All posts by Dale Connelly

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Bounce House

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Today’s post comes from Minnesota’s 9th District Congressman, representing all the water surface area in the state, the Honorable Loomis Beechly.

Beechly Uses The Smooth Lake Surface as a Teleprompter

Greetings Constituents, non-Constituents, All Pontoons in my District and all Ships At Sea,

I hope you all had a chance to watch the two political conventions over the past couple of weeks. I loved them both and after each one I wanted to vote for the party that had entertained me! That’s the way I am – I can’t help it. I think I share that tendency with most Americans.

We like the people we see on TV because they’re on TV and we’re not and we know that’s a Big Deal, even today when TV is not nearly as important as it used to be. A week’s worth of televised political speechifying that goes in one particular political direction does tend to have an effect on the viewing public, much in the same way a bunch of ads for Budweiser run over a short period of time will get people to buy more beer. It doesn’t much matter whether the product is any good – if it’s being talked up on TV people will respond. A large part of our economy has been built on this predictable effect.

So it is with the political candidates. Each one got a “bounce” in the opinion polls immediately following the convention.

Romney and the Republicans received a mild lift in terms of the electorate’s response in the few days following their shindig in Tampa, and Obama’s Democrats got an 8 point surge after the conclusion of festivities in Charlotte.

Like a small wake from a passing canoe, it appears Romney’s bounce passed quickly and faded to almost nothing by the time it reached shore. The Obama swell is bigger, and could be longer lasting. But will it take him all the way to election day? That remains to be seen.

But it makes me wonder – if having your gathering and its parade of loyal faces on TV assures even a small rise in the polls for each party, how long will it be before one of them decides to roll the dice and hold their convention, not two months ahead of election day, but during the week right before polls open?

Well why not?

We’re already messing with the voter laws, talking about putting an ID requirement in the Minnesota Constitution. The campaign season is too long – everybody knows that. And the big, big money comes out with a barrage of TV ads in the last few days before voting anyway! Why not move everything there?

In each case we already knew who the nominee would be – no surprise there if we wait. In fact there are no surprises at all at the political conventions anymore. There’s nothing to keep them from being held during the last week in October. And if they had done it like that this year, the Wednesday night speeches would have happened on Halloween!

Think of it.

The American people love Halloween. It is our own version of Mardi Gras, and we would embrace any political party that included a Halloween extravaganza as part of their convention. Wild costumes and elaborate make-up create great television images, and the spirit of the observance makes it logical for a candidate to literally demonize his opponent. Halloween night would be, for example, a great night to bring out Clint Eastwood talking to an invisible presence in an empty chair. Suddenly it all makes sense!

We the People have already shown that we have short memories. Why not truly take advantage of that and put on a show just before we have to decide? It works for American Idol and Dancing With The Stars. I believe this is where we are headed!

I wrote this all down as a blog post to share with you all so that you can remind me of it in four years. Otherwise, how will I remember?

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

I think Rep. Beechly has a terrible idea here that is so bad, it will probably come true. By 2020, look for the conventions to start migrating into October as Halloween and Election Day slowly merge. Boo!

What are your ideas for improving the electoral process?

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The Day The Music Arrived

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Today is Buddy Holly‘s birthday. He landed on the planet as Charles Hardin Holly in Lubbock, Texas on this date in 1936. He had a strange, short life that has been much chronicled since. I’m amazed at how listenable his music is even today. You have to admire anyone who could create such a lasting body of work in a few short years.

The video in today’s post presents a weird scene, very early in Holly’s brief live TV career. He had made his first appearance on American Bandstand just four months before, and now just a few days before the start of the new year 1958 he shows up in enemy territory on the Arthur Murray Dance Party.

The show was an infomercial for the Arthur Murray Dance Studios. Americans were learning to waltz and do Latin steps in the 1950’s, but rock and roll was an intruder. I suppose as a business strategy it was important for the show to include new music that younger audiences preferred, though it’s hard to imagine dancing to Buddy Holly’s music in the outfits the Murray cast is wearing as they provide a mostly stationary backdrop to his performance of “Peggy Sue.”

