The Rule of the Fool

As it is now 16 years in the past, I feel I can now recount an experience inflicted upon me. At the time the humiliation was fairly intense but perhaps it was one of those things that breeds some character in a chap. Anyway, if I was to get diagnosed with some sort of mental disorder then perhaps this can be used as one of the pieces of the puzzle.

As a 19 year old weedy sporn, I found myself in my first full time job. If the requirements were to be scared of everything then it was clear I was highly qualified. One day while busying myself with activities that gave the impression that I had some idea what I was doing I was summoned to my bosses office. He was a peculiar fellow, wise of the world and approachable with a peculiar sense of humour:

"Take this", he commanded waving a sealed envelope in the air, "to the office of Mrs. G, ensure she reads the letter inside and bring it back. DO NOT read the letter as it is confidential!".
"Yes Sir", I stammered with fragile confidence.

The office of Mrs G, which was located across town, was a legend of my workplace. I had been warned to brace myself for my first visit. I drove carefully but quickly that day, as if I was carrying precious cargo.

Upon arriving at the office of Mrs. G I was immediately struck with a sight of heaven. In the office working behind desks were at least seven of the most stunningly attractive ladies I had ever seen. My 19 year old brain began activating caveman mode, as 19 year old brains do.

"Hello there", chirped the ugliest of the seven who ofcourse was still stunning, "can I help you?"
"I have an envelope for Mrs G", I said, although with questionable comprehensibility.
"Oh, she's just through that door. Go through".

I wandered through the doorway and met Mrs G, a pleasant middle aged lady who greeted me cheerfully. I handed her the envelope informing that I had instructions to wait and return the contents. She read the letter, looked at me intensely, and beckoned for me to follow as she walked out towards the heavenly seven. She proceeded to show each of them in turn the letter onto which they wrote comments. After each had completed this task, Mrs G wrote a quick comment, sealed the letter in the envelope and handed it back to me to be returned.

Feeling pleased that I had completed the task so efficiently, I rushed it back to my boss. Peculiarly, on my return he seemed rather disinterested, instead calling in my fellow coworkers and then giving me the blunt instruction, "you read it!"

This is what the letter contained in original print when I handed it to Mrs G:

Hello Mrs G, My name is (my name) and I am the new boy working for (my bosses name). I am 19 years old and have very little experience with girls. Can you please give me some advice?

Under this were the comments that Mrs G and her seven coworkers wrote, ranging from very practical advice which has been useful albeit infrequently, to downright disgraceful suggestions that wouldn't be out of place in a Kevin Bloody Wilson tune.

Zooming back to the here and now, I can say that I look back upon experiences like this with a kind of fondness. Although rather painful at the time, it serves as a reminder that taking yourself and life too seriously is a mistake. Sometimes, we all need to feel a little humiliated and have our self esteem roughed up a bit if we are going to be human. We keep getting told to get better and be all you can be, but I wonder if being a little incomplete, a rough edged work in progress is actually a good thing. Perhaps, being a fool every now and again is the smartest thing you can do.

Now if only I can summon the courage to look pretty ladies in the eye.

Just One More POV on Poverty

There is much that has been said by many learned folk about the issue of poverty. Forty years after the technological achievement of putting man on the moon, highly developed agricultural techniques that make famine non-existent in Western countries, and comfortable living for millions of people has us asking the question, why does poverty still exist?

It seems there are gazillions of different answers, from government corruption to common greed, and most of them are valid, but there is one explanation that doesn't get widely broadcast I believe due to its unpalatability. Poverty exists because it benefits (some) people. I would express the argument in a mathematical equation thus:

Your quality of life = (The World's Financial Wealth) - (The Wealth of Everyone Other than Yourself)

To explain, your personal wealth has a huge effect on your quality of life and to think otherwise is foolish naivety. The worlds financial wealth is a finite amount (the "there's only so much to go around" theory) so the wealth of everyone else does have a big effect on each of us. I'm as dissappointed as anyone about this, but life isn't fair and it's probably a good idea to understand and get used to it.

