success if no censorship attempt was made?  Probably.  So the fool, then, is Ed Sullivan.  The fool, then, is the censor.  Humans require the freedom to communicate their value.  Inherent to the act of censorship is the death of this freedom to communicate.  Furthermore, we have seen that censorship does not—cannot—deter any coming danger.

*INGLIS, I. (2006), The Ed Sullivan Show and the (Censored) Sounds of the Sixties. The Journal of Popular Culture, 39: 558–575. doi: 10.1111/j.1540-5931.2006.00279.x

A Letter To My Friend (That I Hope To Write)

To My Friend,

We’ve known each other for some time now.  We’ve seen how we each live, how we each make decisions, how we each handle problems.  More than most, you’ve seen my relationships with women unfold.

I’m writing to you now because a new day has dawned.  People like us, we’re different.  Our brains maintain a tighter grip on information than most.  We have been given all the tools necessary to accomplish great things in this life, you and I.  That’s just a fact.  We also know that leading a family must be one of those things.  It is a timeless tradition that must be honored by all men aspiring to greatness.  There is no escaping this feeling.  We’re surrounded by weak men holding their hands out, expecting help.  They’ve got it wrong.  We’re the ones who give help, not receive help.

The point is, we made it this far, and owe it to everyone, literally everyone, to use the rest of our time to be an example.

Some maladjusted part within us wants us to believe that if a woman would have us, then she could be the one.  First hand experience however, tells us that nothing could be further from the truth.  First hand experience also tells us that that’s not enough.  That’s why I’m writing this letter.  We need to help each other stay focused on the goal.  Alone, the future is bleak.  Together, we can lead a revival.

Only because of you am I confident to share the news.  You reminded me of something I once knew; something that over the last several years I repressed, hid, denied, and pretended to forget.  You reminded me that I, too, believe ideal women exist.  I, too,  believe in women of such high quality that they seem unearthly.  I’m talking about a quality so rare that it is only whispered about.  I believe in ideal women who possess so much more than the ability to attract.  My friend, we’ve always hoped we were right.  Now I am certain we were, because I found mine.  I hope this letter brings you good fortune, and motivates you to stay the course.

Your Friend,

A Mugwump

An Apology to LinkedIn Connections

Dear LinkedIn Connections,

I wouldn’t have “Liked” me either.  Hurt doesn’t begin to describe how I felt every passing day, every passing week.  My fervent efforts appeared to fall short in the eyes of even my first degree connections.  Molded by your advice, there I was pursuing my passion.  And even those sage connections didn’t “Like” my work.  Few canyons reach the depth to which my professional depression dove.

“Joy!  Bright spark of divinity!”  In a moment that can only be described by Beethoven’s Ninth, I saw the light.  Consequently, I owe you an apology.

Whether you felt my anger or not, I’m sorry for ever doubting you.  I’m sorry for being upset with you.  It’s difficult, you know?  I’m new to this, and I was only thinking about me.  Until recently, I wasn’t able to look at the problem from your perspective, but I see the truth now.

I realized that LinkedIn is a professional website!  How did I ever miss this fact?!  This means that supervisors, co-workers, and any of your other professional connections are going to see that you “Liked” my blog.  If they’re worth their salt, they’d surely trust your integrity and assume that you actually read my post before “Liking” it.  Why is this a problem?  Because if they know that you’re reading my blog, guess what they know you’re not doing?  Work!

I am so sorry for ever doubting you.  All this time I thought you didn’t actually enjoy my writing.  Now it is clear that you do, but you just aren’t ready to go public yet.  That’s cool.  I’m O.K. with that, as long as we understand each other.

In closing, let me just say one more time that I’m sorry.  Know that I never stopped liking you, even when I thought you didn’t “Like” me.  As time passes it seems like saying I was “angry” might have been too strong; it was more a general feeling of confusion.  Okay, I think your boss is beginning to suspect something, so you’d better get going.  Thank you for your time.  (For real, go!  Don’t worry about me.  From now on, I’ll just assume you “Like” every single post.)

Very Respectfully,

A Mugwump

Who Killed the New Kids?

Censorship is murder.”

Too strong?  I thought so at first.  Then again, this was an assignment for college and I wanted a good grade, so I decided to run with it.

The task that lay before me was developing this radical thesis.  So I thought and I thought and I thought.  I asked my housemate what he thought.  So he thought.  Then we both thought.  Here’s the result:  Censorship is murder because I believe that “to be a human, as opposed to all other known life forms, requires an unfettered ability to communicate one’s value (in the form of words, images, or music) to other humans.  And an external restriction of a person’s expression of value is the same as telling them they have no value.  In other words, it is a malicious attempt to end their life.”

It was beautiful.

After developing my thesis, the next assignment was to write about my first experience with censorship.  What I discovered was frightening.  Even now, I am afraid of the implications.

187.  68.  32.  Those are the amounts posters and/or pictures of The New Kids on the Block my cousin Jenny, my sister Kate, and I had on our bedroom walls, respectively, in the summer of 1990.  I feel like I should be embarrassed to admit this.  I would be if I led the bunch.  That I was a distant third clearly showed I was just trying to fit in.

For those of you who don’t recall, The New Kids on the Block were it back then.  Their top single, “Hangin’ Tough” spent 132 weeks, that’s nearly two and a half years, on the Billboard charts.

