By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Apr 17, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
What would you think if you were at a dinner party and discovered you were seated next to this woman?
I would get very nervous and try furtively to move the name cards so I could sit next to someone who looked more like Richard Branson–who would allow me to enjoy whatever is being served for dinner and be able to digest it without sweating bullets about which fork I am using and trying to think of the name “Endive” to describe my salad.
Manners are very important. No doubt about it. It’s the oil that lets us navigate human relations smoothly.
But as I tried to explain to my daughter this past weekend in one of my non sequitur fatherly talk tangents, “If you have to chose which type of person to be—it’s more desirable to be a pleasant and approachable person at a party rather than be the person who merely knows how to send out the perfect party invitation.” Or something like that.
In other words, I wouldn’t mind reading Ms Manner’s book. But wouldn’t want to have to sit and discuss it with her. It just seems like she is always looking for a comma splice in ever conversation. And to point out that something from lunch is still on the corner of your mouth. I would probably tell her (politely) she had bad breath and “something on her nose” (even though she didn’t), just to help me level the playing field with her and relax enough to get through learning, again, which fork goes where. So I can, again, feel like a “manners failure” when I inevitably forget the rules again.
Whoever invented forks should have made a rule we only need one kind. A simple single all-purpose fork. That would have made eating a lot less stressful. And one less thing to feel ashamed about not ever being able to remember.
Manners violation confession. While out of town last week and eating at Asian restaurant, I picked up the dipping sauce for the steamed dumplings and drank the last few drops. I made sure no one was looking and took the chance.
It was worth the risk!! Even if I had a little on the corner of my mouth 30 minutes later.
My last column claimed that balance is possible in the face of chaos. I promised that we are all capable of maintaining inner peace no matter the environmental stressors—that work, play, challenge and rest are healthy integrative aspects of our lives. About the complaint of not feeling vacation-peace and bliss at home, I suggested that intention is everything.
Wehhhhhhhhl, I wrote that column from the window seat of my charming straw-roof cabana in the Yukatan Peninsula just steps from the ocean as a warm breeze kissed my hair. A little voice in my consciousness said, “Writing about stress management from an emotional and geographic location that represent the opposite of stress might not be believable.” Yes, mi pequeno internal voice doesn’t use commas, but it is very wise. And it is true that faith is much easier to write about when times are good.
So today I revisit my claim from the living center of chaos. I have been home for exactly 10 days, and I have weathered exactly 6 mini crisis since my return. 6! This might be a record.
How am I managing, solving, dealing, integrating, going with the flowing now, you ask?
I am leaning on ALL of my rebalancing support strategies. It’s a lot like the saying, “Don’t wait for the fire before buying the hose.” Turns out my impressive hose collection really is useful. And because of it, I think I’m managing with more grace than I used to—it’s clear I’m not going it alone.
One significant resource I relied on this week was prayer. I sat down in a beautiful location near my house where I could feel the vibrancy of nature all around me, and I asked God for help, a lot of it. I remember specifically not knowing what the help would look like for this and that issue, and especially for my daughter Abby, struggling with a problem so deeply that she’d lost her appetite for days, but I asked for the ability to recognize the help when it showed up.
Two days later when she finally felt hungry, Abby had me google the new Dominos in our Andover neighborhood. I dialed and we huddled together over the speaker-phone conveying our dreams of extra toppings. But when it came time for the phone number, pizza boy could not make sense of my cell number. Again and again we repeated it as he typed away on his Dominos Pizza computer, but politely he kept apologizing that there were too many digits.
After several minutes of this, puzzled and losing patience, we told him we’d call back. Was this some sort of joke? As I clicked “end” on my I-phone, the phone number I had dialed popped up on my screen before shutting off: +44 1264 363333.
Yes, it was a very good joke! I had accidentally tried to order a pizza from Dominos in Andover, in the United Kingdom!
We looked at each other and then at the phone, and then at each other. The swirling confusion around us dissolved into laughter, “Haahaah, the most expensive pizza on the planet, haha haha haha!”
Laughing harder, “After this phone call, we can’t afford pizza, hah hah hah hah hah!”
Stomach hurting and tears streaming, “I hope we’re still hungry next week when it gets here! Hahahahahahaha haahaahaa haaahaaahaahahahahahahahahaha!
We laughed at ourselves for about 10 minutes and then for 20 more as we called our family members to share what we had stupidly, hilariously tried to do.
Finally, with ribs and face hurting we slowed down, exhausted. Abby looked at me calmly and with a new light in her eyes, she said, “I feel so much better.”
Miraculously, what changed for my girl most in those minutes was her own sense of perspective. While the details of her week of struggle remained, suddenly her world felt much bigger than the confine of her problem—what better way to have the point illustrated than to order a pizza from overseas?
But what’s more, when 16 year-old Abby saw that her problem wasn’t her entire life, just merely a part of it, I knew that my prayer had been answered. God comes through every time, and has a most excellent sense of humor, because we want to laugh.
