The Thinker

Dear deer

Dear deer,

It looks like I’ve spent a lot of money trying to make our lawn look nice so you can enjoy a nice salad bar at my expense. Chomp away, guys. That’s expensive grass that you are nibbling at, as evidenced by the hundreds of dollars I spent on lawn services last year. At the rate you are eating it, my expensive lawn is quickly moving from beautiful to looking like hell.

Oh, don’t deny it! The evidence is overwhelming. Remember that time when we unexpectedly arrived home around midnight after seeing a show? There were five of you on our front lawn, and not one of you was the least bit intimidated by our presence. It was our flowerbed, or what’s left of it, that you seem to have been concentrating on. You just looked at us with those Bambi eyes and seemed wholly unafraid. The only thing I picked up was, “Would you turn off the garage light? We can see fine without it. Thanks.” Eventually after many loud words you ambled across the drive to the pasture across the street.

Silly me, I was figuring the neighborhood dogs were to blame. The grass all along the sidewalks in particular look largely denuded. I figured it was due to too many dogs doing their business where they shouldn’t. The official dog walking area is across the street. But then I started to notice all sorts of places in our front yard far from the sidewalks were dirt, and the prints in the dirt were unmistakable. Those were not dog prints, but deer prints.

I hadn’t noticed you before because I am normally asleep when you are out. Oh sure, I take regular walks along Horsepen Run and occasionally I will see you guys among the trees. Mostly you hide real well, although on occasion I will see a family of you pass through the trees, sometimes oblivious to the human presence around you. I’m amazed that with all the development, that any of you can survive around here. The evidence though is that you are not only surviving, but you are flourishing. Exhibit Number One: my lawn. Those hoof prints are dead give away.

My wife saw you one the morning in our backyard, chomping away at the grass back there, grass that has been dormant since last fall. A split rail fence largely encloses our backyard. No matter. I can’t get over it without ripping my jeans, but it’s no problem for you. The whole lot of you simply bounded right over it into the next yard.

I don’t get into the backyard much, but I did today for my spring clean up. And clean up you did, with new bare spots back there that I cannot wholly attribute to growing trees along the property line. And then there are the hoof prints, more evidence that you guys love my backyard as much as my front yard.

I finally have a reason to own a gun. I certainly don’t need one to protect myself from thieves or other miscreants. But you deer, on the other hand, clearly are getting out of control. It’s just curious that in the twenty years I have occupied my house, you haven’t been a problem before. Now you are making a serious mess of my yard. It’s not just me. I take regular walks through the neighborhoods around here and I can see evidence on the other lawns as well. Seriously, if you think humans have a population control problem, if left to your own devices you guys will overrun the area!

In the past there were natural predators to keep you in check, but there are no coyotes or bears around here, so you just keep breeding and breeding. A gun though would provide plenty of free venison and considering how many of you there are, I doubt you’d miss Uncle Fred too much. There is, of course, the other minor problem in that I have never hunted in my life. Moreover, while I am sure many of my neighbors own guns, none of us are stupid enough to use them in the neighborhood. I mean, we have kids playing dodge ball in the streets around here.

I live in Fairfax County, Virginia. The county government is well aware of the deer problem, and the local papers have articles about the problem. In some forested areas, licensed hunters are allowed to hunt deer, but it’s a very limited sort of culling. Being that we’re all so educated, humane and stuff, to the extent we try to control the deer population, it is to shoot them not with bullets but with tranquilizers. Mostly it’s the female deer that are shot, and they get a quick little operation, and then are allowed to rejoin the herd where presumably they do not procreate anymore. It does sound humane, but I get the sense that our deer population is simply too large for such a program to have much effect on your population growth.

