“PRIMITIVE ART”?— PUH-LEEEZ!

Unfashionable Opinion from Dean Christopher

“When I hear the word ‘culture’ I reach for my revolver,” is a quip often incorrectly attributed to that witty wag Joseph Goebbels. It is history’s only known Nazi punch line. I can only suppose that he must have been thinking about primitive culture when he said that.

After all, primitive culture—particularly primitive “art”—is simply too awful to be taken seriously, even by non-Nazis.

Yet millions of people are regularly hoodwinked by primitive gobbledygook. They read about it. They discuss it. They buy it. They even hang it on their own walls, where people who know them can see it!

There’s altogether too much of this “primitive art” around, masquerading as real art. It’s time to fight back. Here I intend to strike a blow for artistic integrity with a realistic reflection upon the pathetic emptiness of “primitive art”—despite the shrill protestations sure to come from its Politically Correct fans.

By Their Fruits Shall Ye Know Them

Primitive peoples still exist on Earth. Indeed there are far more backward societies than even anthropologists may wish to admit. But there’s no such thing as a primitive civilization; that’s a contradiction in terms. Undeveloped people may have tribal groupings or even rudimentary societies, never civilizations.

That’s because a “civilization” is by definition an evolved society that has developed an urbanized life with civic services such as sanitation, health care and education. A civilization is literate, with widespread knowledge of science, technology, statecraft and indoor plumbing. It has architecture, agriculture and dry cleaning. Civilized people use credit cards, room service and fax machines. They fly in airplanes and know how to parallel park. A civilization has a rich intellectual life and the ongoing group awareness we call “recorded history.” Most germane to this essay, civilizations produce highly refined arts. Any society lacking the abovementioned attributes—especially the arts—is not a “civilization.” It’s just a bunch of folks.

Primitive people have only a sketchy grasp of abstractions, and little ability to convert abstractions into anything useful. So they remain becalmed among their roots and berries, their backwoods mutilation rituals, their gawking masks and fearsome mud-gods. The poor creatures slumber on in ignorance and superstition. They live in poverty and illness, swallowed up by flies and by fear; helpless pawns of blind circumstance. They are incapable of improving their lives because they don’t have the physical, mental or social tools necessary for advancing into civilization. They live in an endless summer camp for underachievers.

Art…Or Stuff?

Because they are not civilized, primitive people do not make art, they make stuff. They don’t have the understanding or the skills required to create real art. Perhaps they feel the urge to express themselves. But express what? What on earth do savages have to express that could possibly interest anyone but another savage? The content of our expression is what we know and feel. What do primitives know and feel? Ignorance, fear, helplessness and the need to go potty. That’s what primitives have to express. And because they themselves are so unformed and so uninformed, their “self-expression” inevitably emerges as clunky statues, misshapen mud things, grotesque masks or monotonous chants and log-whacking. Primitive culture isn’t in fact “culture” at all—it’s only behavior.

Any civilized person who is not taste-impaired or in denial will recognize primitives’ diddlings for what they are: Primoridal attempts at art. Repeat, attempts. But they are not art any more than lobbing yak poo at a bird’s nest is NBA-level basketball.

Still, some civilized people actually claim to like this gack! Of course most of them are simply lying. Their fondness for “primitive art” isn’t based on artistic criteria; it’s a political statement. It’s wishful thinking at its most dishonest: they so desperately want savages to be better than they really are, that they are willing to pretend that the savages’ art is better than it really is! These warmhearted fellows claim to believe that anything created by any person (no matter how unskillful) is “art.” Thus the merest stone age construct or artifact—simply because it resulted from human effort—is a cultural achievement to rival Beethoven’s Eroica, Van Gogh’s Starry Night or Chartres Cathedral.

To them I say, poppycock! I say it louder, and in boldface,  poppycock! The spewings and doings of brutes, no matter how sincerely they may reflect primitive terror, confusion or fertility fun, are not “art” or “literature” or “music” any more than the barking of hyenas or the ribbiting of tree frogs are sonnets or sonatas. They are silly, incompetent trifles that ought to evoke honest pity, perhaps even derision, but certainly not praise.

Real Art Isn’t Easy

The queer notion that any self-expression is art; that artistic genius resides in every human is simply dead wrong. Fine art is a great miracle, achieved only rarely and with great difficulty. Some artists are more sensitive, more imaginative, better educated, harder working and more skillful than others; therefore some art is better than other art. Civilized art is better than primitive art because civilization provides a better cultural environment for creating fine art than does the rainforest.

Few would deny the “natural human impulse” to make art. But when fine art results from that “natural human impulse,” it is in fact the very opposite of “natural.” There is nothing automatic about art. Art is the deliberate, intelligent reworking of reality. Art is artifice, designed to add to and thereby surpass ordinary reality. It improves upon the natural to create something timeless and emblematic. Art defies death by overcoming the merely natural; it connects all humankind by tapping into subtle essences underlying apparent differences. Thus it bridges the centuries. “Primitive art” is lucky to bridge the next shrub.