I particularly enjoy Kathryn Murray’s painfully polite introduction. She may as well have started with “I will explain why we are about to horrify you” and could have added “please don’t turn the channel” after every sentence.

A motherly “and it’s good for you” would have been an appropriate finish.

What do you say when you know you are just about to disappoint someone?

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A Look Behind the Curtain

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My father has always been the kind of guy who wants to know how things work. When I was growing up I recognized the basement as a place where weird tools were kept and mysterious electronic boxes hummed in the dark. The corners were packed with various gadgets and implements that my mother called “junk”. Whatever purpose had caused them to be brought into the house, it was long forgotten. The best policy for a kid was not to touch things unless directed to do so. But if you wanted to kill a few hours, all you had to do was ask “what’s that”? Explanations were free and complete.

Through that question-and-suffer process I discovered I don’t have the necessary patience to know very much about anything. That’s why I went into the uninformed commentary business – we bloggers and pundits only have to figure out a plausible angle to get our work done.

And really, it doesn’t have to be all that plausible.

Thank goodness there are scientific researchers who are willing to pay closer attention to stuff, especially the debris collecting in the margins. Just yesterday a series of papers were published that upended what we’ve thought for years about how human traits are controlled.

To quote the New York Times story:

“The human genome is packed with at least four million gene switches that reside in bits of DNA that once were dismissed as ‘junk’ but that turn out to play critical roles in controlling how cells, organs and other tissues behave.”

And by “behave,” we mean “badly”. Complex diseases appear to be influenced by the throwing of hundreds of these gene switches. All that remains is to figure out which levers cause which things to happen. Not a simple task by any measure, but this work by hundreds of researchers in dozens of labs around the globe will have amazing and long lasting scientific and medical effects.

All because they had the patience to investigate the junk in the corner.

When has a closer look paid dividends?

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Fact Chucker

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Dear Dr. Babooner,

My 7 year old son Jimmy has a problematic relationship with the truth.

He simply cannot leave a fact un-tortured, particularly if it implicates him in some kind of wrongdoing. Whenever we say he has done something, Jimmy denies the charges.

But that’s not the worst of it.

He also takes facts that dispute his claims of innocence and he re-imagines them as evidence in his own defense. When we challenge this mis-interpretation of reality, Jimmy goes on the attack and then retreats to a place of victimhood, saying we don’t listen to his arguments because we’re against him.

For example, last week we docked his allowance $5 to help pay for the repair a lampshade he had damaged while playing Frisbee in the house – an activity that is strictly forbidden. Jimmy immediately went into defensive mode, claiming that we had dramatically increased his taxes.

We pointed out that we were simply asking him to pay his fair share of the cost of rectifying a bad situation that diminishes us all (the bare bulb makes the living room appear very much like a gulag), and he called us socialists who are bent on stealing his wealth so we can throw it away on overpriced furnishings.

I offered that Jimmy would have no “wealth” without us, and he became very, very upset and called us “wards of the state.” My husband almost had a stroke and said if anyone in our house was a “ward of the state,” that would be our son, since we pay for the infrastructure that supports his very survival.

Jimmy then argued that he was, in fact, a “job creator,” because by knocking over the lamp and smashing the shade, he made work for the lampshade mender, whereas we did nothing for the economy but simply “handed money out and made demands,” like a branch of government.

I have never seen my husband’s face that particular shade of crimson.

Jimmy then pointed out that the Frisbee is something he purchased with his “earnings”. If we were going insist on penalizing him for utilizing this capital expenditure, the long term effect on the economy would be dire. He would have less incentive to by more Frisbees, since we seem bent on enforcing these unenforceable rules and regulations. The only logical choice for him would be to stop all his expenditures until the uncertainty subsides.

Sigh. We caved and took on the whole cost of fixing the lampshade but I’m concerned that he’s now learned to argue his way out of a bad spot and to never, ever accept responsibility for anything.

