I picked up a copy of the Tennessean this morning, Nashville’s daily newspaper. As I perused the news, I got to thinking (never a good thing) about what would happen if somehow a person living in 1960 got his or her hands on the December 31, 2010 edition of the paper. The front page wouldn’t be particularly informative. The headline says “Jobless claims decline sharply.” There was a recession in 1960 so the thought that 50 years later things were about the same might actually be comforting. That feeling that things are the same wouldn’t last long I’m afraid. Before he even put coal in the furnace, the reader would see an editorial entitled “Gay adoptions expand opportunities for joys of parenthood.” I think it’s highly likely the reader would interpret the word gay as merry and expect a nice Holiday related story. After reading it however, and discovering that a man named Elton John and his civil partner David Furnish just became parents to a 7 pound, 15 ounce boy, the reader would be perplexed to put it mildly.
Assuming the shock of that story didn’t cause cardiac arrest, it’s quite possible that the real estate section would do the trick. After all, the average price of a new home in 1960 was $12,675. A look at property transfers in December of this year would probably make the poor reader wonder if America was going through a period of hyper-inflation akin to Germany after World War one. In 1960 gas was $.25 a gallon, a loaf of bread $.20, a postage stamp $.04. Never mind that homes in this area cost well into the six figure range. A reader in 1960 would see the sale of an empty lot for $98,500.
No doubt the reader would turn to the sports pages for solace. Another surprise in store, I’m afraid. What happens in professional sports these days frequently offers a prime example of the loss of civility in our culture over the last 50 years. The Tennessee Titans and the Indianapolis Colts, (Didn’t they used to play in Baltimore?) are playing a game that could decide whether the Colts advance to the NFL playoffs. Titans guard, Jake Scott had this to say about the game. “…we can screw up somebody else’s dreams. It is something to look forward to, trying to wreck somebody else’s year.” We take quotes like this for granted these days in sports, politics and business. It wasn’t like that in 1960 and while many things about our world today are decidedly better than they were then, the loss of civility isn’t one of them.
A switch to the life and entertainment section might also send 1960’s reader reeling. A popular movie right now is Little Fockers. Surely the title alone would give them pause about the future. Maybe they would feel better seeing that Dear Abby was still writing her column. And, readers would be happy to know that future generations still celebrate the coming of the New Year in pretty much the same way as in 1960. Here in Nashville there are lots of choices for party goers like the Music City Ball or Roaring 2011 –A Swingin’ New Year’s Eve celebration at the 5 Spot. And, Little Jimmy Dickens is appearing at the Grand Ole Opry tonight. Most likely he appeared there on New Year’s Eve 1960 too, bless his heart.
The business section would be an eye opener too. There is a story in today’s paper reporting that 20 million cars were recalled this year in the USA. Were there even that many cars on the road in 1960? And what pray tell, is a recall the reader would ask. And thank God Google didn’t exist back then because the reader would have been furious to learn that Japan, a country that surrendered just 15 years ago, was selling us millions of cars.
I’m sure readers back then would be envious about some things. The idea of owning a car with a sun roof, air conditioning, tilt steering wheel and something called cruise control would definitely be appealing.
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Going to See Santa
Most of us had the experience of going to see Santa when we were kids. It’s a long standing tradition that is as much a part of the Holiday as hanging your stocking on Christmas Eve. I was in the local mall the other night where Santa often resides these days. Standing on the mall’s second level, I had a birds eye view of the Santa Claus spectacle. There was a long line of anxious parents and small children, many of them too young to be anxious themselves, other than the fear some may have had of this big guy with a beard in a red suit. I must say this mall’s Santa Claus looked very much like the real thing, right out of a Coke ad you might say.
A little girl, perhaps three years old, dressed in a Christmassy red and green dress, was giving her mother a very hard time about sitting with Santa so she could have her picture taken. The little girl was adorable but she was definitely not in an adoring mood. She wanted no part of the guy who is supposed to come across with all the goodies on the morning of December 25th. The child’s mother was imploring her to sit with Santa. The woman seemed, well, desperate to capture the moment on film…or I suppose should say, digitally. She sat her daughter down on Santa’s lap, then next to him and finally in front of him to no avail. As soon as the mother stepped away so the picture could be taken, the child got up and ran to her.
The elves got into the act, doing their best to bribe the kid with stuffed reindeer and then candy. No dice. Then the mother decided to let her little girl watch other children make nice with Santa. Three kids did just that but the star of my little show still demurred. I have to say I was impressed with the behavior of the other parents standing patiently on line with their restless kids. No one seemed the least bit perturbed by this child’s refusal to sit with St. Nick and no one gave the mother the evil eye for her persistence. In the end, they got the photo but Mom is in the picture too. Perhaps one day it will make for a funny story the little girl can tell her fiancé. That’s if she can find the photo 25 years from now.