Cultural Denial Is Still Denial

Still, primitivophiliacs pay big bucks for homely statues or clumsy clay pots that might fetch mild praise for an eager pre-schooler. Sophisticated urbanites who really ought to know better ooh-and-aah over root-mash splashed on hemp; over low-fidelity wire-recordings of savannah grunting; over bad indigenous weaving badly dyed. “It’s so deliciously…primitive!” they gush, spreading more pesto brie onto their stone ground multi-grain crackers.

Here’s a simple reality check for “primitive art” buyers: would they demand a refund if, through some mixup, their “primitive masterwork from India” turned out instead to be the work of a 7-year-old from Indiana? If so, then their decision to buy the piece was political, maybe even financial—but certainly not an artistic decision. Otherwise they’d keep it and still consider their money well spent.

Relativism has no place in art. There’s a limit to how much we can “grade on a curve.” The unadorned fact is that in the real world some things—including art—are better than other things. The more we educate our taste, the less easily we can be fooled. Civilized people learn to distinguish the authentic from the counterfeit, the superior from the inferior. They ought to be honest enough to admit that “primitive art” is a baby step for people bumbling through social and artistic toddlerhood.

Does this mean that “primitive art” is worthless? Of course not. It is occasionally moving, charming, even instructive—just as a baby’s finger paintings or mud pies can move or amuse indulgent, loving parents. But that does not mean that it should be ranked with the evolved, civilized art born of educated sensibilities working with determination and discipline.

The act of nailing a frame around a canvas splattered with paint does not automatically make it “art,” much less a masterwork. The mere process of recording sounds does not magically convert those sounds into fine music. Finally, no purchase price is extravagant enough to transform clumsy wood hackings into “statues.”

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but if it isn’t in the art as well, we’re just kidding ourselves.

***

Copyright © 1998 Dean Christopher

Primitive Art?

If We Are What We Eat,

What Does Nouvelle Cuisine Say About Us?

by Dean Christopher

Once I doubted, but now I believe: California really is the seedpod for virtually every major aspect of current and nifty things in this country.

Whatever happens, whatever makes it in California, for better or worse eventually works its way into the American Life Style. Consider these hot cultural indispensables, then judge if I lie: Health/Fitness; Hot Tubs/Jaccuzzis; Sushi/Tofu; Jojoba/Kelp/Mink Oil/Raspberry-Chamomile Shampoos; Roots Shoes; Non-Lawn Ground Covers; Kiwi Fruit/Sprouts Garnish; His/Hers (or His/His, Hers/Hers, His/His/Hers, Hers/Hers/Hers/His/Bob’s, Ours/Fido’s) Matched Robes/Jogging Suits…and even more. If it wasn’t invented or developed or discovered or imported here first, at least it was perfected and successfully marketed here first. And used with a vengeance.

Consider dune buggies. There are dunes in dozens of sandy states. But where is the greatest concentration of dune buggies? In California. There is air virtually everywhere in America. But where are all the hang gliders? Right again. There are mouths from coast to coast, and I believe I can prove that.

But where are the taste buds keenest, most adventurous, most welcoming of new taste shudders? Where are the submaxillary glands pumping to the max? You said it.

Still, just because California leads the way in all these categories and more, don’t think for a moment that I automatically approve. There are certain dopey elitist cultural geysers that I, for one, am eager to cap before they become a real menace to the nation’s heartland.

Take, for example, the kitchen’s answer to high fashion—“Nouvelle Cuisine.” Do angels burp? Can the Muses fart? If so, nouvelle cuisine is just their ticket.

I’ll Have The Squab Brains, Please,

And Easy On The Leek

Picture the latest shriek in hi-dec ambience: a hushed and chi-chi eatery where furnishings and ferns compete with the customers for haut soigné. The requisite mix of bucks-up achievers, nose jobs, confused first-timers from out of town, blinking at all that smog and seated wealth. Music oozes across muted but glittering tables as the worthy bend close to exchange bons mots and complaints abut their help. Headwaiters glide among the tables with the grace of schooners.

And the waiters! There is a widespread notion in my town that for food to be worth the detour, it must be presented to you by pert-buttocked waiters of indeterminate national origin, enthusiastic androgyny, and a sensitivity so profound that they need but close their eyes to feel the Continental Drift.

You may be wondering about the food itself. How very crass of you. Please be informed that in Los Angeles, a nouvelle cuisine meal is much too important to depend on anything as lowly as food. Does Indianapolis base its glory on gasoline? My dear, it’s the event, the Gestalt, the experience that matters!

But since you insist. In a word, the food is fine. Period. It really is. Trust me, you’d love most nouvelle dinners…if they’d only be honest enough to call them hors d’oeuvres. We’re talking dainty portions here, folks. This is the art of taste at the molecular level. Servings so carefully measured that you can actually count the peas, treasure both of your shrimp, appreciate the, um, spacing of the items on your plate. Because what nouvelle cuisine dishes consist of mainly, is space.

I have enjoyed, or at least paid for, nouvelle cuisine that looked more like flower arrangements than food. A platter of petunias might have been more satisfying, and at least would not have attained the same level of presumption. Let me describe one plate, for it was lovely to behold.