I’m not sure if he gets these embarrassing tactics from Republicans or Democrats, but I have noticed whenever we simply assert our authority because he’s only seven and we are, in fact, “the boss of him”, he asks to see a photo ID to be sure we are not just some creative and mischievous strangers determined to cause havoc.

Dr. Babooner, I’m concerned for Jimmy’s future when I see him willfully misinterpret the truth to press his own advantage. But perhaps I’m overdoing it. He’s only 7 and there’s plenty of time for him to outgrow this contentious behavior. Isn’t there?

Sincerely,
Flummoxed in Fridley

I told Flummoxed that Jimmy could very well outgrow this fact-twisting phase, but she should hope he doesn’t! Political operatives in both parties are paid very well, and his ability to toss a fact so far away from it’s starting point that it appears to be a reverse of itself is a talent rivaling that of the greatest Olympians. Jimmy will do well in the Brave New World if he manages to keep his hubris.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

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Big Weekend for Wild Animals

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods. His message has been translated from its original language, Ursus Textish.

Yo. Bart here.

Yes, I can stream videos, but it does not make me happy.

This is it – a big weekend for us in the woods. The tourists and vacationers are getting their last licks in before they have to go back to school or get serious about their work. Four-wheelers are roaring through the forest, Jet skis are buzzing across the lake, and half-eaten bags of Doritos are everywhere.

It’s almost like there is some primal frenzy that takes hold of your species, to play and thrash about wildly in the final hours of your imagined freedom, before everything around you changes.

I would sympathize, but starting today I’ve got my own problems to think about. Things will get quiet pretty fast after this.

Before long the cycle starts all over again. If I’m lucky.

But this is not a complaint. I can take care of myself. Or at least I can take cover. I know that other animals have it much worse than I do. Ferrets, for example, and parakeets. Circus bears. And house cats.

I see that there was just a gathering down in Minneapolis where thousands sat on a hillside and watched images of house cats being tormented by vacuums and metronomes and the bleak reality of their own confinement. And this was considered entertainment for the people! They voted on which episode of feline exploitation they enjoyed the most.

That’s sick.

The winning entry is extra sad, but I hear that people laughed. Out loud.

If you search for “bears” on You Tube, what you get is even bleaker. Mostly it involves dumpsters, trampolines, salmon and hairy men.

Very discouraging.

It makes me glad I’m still free, even though I’m spending far too much time playing with this phone. When will the battery run out? I’m afraid to put it down.

I guess maybe I have already been trapped, and simply don’t know it.

Your Buddy,
Bart

I don’t know if this is a tongue-in-cheek entry by Bart or not. He has a pretty big tongue and not that much cheek, so I’m guessing the stress of the Labor Day weekend is getting to him. But if the unfortunate tale of Henri gives some fresh perspective to a bear in the woods, what’s the harm in that?

How will you spend the big weekend?

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Space Sugar!

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Yes, another blog post that is sugar-centric!

On the heels of Beth-Ann’s Ice Cream conquest at the Minnesota State Fair, scientists now say they have found sugar in space. Another cold and sweet curiosity, just out of reach. Or to be more exact, 400 light years out of reach, in the gas surrounding a young star called IRAS 16293-2422. I’ll admit it didn’t top my list of potential destinations before today, but now humans have a good reason to go there.

Yes, of course we already have sugar here. Plenty of it.

But sugar from space! That’s special.

And anything that’s desirable AND special will draw a crowd with ready money – funds set aside by the wealthy for the purpose of distinguishing themselves from ordinary folks. That’s how we got Audis and Rolexes.

And being able to say you top your cereal with Space Sugar – that’s the sort of thing James J. Hill could build an empire on!

The one mystery that remains – where did the galactic sugar come from?

When have you gone out of your way for something sweet?

The Baboon Congress

Swing Voters

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Today’s guest post comes from Beth-Ann.

In case you missed the blog yesterday, or the local newscasts, Mini-sota Donut Ice Cream was named the winner of the Kemps Hometown Flavor contest in a very close decision.

