Dear Dr. Babooner,

I’m happy when the Olympics come around, and also very, very sad.

I could have been on the U.S. Water Polo team at the Montreal Games in 1976. I had devoted myself to the task of becoming good enough – spending eight hours a day at the public pool in my town, pushing the other kids out of the way, taking their pool toys and throwing them out on the deck. I know it seems mean but these are the skills that lead to success.

Water polo is a surprisingly aggressive sport.

By the time the tryouts came along, I was toned and fit and fearsome. And things weren’t as systematic and regimented as they are today. There were no Water Polo Academies or WPL superstars saturating the gossip culture with their post-match escapades. It was a much simpler time when a common bully from the neighborhood pool could make the team, and I did!

I thought I was going to the Olympics! But I was wrong – our team was divided by infighting and several of the key players struggled with chlorine rashes. We didn’t make it past the qualifying round, and when the athletes marched in Montreal, I watched it on the black and white TV over the snack bar back at our local pool, crying while I took french fries off the plate of the kid next to me and dared him to complain about it.

I considered trying out for the 1980 team but my parents insisted that I get a job and then came the Moscow boycott. By the time the 1984 games came along, I had lost the kick in my legs and was useless in the pool.

I thought of offering myself as team equipment manager just to be in the arena, but water polo suits are so tiny there’s really not much there to manage. It involves carrying a suitcase, and anyone can do that. The coach had a girlfriend with a free hand, so my career was over.

Dr. Babooner, how can I learn to enjoy the Olympics, when all I can think of is What Might Have Been?

Sincerely,
Still Treading Water

I told Still Treading Water that he might be elderly, but he sure hasn’t grown up. He needs to get over himself and let go of the past. Participating in the Olympics is special exactly because not everyone gets to do it. Still’s failure to qualify actually adds to the prestige of The Games, though not in the way he expected.

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

Today’s post comes from Trail Baboon’s Living and Loving correspondent and a man who is a bottomless well of wellness – B. Marty Barry.

Greetings to all my friends struggling against the disappointments that life sometimes brings us – but especially to those 21 select attendees whose feet were burned at a “fire walking” event by motivational speaker Tony Robbins in California last week.

Thousands got charged up by Robbins’ talk inside the convention center, and some then went to a park outside where twelve beds of hot coals had been set up and stoked to more than a thousand degrees to test their individual power, focus and resolve!

Finding the nerve to make your feet go where your brain says “OH MY GOD NO DON’T DO THAT!” is a key step in the “Unleash the Power Within” process that has made Robbins rich.

To quote Robbins’ website, the fire walk is a way to “discover how to break the unconscious fears that are holding you back. Once you start doing the impossible (or at least what you thought was impossible), you can conquer the other fires of your life with ease.”

Many successful participants say the fire walk is a “powerful moment” that helps them transform their lives.

Some academics say successful fire walking is a matter of physics, not attitude.

But for those 21 who were treated for burns and the 3 who went to the hospital, unfortunately no choice remains now but to be completely and forever ruled by those very same unconscious fears that they hoped Tony Robbins would banish.

I just want those people to know that living a fear-based life built around the expectation of failure is certainly no picnic, but it is possible to go on. Many, many people are guided by fear and still manage to lead productive lives. In fact, I have many clients who suffer from Fear Of Everything Syndrome, or F.O.E.S.

F.O.E.S. is not a clinically recognized condition. I made it up one day after I attended a Tony Robbins seminar and he convinced me that I was being held back by my reliance on other people to decide what maladies I’m allowed to treat. Once I started talking to my clients about F.O.E.S., many of them identified with it immediately. I didn’t even have to write a detailed explanation of symptoms – as soon as I said “Fear of Everything Syndrome”, they said “I’ve got that.”

Fear can be good and constructive and useful. It can preserve foot health, for one thing. Supremely confident Wall Street traders and investment bankers might have benefitted from an extra dose of fear back before the housing bubble burst. And fearful people also manage to achieve great things even though they are too frightened to get out in front and lead the parade. You’ve heard of being in the right place at the right time? Sometimes that right place is behind the crowd and the right time is after everyone has moved on!