My take is simple. A picture with Santa is not worth the hassle I witnessed the other night. I say this because I have never been in an adult’s home that featured a picture of the resident sitting on Santa’s lap. Now I’ll bet you have several precious photos that you’ve had retouched, blown-up and framed because they have special meaning for you. I’ll also wager that you don’t have one of you with some big, fat, oddly dressed stranger in red. Think back to your own picture with Santa. Remember the look on your face? Is that fear in your tear stained eyes or was it a side effect of the million watt flash bulb that just went off in your face?
What happens to these pictures anyway? You take them home and show them to grandparents who ooh and ahh over them, secretly wondering whether you can even trust the people who play Santa anymore. You display them on a countertop or bookshelf during the Holidays and then…you put them in a box with other photos. Listen, a few nights before my sojourn to the mall, I was wading through a huge box of old photos. Guess what I found? Right, I found several pictures of my son and daughter having the all important powwow with Mr. C. I even found one of me.
Considering how busy parents with young children are during the Holidays, I can’t imagine what possesses them to stand on a long line surrounded by crying kids. Some parents do find ways to avoid it. Recently a friend told me that he and his wife decided not to tell their children stories about Santa Claus. They felt it would be lying to them and they wanted to build trust right from the beginning. If you ask me they probably just didn’t want to wait around for the photos. The funny thing is their kids, all adults now, complain that their parents robbed them of the Santa experience. Go figure. I wonder if they were in line the other night with their little ones.
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
A little girl, perhaps three years old, dressed in a Christmassy red and green dress, was giving her mother a very hard time about sitting with Santa so she could have her picture taken. The little girl was adorable but she was definitely not in an adoring mood. She wanted no part of the guy who is supposed to come across with all the goodies on the morning of December 25th. The child’s mother was imploring her to sit with Santa. The woman seemed, well, desperate to capture the moment on film…or I suppose should say, digitally. She sat her daughter down on Santa’s lap, then next to him and finally in front of him to no avail. As soon as the mother stepped away so the picture could be taken, the child got up and ran to her.
The elves got into the act, doing their best to bribe the kid with stuffed reindeer and then candy. No dice. Then the mother decided to let her little girl watch other children make nice with Santa. Three kids did just that but the star of my little show still demurred. I have to say I was impressed with the behavior of the other parents standing patiently on line with their restless kids. No one seemed the least bit perturbed by this child’s refusal to sit with St. Nick and no one gave the mother the evil eye for her persistence. In the end, they got the photo but Mom is in the picture too. Perhaps one day it will make for a funny story the little girl can tell her fiancé. That’s if she can find the photo 25 years from now.
My take is simple. A picture with Santa is not worth the hassle I witnessed the other night. I say this because I have never been in an adult’s home that featured a picture of the resident sitting on Santa’s lap. Now I’ll bet you have several precious photos that you’ve had retouched, blown-up and framed because they have special meaning for you. I’ll also wager that you don’t have one of you with some big, fat, oddly dressed stranger in red. Think back to your own picture with Santa. Remember the look on your face? Is that fear in your tear stained eyes or was it a side effect of the million watt flash bulb that just went off in your face?
What happens to these pictures anyway? You take them home and show them to grandparents who ooh and ahh over them, secretly wondering whether you can even trust the people who play Santa anymore. You display them on a countertop or bookshelf during the Holidays and then…you put them in a box with other photos. Listen, a few nights before my sojourn to the mall, I was wading through a huge box of old photos. Guess what I found? Right, I found several pictures of my son and daughter having the all important powwow with Mr. C. I even found one of me.
Considering how busy parents with young children are during the Holidays, I can’t imagine what possesses them to stand on a long line surrounded by crying kids. Some parents do find ways to avoid it. Recently a friend told me that he and his wife decided not to tell their children stories about Santa Claus. They felt it would be lying to them and they wanted to build trust right from the beginning. If you ask me they probably just didn’t want to wait around for the photos. The funny thing is their kids, all adults now, complain that their parents robbed them of the Santa experience. Go figure. I wonder if they were in line the other night with their little ones.
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Linkedin: Not for those that Fear Rejection
I have 182 connections on Linkedin which is a modest number when I compare it with some of my connections. Mark and Rick for example, each have more than 500 connections. On the other hand a few of my connections are linked to fewer than 5 people. I think the number of connections you have might depend on how well you handle rejection. When you join Linkedin you put yourself out there. Sure, Linkedin allows you to click on something that says “Add so and so to your network” as if it’s a foregone conclusion that your invitation will be accepted. Not so, I’m afraid. You can be left high and dry. Right now there are 14 people who haven’t accepted my invitation to connect on Linkedin. Two of them were just invited in the last 48 hours. The other 12 were invited…let’s just say a while back. I have high hopes for the two prospects I just invited to link into. Those in the “while back” category are definitely long shots.
My failure rate stands at 7.69%. If that is a typical result, Mark and Rick have at least 38 people ignoring them. Is that a lot of people? I don’t know but Major League baseball teams have just 25 players on their roster during the season.
As I review the list of people who have ignored me, I am struck by the fact that two of them will surely be reading this post. You know who you are but please don’t feel any pressure to explain yourself. Get this: I talk to one of the refusniks regularly on the phone. We exchange emails too. Why the snub?
