Bah Humbug

Scrooge McDuck

We're now in that time of year that brings out all of my Scrooge tendencies. Our celebration of Christmas is fraught with misconceptions and inaccuracies. The celebrant, Jesus, was most likely not born on December 25th, or even in December. Furthermore, the grand feasts and tree decorations we associate with Christmas are actually hold-overs from the Roman Saturnalia fete, which was celebrated on December 17th, with a Solstice tree. There are several traditions associated with this commercially garish season, which I would just as soon stomp out, if I could. Some of this is viewed through the lens of my dysfunctional family history. How fondly I recall my father having too many drinks and insulting the in-laws. How I cherish the recollections of my undiplomatic oldest brother saying he hated his present and tossing it aside. Christmas appeared to be a time for too much eggnog and a family feud.

My family is unreligious for the most part, and about as far from a Norman Rockwell painting as one can get. We can't seem to fulfill the needed love requirement. The Yuletide season is, above all, a time for normal people to trumpet their family achievements. The family photo must adorn your cards -- a newsletter must sing all its praises. "Janice was just accepted at Harvard". "Larry was promoted to Senior Partner". As if the obnoxious brag letters were not enough, we must shower each other with presents. My brother dubs this "the forced spending of each other's money". One year, when I was hurried and out of sorts, I wanted to just write everyone a check for $50. Money, after all, is the ultimate gift certificate -- you can choose the merchandise AND the store. But Mother, bless her heart, was horrified. I might just as well have been the Grinch. I was barred from doing that. Mother also doesn't want anyone to tell her what to get. She wants to surprise me with some tacky garment that could skip a detour and go straight to Good Will. How I love the gift-giving season. I frequently differ with my brother, but 'forced spending' captures it well. Christmas gifts are great for children and young lovers -- everyone else can probably gauge what they need and when to buy it.

Fal la la la la -- la la la la. The songs even start to grate on you after so many years of sentimental retreads. I don't care if I have a white Christmas -- no snow tires. Wouldn't know a chestnut from a walnut. Sometimes I actually need to do real shopping in December -- but must compete with desperate housewives for a parking space, and listen to "I'll Be Home for Christmas" while looking at picked-over junk. I can be thankful for the Internet -- how did we ever get by without Al Gore's invention? If you love Christmas in all its schmaltzy, insincere gaudiness, you'll have to be patient with me. I like the good food, time off from work and some of the fellowship. I actually like certain aspects of it. So, regardless of your take and these negative slants -- "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".

Brainiac

The sum of the square roots ...

MENSA is an organization for people who score in the top 2% of standardized IQ tests. MENSA allows a variety of standardized tests to be used for admittance to the group. I joined about 10 years ago, using the results of my GRE exam at the University of Texas. I've really been inactive -- only attended a North Texas singles group for a few months after I first joined. Other than that, I've just paid the dues and received a monthly magazine, which is actually pretty good reading material.

"Mensa" is a Latin word for table, and the expectation is that MENSA meetings are like intellectual round tables. My own experience differs somewhat. The standard tests used by Mensa don't measure emotional IQ, sociability and other factors that are crucial to personal success. I have a brother who is two years older than me. Bryan is smart, affable and nice looking. He's not Mensa-smart but it hasn't slowed his progress a bit. I brought him as a guest to one of my first Mensa singles meetings. The Mensans, I hate to admit, fell largely into the stereotype of shy, geeky nerds with mediocre social skills. I wasn't exactly the life of the party myself. Bryan, with his 1000-kilowatt smile and social finesse was everyone's favorite. "I love your brother". "When is your brother coming back?" I had to tell them he was just a guest and spared them from his overall impression that they were sort of geeky.

How does it feel to be in the top 2%? Well, I'd have to say it's lonely at the top. Most people can be enlivened by discussions of sports, local politics and maybe the weather. I like to talk about things that might be described as 'ethereal' or 'surreal'. Others might use the words loopy, weird and off-the-wall. The non-Mensan's eyes glaze over with boredom as I bring up concepts of Utopian society or the aging process. My eyes glaze over in the same manner, if they bring up the Dallas Cowboys' defense. Mensans' shyness is often a reluctance to be vulnerable -- to being categorized as weird, obtuse, strange, brilliant. Those are all terms that set you off (and away) from the crowd. Mensans are likewise people who need people. We mix better when we emphasize our sameness, not our 'terminal uniqueness'. I touched on this with my blog of nearly a year ago, "Beauty and the Beast".

Should a Mensan put that status on his resume? Conventional wisdom says, "no". Some people have an aversion to 'overly smart' people. Others might take it as a sort of challenge, to ask more difficult questions in a technical interview. Some people have preconceived notions that (e.g.) intellectuals are all pointy-headed liberals. In fact, Mensans fall into all parts of the political spectrum and all manner of religious/spiritual philosophies. Many letters to the Mensa magazine are Libertarian in nature. One cannot generalize anymore than with other groups. Is there a net benefit to MENSA? Not so much in my humble opinion -- this blog is probably the most public I've been with it. I do like the Mensa magazine -- how can you not appreciate heated, nerdy flame wars about evolution, cold fusion or atheism? I like that virtually any topic is on the table for discussion -- nothing is really off limits. Would I fit the social jigsaw puzzle better if I were 'normal'? I strongly suspect that I would, but that option wasn't on my 'standardized test'. I'll just have to carry on as I am -- in my surreal zone.