Some of the world’s most accomplished people are terrified inside. We won’t name any names because they’d probably sue us for defamation – another instance where fear of losing all my money is probably a good thing – but next time you watch a rock star perform on TV or read about a sports star making millions or listen to a politician or pundit opine, imagine that they are not as confident as they seem and that their brains are really just a quivering mass of intimidated Jello.

It will make you feel better about yourself. At least you’re not facing the possibility of some steep losses in personal injury lawsuits, like Tony Robbins!

And remember, even though you may be a total loser and I’ve never, ever met you, I still care about you very, very much.

Only B. Marty Barry would see a case of almost four dozen smoldering feet as an opportunity to drum up some business. Perhaps he’s on to something, though. Promoting Fear Of Everything as a guiding principle to transform your life has probably not been tried before.

When has fear been a good thing for you?

There is no single Dr. Babooner. We are ALL equally good at dispensing advice.
Or at least we’d like to think we are!

Dear Dr. Babooner,

OK, it’s been super hot lately and the air conditioning in the office where I work has been spotty. So I’ve been trying to dress kinda casual. We have this clothing code that calls for business attire, but its a big office and people don’t get too fussy about it, so I figured there was some wiggle room.

I made the switch from dress shirts to polo shirts without a problem and once that worked, I began wearing sandals that cover most of my foot a couple of days a week. I sit in the back of the room at a cubicle all day long so for the most part, people don’t have to see my body – just my head and shoulders. And if I slouch, they see even less that that, so I’ve been peeling off the polo shirt on some of these endless afternoons just to give myself something to look forward to. That’s how I was able to start wearing shorts. I bring them in a bag and once I slide far down in my chair, I can change below the desk.

Lucky I’m flexible.

It’s gone so well, I’m wondering if there are any limits at all. I’d kinda like to see how far I can go. I’m not talking about total nudity – that would be creepy. But I’d like to be able to say I worked at a desk job where I wore a loin cloth one summer.

Kinda funny, eh? But would it be so wrong?

Daringly,
Tarzan of the Cubes

I told Tarzan that yes, it would be wrong on many levels. Courtesy to co-workers is the main concern – he didn’t say if his body was a treat for the eyes but frankly, how could it be? The odds in America today are heavily stacked against this possibility. And even if he was externally attractive all over, there could be resentment from office mates who would also like to dress down, but lack the nerve.

And most people simply don’t own a decent loin cloth.

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

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

Greetings, Constituents!

I have been pressured by some of you to make a formal statement regarding Rep. Michele Bachmann’s recent charge that Islamists have an undue amount of influence at the highest levels of the administration.

The people who want me to say something about it have noted that other members of Congress have already denounced her as a lazy and careless alarmist who is not interested in the truth, but will lunge for the opportunity to repeat any piece of petty balderdash that demeans another person as long as it supports the flawed narrative she’s trying to sell the American people.

But of course I would never criticize another member of Congress so harshly, even if a genuine war hero like Senator John McCain is providing cover for me. I have made a pledge to myself to not be nasty or judgmental. These are hard things for a Congressman to not do, but I’m committed to avoiding them.

In keeping with that core value of mine, I will decline the opportunity to say incendiary things like “she’s raving mad,” or “this smacks of McCarthyism.”

The McCarthyism claim is one I particularly will not make, because even a single mention of McCarthy can be quite damaging to a person’s reputation. Not only that, but every additional reference to McCarthy makes it worse. In fact, the more McCarthy’s name is mentioned in close proximity to any member of Congress (not just Michele Bachmann), the deeper the hole that’s dug, McCarthy-wise. Some think McCarthy was misunderstood and wasn’t all that bad, really. But putting McCarthy’s name alongside someone like Michele Bachmann’s, like Bachmann = McCathy, is simply wrong, and I won’t do it.

So much of what goes on in Washington DC today is like this – all a big fuss about trying to catch someone saying something that’s indefensible. This game of “gotcha” is an enormous waste of time on both sides of the aisle, and I’m proud to be the sort of Congressman who won’t involve you in such obviously partisan quarrels.