Life was so much easier when I was a kid and the boy sitting next to me could whisper “Ya’ wanna be friends?” while the teacher wrote something on the blackboard. It was nearly impossible to refuse a face to face request. And, if by some chance the answer was no, the turndown wasn’t recorded in my permanent record the way Linkedin refusals are.
Regardless of it’s shortcomings, I like Linkedin. It boosts my ego to know that the links of my 182 connections, connect me to almost two million people. Surely if the need arises one of them will have a job for me.
One application I’m not crazy about is “Who’s viewed your profile.” At first I thought it would be fun to see who is curious about me. Mostly though, it’s the people that only hours ago agreed to be a connection. I suppose they’re just eager to see who I know. Sadly, the “Who’s viewed your profile” thing is really about the same as the most likely to succeed, prom queen, best hair, high school popularity thing. My profile has been viewed by 5 people in the last 30 days. Some things never change. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not actually in the job market right now. I mean if I was in demand, thousands of professionals would be checking me out, right? If only one-tenth of one percent of the 2 million links I have gave my profile a gander that would be 2,000 people! Five out of 2,000 is a percentage too small to mention.
Linkedin encourages members to share an article, an idea or even an insight. Here is an insight recently shared by a member: “The first 90% of project takes 90% of the time, the last 10% takes the other 90% of the time.” He’s right too. Yogi Berra couldn’t have said it better.
Although Linkedin doesn’t suggest telling fellow connections which city you’ll be visiting this week, what you’re reading or what kind of day you had, I notice a lot of members do just that. By the way, if you’re reading this post and you want to mention that fact to your connections I won’t object.
One thing I don’t fully understand is why people I’ve never met ask to connect with me. Is it possible that my network is that valuable? If that’s the case I wonder if I should charge a fee for the connection. Imagine what Mark and Rick could charge with their 500+ connections! I usually say yes when I’m invited because I don’t want to be rude and I don’t see the harm. Of course you never know what a stranger might be up to. I suppose I could go to Backgroundcheck.com to see whose invitation I’m accepting but I would feel a bit paranoid doing that. And, I’m not going to get to 500 saying no am I?
Copyright 2010, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
My failure rate stands at 7.69%. If that is a typical result, Mark and Rick have at least 38 people ignoring them. Is that a lot of people? I don’t know but Major League baseball teams have just 25 players on their roster during the season.
As I review the list of people who have ignored me, I am struck by the fact that two of them will surely be reading this post. You know who you are but please don’t feel any pressure to explain yourself. Get this: I talk to one of the refusniks regularly on the phone. We exchange emails too. Why the snub?
Life was so much easier when I was a kid and the boy sitting next to me could whisper “Ya’ wanna be friends?” while the teacher wrote something on the blackboard. It was nearly impossible to refuse a face to face request. And, if by some chance the answer was no, the turndown wasn’t recorded in my permanent record the way Linkedin refusals are.
Regardless of it’s shortcomings, I like Linkedin. It boosts my ego to know that the links of my 182 connections, connect me to almost two million people. Surely if the need arises one of them will have a job for me.
One application I’m not crazy about is “Who’s viewed your profile.” At first I thought it would be fun to see who is curious about me. Mostly though, it’s the people that only hours ago agreed to be a connection. I suppose they’re just eager to see who I know. Sadly, the “Who’s viewed your profile” thing is really about the same as the most likely to succeed, prom queen, best hair, high school popularity thing. My profile has been viewed by 5 people in the last 30 days. Some things never change. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not actually in the job market right now. I mean if I was in demand, thousands of professionals would be checking me out, right? If only one-tenth of one percent of the 2 million links I have gave my profile a gander that would be 2,000 people! Five out of 2,000 is a percentage too small to mention.
Linkedin encourages members to share an article, an idea or even an insight. Here is an insight recently shared by a member: “The first 90% of project takes 90% of the time, the last 10% takes the other 90% of the time.” He’s right too. Yogi Berra couldn’t have said it better.
Although Linkedin doesn’t suggest telling fellow connections which city you’ll be visiting this week, what you’re reading or what kind of day you had, I notice a lot of members do just that. By the way, if you’re reading this post and you want to mention that fact to your connections I won’t object.
One thing I don’t fully understand is why people I’ve never met ask to connect with me. Is it possible that my network is that valuable? If that’s the case I wonder if I should charge a fee for the connection. Imagine what Mark and Rick could charge with their 500+ connections! I usually say yes when I’m invited because I don’t want to be rude and I don’t see the harm. Of course you never know what a stranger might be up to. I suppose I could go to Backgroundcheck.com to see whose invitation I’m accepting but I would feel a bit paranoid doing that. And, I’m not going to get to 500 saying no am I?
Copyright 2010, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Business Travel Excitement...Not!