Despite the New Kids’ success, all was not well in households across America.  Mine was no different.  My memory gets fuzzier by the year, but this much I do remember.  My sister was taking piano lessons.  She was three years older than me.  She was 12, I was 9.  Mrs. Misty Bolton, the wife of our church’s pastor of music, was her piano teacher.  Even a cool lady like her couldn’t see the storm brewing on the horizon.

I can hear the nice, neat, well-timed piano playing now.  Whatever my sister may have lacked in expression, she made up for in crisp playing–just like an older sister to show how its done.

At this point in the story, it’s important that you join me in the room.

You’re already at the front door of the house?  Good.  Open it.  Once you make your way through the front door, you see a hallway to a kitchen table straight ahead.  You discover that what you thought was the right wall of that hallway is actually the left side of the staircase which leads to the second floor and a little balcony.  Turning all the way to your right, you see the room where the piano is.  You know the piano is in the room, not because you see it, but because you can see a reflection of it in the wall sized mirror that hangs opposite it.

This room, unlike any other in the house had a name: the “blue room”.  It was named for its predominant color, beginning with the blue carpet, extending to the blue walls.  The blue carpet was a plush, thick, luscious carpet that incurred my mother’s wrath if it was needlessly tread upon.

“Key-an’t you go around?,” she’d exclaim.  She could be rather vain about carpet.

Do you see me yet?  Good.  Here it comes.

“Mom!  Comeeer.  Misty, I mean, Mrs. Bolton says she’ll teach me to play the New Kids on the Block songs if we buy the book!  Can we?  Pleeeeease?,” my sister begged.

Our mom was no push-over, but it seemed like such a simple request involving learning to play piano didn’t necessitate that kind of begging.  It turned out that no amount of begging could overcome the music snobbery we were about to witness.

“Nnnnoooo, I’m not going to hee-ave you playing that garbage!  It’s bee-ad enough I hee-ave to hear it and see it all dee-ay long as it is.  I will not buy thee-at book for you.  Nice try though.”

Crushed!  Devastated!  If my sister wasn’t crying on the outside, she was on the inside.  Try as they might, my boy arms lacked the strength to lift her out of her misery.

-Fast forward to the next lesson-

Guess who showed up with the sheet music book for the New Kids’ latest album “Step By Step”?  Mrs. Misty Bolton.  This was a bad idea.  She obviously had not spent much time in our house.  Suffice it to say, my mom was not happy.  And so after my mom let Mrs. Baldwin know she wasn’t happy, she made my sister pay for it out of her piddly allowance and then she took the book away and hid it.  No piano of hers was going to play the New Kids’ music, and no piano teacher was going to defy her wishes!!

Well, there you have it.  My first experience with censorship.

What’s that?  You thought I was supposed to be explaining how this experience led me to believe censorship was murder?

But don’t you see?  I just did.  My mother censored the “Step By Step” album.  You still don’t understand?  Okay.  Okay, quick reminder then.  How did the New Kids follow their “Step By Step” album?  Don’t remember?  That’s because the New Kids on the Block never released another original studio album.  By the time those five guys did release another original studio album, they weren’t the New Kids on the Block anymore.  They were NKOTB.  Still not with me?  Fully connecting the dots now– a simple writing assignment in which I was asked to defend my original thesis, that censorship is murder, led me to stumble upon the frightening revelation that the New Kids on the Block died after my mom censored their “Step By Step” album.  Therefore, my mom killed them in an act of what appears to be cold-blooded murder!  This is the same woman who raised me to do the right thing and all these years she’s been hiding this secret!  She, too, must pay for her crime.  And I have to turn her in.  But how do I turn in my own mom??!

I guess, I’ll just have to take it step… by… step.

Blog. How Else Will You Learn What You Like?

Hi there!  My name is Pete Peterson.  I’m a 22 year old college dropout and have been blogging for a week now.  I’m so excited because I already have 15 followers, and none of them are my family or previous friends.  How cool is that?

I guess I should have known that people would follow my blog.  I write well and my posts are funny, smart, clever, dramatic, creative, and most importantly they display–albeit sometimes unconsciously–my desire to make money blogging.

I guess this last trait is really the one that has captured most of my follower’s attention.  I never would have believed how many people know how to make money blogging.  The best part is that they are very helpful.  They’re willing to almost give away the secret.  I know better though, than to expect anyone to give away their golden goose.  It does make sense, then, that they would require a nominal fee to learn the really good stuff.  I’m happy to pay it because I really do want to make money blogging.

We’re all the same, my followers and I.  That’s how I learned that I love to travel.  All of my willing-to-teach-others-how-to-make-money-blogging followers love to travel.  Truthfully, I have never left the home town I grew up in, which is just outside Big City, USA.  Just the same, I figure if all my followers love to travel, I must love to travel.

I can imagine it now.  Endless beaches against a backdrop of snowcapped mountains.  Large trees all around with even larger leaves.  There’s probably fit young women at these locations as well.  With no crummy 9-5 job to worry about, I could finally start wearing my 80s style tank tops every day, or maybe I’d wear no shirt at all.  I’d probably choose to wear sunglasses most of the time, even if it didn’t make sense.  I think I’d also begin to post pictures of myself too.  I’d make sure to always have water in the background somewhere.  I think that would be classy.  Yep, I’m going to love traveling.

It’s exciting, I’ll tell you that.  It’s so exciting, in fact, that I’d like to invite you to follow my blog.  Do you love to travel?  Do you know how to make money blogging?  Then follow me!  The only way to get there is together.