Read the rest of… Lisa Miller: God & Pizza are the Best Medicine
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Apr 16, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Mr. Manners (My first advice column).
I think we need a Mr. Manners.
Miss Manners, in my opinion, talks too much and interrupts people in her mind before they can interject something. She doesn’t actually interrupt them, of course. But you can tell she wants to.
Which to me is disrespectful. Especially when you are already being lectured by someone about manners.
In fact, I think lecturing people about manners is rude. But that’s a different subject altogether.
Which leads to today’s question.
“Is it possible to be too polite sometimes?”
Yes! It is. A good example of this is Jimi Hendrix and the song “Purple Haze.” Jimi, of course, was a very well-behaved young man who liked to play the guitar and even wrote some songs. In one song, Purple Haze, he opts for the more informal “Excuse me, while I kiss the sky” over the more formal “Pardon me, while I kiss the sky.”
Had Jimi gone with the latter approach (which was preferred at the time in Great Britain), it would have been a musical disaster.
So never use more formal etiquette when it would cause a musical disaster.
Jimi Hendrix was respectful without seeming disingenuously polite –and was still musically appropriate.
I think that’s the key.
That’s the end of today’s Mr. Manner’s column. Which may not make much sense but compared to Miss Manners, rocks.
And “rocks” is preferable to the more for formal “is preferable.”
Q: I’m considering running for office in 2014, but here is my dilemma: I am not sure I want to put myself out there. My father and grandfather were both elected officials, and my father has encouraged me to run. I think I could win based largely on name ID, but having to knock on doors just is not my cup of tea. Do you think I could win without doing that?
—Definitely no initials or location!
A few thoughts.
First, you have to f—ing want it. If you don’t want it, voters sense it. And you’ll probably lose.
That said, knowing nothing about what office you’d run for or who your opponent(s) might be, or how hard you’d work (or they’d work), yes, I think you could win. I’m sure you’ve considered this, but your family probably has residual name recognition and, especially if your father or grandfather is alive, they likely retain fundraising connections that could benefit you. As a general rule I abhor dynasty candidates since so few compare to their parents (with some notable exceptions, such as Jeb Bush or the impressive Udall brothers), but the fact is that most Americans vote like they shop, and when given the choice between 7-Up and Super-Up, they usually buy 7-Up.
Second, if you dread knocking on doors, you probably shouldn’t get into politics. It is, of course, a people business, and if you don’t like people, you’re going to be pretty miserable most of the time. New York Times Magazine writer Matt Bai once profiled someone who reminds me of you, Rhode Island Gov. Lincoln Chafee, whose father, John, was a legendary U.S. senator. During Linc’s first campaign, for delegate to the state’s constitutional convention, he went to his home turf to knock on doors. According to Bai, “He sat there for 20 minutes, holding a stack of palm cards with his picture on them, trying to work up the courage to get out of the car.”
Now, he’s turned into a pretty successful pol, first reaching the U.S. Senate and, after a 2006 loss, recovering to win an unusual independent bid for governor four years later. Still, if you’ll read the profile, you’ll see that he doesn’t actually appear to enjoy the lifestyle—and these days, his numbers are in the tank. So, before doing it to please your family, take a hard look at what you’re getting into. I usually found it amusing when people slammed doors in my face. If you’re more sensitive, you’re gonna struggle, at least at first. And remember—some introverted dynasty candidates (think Al Gore) seem much happier now that they’re out of the game.
Q: Hey, Jeff, definitely not complaining, but why have you been writing about sex so much lately?
—N.L., Washington, D.C.
Because I’m married, and my wife is pregnant.
Read the rest of… Jeff Smith: Do As I Say — A Political Advice Column
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Apr 11, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Middle age and smartphones
Today is the day that Blackberry launches the BB 10–its attempt to stay relevant–after the former market leader was vanquished by their hipper more nimble iPhone and Android competitors
I am pulling for the Blackberry 10 on principle alone. And the fact they feel like a soul-mate
Because after a certain age you realize that, with the right mindset, a victory tour can be just as impressive as a new album (or new CD, as they call it these days)
I may be a card-carrying knee-jerk liberal, but I do my best to understand opposing points of view. (Maybe it was all my years as a high school & college debater, where you had to argue convincingly on both sides of any question.) I may not like their reasoning, but I can see why gun enthusiasts worry about any new laws, or why people who view life beginning at conception would try to ban abortion – They have something at stake. However, I have yet to see a single way in which allowing same-sex marriage does anything at all to heterosexual marriage. Divorce rates are down in Massachusetts, kids still play hockey in Canada, and the “it’s not natural” argument has been thoroughly debunked, not just by psychologists but by the volume of evidence about animal homosexuality being perfectly natural. Bonobos do it, birds & bees do it, and probably educated fleas do it. (Apparently there are even bisexual flowers and trees!)
