There is all this blather about personal attacks in the presidential campaign. One complaint of Romney is that the D’s question his work with Bain Capital and want to know more about his taxes and where his money is hidden. But the integrity anyone who poses an argument is a principle concern of rhetoric. First, if you are to be believed and your arguments considered worthy, you must establish your personal worth. Anu Garg’s word of the day yesterday was cui bono (to whose benefit?) Wordsmith. We need to examine what the candidate gets out of his endeavors and his policies and who benefits from his proposals.
Category: All
Job #2
Introduction to My Miserable Jobs: Job #2, Usher
I am always saying I had 50 or more jobs, but I am not sure. I want to see if I can remember all the worthless, God-awful pursuits of mine in the name of keeping body and soul together. Here is my real resume. I hesitate to call it a “Vita” lest it comes to define my life. I still have some hope that my life is more than the sum of my crummy jobs.
Job Number 2, Usher. I believe the first employment I had was at as an usher (remember them?) at a rat’s ass motion picture theater in Lake Worth, Fla. It was the Lake Theater or the Worth, I can’t remember which. The pay? I believe it was $1.10 an hour, maybe less, and all the popcorn you could eat. Of course, the ushers could also see the movies for free, once their shift was over. Unfortunately, this rotting old failure of a cinema house showed only films which nobody wanted to see. It hadn’t yet fallen to the state of having to become a porn palace, but that happened next, a few years later. We ushers wore funny little uniforms, black I think, and really cheap. Why is it that the worst of jobs come with uniforms?
I was just at the legal age to work, I suppose 14. This would have been 1963 or 1964. At that time, each little town had at least one theater that would have Saturday morning features. These were a cultural phenomenon few remember, for good reason. Basically, the Saturday morning session catered to a clientele of twelve to fifteen year olds, wild, uncivilized, and set loose in the dark. Younger ones were attracted to a cartoons, but the real free-for-all was the horror shows, two for a dollar. Of course, like today, the money was in the candy, pop, and popcorn sales. After selling vast quantities of these vile concoctions and sticky substances to the wild herd, the lights were dimmed and the show began. A tumultuous riot always ensued. Nickel pickles were hurled at the screen, gooey candy dropped or flung, most of the popcorn and soda spilled on the floor. In fact, the floor was the expected repository of all refuse as well as all manner disgusting substances. There were no trash cans as no one would use them anyway. The screaming, fighting, crowd of horrid adolescents were free, free at last to throw anything anywhere.
The usher’s duty was to maintain order. Imagine! There in the dark, six tiny ushers teamed against a mob of hundreds with all the hormones of their age coursing through them, fueled with sugar and driven with the smell of utter license and a total absence of law, parents, or any thought of decent behavior. The only rules enforced were the fire regulations limiting the size of the crowd, a law always violated to great extent. The ushers had to hold the mob at bay by guarding the entrances until the appointed hour, then only to sell a limited amount of tickets. On one Saturday, a particularly outrageous crowd pushed on the double doors to get in. The ushers pushed back. At one point, a snot-nosed villain, smelling of cola and sweat, inserted an arm and a foot and tried to unloose the locking mechanism. I shoved my body against the doors and smashed his hand quite well. In another day and age, the theater and I would have been sued from here to hell, but in 1964 the little creep just settled the score by stalking me after the show. I ran, of course, and luckily never saw him again.
My flight from him, and his accomplice, who was a freckled girl with few teeth, took place after the clean up, a task of several hours that only a Hercules shoveling out the stable could have accomplished any earlier. Gigantic mounds of refuse where pushed and shoved into the aisles from the rows. Feed lot scoops were used to shovel the junk into containers which were trucked away. It was awful. All the while, the little weasel manager, Mr. T. I think, stayed closeted in his smelly office making phone calls.
A short while after I quit this little prison, I heard what may well have been a scandalized lie, that T. was arrested in Ft. Lauderdale for exposing himself to little boys.
Ryan/Rand
So now we have to listen to endless jabber about that second-rate mind Paul Ryan who will subject us to his sophomoric adoration of Ayn Rand. This is Harold Bloom’s assessment of Rand:
Harold Bloom, Sterling Professor of the Humanities and English at Yale University. Professor Bloom did not mince words: “Ayn Rand was a writer of no value whatsoever, whether aesthetic or intellectual. The Tea Party deserves her, but the rest of us do not. It is not less than obscene that any educational institution that relies even in part on public funds should ask students to consider her work. We are threatened these days by vicious mindlessness and this is one of its manifestations.” from Cockburn http://www.counterpunch.org
The Meaning of Life
It has come to this. After 4,000 years of civilization and a search for meaning, finally we now have a Wikipedia page with the intrepid title “Meaning of Life“. So much for that.
