All posts by Dale Connelly

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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Dear Dr. Babooner,

Against my better instincts, I went to a pet store and bought my daughter a mouse.

Delilah had been agitating for a rodent of some kind an frankly, Rats are too gross. But I had to get something and mice can be cute, if you squint. I justified this decision as an educational move when the store clerk told me this particular mouse had been in an experiment that recently made news.

It was all about exercise and the brain. “Exercise,” according to a NY Times report on the results, “does more to bolster thinking than thinking does.”

How can that be? If true, this makes our mouse a groundbreaking researcher!

My daughter named our mouse “Samson”, isn’t she brilliant for an 8 year old? And he has lived up to the name – an impressive physical specimen, he’s an exercising fool – Jack LaLanne with whiskers. I totally believe he was in that study and I’m absolutely certain that of all the mice, he was one of the extremely smart ones.

He picked up the exercise bug, that’s for sure. Samson climbs the sides of his cage like a character from Cirque du Soleil, charges through his plastic tunnel like a maniac, and jumps into his wheel and runs like a demon pretty much 24 hours a day. The squeak-squeak-squeaking of that damn wheel sometimes makes it impossible for my daughter to study, but she refuses to leave her room because she’s afraid the mouse will start to “feel lonely”. She says when she reaches a part she doesn’t understand she takes a break from the textbook and lies down in bed with pillows covering her ears.

Here’s the funny thing: She leaves the book open by his cage and she swears that when she comes back to finish her work, Samson explains it to her in a way she can understand.

“He’s amazing,” she told me. “WAY smarter than the teachers I have at school.”

Dr. Babooner, I think Delilah is imagining all this but I’m afraid to call her on it because it seems to work for her and I don’t want her to fail any of these important tests.

But it’s also possible that Samson is a truly miraculous mouse and is, in fact, helping Delilah with her homework. After all, he grew up in a laboratory! Who knows what kind of crazy chemicals he was exposed to in there! But if the mouse is tutoring her on math, who knows what other ideas he’s planting in her head? For instance, I believe mice are libertines when it comes to sex.

I’m torn between saying nothing, calling a doctor, or calling some TV stations.

Dr. Babooner, what should I do?

Sincerely,
Concerned Mom

I told “Concerned Mom” that this mouse is a gift – a practice run for later years when human charlatans will also try to impress her daughter with similar bombastic feats. Have a sit-down with Delilah and force her to take a clear-eyed look at her furry benefactor. What sort of teacher is he, really? If he knows so much, why is his main activity running forward inside a wheel that goes nowhere? Would he seem as smart if, perhaps, he got a haircut?

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

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Birth of the Bard

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Today is Shakespeare’s Birthday, we assume.
Three days hence the books note his baptism
Counting backwards experts all presume
For natal days, this one must be his’n.

Wrote sonnets and some pretty famous plays.
Penned some lines that surely are immortal.
With “bated breath” and other turns of phrase
that give us pause and cause enough to chortle.

No bigger star in scribb’ling has there been,
Nor likely will there be tomorrow.
All who write have lost ‘fore they begin.
Naught to do but read, admire and borrow.

What gift for Shakespeare’s birthday? But of course!
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

What’s your favorite line from Shakespeare?

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No Planet Left Behind

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Here’s a note that came in yesterday afternoon from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden, who knows the routine and the calendar at Wendell Wilkie High School much better than the teachers and administrators.

Hi Mr. C.

I’m sitting in study hall with nothing to do after finishing the MCA tests. That’s the Minnesota Comprehensive Assessments. They’re the tests we take to find out if we’re really the miserable losers our parents say we are, and also how bad our school is failing based on the rules for the No Child Left Behind Law.

I can tell you that law is definitely not working at Wilkie ‘cause I’ve been Left Behind, Kicked To The Side, Thrown To The Wolves, Pushed To The Curb and Tossed From The Train over and over again for so many years in a row now that school visitors pretty much always mistake me for the janitor.

Seriously, I’ve got a 5 day shadow by 5th hour every day. If I gained about 200 pounds I could totally pass for Mr. Lootanen.