Folks who sampled the 2 flavors at the Fair voted for the Rah Rah Rhuberry. On-line voters picked donuts so it came down to the celebrity judging. After the announcement I learned that while last year’s contest was a landslide, this year’s was a dead heat and even the online/Facebook voting was close.

It is obvious to me that the swing voters were baboons! How appropriate is that? I am glad that I did not pander to the demographic with a banana flavor or a goat’s milk base to the ice cream.

Seriously, I am very grateful for all the votes, your enthusiasm, and your indulgence while I prattled on. The experience was a little outside my comfort zone but it was made easier by the presence of family and friends. It was so fun to look up and see Linda and BIR representing the trail and smiling with encouragement.

When have you been involved in a very close contest?

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Roadside Attraction

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Today’s post comes from Wally, of Wally’s Intimida, home of the Sherpa Sport Utility Vehicle.

I give up!

As a salesman, I’ve tried to stay neutral about government so as not to drive away potential customers, but with this latest gas mileage move from the anti-SUV Obama administration, I’m declaring my political allegiance to anybody who is not a socialist dictator bent on destroying everything that is truly American about the American Car Industry.

And by “truly American”, I mean cars that are huge, stylish, luxurious, indulgent and wasteful. In other words, the Sherpa from Intimida. A landscape-altering vehicle designed to be the ultimate in extravagant travel, the Sherpa’s only understatement is its catch phrase – “It’s a mighty big car!”

That doesn’t even begin to describe it.

But the new decree that auto fleets will get 54.5 mpg by 2025 is out of reach for the Sherpa, which gets 5.45 mpg right now. Maybe we could get a decimal point variance? I don’t think so! Big Government is on a mission to ruin Big Vehicle by forcing everyone to drive a Chevy Volt.

So be it. But I don’t believe Americans will ever want to give up the thrill of sitting high in the driver’s seat of a car so massive, it towers over the very road it drives on. That’s why I’m now taking ground-floor partners in an ambitious new investment scheme to retrofit and re-purpose my incredibly backed-up inventory of Sherpas as mobile hotels.

I’m calling them SherpINNS.

Imagine it – SherpINNs lining the highway in every town along the interstate. For a modest fee you’ll be able to spend a night in the outrageous car you once might have driven from here to Poughkeepsie. We’ll put the king size bed where the driver’s position was and install a hot tub in the back seat. And all the usual Sherpa amenities will stay in place – the exercise room, observatory, the bowling alley, etc.

An America ruled by those who want its people to travel like the French will need lots of luxurious waysides to help it remember its greatness. Join me, won’t you? The initials S.U.V. will soon stand for Sorta Upscale Vacation. Coming to an access road near you!

Still Devoted to the Sherpa,
Your friend,
Wally.

Actually, Wally might have a good idea here. Spending the night in a quirky motel sounds like the sort of thing we Americans would enjoy – especially if there’s as much MO in the motel as you’ll get when the building itself is on four wheels. By re-classifying them from “vehicles” to “lodgings”, Wally might stand a chance of dodging the 2025 mileage requirements. But is he ready to install egress windows and smoke detectors?

Describe your stay in a memorable roadside inn.

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A Riveting Romp Of A Read!

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Todays post comes from Trail Baboon’s living and loving correspondent, a man who is a bottomless well of wellness, B. Marty Barry.

I was scandalized … SCANDALIZED! … to read this NY Times article about the for-pay book review business. It turns out there are people who will say nice things about books in online reviews without really reading those books!

They do this as part of a financial arrangement to “legitimize” the writer in the eyes of potential readers. This is one of the few places left in the world where journalists can make a little money – inventing the kind of promotional blurbs they used to disdain! Oh how far we have fallen!

Each One is a Shattering Work Of Genius!

Normally I’m all in favor of praise, but I think this is a very dangerous trend for everyone who might venture into the unregulated internet looking for a little validation. And we are all seeking some of that – the sweet nectar of positive comments! As one of the “experts” in the Times article said, “Nearly all human beings have unrealistically positive self-regard.” But it is fragile and needs constant support.