I do a lot of business travel. Last week I was in San Francisco. Two weeks ago I went to St. Louis and the week before that I was in Florida. Next week I’ll be in New Jersey. I know, travel to places like New Jersey may seem glamorous to people that don’t travel very often, but the sad truth is this: travel can be very boring. Mind numbingly so. Driving through traffic to the airport, taking your shoes off and emptying your pockets through security, and waiting for your flight to leave, eats up a lot of time. Then there’s the actual flight plus more hours spent in hotel rooms staring at the four walls.
Between you and me, the only way to get thru the drudgery of business travel is to be creative. For example, did you know there are way more good looking women in America than men? I know this because while I’m sitting at the gate waiting for my plane to arrive or sitting in my assigned seat watching other passengers board the aircraft, I rate each and every man and woman I see on a scale of one to ten. The latest scores, which I hope will be released by Popular Mechanics next month, clearly reveal the difference in looks between men and women. The average score for women of all ages is 8.9. The average score for men? Negative 6. Actually the men’s score would have been lower had I not given out a couple of 9s early one morning. When I foolishly mentioned my pastime to a couple of needy co-workers, they demanded good scores.
There are, of course other ways to beat back boredom, eating for example. Every airport has plenty of fast food restaurants and candy racks plus a store dedicated to local specialties. In Nashville, they offer Moon Pies and Goo Goo Clusters, delicious but not necessarily good for you. Apparently, not one city in America is known for its salads. Why is it we have such strict security forces in airports to protect us from terrorism in the skies but no nutrition police to protect us from too many calories in the food court? Judging by the food available in airports it’s probably better to be pulled out of line as a suspected terrorist so you can spend a few nights in jail. The food is better for you.
Sometimes when I’m really desperate, I roll the dice and engage a seatmate in conversation. Over the years I’ve calculated the odds of being held conversational hostage during a flight lasting 2 hours. Its even money you’ll be forced to pretend you’re listening to some guy named Len describing the novel he’s written in excruciating detail. And, by the way, if you happen to be seated next to a guy you rated a 2, don’t be surprised when he leans over to you after his third beer and makes a confession. “One of these days I’m gonna open the emergency exit door at 37,000 feet. Man that’d be cool” Hey, if the flight still has an hour or more to go I’d consider egging him on.
Of course if you’re a guy seated next to a woman you rated a 10 it doesn’t matter what she talks about. She says, “Oh I just love my cats! I have 74 of them. Would you like to know their names? There’s Fancy girl, Fluffy and Clytemnestra, so many! Trust me on this: A guy could be so allergic that a mere picture of a cat sends him to the emergency room, and he would say, “Wow, I love cats. Imagine 74 cats. I would love to meet them, especially Clytemnestra.”
Sadly it’s not that easy to engage people in conversation during a flight anymore. People travel today with all kinds of boredom suppression gadgets, Kindles I-pads. I love people who carry these tiny I-pods connected to Bose head sets the size of Minneapolis. Any bigger and they would have to buy two seats. In fact looking at what people bring on board these days is another way to fight tedium. The stuff people carry on board is getting really big and harder to cram into the overhead compartment. A couple of weeks a go I saw a guy try to board with his own single engine Cessna. He got turned down but only because the lady in the seat next to him brought her cats with her.
Copyright Len Serafino 2010. All rights reserved.
Between you and me, the only way to get thru the drudgery of business travel is to be creative. For example, did you know there are way more good looking women in America than men? I know this because while I’m sitting at the gate waiting for my plane to arrive or sitting in my assigned seat watching other passengers board the aircraft, I rate each and every man and woman I see on a scale of one to ten. The latest scores, which I hope will be released by Popular Mechanics next month, clearly reveal the difference in looks between men and women. The average score for women of all ages is 8.9. The average score for men? Negative 6. Actually the men’s score would have been lower had I not given out a couple of 9s early one morning. When I foolishly mentioned my pastime to a couple of needy co-workers, they demanded good scores.
There are, of course other ways to beat back boredom, eating for example. Every airport has plenty of fast food restaurants and candy racks plus a store dedicated to local specialties. In Nashville, they offer Moon Pies and Goo Goo Clusters, delicious but not necessarily good for you. Apparently, not one city in America is known for its salads. Why is it we have such strict security forces in airports to protect us from terrorism in the skies but no nutrition police to protect us from too many calories in the food court? Judging by the food available in airports it’s probably better to be pulled out of line as a suspected terrorist so you can spend a few nights in jail. The food is better for you.
Sometimes when I’m really desperate, I roll the dice and engage a seatmate in conversation. Over the years I’ve calculated the odds of being held conversational hostage during a flight lasting 2 hours. Its even money you’ll be forced to pretend you’re listening to some guy named Len describing the novel he’s written in excruciating detail. And, by the way, if you happen to be seated next to a guy you rated a 2, don’t be surprised when he leans over to you after his third beer and makes a confession. “One of these days I’m gonna open the emergency exit door at 37,000 feet. Man that’d be cool” Hey, if the flight still has an hour or more to go I’d consider egging him on.