But I wouldn’t want to be a school janitor. Cleaning up our school is the hardest job on Earth. Teenagers are gross. Me included. I just got caught dropping a Tootsie Roll wrapper on the floor and Ms. Flipping, our study hall monitor this hour, called me out on it. Actually, her name isn’t Ms. Flipping, that’s just what we call her because of how she reacts to things. Kinda dramatic. I couldn’t even defend myself because you know how slow your mouth gets when there’s a Tootsie Roll in there. I was helpless.

So anyway, she got steamed and said I should go online and find some resources and then write an essay based on my research about what I would do to clean up the planet for Earth Day, which is this Sunday. And then, she said, I would have to prove to her on Monday that I actually did something that was on the list.

The Earth is kinda big, so now I’m thinking maybe I’d be better off pretending to be Mr. Lootanen and trying to pick up here at the school.

But then I found this article at The Huffington Post that really makes it simple. According to the writer, I can take a hike with my family, (Somebody at home IS always telling me to ‘take a hike’) pick up litter in my neighborhood with friends, (I would have to get a totally different group of friends to try this one), come up with a recycling plan for the coming year, (I thought years just automatically recycled themselves – isn’t that how people like you get to be so old?) or join a larger public clean-up (my grandfather says there’s nothing clean about the larger public – that’s why he never goes out).

I was starting to feel a little desperate. I didn’t think I’d be able to do any of these things. But then I saw this last Earth Day idea: “Even if you can’t do any of the above – make sure you take some time to think about the importance of preserving our planet.”

Ahhh! That’s more like it! My life has been all about finding the simplest answer on a long series of multiple choice tests. There’s always an easy way out of having to do something, if you show some patience and look for it.

Yes, the planet is important, and preserving it is a good idea. If there were no planet, we’d just be floating free in space with no air or bicycles or cocoanuts – three things I would not want to have to do without.

Whew! Job accomplished for another year!

Your Earth Protecting Pal,
Bubby

What are you doing for Earth Day?

Songs

Old Soldiers

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This is the anniversary of General Douglas MacArthur’s farewell address, which included the catchphrase “Old Soliders Never Die, They Just Fade Away.”

Definitely not fading away here.

To my way of thinking, the line is more appropriate to describe the end of the perpetual Disc Jockey.
Dick Clark did just fade away, gradually vanishing like so many of the songs he promoted, the volume sliding down to an imperceptible nothing.

But for soldiers? I’m puzzled.

Why is just fading away any better or more appropriate for an old soldier than dying? Especially in a business where dying is such an ever present and immediate risk? We certainly know that young soldiers die – far too many of them. Why would old soldiers find any comfort in the prospect of a long fade? Or is this an expression of regret that they can’t go out in a blaze of glory like the young comrades they lost so many years ago? I don’t get the point. Soldiers? Anyone?

The famous line comes at the end of the speech, which was given to a Joint Session of Congress on April 19th, 1951.

“I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular barracks ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that old soldiers never die; they just fade away. And like the old soldier of that ballad, I now close my military career and just fade away, an old soldier who tried to do his duty as God gave him the light to see that duty.
Good Bye.”

The line comes from an old “barracks ballad”? I didn’t know that, and wondered if perhaps seeing the words to the ballad might shed some light on the sentiment. I didn’t find much on my first few tries with Google, but fortunately for me there’s Subtropic Bob, who writes a blog called “This Day In Quotes.”

Subtropic did some digging last year and managed to connect the quote to a hymn called “Kind Words Never Die”, which makes the case that kind words, sweet thoughts and human souls are eternal. Linking that idea to old soldiers was apparently a work of parody, and not a flattering one at that (what parody ever is?).

“Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die —
They simply fade away.

Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die —
Young ones wish they would.”

If this is actually the song MacArthur recalled, the proclamation about old soldiers sounds far from proud. But at the time he gave his speech, the General was looking back on a 52 year military career. It is entirely possible that this popular, poignant saying is actually a lyric lifted from a misremembered, cheeky song meant to mock the very same people who now shed a tear over it. The lesson for satirists – time wears away the sharp edges of your biting wit, and the joke is ultimately on you.

What would be a more modern version of MacArthur’s inadvertent transformation of a joke into into a poignant benediction? Imagine some long-serving college president made this comment as the final lines in a farewell speech …

“I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular dormitory ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that ‘in the end, I learned to bend, and did it their way.’ So now I close my career in academe, I say to you what is a man? What can I do? Open your books. Read chapter Two. And if it seems a bit routine don’t talk to me, go see the dean. They get their way. I get my pay. We do it … their way.”