A marigold-sized plop of mashed—sorry, puréed—turnip lay odalisque alongside a medallion of presumably womb-fed veal; for balance up at the northwest corner of the overlarge dish (they love to rub it in!) was a dash of zucchini dust. On the medallion, an unexpected flourish: one carefully selected truffle perhaps 20 microns in diameter.

Let me be honest. I truly wished at that moment that my mouth were small enough to do justice to the Master Chef’s creation. But I will also admit to a flush of honest anger: here I am, paying about 30 bucks a plate for this tommyrot, and I just know that the exquisite flavor will pass in a matter of nanoseconds. I am not a stingy man, but I am not a rich one, either; and you may call me a sentimental old fool, but I cling to the archaic notion that you probably shouldn’t be hungry at the end of your dinner.

So if you wish to have the experience, now you will know what to expect in terms of quantity. You will not cry out, “Hey, where’s my food?” That would only show what a churl you are. Remember—all those other people sitting near you just love this shit, and they’re more important than you are. So take your lumps like a grownup.

America tends to (pardon the verb) swallow almost everything California popularizes. Still, I wonder what will happen when this cutesy culinary craze finally trickles down to, say, Papillion, Nebraska, a town where I have joyously eaten some terrific big hot steaks floated down with cold, cold beer.

Imagine the expectant family of strong-spined Cornhuskers. Their faces beam as the waiter approaches. It’s been a long, hard day, and they are hungry for some of that hearty heartland beef. Saliva wells up. Pupils dilate slightly as the waiter nears, his tray brimming with dishes. Now you and I cut away to a Tight Shot of the tray. Here are plates tickled by sleek scraps of steaklike substance, lovingly prepared in their individual thimbles by Monsieur François de Lyon (formerly Frankie of Akron). These meat slivers are artfully framed by nubbies of cauliflower and shreds of Swiss chard. A separate tureenlet features a nimble and probably very perishable sauce. There is no hint of A-1 Sauce or ketchup. The waiter reaches the table. He knows these people don’t buy $400 silk ties, but he’s paid to take his chances.

I leave the gentle reader to imagine the awful outcome. In any case, all this writing has made me hungry. Guess I’ll motor on over to Paco and Seiji’s—the Teriyaki Taco’s on special tonight. I may be a Californian, but I’m no fool when it comes to grub.

CORRUPTION ON EARTH

Some Countries Are Naughty and Some Are Nice … Sort Of.

by Dean Christopher

The 2002 Time Almanac lists “The 2001 Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index,” a rottenness ranking of 91 world governments, according to Berlin-based Transparency International (TI).

This non-governmental organization (NGO) operates in big famous countries as well as understated ones like Azerbaijan; Burkina Faso; Cameroon (those exotic stamps with shirtless locals!); Gambia; Georgia (Tbilisi, not Atlanta); Kyrgyz Republic (office in downtown Bishkek); Mauretania (not the ship); Mauritius (not Mauretania); Niger and Nigeria; Trinidad & Tobago; Vanuatu; Yemen; Zimbabwe. They have people in Washington, and also a Palestinian office – although the way Israel is knocking down West Bank buildings, they’d probably be happier renting in Tel Aviv.

TI claims to be the only NGO devoted to combatting international corruption. Their sunny goal is to “bring civil society, business and governments together in a powerful global coalition.” Well, fine. Some 80-odd chapters strive “to curb both the supply and demand of corruption,” a challenge only slightly more difficult than curbing teenage demand for sex.

What does their survey reveal?

As expected, most of the world’s governments are seen as corrupt. On a scale from 10.0 (squeaky-clean) down to 0.0 (satanically decadent), about 2/3 of all countries surveyed lean seriously toward corruption. Malasia, at 5.0, maintains a curious yin-yang balance on the issue. (One might expect such moral equilibrium from neutral Switzerland (8.4) or Sweden (9.0).) There were many ties, especially among the lower scores. But not exclusively: Iceland and Singapore tied at 9.2; the U.S. and Israel at 7.6; Chile and Ireland at 7.5.

No “Axis of Evil” countries appear on the list. Perhaps TI feared that their evil would throw the marking curve off its axis. More likely, Iraq, Iran and North Korea discourage the presence of corruption-hunters.

So, who comes across as wonderful, and who gets the raspberry? Hats and earmuffs off to honorable little Finland, at 9.9 the least corrupt of all 91 countries surveyed! At the murky end of the spectrum is Bangladesh, with an almost supernaturally low 0.2, giving them the sad distinction of being perceived as the most corrupt nation on earth.

But not so fast, reader! Rush not to judgment. Easy enough to go “nyah nyah nyah” or make cruel jests like “How many Bangladeshis does it take to corrupt one Finn?”

Statistics never tell the whole story. TI studied 91 nations, at a time when the United Nations listed 189 member states – and some countries are not even in the U.N. Consequently, the Corruption Perceptions Index covers fewer than half the nations on the globe (albeit the half with most of Earth’s population, corrupt or otherwise).