Of course if you’re a guy seated next to a woman you rated a 10 it doesn’t matter what she talks about. She says, “Oh I just love my cats! I have 74 of them. Would you like to know their names? There’s Fancy girl, Fluffy and Clytemnestra, so many! Trust me on this: A guy could be so allergic that a mere picture of a cat sends him to the emergency room, and he would say, “Wow, I love cats. Imagine 74 cats. I would love to meet them, especially Clytemnestra.”
Sadly it’s not that easy to engage people in conversation during a flight anymore. People travel today with all kinds of boredom suppression gadgets, Kindles I-pads. I love people who carry these tiny I-pods connected to Bose head sets the size of Minneapolis. Any bigger and they would have to buy two seats. In fact looking at what people bring on board these days is another way to fight tedium. The stuff people carry on board is getting really big and harder to cram into the overhead compartment. A couple of weeks a go I saw a guy try to board with his own single engine Cessna. He got turned down but only because the lady in the seat next to him brought her cats with her.
Copyright Len Serafino 2010. All rights reserved.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Snopes.com is Good. Critical Thinking Helps
I’m worried about the good people of this country and our future. Here’s why: I regularly get emails with patently false information. These days it’s usually about some grave indiscretion committed by President Obama but sometimes it’s an editorial that Andy Rooney never wrote not to mention said, on 60 Minutes.
This morning I got one about the tragic shootings that happened in Fort Hood, Texas last year. Supposedly, when George and Laura Bush heard about the shootings they jumped in the car, unescorted, and drove to the Fort. When they got there, former President Bush asked for directions and was again offered an escort whereupon he told base officials to shut up and drove on to the hospital. The story went on to say that the White House asked the former President to leave. The story goes on to say that President Obama “merely held a photo session” in a gym at Fort Hood.
Okay, I understand a lot of people in this country are unhappy with the current occupant of the White House. Some may have excellent reasons to be unhappy. The election next week will probably hammer home the point. That’s not enough for some of us though. There is no shortage of people that will gladly spread misinformation about Obama and his administration. Certainly in my lifetime there is nothing new about that. Anyone who lived through Watergate understands that evil lurks in the hearts of many people. What frightens me is that there are so many people who are so unhappy with the current state of affairs that they will believe anything that supports their world view. And they are willing to blithely spread hideous stories which today are point and click easy to do. Whatever happened to critical thinking?
I am grateful for Snopes.com. It’s so easy to check stories that don’t sound right and you know what? My instincts are often right. And I am just an average guy with a tendency to be skeptical about what I read. Does anybody else think a little skepticism is healthy? Consider if you will a few points about the Ft. Hood story.
We live in an unstable world. We are forced to be very security conscious. Former Presidents have access to enormous amounts of sensitive information. What are the chances that President Bush, not once but twice, fails to take proper security measures? The reason we protect former Presidents is to ensure we don’t have an international incident that could result in the deaths of many. Think George Bush knows that? By the way, would George Bush tell a man or woman in uniform that offered to help to shut up?
In a highly politicized arena, knowing that former President Bush had been on the military base visiting wounded soldiers, is there any chance that President Obama would “merely hold a photo session?” The guy won an extremely hard fought primary and general election because he exercised formidable political skills.
The truth is that I didn’t really need to check snopes.com to see that the story being sent around was false. I firmly believe that most of us would see that. Common sense tells us that the heart of the story is fabricated. Yet, too many people won’t see that. Why do so many of us choose to major in minor things? We get lathered up over whether a mosque should be built near ground zero while we ignore the fact that educators in this country aren’t getting the job done. America’s students rank 21st in science and 25th in math compared with students around the world. Teachers need to do a better job and so do parents. The mosque issue may be important but where is the outrage over the state of education?
In the days before cyberspace, newspapers and even TV journalists behaved responsibly. They wouldn’t think of publishing something like the Bush visits FT. Hood story. Ethics, moral and business, forced them to walk the straight and narrow. Advertisers would not have stood for malicious propaganda. Readers may not have agreed with certain points of view but they could rest assured that the essential facts of any story were accurate. The Internet changed all that. Everybody can play now and it’s more or less a risk free game. Web sites, blogs and email are a demagogue’s dream. Unless otherwise bright people learn to accept the truth that just because it’s “in print” doesn’t mean it’s true, our liberty is at risk.
Copyright Len Serafino, 2010. All rights reserved.
This morning I got one about the tragic shootings that happened in Fort Hood, Texas last year. Supposedly, when George and Laura Bush heard about the shootings they jumped in the car, unescorted, and drove to the Fort. When they got there, former President Bush asked for directions and was again offered an escort whereupon he told base officials to shut up and drove on to the hospital. The story went on to say that the White House asked the former President to leave. The story goes on to say that President Obama “merely held a photo session” in a gym at Fort Hood.
Okay, I understand a lot of people in this country are unhappy with the current occupant of the White House. Some may have excellent reasons to be unhappy. The election next week will probably hammer home the point. That’s not enough for some of us though. There is no shortage of people that will gladly spread misinformation about Obama and his administration. Certainly in my lifetime there is nothing new about that. Anyone who lived through Watergate understands that evil lurks in the hearts of many people. What frightens me is that there are so many people who are so unhappy with the current state of affairs that they will believe anything that supports their world view. And they are willing to blithely spread hideous stories which today are point and click easy to do. Whatever happened to critical thinking?