What song lyrics would you lift for your Farewell Address?

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Squirrels Suspected in Holiday Rampage

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Header photo by William N. Beckon

During the quiet hours before a scheduled Easter morning candy-filled egg hunt last week, wild marauders apparently invaded a local backyard and literally crashed the party. At least two dozen brightly colored plastic eggs filled with wrapped chocolate candy and jellybeans were found cracked, smashed, bitten, clawed and broken open by unknown agents who may harbor a grudge against fake animals and pretend nature.

Chix Licken with a basket of ravaged plastic eggs

Battery-operated poultry impersonator Chix Lickin’ is pictured here with a portion of the carnage – a basketful of phony eggs wantonly invaded by what she calls “egg-sucking, bushy tailed candy hogs.” She says the attack was premeditated. “Not that they think all that much,” Lickin’ sniffed. “All the contents of the compromised not-really-eggs were completely fouled,” claimed the false fowl, furiously.

Her comments were echoed by Coco Hollow, a one-eared confectionary rabbit who is only visible in profile, and a squishy marshmallow hatchling simply named “Peep”.

“We are Easter Kitsch, modeled after natural things,” said Hollow, with a hint of pride, “but we take it to places nature is unable to go. That causes some resentment.”

Hollow is made entirely of chocolate and confesses to being “… unnatural in the extreme.”

A culprit poised for mischief

Peep, though fashioned from basic foodstuffs, is so saturated with chemicals she admits “I’ll live forever if I’m not eaten by someone who will be immediately disappointed afterwards.” This, she said, may indicate that the underlying conflict is related to a Natural Creature vs. Manufactured Product rivalry.

“They say nature abhors a vacuum,” Peep mused. “But I think nature hates plastic even more.”

“And loves chocolate,” added Hollow.

“It’s very complicated,” said Peep, sadly.

Squirrels: Social Misfits or Anarchists Bent on Overthrow of the Human Race?

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Caught Walking

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Yesterday’s Boston Marathon was one of the hottest on record, literally. Readings well into the 80’s led the event organizers at the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) to discourage participation by a particular class of athletes who had already registered to run. According to the Boston Herald:

Race organizers pleaded for runners to leave the 26.2-mile course to only the most experienced athletes. Those who have not met a qualifying time should bow out, the BAA said, warning the risk of running is “higher than normal.” “Only the fittest runners should consider participating,” the BAA said in a statement.

Our Goat Raising Community will certainly find some amusement in the notion of official pronouncements of any sort being issued by “the BAA.”

But what if, rather than telling people to stay home, the BAA had bleated that they slow down or even walk? If you had planned to run 26.2 miles, would it feel like a terrible defeat of some sort to walk it instead? Worse than not going at all?

Running is seen as active and worthwhile. Politicians “run” for office, they don’t “walk.” The only one I can think of who actually DID walk for office was the one-term Governor of Illinois, the appropriately named Dan Walker. Walker got a lot of attention in 1971 for walking 1,197 miles across his state to get the Democratic nomination against the formidable opposition of the Daley Machine in Chicago. The next time the Governor’s office was on the ballot, Walker lost in the primary to the Daley-backed candidate. Years later, he was charged with bank fraud and eventually plead guilty, serving 18 months in prison for irregularities that occurred after his time in office.

One could argue that he wound up in a familiar place for Illinois Governors – it just took Walker longer to get there.

But we do seem to have a thing about walking – there’s an assumption that it is the least desirable way to get someplace. Tom Vanderbilt, who has written volumes about our driving habits, just did a series in Slate last week about Walking In America. Surprise! As an activity, it’s just not that popular. In spite of efforts to promote it.

In a study back in 2003, it was determined that Americans averaged 5117 steps per day.

Seems like a lot, but it turns out we walk less than most other people, including those in Switzerland and Japan, two countries with a lot less walking room. Certainly the USA has more than it’s share of flat, wide open spaces where walking should be easy. But we’re just not that into it.