Let’s be fair to Bangladesh. How would the 90-odd unlisted states have fared in the survey? Is it not possible that one, or some, or even all of them may have scored lower than Bangladesh – even conceivably an Absolute Zero (not one single uncorrupted soul in government)? In fact, who can say that, in an infinite universe, there cannot be a country so degenerate that it actually scores a negative number? (Of course, one could theoretically score higher than Finland, but it’s more fun to focus on moral decay.)

* * *

 Ah, if only we could see ourselves as others see us! How does Bangladesh see itself? For the answer, we turn to the official Bangladesh government website, last revised on June 30, 1999. (We surmise that their webmaster has relocated and not been replaced.) The site depicts Bangladesh as a subtropical paradise for tourists, culture aficionados and investors; a cheery, happy land of handsome heroes developing the world’s next superpower.

They make no mention of the typhoons, floods, plagues and other disasters that sweep through the country every few hours, killing hundreds of thousands, overturning ferries, wiping out crops, floating oxen out to sea, leaving millions homeless, leveling the pest-tormented landscape to a mud-flatness that makes the Dead Sea look like the Bavarian Alps. They do not speak of flies the size of Springer Spaniels and crawling things that feed on Japanese compact cars.

Nor is there any hyperlink labeled Governmental Corruption, or National Bribery and Graft Statistics. Clearly, we must work for this story.

Very well, let’s begin with a peek at the government, and the juicy economy that supposedly spawns all this alleged corruption. We check out Prime Minister’s Office, click on Board of Investment. We are forwarded to a page that says only: “This domain is for sale. Please contact: info@ zedandzed .com .” For sale, eh? Hmmm.

Next we try Industrial Policy and find “This page is under construction.” So, presumably, is their industrial policy. At last we strike pay dirt at Ministry of Commerce, Export Promotion Bureau. Among their many exported products and commodities, we see:

“Fish, Shrimps, Sharkfins & Fishmaws, Animal Casings, Betel Leaves, Cotton Waste, Black Cumin Seed, Crude Fertilizer, Raw Jute … Tortoise & Turtles, Crabs, Duck Chest Feather, Crude drugs, Bamboo Poles, Rattans, Beeswax, Coir & Coir-Products, Human Hair, Hukka Nali, Horns & Hooves…”

Now we’re getting somewhere! The excitement of the chase builds. Like all cunning detectives, we ask ourselves the tough questions:

How does corruption affect the Fishmaw business, or traffic in Horns & Hooves? Who chooses which horns and hooves to harvest – and from which animals or devils? What backroom shennanigans corrupt the Duck Chest Feather trade? How are contracts really awarded for Animal Casings and Raw Jute? Did the Vegetable Casings people forget to bribe someone at the Ministry of Casings? Is there a Cooked Jute lobby? Who gets to handle Human Hair – and whose? Does Bangladesh export blonde hair? Leg hair? Nose hair? Finally, is Hukka Nali a product or a typographical error?

The website maintains a chilly silence on these issues, so we turn to Transparency International’s website for help. TI has a Bangladesh site, but it gives no details on the mechanics of in-country corruption. Perhaps their researchers value their lives. The site has a Corruption Hotline to report bribes and irregularities. Does anyone ever use it?

Elsewhere, TI’s Chairman, Peter Eigen, writes “The scale of bribe-paying by international corporations in the developing countries of the world is massive. Actions by the majority of governments of the leading industrial countries to curb international corruption are modest.”

Well, as it happens, TI’s donors include many of those “international corporations” and “governments of the leading industrial countries.” Right near the top of the alphabetical list is Arthur Andersen, the international accounting firm currently under criminal indictment for, um, corruption. A little farther down comes Enron Corporation, the former energy giant (and current energy dwarf) that was until recently entwined with Arthur Andersen. Uh-oh.

A partial list of other major donors: Bank of America; Bechtel; Boeing; BP Amoco; Bristol-Myers Squibb; Exxon-Mobil; Ford; General Electric; General Motors; Honeywell; IBM; Lockheed Martin; Merck; Motorola; PricewaterhouseCoopers LLP; Reliant Energy; Rockwell; Texaco and United Technologies.

Hey – they’re all companies that sell things to foreign governments. Could any of those be on the corruption list?

The following countries also contribute substantially to TI. Let’s check their Corruption Perception scores: Australia (8.5); Canada (8.9); Denmark (9.5); the United Kingdom (8.3); the Netherlands (8.8); Finland (9.9); France (6.7); Germany (7.4); Norway (8.6); Sweden (9.0); and Switzerland (8.4).

Wow! TI donor nations average 8.5 on the decency scale! Coincidence? Who can say? Who dares imply? Admittedly some of this seems a bit suspicious – but that could just be your reporter’s natural wariness kicking in. Decide for yourself.

But stay alert. If General Electric suddenly corners the world market on Horns & Hooves; if Bechtel gets heavily into Bangladeshi Hair or if you hear of a public offering on Transparency Hakka Nali, think it over. But be open-minded. The world is aflood with circumstantial evidence.

Come to think of it, that’s usually the only kind of evidence there is.

Footnote: There is no Finnish embassy in Dahka and no Bangladeshi embassy in Helsinki. What should we conclude from that?

