San Francisco has a significant and seemingly intractable homeless problem. Tonight I was thinking, “What could be done with such a group if they could organize?” And then it struck me, Hobo Army! So I typed it into Google, and what do I find…. a freaking Hobo Army.
It would rule. If only they could be combined with tigers.
I have a lot of acquaintances. I have very few friends.
This is not a trivial semantic distinction. While the word “friend” has come to mean anyone with whom one associates but does not actively dislike, I cling to the vestiges of language lost and still call such people “acquaintances.” This seems more appropriate, as they are people with whom I am acquainted, but with whom I share no bond. Should I disappear tomorrow, they would in no way notice, nor would their world be at all bereft. Should they, my world and I would probably feel similarly. “Friend” is an adjective I reserve for people I care for and who might even care for me. Friends are those who I smile when I think of, who I can tell a story about, who are ready to offer help if I’m moving. Friends are rare.
It is fairly common to hear people talk about those in the Bay Area as “friendly”, largely, I suspect, due to the greater openness of its people to outsiders and strangers, and a greater willingness to smile. But friendly does not equal friend. I’ve found that greater openness drags with it greater fluidity; people float in and out of each other’s lives, never sticking around for too long, never bonding, never becoming true friends. We all stay acquaintances, aware of each other’s presence but also largely indifferent to it. Meeting new people has been easy here; making new friends has been far more difficult.
Some of this may be a function of the culture of the technology industry around San Francisco, but I also suspect part of it is that with fewer barriers to cross, with lower thresholds between stranger and acquaintance, the attachments one forms with those who cross such thresholds are by nature less significant.
Everything comes with a tradeoff. The effusive nature of the American middle is joined with nosiness and a belief that one has a right to know what others are doing. The colder nature of the American north comes with a greater sense of personal privacy, and more of a “do whatever you want as long as you don’t bother me” approach.
Perhaps similarly, “friendly” and “friend” don’t mix.
The Guardian (via boingboing) reports that among the many allegations of impropriety and mismanagement (no! shock!) at the Office of the Special Inspector General for Iraq Reconstruction, was an accusation of witchcraft.
“Current and former SIGIR employees have told investigators that Bowen’s deputy, Ginger Cruz, a self-described wiccan, threatened to put hexes on employees and made inappropriate sexual remarks.
The Post said Cruz denied making comments of a “sexual nature” and noted that she was cleared of wrongdoing by an internal SIGIR investigation.”
Personally, I’m just glad to see other religions getting representation on the faith-based gravy train.
Every few months, my level of hate for certain people or groups builds up to higher than average levels. In an effort to expel this dislike back unto the universe, I present to you my list of things that are currently annoying me.
Ah. That’s better. Vitriol dispensed with. I love you all!
Example - One video tapes ones friend being bitten in the crotch by the puppy they were trying to pet. One would then say, “Oh man, that’s totally YouTube worthy” and would subsequently post the video to YouTube, for all to enjoy.
The phrase is also usable in highly inappropriate times, providing video is involved. Such as the following exchange:
“I’m going to get a colonoscopy tomorrow.”
“Dude! That’s totally YouTube worthy. You could start the Ben’s Colon Show!”
“Dude. Wrong.”
Justice Gibson delivers the ruling of the court:
The county has asserted that Mr. Joel did willingly and knowingly set fire to the property at 112 Old Oak Way, Ridgewood, New Jersey, an incident hereafter referred to as “the fire”. The defendent has claimed that he and his compatriots did not start the fire, but rather were involved in fire-fighting activities at the time of his arrest.
Despite an impassioned plea by Mr. Joel, after 18 years of listening to his refutation the court is unable to find any evidence supporting his claims. Though the defendant listed an impressive array of witnesses, attempts to contact the vast majority would be futile, as they are currently deceased. All of the remaining living individuals mentioned: Doris Day, Queen Elizabeth II, Brigitte Bardot, Fidel Castro, Chubby Checker, Bob Dylan, John Glenn, Sally Ride, and Bernhard Goetz, have denied any involvement in the fire, and all except Mr. Castro have plausible and confirmed alibis. Further, the court can find no means to connect the events listed with the fire, nor does it believe outrage over the listed events suitable justification for initiating a conflagration.
Mr. Joel, electing to represent himself, said to the court, “J.F.K. blown away, what else do I have to say?” While the death of President Kennedy was tragic and unfortunate, it occurred 26 years prior to the fire, and hardly seems relevant to the issue at hand.
Given the lack of evidence to the country, the court rules for the prosecution. Sentencing to be determined at a hearing on a later date.
A demonstrated and strong correlation exists between intelligence and depression. In some respects, I believe this correlation to be so strong it functions as a natural barrier to how smart humans can be, at least without concurrent evolution of alternate brain structures. I traditionally justified this correlation by stating: “The world is a pretty tragic place. The smarter one is, the more one realizes this.” And I stand by this assessment. But of late I’ve been thinking a lot, (which I’ll admit is also usually somewhat detrimental to my overall happiness) and have come up with another, potentially even more causative reason: the smarter one is, the more one recognizes the complete lack of control one has over one’s life.
A sense of control, moreover, is fundamental to our happiness. Why this is may not be clear, but that it is has been fairly conclusively proven (Tara Hunt, who *OMG I actually know IRL!*, has a lovely post on the issue here). If only as a defense mechanism, most of us spend our days imagining we have at least some control over our futures. But for all people, no matter how wealthy or powerful they may be, this sense of control is largely illusionary; random factors far beyond an individual’s scope have as great or greater an impact on their lives than anything within their realm of influence. The better informed one is, the more one knows about the world and one’s place in it, the more difficult it is to maintain this illusion. And thus, yet another trip down Depression Lane. (It’s near Sesame St., and adjacent to Melancholy Alley.)
Zen Buddhism, most notably, attempts to challenge this biological precept by suggesting that practitioners should learn to accept a lack of control over their destinies. For some this may be possible; for others, given how much this tenet conflicts with ingrained biology, I’m not as confident. Still, it’s a lovely concept, and if it doesn’t work out I hear there’s a great new chocolatier at the intersection of Depression and Self Destruction, right next to the tobacconist.
I’m not really as bitter as I may seem, but I vent here, often with the intent of being amusing, because bitter = funny. If you couldn’t guess by reading any given post, I’m also male, and far too old. At least my advanced age gives me justification for curmudgeonly sanctimony. I'm correct roughly 94.5 percent of the time. It's a fact. Studies confirmed it.