We’ve had several discussions here about walking the Superior Trail and the Appalachian Trail, and even one about the right musical tempo for walking. But what about walking as a way to get to the grocery store?

Is the built environment just too hostile to pedestrians, or is it that we don’t feel we have the time to walk someplace?

What kind of change would make it possible for you to walk more?

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Caught Looking

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We are being watched.

Webcams and security systems are catching all the activity in selected science labs, hotel lobbies, public plazas and convenience stores. If you walk into the scene, you’re part of the permanent record. You may say “I’m not important enough to spy on. I’m not doing anything WORTH watching.” Probably true. Nevertheless, any time you’re out of your home, there’s a chance you are on camera.

People who are “more important” than you may be behind some of those cameras, but don’t envy the V.I.P.’s. They are also under surveillance. In fact, one V.I.P. is probably more watched than anybody else on the planet. The President of the United States has highly trained experts observing him constantly. And though the Secret Service is supposed to be, well, secret … if you’ve seen a president – ANY president – you’ve seen his detail. The sunglasses, the earpiece, and the dour expression give it away. That, and the fact that they’re all clustered around the big cheese. The Secret Service also keeps an eye on everyone who comes near, so if you’ve seen the president, chances are good you’ve been seen as well, and sized up.

But now the tables have been turned and it’s the Secret Service being surveilled. Details still to come – but right now we’re on high alert. If a Columbian prostitute comes anywhere near that stern looking man in the dark suit, I may have to throw myself in harm’s way to keep something terrible from happening.

The lesson? No one is immune.

Perhaps you thought a humble Senior Citizen could stay out of the glare of the know-everything society, keeping to his mundane routine in an apartment building hidden away somewhere. But a new industry is springing up to keep track of our elders, tracking them as they move around their retirement cages, using sensors to note when they get out of bed, turn on the TV, go to the bathroom and make a meal.

There is a genuine and truly beneficial purpose to this sort of privacy invasion, especially in those cases where the person being monitored is all alone in the home. Were they to fall or otherwise become incapacitated, the interruption in their data stream might be enough to save a life.

But the fact remains – we’re all being watched … or CAPABLE of being watched at any time. Which brings us to the Hawthorne Effect. It’s a term business students come to know, based on a decades-old study of worker productivity at the Hawthorne Works, a Western Electric factory in the Chicago area.

Basically, people’s productivity improved during the study and slacked off once the study ended. The reason? People tend to respond when interest is shown in them. Because the workers knew they were being observed, every study-related change led to higher productivity. When the researchers stopped watching, a lull ensued.

Maybe we’re moving towards a world hyper-charged by the Hawthorne Effect, with everyone super-productive and on their best behavior! But what if I NEED a lull?

Back to our senior citizen whose movements are being remotely monitored in his home. Good thing, yes? But if you knew your daughter in San Francisco would get an e-mail every time you went to the bathroom, would you hold off on having that midday beer?

How do you respond to being watched?

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Lover Word

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Late in the day in yesterday’s comments section for the post “Word Lover”, Clyde had an interesting observation that some may have missed, so I’ll repeat it here:

True, there seems to be a missing word. “Master” is the logical choice, but the powerful connotations of that word really don’t line up with what we think of as “mistress” role. We have to think again.

For sheer economy, it’s hard to top “Misteress”. But I’m guessing most people wouldn’t catch the slight difference in pronunciation. The Urban Dictionary says the right word is “Manstress“. That’s better, but still wrong to my ear. I hear “Manstress” as your male friend who is agonizing to be around.

The commentators across the pond at Yahoo Answers in the UK and Ireland had some better ideas. I like “Histress”, “Consort” and “Kept Man”.

But still, none of these strike me as carrying the same quality of ownership as “Mistress”. As Clyde points out, that fact that a man HAS a mistress carries some added significance. Why doesn’t the mistress HAVE the man?

Some say the absence of a proper word for this relationship is the result of centuries of male domination – women haven’t possessed the power to play the same role in the relationship as a man does with his mistress. The fact that we’re talking about it now may indicate that times have changed enough to make the coining of a new word possible.

That means this is a moment of great opportunity!

I can think of at least one contemporary reference that may have enough unique strengths to carry forward as the new term for a man who is in an inappropriate relationship with a powerful woman who is not his wife. But I’m not sure we are really ready to hear this:

“That man isn’t her husband. Don’t you know? The rumor is she has a brodkorb.”