* * *

YOU ARE WHAT YOU JOIN

Commentary by Dean Christopher

We humans are remarkable animals. We think, dream, love, and build; we distinguish among objects and abstractions. We are the naked ape; or at least the badly dressed ape.

We can speak more or less clearly; plan for the future; use charge cards; and visit crowded national parks in RVs brimming with recently-minted humans with strawberry jam on their faces, loud rock music in their earphones and backwards baseball caps on their heads.

One of the enduring, endearing traits of homo sapiens is our propensity for highly specialized enthusiasms – hobbies or passions or peculiar interests that unite us in groups small or large.

Intrigued by this typically human quirk, several years ago I paged through the Encyclopedia of Associations. There I discovered, among many thousands listed, about 100 or so which I deemed unusual enough to be worthy of further investigation. So I wrote and asked them to tell me about themselves.

I never heard back from the Confederate Air Force, the Deciduous Tree Fruit Disease Workers or The Gorilla Foundation. But many others did respond, and here are some honest-to-goodness quotes – mis-spellings, weird punctuation and all – harvested verbatim from their replies:

   1. Friends of the Tango. [sic] “…yourlet 2/1 is unsigned Please send us a copy duly signed and we will answer all your questions. Also send us free of charge a copy of your magazine Thank you” (NOTE: The Director has been trying since 1984 to get New York City to erect a public statue of Carlos Gardel, the great Argentine tango star who died in a plane crash back in the ‘30’s.)

   2. Marx Brothers Study Unit: Most Complete Marx Bros. Research Facility On This Planet. [From their newsletter] “We realized from the start that our group had a lot to share with the rest of the planet….A self-appointed moderator (i.e., a dictator) served as clearinghouse for information….In theory the magazine is published semi-annually, but because of the informal nature and volunteer staff, deadlines are nonexistant and issues are predictably late.” [From their magazine Freedonia Gazette, named after the mythical country where Groucho reigned in Duck Soup] “The entire contents of this issue are copyrighted….We’ve been filing copyright registrations for 11 years and we’d like to be able to sue someone and make it worth our while.”

    3. Cast Iron Seat Collectors’ Association. [From their brochure] “The seat club was formed in 1973, by a few people that had a few seats…The first book on cast iron seats was written by Donald Sites of Grinnell, Kansas. He wrote three books on cast seats, each one was bigger than the one before, because of more seats that had been found….The club meets once a year in the summer in conjunction with a threshing show…[The club] isn’t only for seat collectors. We have many members that collect cast iron corn planter lids, tool boxes and covers. We have members that collect windmill weights and drill box ends and tools of all kinds.”

    4. The Elvish Linguistic Fellowship. “The ELF publishes two journals: Vinyar Tengwar (which in Quenya, one of the several languages invented by Tolkien, means “News Letters”)…and Parma Eldalamberon (“Book of Elven-Tongues”), an annual…Our main function as a society involves writing articles and letters for the above two publications…Various members of the ELF…are also working on what we feel will be the definitive descriptive grammar of Tolkien’s languages…”

    5. Hispanic Energy Forum. [From a FAX dated 2/29/92] “The Hispanic Energy Forum is DEFUNCT! No longer exists. Thx, LT.”

    6. American Quilt Study Group. “AQSG was founded in 1980…and has been bequeathed [an] extensive library of quilt and textile publications. To recruit new members, we distribute our flyer at various quilt events, seminars, shops, and guilds…[papers] are later compiled into our annual pubication, Uncoverings….We also publish a quarterly newsletter, Blanket Statements….Please send us a copy of your write-up for approval before publication.”

    7. Vampire Information Exchange. “Please excuse the delay in getting back to you, but I have been quite busy here of late.”

    8. A California-based high IQ organization that prefers not to be named. [From a greeting-less letter which I here quote in full] “Re: Enthusiast organizations. We are a society of intellectually gifted persons, sort of a ‘Mensa’s Mensa.’ Most know they belong before they even hear of us; we do not want publicity: it is distracting. Very truly yours, [Signature].”

     9. American Bamboo Society. “Also enclosed is a source list describing available species and where they may be purchased….We do not aggressively solicit members. Rather people infected with a curious affinity for bamboo seem to find us.”

    10. American Fancy Rat & Mouse Association. “We have shows every other month, displays several times a year, and an annual picnic/bbq for the members…” [From their brochure] “Our membership cuts across all ages, occupations and sexes, bringing together people who truly enjoy each others’ rats and mice….We were privileged to have the Secretary of the Swedish Rat Society here to judge the pet rat class at one of our shows.”

    11. Friends Of Terra Cotta. “We emphasize the value of and challenges associated with the preservation of terra cotta. The organization provides information and resources for those seeking assistance in understanding terra cotta buildings…”

    12. Flat Earth Society International. [Sic from letter]  “You folks must not keep up with events and things too well…Have been on front page of Examnior, many articles in La Times, front page Valley News in most newspapers of USA Newsweek, TV News,  REAL PEOPLE et  c etc known nationwide and even worldwide. Strange, you dident know anythinaboutit!”