The most recent arguments against marriage equality have gotten even more ludicrous. First there was Sue Everhart, the Georgia Chairwoman of the GOP, who claimed that same-sex marriage would encourage fraudulent marriage claims in order to get federal benefits, but neglected to explain why people don’t do that already with straight marriage. Then Ben Carson, the neurosurgeon & new darling of the right, stuck his foot even further in his mouth by using a weird series of fruit analogies (??) to explain that just because he linked gay marriage, pedophilia and bestiality in an argument against gay marriage, he didn’t really mean it. But Dr. Carson is just the most recent marriage equality opponent to bring animals into the discussion. Rick Santorum used the ‘slippery slope’ argument almost 10 years ago, Bill O’Reilly once famously claimed people would want to marry their pet turtles, and recently Texas Representative Louie Gohmert digressed from his opposition to limiting ammunition magazine sizes to opine that we needed some limits or people would start marrying animals. As Jon Stewart ranted last week, “What’s with all the animal f-&#*%ing?”
Even Bill O’Reilly has seen the writing on the wall, and recently drew fire from his fellow conservatives by correctly stating that most of the objections to marriage equality involved bible-thumping rather than rational thinking. And as more and more conservatives have children who come out to them, I think we’ll see more conscience-driven switching. Of course, as a humorist, I’m still hoping for one of the more staunch opponents to be caught tickling his interns or playing footsie in an airport men’s room, but in the meantime, might I suggest that anyone who is still against marriage equality start using an argument that doesn’t involve nature or animals. And while they’re trying to come up with one (good luck!), here’s a musical look at the whole animals argument:
By Jonathan Miller, on Fri Apr 5, 2013 at 4:00 PM ET
I’m so pleased to report that legislation honoring Shemp Howard (née Samuel Horwitz), the most overlooked member of the comedy troupe, The Three Stooges, has now officially become a law in the great Commonwealth of Kentucky.
Shemp has deserved this honor for decades, and I for one am thrilled to death that a proud Jewish exemplar is finally getting the recognition he so truly deserves.
Mazel Tov, Shemp!!!
UPDATE 4:30
So it turns out that the legislation that has officially become law is not “Shemp” legislation, but “hemp” legislation.
(Which is also pretty damn awesome. Read my piece upon the bill’s passage in the General Assembly.)
But my apologies to the Howard family and the entire American Jewish community for my reading mistake.
Here is the update on the hemp legislation from the Courier-Journal:
Gov. Steve Beshear will allow legislation permitting hemp production in Kentucky to become law without his signature, and now supporters of the measure say they plan to turn their attention toward Washington in hopes of knocking down federal barriers to the crop.
The bill will officially become law at the end of the day Saturday but will have no real effect until the federal government takes action to declassify hemp as an illegal drug or to grant Kentucky a waiver that would allow people to start growing the plant, which is native to Kentucky.
“We’re going to be figuring out a strategy about going to Washington and trying to get a waiver or trying to get them to lift the ban,” said state Rep. Paul Hornback, the primary sponsor of the bill.
Agriculture Commissioner James Comer, of Tompkinsville, a key proponent of the legislation, said he plans to talk next week with U.S. Sen. Rand Paul and U.S. Rep. John Yarmuth about how to move forward to obtain federal permission to grow the crop. “I hope farmers can start putting seeds in the ground next spring.”
Hemp fiber, oil and seed have a variety of uses and can be used in products including clothing and fuel. Hornback said the market for hemp products in the United States is more than $400 million annually, which he expects to increase if cultivation resumes in the country.
Hornback and Comer argued that as one of the first states to allow hemp farming, Kentucky could attract processors they speculate could employ hundreds. Opponents have been concerned that legal hemp would complicate efforts to spot illegal marijuana plants. The two are identical in appearance, but hemp has a fraction of marijuana’s intoxicating ingredient THC.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Apr 5, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Idea for a movie:
An renowned divorce attorney who is a single, over-the -top, alpha-male, who has been very outspoken against gay marriage, begrudgingly takes his first gay divorce client.
Over the ensuing months, he falls in love with his client and starts a relationship, even though doing so violates the ethics code.
In the final scene, he has to choose between getting disbarred or his romantic relationship with his client.
He chooses the latter, and they marry the following May; and the former attorney opens a florist shop to make enough money for his partner to go to law school and become a great divorce attorney.
For heterosexual and gay couples.
And there is a really cool high speed chase scene reminiscent of the movie Bullet. Except it involves a floral delivery.
Just imagine this scene where everything hinges on a delivery. Of flowers. If not delivered timely, the entire arrangement (and it is a large one ) is free:
In other words, I wouldn’t mind reading Ms Manner’s book. But wouldn’t want to have to sit and discuss it with her. It just seems like she is always looking for a comma splice in ever conversation. And to point out that something from lunch is still on the corner of your mouth. I would probably tell her (politely) she had bad breath and “something on her nose” (even though she didn’t), just to help me level the playing field with her and relax enough to get through learning, again, which fork goes where. So I can, again, feel like a “manners failure” when I inevitably forget the rules again.