Instead, you can count on me to be your Representative of midwestern fairness and decency in Washington, DC. I will continue to resist the temptation to say provocative things about my opponents, and I will be totally transparent with you about the despicable charges I am being urged to make, but won’t.

Your most decent and humble servant,
Hon. Loomis Beechly

Hmmm. Sounds like the Congressman is trying to avoid getting muddy by denying that he is doing what he is doing while he is doing it. But most of the district (all the water surface area in the state) is built on mud. Will the 9th Districters buy it?

How do you feel about mud?

Yes, it appears this is shaping up as a week full of animal stories.

Yo, Bart here.

So, when I look for news about the things “my kind” are doing in human society, I get way too much stuff about shootings and mailings and tranquilizer guns. It’s depressing. Can’t we just all get along?

Then there’s this story from the San Gabriel Mountains near Los Angeles, which I guess is a long ways away from here. A family of bears taking a dip in some guy’s pool. If you’re like me, when you read the story you’ll think “so what”? He lives on four acres on the edge of a National Forest. It was the middle of the afternoon. Why shouldn’t the local bears go for a swim? Things get hot, and if you had to entertain two cubs you’d be desperate for any kind of diversion, especially if it involves splashing and thrashing and maybe, if you’re lucky, salmon.

Or at least some fun pool toys to chew on.

I’m glad the bears were gone by the time the police showed up. Nothing ruins a fun afternoon like another one of those miserable tranquilizer darts. A sharp stinging pain and suddenly you’re waking up in some part of the forest you’ve never seen and you have to learn all over again where it is that people dump their trash. Bummer. Life is too short.

But this is the sentence that really got me.

Black bears were introduced into the San Gabriel Mountains in 1933, the descendants of 11 “troublemakers” transported from Yosemite National Park.

So there’s a whole tribe of bears out there with “troublemaker” in their DNA. Profiled early by the police and destined to be on the wrong side of the law forever! Oh, the romance of being in a group of outcasts – to know that you have a role to play in the world and it’s all about making havoc!

I’m a pretty well behaved bear, but when it comes time to hibernate this year, I’m going to spend those months dreaming about being a San Gabriel Rowdy, skinny dipping in isolated swimming pools and making the suburbanites mad!

Your Buddy,
Bart

If you had to be a criminal, what sort of criminal would you be?

New Brighton, MN – July 10, 2012

In yet another startling example of the threat to personal health and safety posed by careless posting of half-baked opinion and so-called “humor” on the internet, a Minnesota blogger was devoured by a group of angry house cats early Tuesday morning.

Dale Connelly, author of the not-as-popular-as-he-thinks “Trail Baboon” blog, published an entry on Monday that included some disparaging remarks about felines. The entry in the six-days-a-week blog revolved around an earlier story that appeared in mainstream media regarding research that indicates over-exposure to cat litter could lead some people (but especially Danish women), to attempt suicide.

Connelly mocked the research by treating it as a serious threat in the voice of an invented, safety-obsessed character, Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty.

At one point in his under-researched, overlong, 500 word plus screed, Connelly said:

” … some canine lovers will say it’s the other way around – that a person’s willingness to live with cats is a clear sign of a pre-existing tendency toward self-destruction.”

This was apparently the final insult for local cats, many of whom are notably unimpressed by wordy, obtuse attempts at humor. Witnesses say literally hundreds of quietly purring death-dealers gathered at the Connelly house and ambushed the 56 year old community radio news director as he was dragging his family’s garbage to the curb in the early darkness.

Trash haulers, notably a hardy bunch, were being treated for shock and despair after finding smeared remains of the lifelong government-subsidy addict spread casually around the front yard of his New Brighton home.

Blog readers wondered throughout the day what might have happened to Connelly, who is notoriously reliable in posting his unremarkable thoughts at roughly 6 am Monday through Saturday. Online concern about Connelly’s fate turned to alarm, shock, grief, acceptance and finally, disinterest by late afternoon.

“So much of what he wrote was tongue-in-cheek,” said one reader. “Little did he guess the last tongue to taste his cheek would have the texture of sandpaper.”

If you suddenly disappeared, who would complain, and why?