I am grateful for Snopes.com. It’s so easy to check stories that don’t sound right and you know what? My instincts are often right. And I am just an average guy with a tendency to be skeptical about what I read. Does anybody else think a little skepticism is healthy? Consider if you will a few points about the Ft. Hood story.
We live in an unstable world. We are forced to be very security conscious. Former Presidents have access to enormous amounts of sensitive information. What are the chances that President Bush, not once but twice, fails to take proper security measures? The reason we protect former Presidents is to ensure we don’t have an international incident that could result in the deaths of many. Think George Bush knows that? By the way, would George Bush tell a man or woman in uniform that offered to help to shut up?
In a highly politicized arena, knowing that former President Bush had been on the military base visiting wounded soldiers, is there any chance that President Obama would “merely hold a photo session?” The guy won an extremely hard fought primary and general election because he exercised formidable political skills.
The truth is that I didn’t really need to check snopes.com to see that the story being sent around was false. I firmly believe that most of us would see that. Common sense tells us that the heart of the story is fabricated. Yet, too many people won’t see that. Why do so many of us choose to major in minor things? We get lathered up over whether a mosque should be built near ground zero while we ignore the fact that educators in this country aren’t getting the job done. America’s students rank 21st in science and 25th in math compared with students around the world. Teachers need to do a better job and so do parents. The mosque issue may be important but where is the outrage over the state of education?
In the days before cyberspace, newspapers and even TV journalists behaved responsibly. They wouldn’t think of publishing something like the Bush visits FT. Hood story. Ethics, moral and business, forced them to walk the straight and narrow. Advertisers would not have stood for malicious propaganda. Readers may not have agreed with certain points of view but they could rest assured that the essential facts of any story were accurate. The Internet changed all that. Everybody can play now and it’s more or less a risk free game. Web sites, blogs and email are a demagogue’s dream. Unless otherwise bright people learn to accept the truth that just because it’s “in print” doesn’t mean it’s true, our liberty is at risk.
Copyright Len Serafino, 2010. All rights reserved.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Multitasking: Hazardous to Your ...What was that?
I was thirsty. So I stopped at a convenience store this afternoon to get a bottle of water. I reached for my money and noticed immediately that I didn’t have as much as I thought I had. I could tell without looking there was money missing. How could that be? Only this morning I went to the bank, inserted a card, and punched a few numbers into the magic machine that dole’s out the amount I request. Happens every time.
So where was the money? I dispensed a twenty into the hands of Connie at Nucci’s Café at lunchtime. Okay, I remember doing that. Did I drop a small wad of cash, $120 to be exact in the process? Nothing to do but take a ride over to Nucci’s. I had to stop there anyway because I forgot the Italian ice I ordered for my wife. When Connie’s husband Steve saw me walk in he assumed that’s why I was there.
Of course I asked him if anyone turned in some money that might have been left lying on the floor in front of the counter where the cash register sits. He assured me that no one did. I couldn’t be sure, but the look on his face seemed to suggest that I was losing it. I mean who would turn in $120 in this economy right? Well, yes you would. I know that. But some people, the kind of people that aren’t reading this column, might be prone to keep the dough.
Flummoxed again, I went home and asked my wife if she saw my money. Perhaps it was resting comfortably on my desk or on the kitchen counter. No dice. I wondered about that to be honest. If she didn’t take it I was out of options. I am not a careless person. The money was only in my possession for a few hours. It’s not that she’s been known to rifle my wallet in search of a little mad money while I’m napping, but there is a first time for everything. I was getting desperate. $120 is nothing to sneeze at. As I weighed the merits of demanding that she take a polygraph test, something odd happened. I remembered what I did with the money.
Just before lunch I was sitting in my home office browsing thru my inbox and chatting on the phone with a colleague. The doorbell rang. It was Mark, the guy who cuts our grass. It seems that I owed him some money for services rendered over the last several weeks. So I paid him the $120 I owed him, handing him six crisp twenties fresh from the money machine at the drive thru.
Is it an age thing? I mean at 62 has it come to this? Not more than three hours after I paid Mark it seems I had no memory of the transaction. Now it’s true that I would rather forget that I’m paying someone to manicure my lawn. That was probably why I fell behind in my payments in the first place. But having no recollection of the transaction so soon after it occurred?
There may be another explanation: Multitasking. Yes according to David Meyer, a psychology professor at the University of Michigan, chronic high-stress multitasking also is linked to short-term-memory loss. And an article Sue Shellenbarger in the Wall Street journal points out that a growing body of scientific research shows that multitasking can actually make you less efficient and, as she said, “stupider.”