The fact is, there are a lot of places in the world that have resources we want/need whether mineral, vegetable, intellectual, or simply labour based. We all check the price when we purchase anything, and who doesn't love a bargain? Well, the product needs to be produced cheaply for those bargains to exist, somethings gotta give, and it's usually an unlucky person along the supply chain.

Now at this point I have to mentally slap myself, a reminder that it's all well and good to point out a problem and carry on about how dreadful it is but pointless unless a suggestion of how to solve the problem exists.....

Well Dan??? What's the answer??

First of all, I believe we need to simplify the solutions. Frankly, does anyone know what the fuck Bono and his millionaire minstrels are on about with their "Make Poverty History" campaigns? I don't think the answer is in opening up trade. I don't think pumping cash into Africa will fix the problems either. These are comfortable solutions for the guilt of the bourgeois middle class which is why they are so popular. They do more harm than good.

The real solution rests in the basics of respect of human dignity. The fact that, even though you may not know someone, a lot of good can come from just treating them properly and not taking advantage of their situation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating a society where everyone has to love each other, I leave that to the mindlessness of religion, but to break it down to it's simplest form we should all make every effort to not be.... well, jerks to one another.

Pessimistically, I don't like the chances as I have occasionally been just such a jerk as have many others.

The Write Stuff

I would like to take this opportunity to express a mild fascination I have with a rather minor writing technique. Below is an extract from a column written by the comedian Dylan Moran in the Irish Times newspaper many years ago:

"Why," they say, "are you wearing pyjamas?"
"Pyjamas? These are my archery trousers."
"You don't do archery."
"Perhaps, but if we were suddenly called upon to man the crossbeam . . ."

What piqued my interest is contained in the first line of the extract, the way that the spoken sentence is split with the information concerning who is speaking. Now usually this information is positioned before or after the spoken sentence, but by splitting the sentence in this way something curious occurs. It seems to create a rather delicious interruption by putting the word "Why" first (probably one of the most important words in the English language), distracting the reader with some not necessarily important information, and then completing the sentence. For some reason, I just can't put my finger on why this is more interesting than:

"Why are you wearing pyjamas?", they say.

But to me, it clearly is. Perhaps it is a personal thing, an interest in seeing things done effectively yet unconventionally. I think there's something in this, the idea that although the written word needs to be done correctly (grammar, spelling etc.), that there is a flexibility with the English language that allows a writer to try a few oddball stunts every now and again. Now if only I could get my speling and gramar righted.

For those interested in Mr Moran's writing technique, go here.

The Cost of Conformity

Now I'm aggravated.

I wrote in this very blog back on 27 April 2009 this and it doesn't seem to have made a jot of difference as we once again are faced with our government and an interest group meddling with the way that people choose to live their lives, as detailed here.

So they think that by increasing cigarettes to $20 they will save us?? One word "ALCOPOPS!" springs to mind and what a huge success that was. How is it reasonable for increased taxes to be placed on something that people decide to do to themselves, that effects only them, and is legal? Is there confusion out there on what smoking can do to you? With all the information that people have been confronted with, wouldn't you think that they are well aware of the risks associated with smoking? Ofcourse they are, but they choose to do it anyway because it's THEIR BLOODY CHOICE.

I applaud the Cancer Councils work on prevention, detection and treatment of cancer. It is important work. But do they really have a right to insist the government make it more expensive for people to make a personal decision to smoke? I don't think so. People still have a right to disregard their guidance if they want to, and should not be financially penalised for doing just that.

An argument recently put to me was that people requiring treatment for smoking related illnesses are a drain on our health system. I'm not so sure about that, as the tax on cigarettes is quite hefty already and so I believe the nations smokers are already covering their medical expenses (I haven't done the sums, maybe I should).

I'm a non-smoker, but I'm concerned that the taxation system is being used as a control mechanism to force people to make personal decisions deemed desirable by the government. This practice threatens individualism. What price do we put on that?