Goodbye Norma Jean

Wistful Beauty


When people speak of Marilyn Monroe, they normally are speaking of the iconic, blonde sex symbol of the fifties. She was indeed beautiful and sexual, but her enduring relevance is something much more than that. A young friend once queried, "Wasn't she just that bimbo with the big boobs?" And for asking that question, he wins the big boob award. There has been a pop culture parade of blonde beauties extending all the way back to Jean Harlowe of the 1930's -- more recently including Madonna, Pamela Anderson and Heather Locklear. (I'm probably aging myself by those last few examples). :-)

No, Marilyn is none of those at all. Some of her contemporaries were Liz Taylor, Doris Day and Jayne Mansfield -- all lovely in their own right and nothing like Marilyn. Marilyn's essence was not her visage or her overall looks -- it was her innate wisdom, sadness and desire to finally belong. She was an orphaned child, born Norma Jean Simmons. Her mother was institutionalized with mental problems, and her father disappeared early on. As a child, she was bounced from house to house, never feeling loved, or “a part of”. One Christmas as a girl, she received an orange while the “birth” children received toys. The feeling of being an outsider persisted for all 36 years that she lived.

Despite her image as a dumb blonde, Marilyn was intelligent. Her life was an intellectual as well as an emotional quest. She wanted to be loved and respected – thus she wed playwright Arthur Miller and studied acting under a world famous acting coach. In her choices for directors, screenwriters and travelling companions, she exhibited sophistication and depth. Her sense of humor and wry observations belied the dumb blonde image completely. Her professional image was a product of 50’s marketing and just that of a sex symbol; her behavior away from the camera had much more depth -- she was really ahead of her time. Women were supposed to be one, not multi dimensional -- especially women as sultry and beautiful as her.

In a final summation, Marilyn received the accolades and rewards that many people would kill to achieve. She married a famous baseball player, Joe DiMaggio, and then she later married a world famous playwright. She had an active movie career and acting credits that would make many actresses envious. And still there was an inconsolable sadness in her, and a void that couldn’t be filled. Marilyn died in 1962, a good 15 years before drug and alcohol rehabilitation became cultural norms for celebrities. Her death also preceded the “women’s lib” movement by at least 4 years. Maybe had she lived, she would’ve been warmed by her own self-actualization and acceptance. She might have played against the bimbo stereotype and conquered her inner demons. A cruel, “bimbo-loving” world might not have snuffed her fragile flame after all.

Looking for an Exit

How to Leave Iraq?

I normally don’t write about intensely political issues, but the Iraq war has captured my interest. Before I go much further, I must give a giant “mea culpa” for the fact that I actually supported this war back in March of 2003. Still rankling from 9/11, I thought that part of the world needed democratic and secular examples to live by. I thought that (1) Bush had a plan and further I thought that (2) we had excelled in Afghanistan. Not only was I wrong on those two points, the motive itself was mistaken. Bush’s father (Bush 1) and his own advisor Brent Scowcroft had strongly advised W against invading Iraq. Now, the chickens are here to roost and I can only suppose they’re squawking, “Dad was right”. W, being religious might honor the word of his own father. I’ve pondered whether Bush 1’s new affinity for Bill Clinton is a dig at W. Bush 1 also had Ted Kennedy as a speaker at his A&M Presidential Library last year. Maybe the two Bush’s should’ve finished the father-son fistfight they were about to start, so many years ago.

We have basically toppled a house of cards, and have not a clue how to put it back. There are several other houses of cards nearby, that we could clobber now with ease: Syria, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. On a metaphoric roll: a Bush bull has been allowed into the china shop. He’s going down the aisle of stoneware swishing his tail mightily. Dear God, he’s now headed toward the Wedgewood, raising his horns! How do we get this bovine out of a place where he never belonged? Poor china shop, poor Iraq.

Iraq now has three splinter groups, two of which have a strong desire to secede from the others – Shias and Kurds. The Sunnis and Shias have shown extreme willingness to blow people to smithereens to make a political point. It’s an ultimate human fallacy known as suicide bombing. The Kurds are the best behaved, showing interest in democracy and women’s rights. Kurds however could pull the rug from Turkey and other countries that also have freedom-relishing Kurd populations. Shias have cozied up to Iran, which is getting nuclear weapons and would like to blow Israel away. Wonder if W is getting the picture? The “perps” in Iraq are crazed and violent – they probably need someone equally stern to smack them back into place. Oh, but we deposed him – he’s on trial now. Saddam once said, “You’ll need 11 men to replace me”. Now it seems like an understatement. You’ll need 11 men and a standing US Army. Saddam’s Iraq allowed secular worship and women’s rights along with his evil despotism; his continued reign would’ve allowed thousands of Iraqis and 2000+ Americans to continue living. Would his nastiness have been any worse than what they have now? The secularism and women’s rights are about to slip away under “Sharia” in southern Iraq. And we haven’t even touched on who gets the oil resources in the predominantly Shia south. Any more fuel needed for this fire?

Well, all we need to do is train the Iraqi police and army. Those are the two groups that get infiltrated, or suicide-bombed as they wait in line to apply for the job. I wax toward being what Spiro Agnew dubbed a “nattering nabob of negativism”. Well, let’s be positive and imagine, what – what on Earth could straighten this mess out by the time 2008 elections roll around? I’ll have to leave that to someone else – this is a non-fiction blog. 