    13. The Antique Stove Association. “In the words of the constitution, our purpose is ‘to form a bond between people interested in antique stoves and related items, and to support their interest in any reasonable way…’ However, these benefits are for members only….we do not extend the benefits of membership to non-members….Parts rescue and parts identification are two subjects of special concern…”

    14. Emil Verban Memorial Society. “We are the Chicago Cubs fan club of Washington, D.C. [Our purpose is] to root for the Cubs. [Meetings?] None. A lunch is held every two years. [From their newsletter] …mark your calendars for…the Society’s 7th Biennial Luncheon….Customarily, the Society hosts former Cubs stars…during the action-filled, two-hour luncheons. So reserve the date now.”

    15. Exotic Dancers’ League Of North America. [From a letter written on a manual typewriter that had no “E,” which was in each case handwritten in red ball point pen: ] “We have 613 members, some are active, most are distant, and can not always attend the meeting, that are held four times a year…We provide the T.V. shows with material on “Nostalgia” information….We furnished much of the information for the motion picture “BLAZ” also the up and coming movie “RUBY””…Farraha Fawasett, is makeing the life story of another one of our members Candy Barr, we will be very concerened how Miss Fawassett portrays Miss Barr….The motion picture star “Cher” is playing Gypsy, in a new movie…and I will invite them to visit Exotic World….Please  feel free to visit anytime, thanking you.”

    16. Circus Fans’ Association Of America. [From their brochure] “Do you get a kick out of clowns and elephants and finely groomed horses? So do we….Do you thrill to the sound of a calliope or a brassy galop as straining steeds race around the hippodrome track?…Does your pulse quicken at the very names and phrases of circusdom…? …We’ve pictured on our cover first lady Barbara Bush holding up a White House puppy so it can touch noses with a clown, all in the interest of promoting reading among young people.”

    17. The Fiber Society. [From their brochure] “Membership is by nomination only and requires evidence of significant contributions and commitment to the field of fiber science. The annual cost of membership is kept nominal.”

    Well! It’s taken me most of the morning to sift through all this material, and today’s mail should arrive any second. I’m hoping for more replies from great enthusiast organizations such as the following, which I swear I did not make up:

 The Melvil Dui Marching & Chowder Society; Save Our Barns Committee; American Toy Goat Association; Intelligent Buildings Institute; Mexican Epigraphic Society; Whirly Girls; International Barbed Wire Collectors’ Association; National Clogging & Hoedown Council; American Collectors of Infant Feeders; Library Cat Society; Accordion Federation of America; Association for Gravestone Studies; International Chinese Snuff Bottle Society; Classical Bicycle & Whizzer Club of America; Occupied Japan Club; and Sons and Daughters of the Soddies.

    If you hear from them before I do, please forward any useful info to me as quickly as possible. We are here to learn from each other.

                                           ***

Copyright  © 2009 by Dean Christopher

PLANET OF THE CUTE-EEEEEEE-PYE’S

Commentary by Dean Christopher

Many “wannabe” performers and fashion puppies abuse language, although for a variety of reasons. These ludicrous cauliflowers inhabit a milieu where image is simply everything, Darling. So they are driven to call attention to themselves in every way, at all times, at any cost. They desperately try to project the impression of being distinctive; uncommonly talented; oh so very desirable—paragons of the cool du jour. Therefore they concoct names that they believe will instantly deliver stardom.

They obstinately ignore reality. Big hair doesn’t make a rock star; it only makes a person with big hair. Holding a Stradivarius doesn’t make you Itzhak Perlman or Joshua Bell; it makes you somebody holding a superb old violin. And weird names (or weird spelling of ordinary names) will not automatically confer charisma or success.

Thus Jack or Bonnie do NOT become more creative or more adorable by spelling their names D’jaq, Jjakk, and Chac’c, or Bhåny, B’ànéè, and Bonn-Eeeeee. They become people who are misspelling Jack and Bonnie. When Diane decides to be Døyyäänn she forfeits the right to be offended when someone who doesn’t know her (but who does know Northern European languages) pronounces her name sounding like a stuttering elk.

Some people add foreign-language accent marks to their names, or to words on menus or boutique windows. They clearly and clumsily aspire to distinction, charm or gravitas. They usually fail due to their ignorance of the foreign language; because they don’t realize that accent marks have specific purposes—to indicate vowel mutations, misplaced stress, or to distinguish between two words which sound alike. Yet the ignorant and the affected persist in plopping accent marks around like so many marascino cherries; indiscriminately, interchangeably, incorrectly. 

   Don’t be like them! If you absolutely must Europeanize your name or that of your business, be sure to have someone who really speaks the language to check your spelling, før Péètëz såkê!

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A Bluffer’s Guide to Cool Places

Useful Social Advice from Dean Christopher

Everybody likes cool guys. Things always go better for them. They get more girls and better jobs. Cool guys have more fun, more toys and die happy – usually when they’re very old.

 If you want to be a cool guy, we can help. Read on.