In Viktor Frankl’s remarkable book Man’s Search for Meaning, the psychiatrist author recounts his early days first, as a therapist who organized probably the world’s first suicide prevention program, and later, as a prisoner in the death camps of the holocaust. In the camps, he is confronted with prisoners who seek their own end of suffering by throwing themselves against the electrified fence. In order to save them from suicide, he must give them hope, a reason to live in the face of astounding horror and probable extermination. His method is to show the prisoner, even in extremis, that in the manner of the existentialists, each human must choose to make a purpose, a meaning, in life. While Freud’s answer to the question of the meaning of life was To Love and Work (he didn’t really say quite that), Frankl’s answer is that we are compelled to find meaning in compassion, love, creativity, and an embrace of suffering. He quotes Nietzsche (in several places) in saying that if one knows why we live, one can endure any how. Nietzsche also said that to live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in suffering. Even the earliest Greek philosophers sought to find a meaning in life, particularly one that had its basis in the natural world. Thales, the original Greek philo, looked to the world itself, and my friend Diogenes sought a life based in nature and consonant with the natural human condition. And Buddha, who lived at the same time as the pre-Socratic philos, discovered by “awakening”, that all life was suffering and the way to end suffering was to unhinge oneself to the yoke of desires by mindful acceptance of the immediacy of life.
VJ’s Nonprofit Class
This is a succinct list of recommendations on how to actually apply ethical standards in the workplace by Rosabeth Moss Kanter in the HBR: http://blogs.hbr.org/kanter/2010/06/ten-essentials-for-getting-val.html. When I have the privilege of teaching the ethics section of VJ’s course for nonprofit managers, I emphasize that ethical decisions are commonplace but difficult ones pose a dilemma, a controversy, and always a tough call for the nonprofit executive. Judging the consequence of taking one path or the other is a choice between shades of gray, with both yin and yang on either side. Kanter’s list reflects how dialog and stories that reflect values can help instill and promote ethical behavior.
A Refutation
I always liked the story about Samuel Johnson and the Platonic world of ideals. Boswell says he can’t refute the claim of Bishop Berkeley that what we sense is not real, only ideals are real. So Johnson delivers a swift kick to a stone saying “I refute it thus!” There is a story about Diogenes where he wants to give a Diogenean response to a definition of man as a “featherless biped” made by Plato. Diogenes carried a plucked chicken to the Academy and said “Here is Plato’s Man!”
Lake Worth City Manager
In my last post about Lake Worth, 22Jan2010, I mentioned that I thought that the city was wonderfully transformed (even in these hard times). I had assumed Susan Stanton, the former mayor of Berea (as Steve Stanton), was largely responsible. Maybe. But regrettably, he has recently been fired. I know that Lake Worth is a town friendly to the LGBT folks so it can’t be that. Still and all, Lake Worth is a lovely place filled with quiet streets, walk and riding paths, parks and a vibrant nightlife.
more Diogenes’ replies
At the mansion of a wealthy young man: “Since I had no where else spit, I spit on the fellow himself. He rebuked me but I responded that he had himself to blame because I didn’t decorate this extravagant hall with such excess, leaving only yourself as a fitting place to spit.” D. claims the young man then gave away all his wealth and put on a coarse cloak and followed Diogenes.
Since the writing attributed to Diogenes was not actually written by Diogenes, it is possible that the reports of what he said may have been spoken by others. The Cynic Epistles (Malherbe, 1977) contains passages (trans. Fiore, SJ) ascribed to Diogenes of Sinope who probably did write some letters such as these, but the ones available were written long after Diogenes’ passing into the eternity which he doubted. Someone revise D.’s words, so I revised them too.
To Aroueca D. writes: “Know yourself, and if you have anything wrong with you such as stupidity, get a doctor for it and pray he does you more good than harm.”
To Zeno he advises: “One should not wed or raise children, since our race is weal and marriage and children burden human weakness with troubles….If the human race should thus become devoid of people, how could this be regretted?”