What makes a coined word or phrase catch on and become part of the language?

Poems

Word Lover

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Beth-Ann sent along this fascinating story about a French experiment to find out if baboons can recognize four letter words.

It turns out they can.

Shown a series of letter clumps such as BRUU, ITCS and KITE, the baboons were able to distinguish word from non-word about 75% of the time. The highest scoring baboon got it right 80% of the time.

Does that mean baboons can read? Probably not. After all, the best word-baboon still got 20% wrong. I think my job is safe.

But it does show that baboons are able to recognize patterns with some consistency. And that they will do just about anything for a wheat pellet. But baboons telling words from non-words is just a first step. Though they don’t know anything right now about putting sentences together, can baboon poetry be far behind?

Baboons knows what words is
Baboons knows words what ain’t
In tests baboons shows plenty brains
baboons got no poclaint.

Poclaint – that one be not a word
It did not get me treat
I know them patterns pretty good
And which werarrds is sweet.

Werarrds? Is just a pile of sticks
I not be muchh correct.
But what baboon kind be would me
if always so perfect?

Do you compare yourself to others, smarts-wise? If a baboon was a better speller than you, would that hurt?

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Wherefore Bart Thou?

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I just got another voluminous text from a friend without thumbs. I can only imagine the amount of time it takes him to write these!

Bart - The Bear Who Found a Smart Phone

Hey there. Bart here.

My old pals at the DNR sent out this press release that kinda ticks me off – all about “nuisance” bears. If any particular kind of critter deserves the word “nuisance” in front of their name, it’s NOT the bears. I’d explain just who I’m talking about but you already know I’m right.

The DNR gives us a long list of things that people are NOT supposed to do – things that supposedly encourage “nuisance” bears. I hate lists.

* Do not leave food outdoors from barbeques and picnics, especially overnight; coolers are not bear-proof.

Why do you make more food than you can eat? And yes, we know how to open your coolers! If you ate what we eat in springtime, you’d need something cold to wash it down!

* Replace hummingbird feeders with hanging flower baskets that are also attractive to hummingbirds.

What makes you think I don’t like pretty things? Bears aren’t barbearians!

* Eliminate birdfeeders or hang them 10 feet up and 4 feet out from the nearest trees; use a rope and pulley system to refill them and clean up seeds that spill onto the ground.
Where bears are a nuisance, birdfeeders should be taken down between April 1 and Dec. 1.

This is perverse. You’re punishing birds because I’m fat.
Have you no shame?

* Pick fruit from trees as soon as it’s ripe and collect fallen fruit immediately.

Greedy! Who has time to do this?

* Limit compost piles to grass, leaves and garden clippings; adding lime can reduce smells and help decomposition

Love the lime. And add tequila for a Compost Margarita!

* Clean barbeque grills after each use, and store them in a secure shed or garage away from windows and doors.

I have never seen a human clean a barbecue grill. And believe me, I’ve spent a lot of time in the shadows, watching.

* Elevate bee hives on bear-proof platforms or erect properly designed electric fences.

You’ll get on a ladder with an active beehive? If you’re THAT daring, might as well be sure the electric fence is plugged in before you start to put it up. I’ll definitely watch!

* Do not put out feed for wildlife (e.g., corn, oats, pellets, molasses blocks).

Molasses comes in BLOCKS? WANT!

Here we go with another whole dang summer of you trying to keep me from having fun eating stuff. Just remember – I was not the one who asked you to stay out of the woods, and I definitely did not ask you to come without your food. You’re perfectly welcome to bring it here if you want.

Really.

Most of the other stuff they say about keeping your distance from me is true. I’m kind of shy and will go away if you give me the chance. But if you’re coming to visit me, be a good guest. I’d like a hostess gift, please. In fact, Hostess makes great gifts. I love Twinkies! Now they come in Chocolate Creme!

Just as I feared the last time he wrote, Bart has developed a Twinkie habit. Dang! Sometimes we have to protect our friends from the bad things they love. On the other hand, it sure is nice to see their faces light up when you deliver the contraband!

Fill in the blank – “Friends don’t let friends ________.