Before long, it won’t be just book reviews. It will be personal remarks of all kinds that are for sale. Such as:

“Clyde is a perceptive man – a genius and a scholar who is under-appreciated by those who could most benefit from his wisdom – the indifferent mob that cannot see greatness when it is in their midst.”

And …

“Barbara may physically be in Robbinsdale, but her intellect knows no bounds and her influence ought to be valued by the famous and the mighty. There is nothing beyond her understanding, and no problem that would not yield to her commonsense analysis.”

I say these things from the heart, but a person with very little writing talent could invent such compliments in minutes, and you the reader would be none the wiser.

I feel personally and professionally threatened by this. As a therapist, I have to help my clients see themselves clearly by guiding them through a discussion of their good qualities and some of their habits that are, quite frankly, rotten. But why would anyone seeking self-knowledge come to me for the brutal truth when they could just as easily go to a professional flatterer for a comfortable lie?

Of course the truth is much more useful than empty praise in the long run, just as brussel sprouts are better for you than potato chips, but guess which has the most shelf space at your local supermarket? And for that matter, how can I even believe the positive things I hear about brussel sprouts? Maybe someone is building them up for a financial reward.

I’m afraid this all may lead to a global outbreak of Midwesterner’s Syndrome – an infectious condition where the brain cannot accept a compliment, but must always, ALWAYS give credence to the most negative available assessment because it feels true.

Imagine it. Lutheran farmers, everywhere.

I’m not feeling very optimistic at the moment. But please don’t try to cheer me. I want to believe you, though I’m pretty sure I can’t.

Can you give us a few kind words for the dust jacket?

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Lost In Space

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It’s a shame that we lost Neil Armstrong over the weekend, but I’m grateful that he was the one chosen to be the first to set foot on the moon. Imagine if, instead of the quiet, private Armstrong, a shameless braggart like Donald Trump had been first off the LEM. There’d have been no tranquility at Tranquility Base. Or should I say Trump Crater?

But Trump wouldn’t have had the patience to do the necessary training, nor the calm judgement to properly command that mission – “Aldrin, you’re fired! I mean, help us blast off here and get back to Earth, but then … you’re fired!” And of course the famous first quote would have been quite different.

“That’s one small step for man, but one giant leap for me, Donald Trump! No one else can ever be the first man on the moon. I Win! I’ll buy and sell hotels and casinos and make and lose fortunes, but this, I will own forever, and you’ll never stop hearing me talk about it!”

Neil Armstrong’s self portrait on the Moon, 1969.
Image courtesy of NASA

But then the statement we heard from Neil Armstrong was not exactly what he meant to say. Of all the gloves, nuts and bolts and bits of debris and flotsam that Americans have left in space in the course of our efforts to reach the moon, the particular item that interests me most is Neil Armstrong’s dropped “a”. When he stepped off the LEM an on to the moon’s dusty surface, people all around the world heard him say “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Later, Armstrong would insist that he actually said “That’s one small step for A man, one giant leap for mankind.” He acknowledged when listening to recordings made of his first moments on the moon that he didn’t hear the “a”, but confirmed that he said it. Or at least that he intended to say it.

I believe him, because adding an “a” before “man” is the only way his historic statement can make sense. Without it, he and mankind are essentially the same. And it suits this humble fellow that he would want to make a point of it – he is simply A man taking a step. The lasting achievement belongs to everyone.

Analysts have suggested the technology of the time may not have been good enough to capture a sound (35 milliseconds!) as brief as that singular “a”, but I prefer to believe that Armstrong’s indefinite article bounced off Earth’s invisible humility filter, and it is still drifting in space.

On a clear night you can still see it up there, tumbling.

Vowel fly, vowel high,
first vowel stuck in the sky.

Armstrongs ‘A’- his noble try
to let us know he’s just a guy

When have you had a crucial part of an important message lost in transmission?