Now that’s just what I need at this time in my life. After all the years I spent studying, taking classes, not to mention all that reading, a simple thing like talking on the phone while I read emails, Twitter and eat a number 11 sub from Jersey Mike’s, is making me dumber. Worse, I probably won’t even remember that I was once at least a little bit brighter than I am now.
As if that’s not enough, Katy Read, writing for AARP, reports that information overload is tough on people. This is “especially so for people over 50 because normal brain changes – including small blockages to the brain’s blood supply and a drop in nerve signaling chemicals – can make it harder to tune out distractions.”
Apparently, even if I wanted to ignore the doorbell and hold on to my cash a little longer, I wasn’t capable of tuning out Mark. I had no choice but to pay him. I have only one thing to say. Would the colleague I was on the phone with call me please and identify yourself?
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
So where was the money? I dispensed a twenty into the hands of Connie at Nucci’s Café at lunchtime. Okay, I remember doing that. Did I drop a small wad of cash, $120 to be exact in the process? Nothing to do but take a ride over to Nucci’s. I had to stop there anyway because I forgot the Italian ice I ordered for my wife. When Connie’s husband Steve saw me walk in he assumed that’s why I was there.
Of course I asked him if anyone turned in some money that might have been left lying on the floor in front of the counter where the cash register sits. He assured me that no one did. I couldn’t be sure, but the look on his face seemed to suggest that I was losing it. I mean who would turn in $120 in this economy right? Well, yes you would. I know that. But some people, the kind of people that aren’t reading this column, might be prone to keep the dough.
Flummoxed again, I went home and asked my wife if she saw my money. Perhaps it was resting comfortably on my desk or on the kitchen counter. No dice. I wondered about that to be honest. If she didn’t take it I was out of options. I am not a careless person. The money was only in my possession for a few hours. It’s not that she’s been known to rifle my wallet in search of a little mad money while I’m napping, but there is a first time for everything. I was getting desperate. $120 is nothing to sneeze at. As I weighed the merits of demanding that she take a polygraph test, something odd happened. I remembered what I did with the money.
Just before lunch I was sitting in my home office browsing thru my inbox and chatting on the phone with a colleague. The doorbell rang. It was Mark, the guy who cuts our grass. It seems that I owed him some money for services rendered over the last several weeks. So I paid him the $120 I owed him, handing him six crisp twenties fresh from the money machine at the drive thru.
Is it an age thing? I mean at 62 has it come to this? Not more than three hours after I paid Mark it seems I had no memory of the transaction. Now it’s true that I would rather forget that I’m paying someone to manicure my lawn. That was probably why I fell behind in my payments in the first place. But having no recollection of the transaction so soon after it occurred?
There may be another explanation: Multitasking. Yes according to David Meyer, a psychology professor at the University of Michigan, chronic high-stress multitasking also is linked to short-term-memory loss. And an article Sue Shellenbarger in the Wall Street journal points out that a growing body of scientific research shows that multitasking can actually make you less efficient and, as she said, “stupider.”
Now that’s just what I need at this time in my life. After all the years I spent studying, taking classes, not to mention all that reading, a simple thing like talking on the phone while I read emails, Twitter and eat a number 11 sub from Jersey Mike’s, is making me dumber. Worse, I probably won’t even remember that I was once at least a little bit brighter than I am now.
As if that’s not enough, Katy Read, writing for AARP, reports that information overload is tough on people. This is “especially so for people over 50 because normal brain changes – including small blockages to the brain’s blood supply and a drop in nerve signaling chemicals – can make it harder to tune out distractions.”
Apparently, even if I wanted to ignore the doorbell and hold on to my cash a little longer, I wasn’t capable of tuning out Mark. I had no choice but to pay him. I have only one thing to say. Would the colleague I was on the phone with call me please and identify yourself?
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Dear Abby
I’ve been a Dear Abby reader for years. There’s something about other people’s problems and the usually good advice that captivates me. In Sunday’s paper though, I saw an item that really stunned me. A woman wrote to ask for advice about how she might steal her married friend of 15 years so she could have the new car, beautiful home and new truck that he and his wife enjoyed. Her exact words were, “I don’t love Bud, but I know him from way back and I want to break them up. Can you give me any advice on how to?” She signed it “Losing Out.”
Really? Are we that far gone that newspapers, desperate for paying subscribers, would print something that not that many years ago would be fit only for the National Enquirer? Is it a good idea to treat an inquiry like that as a legitimate problem? Are so many people having that same problem that Dear Abby was forced to deal with it? I can see where a lot of people might have a meddling in-law issue but I’m guessing there are zero women coveting access to me and my 2004 Yukon. Granted I’m not exactly a yardstick for such matters. Still, if such problems are worthy of newsprint, why not go all the way? Let’s give Dear Abby full rein to provide advice on every conceivable topic even if it involves illegal activities. Imagine the range of fascinating questions for our Dear, Dear Abby:
Dear Abby: I want a new car, top of the line, but I’m short of cash. Can you please tell me the easiest way to steal the car I want? What changes should I make to its appearance so I won’t be caught?