Sometimes it is claimed that Diogenes was stolen by pirates and sold into slavery. At the sale of the slaves, D. is displayed for purchase and asked if he has any talents. “Yes, my skill is to rule over men, so if any of you need a master, then I am available.”
Diogenes Laertius reports (D.L. in Google books) of Diogenes (of Sinope) that D. had issues with Plato who called him a dog, but of course, D. called himself a dog so this should not have offended. D.L. says Plato defined a human being as a two-footed, featherless animal. So D. brings a plucked chicken to his school and says, “This is Plato’s man.”
D. L. also says that after the “stand out of my sunlight” reply, Alexander states that if he had not been Alexander he should have liked to be Diogenes. I suppose Alex would not have liked the living in a barrel thing.
Lake Worth, Florida
My first job, of my 54 jobs, was in Lake Worth, Florida in the 60’s. Lake Worth was a scruffy place with an aging downtown, aging population, and a high school with a football team more famous for their team name, the “Trojans,” than for their playing. But a recent visit to Lake Worth showed me how a small town can be transformed from a sweaty spot on the coast of Florida to a thriving, artsy, intelligent, and highly attractive location. The Lake and Lucerne streets area downtown is now filled with busy restaurants, galleries, shops, and the obligatory Starbucks. There is a deli, Greek and Italian restaurants, there are nightclubs and al fresco eateries. And the smelly movie house where I was a 14 year old usher is now a well respected contemporary art gallery. The other theater in town, formerly a seedy porn palace, is now a real theater offering plays by local and traveling acting groups. Next door is an “art” cinema house showing trendy movies. Friday night there was music all over the downtown and folks were out walking and enjoying the fun.
A regional community arts group is re-locating to Lake Worth and local galleries are full and not too expensive. I was told there is an active gay, lesbian, and trans community in LW and the city manager is a trans. When Steven Stanton showed up at his prior job and apparently was in the process of a personal and sartorial transformation, his city council went berserk and tossed him. But LW welcomed Stanton, now Susan, and it is obvious he is doing a fine job. The city just received a major grant to help the economy revive from the housing crisis and has been praised for its revitalization efforts. Stanton actually was, some years ago, the city manager here in Berea, Ky. I had told people he was the city manager who lived on my street, but my friend D. corrected me. That must have been his successor who lived near me and was not a bad manager either, but I wonder if Ms. Stanton could have done wonders for us here.
A remarkable theory by Richard Florida asserts that cities that progress economically and show improving quality of life are those with a “creative class” of urbanites such as artists and gays and lesbians and musicians and other talented bohemians. He approves of Lexington, Ky and Pittsburgh, PA and I am familiar with both cities–he is correct I think, these cities with an artsy, gay, and progressive class are beautiful, livable cities. I think he would approve of Lake Worth. It is not at all yuppified, like Delray Beach or Boca Raton, rather, it remains an inexpensive, walkable, and working class town. I kind of felt comfortable there. Also it was 75 F. on the beach while Berea was frozen solid. I wrote about my first job in LW on another blog…more about that later.
Carnivore’s Loss
Today we mourn the loss of Al Bernardin, the inventor of Quarter Pounder, the artery clogging concoction from McDonald’s carnivore paradise. This signals the end of the American way as we know it. Reported to be a lovely man, volunteer for hospice, business leader, and Dean of Hamburger University, Al died of a stroke at 81 years of age. Al also invented the frozen french fry, a McDonald’s delicacy equaled by no other. I will think of Al this afternoon, and every afternoon when I step over to Dogwood Drive and pick up the McD’s bags and rappers tossed by passing motorists who graciously offer me their trash without charge. Al’s contribution to demise of cattle everywhere is not well recognised, nor is the cause of the clearing of South American jungles, where 70% of such deforestation is due to the expansion of cattle ranches in order to feed fast-foody Americans. We cannot speak ill of the dead, and I know of nothing ill to be said about this gentle soul, and the Donne poem tells us every death diminishes us all. Our rear views are undiminished by the consumption of Quarter Pounders, those oily fries, and I, believe, Mr. Bernardin’s other contributions to the culinary world such as McDonald’s pies. I will think of him every time I see a party of fat bottomed folks pull into the golden arches and hope that Al has plenty of burgers where he is going and I trust they won’t be well done. Bye Al, hope you’re lovin’ it.
Two Strikes 