 There are many elements to master if you want to be cool. Since space is limited we’ll investigate one of the real biggies – frequenting cool places. “Location, location, location” is a mantra that extends far beyond real estate. Knowing the right places ranks with other guy-skills like nailing sexy women, ordering great wines, knowing which gear to buy and how to sink 20-foot putts or 30-foot jump shots. Whoever said “timing is everything” was only half right. Place is the other half. Knowing when to be somewhere is important, but if you show up at the wrong place you don’t get any cool points.

 A cool place is more than simple geography, more than relative position in physical space. Each cool place is also a state of mind, an attitude, an unexpected revelation, a deliverer of status. A cool place is the very oxygen of coolness. It is where the cool are. Better yet, it is where the uncool aren’t.

The Coordinates Of Cool

To find cool places, first eliminate uncool places. You’ll be ahead of the game if you realize right now that virtually all places blatantly frequented by celebrities are uncool. If they’re subtly frequented – or even blatantly seldomed – by celebrities, that’s OK, but still borderline. Broadly speaking, any place is uncool if it:

 ·      Was ever a cover feature in a slick magazine named after a city

·      Employs a high profile publicist

·      Valet-parks snazzy imported cars in front, but hides station wagons, pickups and old Buicks in the lot behind a nearby warehouse

·      Has a French name – misspelled – like La Mirage Natural or Le Chéz Môm

·      Has an Italian name – spelled right – but suggesting Mafia connections, like Il Wiseguy, Casa Consigliere, or Big Ferruccio ‘The Smiling Legbreaker’ Sparafucile

·      Has a cutesy name like Skunk Pie Milligan’s, The Srinagar Trampoline Club, or My Sick Old Mother’s Bedside.

·      Features autographed photos of celebrities (real or imagined) in the entryway or on the walls

·      Caters to yuppies with baseball caps on backwards, to anyone wearing sunglasses inside, or lets in wide-eyed tourists in matching white belts and shoes who emerge dazzled and drooling from sightseeing buses

·      Uses coy euphemisms for its toilets, such as Itty-Bitty-Kitty Box, Tennie Splashing Zone or Li’l Ole Gals’ Lounge.

·      Plays loud country music or hip hop while people are trying to eat, drink, talk, think or breathe – in fact, while people are present at all

·      Displays ferns, moose heads, sleds, old tenor saxophones or Tiffany lamps on the walls (or anywhere else)

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Be careful to learn about cool places only from proven cool sources, because uncool people (see above) always recommend uncool places. Don’t place your fate in the wrong hands. Would you study bomb defusing with someone who twitches uncontrollably? Would you follow the dietary advice of the grossly obese? Fly with a manic-depressive suicidal alcoholic pilot given to sudden fits of wild thrashing? Accept a blind date from a friend whose own girl friend is terminally unappealing? 

 Of course not. So you will never take “cool place” advice from anyone who:

 ·      Acts or implies that he’s cool – trying to be cool is the ultimate uncool

·      Orders a men’s magazine “drink of the month”

·      Uses discount coupons in restaurants

·      Has travel decals and comical bumper stickers on his car

·      Wears garments with prominent designer labels

·      Watches sitcoms and discusses them avidly the following day

·      Keeps his watch or socks on while making love

·      Sets the car alarm while shopping or at the movies

·      Is impressed by trendy places or high prices. (Trendy places tend to disappear unexpectedly and high prices are only big numbers. If on Tuesday a restaurant assigns a bigger number to its food, it tastes no better than it did on Monday.)

Okay. You managed to avoid uncool places. But how can you recognize the cool ones? First, almost any place not described above stands a decent chance of being cool. But whom do you trust while you’re learning to make your own informed judgements? Well, for starters, trust us. A place is cool if we tell you it is. But we can’t do that, because spoon-feeding you that information is colossally uncool. Part of being cool is learning to follow your own instincts.

Still, you won’t go far wrong if you remember that cool places:

Attract cool people. Remember, cool people are NEVER who uncool people think they are. Hint: They are rarely sports stars and virtually never entertainers!

Rarely look cool at first glance. You need to uncover the subtle cool that lies deep within. Axiom: Any place that looks cool probably isn’t. If the exterior looks designed, and the interior looks decorated – it’s not cool. Corollary: Any place that uncool people think is cool is uncool.

The truth is that cool places are rarely restaurants, clubs or fancy resorts. They are normal places, which your cool attitude turns into cool places.

Using the right combination of zen and common sense, you can convert unlikely locations into cool places. Suggestions:

 Three-day tire stores. Cultivate the sales staff. Be recognized when you walk in with clients or guests. This will get you the best spots at the counter. Learn the nicknames of the stock boys, know your way to the Employees Only toilet without asking. Feel enough at home to serve yourself coffee in staff mugs marked “Curly,” “Red” and “Biffie.” Dazzle your guests with learnèd discussion of multi-ply laminated inner linings, tire bead design, PSI ratios. Wow your friends with your ability to recognize at a glance the tread patterns of a thousand brands. Discuss the relative attributes of off-road radials with the same loving tenderness that others reserve for the finest vintage wines. “An athletic little tire, not entirely unprepossessing…yet a superb sense of balance bordering on the insouciant.” “Uncompromising in its structural integrity, yet lacking a certain je ne sais quoi in terms of road rhythm.”