BMW Boy
Wait, here’s one I’m sure some of us have pondered. Dear Abby: My boss is making me work overtime so we can catch up on orders placed by customers. Although I agreed to work overtime when I was hired, I’m tired of working Saturdays. Can you suggest something I can put in her coffee that will put her in the hospital for the rest of the summer?
Gone Fishing
I think what really got me wasn’t even the question, as bad as that was. Listen: thousands of people write to Dear Abby every year. With the very complicated world we live in today, there can’t be a shortage of consequential inquiries can there? Why would Jeanne Phillips, who writes Dear Abby, select such a disgraceful inquiry? My first thought when I read it was that a couple of quick-witted teenagers got together and wrote the note just to see if they could slip it past Ms. Phillip’s watchful eye. Maybe that is exactly what happened but Phillips played it straight, sort of. She said, “You must not be a frequent reader of my column. In a case like this I think I’ll take a pass.”
Again, really? Did Ms. Phillips feel that she did well by taking the path of “I’m not going to dignify that question with a response?” If that’s true why did she submit it in the first place? Doesn’t an advice columnist have an obligation to offer meaningful advice to any inquiry that she chooses to submit for print? Let’s be honest here, a lot of people reading that question will not see anything wrong with it. Surely, some will consider it a valid inquiry. You might be thinking, “Anyone reading ‘Losing Out’s’ question would immediately recognize it as inane.” Quick, what did TV Guide report as the number 1 show on television? Correct, The Bachelorette, a show that Losing Out has probably applied for numerous times.
In the interest of helping Ms. Phillips, who I’ll bet is on vacation and is going to be chewing out someone when she gets back to work, here is my guest Dear Abby response:
Dear Losing Out: Since your friend appears to be the generous type why not just tell him exactly what you told Dear Abby except for the not loving him part? Maybe he’ll take pity on you, buy you dinner and a Buick Lucerne just for old time’s sake. And by the way, in case you haven’t heard, marrying for money is the hardest way to get it.
Okay, maybe I won’t quit my day job, but I would be a lot happier if Dear Abby and the newspapers that publish her column did their jobs. We deserve better.
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Really? Are we that far gone that newspapers, desperate for paying subscribers, would print something that not that many years ago would be fit only for the National Enquirer? Is it a good idea to treat an inquiry like that as a legitimate problem? Are so many people having that same problem that Dear Abby was forced to deal with it? I can see where a lot of people might have a meddling in-law issue but I’m guessing there are zero women coveting access to me and my 2004 Yukon. Granted I’m not exactly a yardstick for such matters. Still, if such problems are worthy of newsprint, why not go all the way? Let’s give Dear Abby full rein to provide advice on every conceivable topic even if it involves illegal activities. Imagine the range of fascinating questions for our Dear, Dear Abby:
Dear Abby: I want a new car, top of the line, but I’m short of cash. Can you please tell me the easiest way to steal the car I want? What changes should I make to its appearance so I won’t be caught?
BMW Boy
Wait, here’s one I’m sure some of us have pondered. Dear Abby: My boss is making me work overtime so we can catch up on orders placed by customers. Although I agreed to work overtime when I was hired, I’m tired of working Saturdays. Can you suggest something I can put in her coffee that will put her in the hospital for the rest of the summer?
Gone Fishing
I think what really got me wasn’t even the question, as bad as that was. Listen: thousands of people write to Dear Abby every year. With the very complicated world we live in today, there can’t be a shortage of consequential inquiries can there? Why would Jeanne Phillips, who writes Dear Abby, select such a disgraceful inquiry? My first thought when I read it was that a couple of quick-witted teenagers got together and wrote the note just to see if they could slip it past Ms. Phillip’s watchful eye. Maybe that is exactly what happened but Phillips played it straight, sort of. She said, “You must not be a frequent reader of my column. In a case like this I think I’ll take a pass.”
Again, really? Did Ms. Phillips feel that she did well by taking the path of “I’m not going to dignify that question with a response?” If that’s true why did she submit it in the first place? Doesn’t an advice columnist have an obligation to offer meaningful advice to any inquiry that she chooses to submit for print? Let’s be honest here, a lot of people reading that question will not see anything wrong with it. Surely, some will consider it a valid inquiry. You might be thinking, “Anyone reading ‘Losing Out’s’ question would immediately recognize it as inane.” Quick, what did TV Guide report as the number 1 show on television? Correct, The Bachelorette, a show that Losing Out has probably applied for numerous times.
In the interest of helping Ms. Phillips, who I’ll bet is on vacation and is going to be chewing out someone when she gets back to work, here is my guest Dear Abby response:
Dear Losing Out: Since your friend appears to be the generous type why not just tell him exactly what you told Dear Abby except for the not loving him part? Maybe he’ll take pity on you, buy you dinner and a Buick Lucerne just for old time’s sake. And by the way, in case you haven’t heard, marrying for money is the hardest way to get it.
Okay, maybe I won’t quit my day job, but I would be a lot happier if Dear Abby and the newspapers that publish her column did their jobs. We deserve better.
Copyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
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