 Municipal swimming pools. Cool people know that public downtown recreation facilities are where cool lurks. Anyone can pay big bucks to get wet on the beaches of Acapulco, Bali or Cap d’Antibes. But the truly cool can get cool splashing in any neighborhood.

  Membership discount stores. “Buy low, sell high” is no longer just for the investment community. You, too, can buy low at wholesale outlets and 2,500,000-sq.ft membership stores called CheapCo, MarginLand or LowMart – and never worry about selling at all! Invite that special someone for a few hours of cool pleasure among the stacks of paper products, 55-gallon drums of caramel pistachio nuts, flats of Nicky & Edna’s Home Style Creamed Corn. Impress your date, or that out-of-town client, with your shopping cool as you browse the low cost hardware aisles or rummage through bins of very nearly perfect jeans.

 But it’s important to be in the early part of the curve, and out again before the wannabe’s discover these cool places. 

Copyright © 2009 by Dean Christopher

One evening when I was about twenty I dined with friends who were hosting relatives from Florida. Over dessert, the woman from Florida began raving about the brilliance of dolphins – they are just as intelligent in their way as we humans are in ours, she insisted. Why, dolphins even show signs of compassion for humans. “Dolphins help sailors whose ships sink, by pushing them toward shore and safety. Many rescued sailors have said so.”

There was a brief silence while we absorbed this heartwarming information. Then our host spoke. “Of course we never hear from the sailors they push farther out to sea.”

Everybody laughed, but the lesson was clear: it is unwise to make optimistic generalizations from isolated cases. Yet much of what we believe is based on hearsay, superstition or wishful thinking. This sunny nonsense is not rational. It misleads us with false hope and unreasonable expectations that usually bring disappointment and even serious mental problems.

Scientific method requires observable phenomena that are repeatable under controlled conditions. Since it’s unlikely that marine biologists will drop thousands of test-subjects in mid-ocean to record what dolphins really do with them, dolphin “compassion” is likely to remain anecdotal for years to come.

But even without exhaustive laboratory testing, our common sense and everyday observation should provide level-headed recognition of certain facts of everyday reality. For example:

Most prayers are not answered.

Most wishes do not come true.

Most of the time when you unexpectedly think of a distant elderly relative, that relative is not dying or in distress.

Most pets lost during cross-country travel do not show up, months later, at the kitchen door of their owner’s new residence.

Most dreams remain only dreams – unless, of course, they become nightmares.

By far the cruelest delusion hysterically promoted within our well-intentioned society is “You can do anything you want if you focus and work hard enough.” The corollary lie is that “it’s never too late.”

In other words, everything will turn out great if you stay positive.

Really?

I see a far different reality, mocking us from behind billowing clouds of narcotic optimism. It boils down to this:

You can not do anything you want. Most of the time, no matter how hard you try, how desperately you wish, “visualize” or work for something, it will forever elude your grasp. Really, now. Face the truth. You may just not have enough brains, strength, money or powerful friends. There may be insurmountable physical realities to consider. If you have no legs, you can not get a starting spot on the  Olympic High Jumping team. If you are blind, you can not become a jet fighter pilot.

To believe otherwise is unhealthy; indeed, downright delusional. It is often – probably very often – too late to accomplish your goals. Most of the time, in any field that requires formal educational credentials, it is too late to earn advanced degrees. There is simply not enough time, no matter how dedicated you are. For most business careers, the young and promising – less likely to be saddled with family responsibilities and longterm debt – are hired instead of older, more experienced candidates, especially since they can work for less money.

Further, many young people are intelligent, excellent workers; less opinionated, more malleable, more motivated to do more and work longer hours, besides offering companies the agreeable trait of youthful enthusiasm. In most instances, anyone out of work for more than a year will never find equivalent new employment. Ask any guy over 50 hunting a good – even a decent – job in his field. Ask any woman over 40, no matter how brilliant, who has tried to get into a major – even a decent – medical school. Ask any woman of 60, no matter how experienced in the entertainment business, who has tried to get a job in the entertainment business, where they prefer women of 25 with large breasts that do not sag.

And of course it is too late for anything for anyone whose head is in the path of a .45 hollow-point slug moving along at 1200 feet per second.

Sound pessimistic, even cynical? Wake up, friend. Welcome to the chilly world beyond “reality” TV and overpriced motivational seminars. Unless you are prepared to face real world reality, you forfeit the right to profess amazement when you don’t find the mate you want, get the career you think you deserve, become miraculously cured of your disease, or find the emotional or spiritual comfort “they” promised you.

Most of that goo-goo-eyed sunshine so hysterically pushed by televangelists, “psychic counselors” and self-help gurus is tommyrot. Worse, it is harmful tommyrot, virtually guaranteeing increased misery when the unreasonable expecations it raises are not met. It is the cosmic equivalent of “your check is in the mail.”

It is useful to note that, each month, thousands of dolphins drown in fishermen’s drift nets. Although chances are that occasionally a fisherman disentangles one, and pushes him farther out to sea, where he can report to the dolphin community how intelligent and compassionate we humans are.

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