Perhaps there is stuff I can spray on the grass and gardens to deter you. I have heard that bear urine works pretty well. I may have to find a local bear and ask him to express some for me, but it looks like I need a lot of it. And call me suspicious, but I don’t think it will stop you from munching on my property. It apparently is just too tasty. Your eating habits plus the harsh winter has left a lot of soil erosion, so the grass is disappearing along the slope to our backyard. I figure I need to work on replacing the grass, but what’s the point if you guys are just going to nibble at it again? I am planning to move in a year or so, and I want a lush looking lawn. Who’s going to want to buy my house the way you guys are noshing at it?

So this is just a warning. I’ve checked regulations and apparently while I can own a gun or guns, I can’t actually discharge one in a residential area. (I am surprised the NRA does not call this gun control.) Archery, however, is allowed as a method for controlling deer in residential areas. I could get into that. What I need is a good crossbow. I’ll try not to scare the children however, and wait to do this until it is very dark. I’ll slip onto my porch around midnight on the pretext of stargazing or something. I’ll wait until you arrive around midnight and then cull your herd a bit. Maybe that will learn you.

I’m not into venison but I’m sure there are homeless people in the area not as particular. I don’t care how cute you look, there are way too many of you. You know it and I know it and our lawns prove it. If you value your lives, I suggest you do your dining elsewhere, hopefully deep in the woods.

You have been warned.

Mark, the pissed off human

 
The Thinker

Perchance to dream, part two

Now that I’m dreaming again, I am noticing some recurring themes. Apparently, I stopped dreaming for many years, probably for decades, due to moderate sleep apnea. Sigmund Freud would probably have a field day analyzing these dreams. Most dreams tend to be ephemeral, thus hard to remember, but some keep recurring enough or have enough emotional impact that you remember them when you are awake. Here are four for your amusement. Loss of control or rather, fear of loss of control seems to be a recurring theme in my dreams, which suggests I project an aura of certainty, which would not surprise frequent readers of this blog.

Is there a bathroom in the house?

I bet this is a very common dream. Maybe it is a condition of middle age, when your bladder is more problematic and you want some assurance that a toilet is not too far away. The dream does not vary much but the thrust is always the same: I need to go really bad, but no matter which restroom I try, I cannot get relief. Curiously, I always need to go #1, not #2 in these dreams. And so I spend inordinate amounts of dream time searching desperately for a working toilet or urinal. But they are always full. There’s either a line of guys out the door waiting to use the urinals, or the toilets are cracked, broken, or so completely filthy that even a desperate human could not possibly use them. So I go in quest of another bathroom while the problem gets continuously more acute, and each subsequent restroom has the same issues, and is often worse.

Sometimes in desperation I look for a discreet spot outside to go, but just when I think I have found such a spot and am about to expose my privates, I find that someone is observing, so no relief is possible.

Eventually my conscious mind stumbles to wakefulness and I realize that I really do have to go, and this is my body’s imperfect way of telling me this. So I stumble into the bathroom, which us middle aged men do a couple of times a night anyhow, do my business and hope the dream will not recur.

The very high cliff

Here is another dream which I believe is very common. Some say it goes back to being “weightless” in utero. Basically it involves an oops moment. Somehow I stumble off a very high cliff and fall toward the ground. I am, of course, scared out of my mind and convinced I am moments from death. The curious thing is that in real life you probably would fall to your death and be dead a few seconds later. But in the dream you never actually make it to impact, you are just incredibly scared by this total loss of control and impending total destruction. The scariness builds on top of the scariness and just goes on and on until the rational part of my brain finally kicks in, wherein I groggily awake and then do what I often do when I awake in the middle of the night: shuffle off to the bathroom because my bladder wants me to go anyhow.

The seductress

This is my favorite dream. Its downside is it never lasts long enough. It involves intimate carnal knowledge of a woman, usually much younger, who is totally hot and totally wants my body for some unexplained and irrational reason because, trust me, I’m not anyone any hot and young babe is going to pursue, even if I didn’t have the wedding ring. Like most great seductions, it seems that the most enjoyable part comes before actual carnal knowledge, i.e. the anticipation of the carnal knowledge and some sort of magic charisma I don’t actually possess. Anyhow, usually she is not only totally hot, but she is exotic, typically Asian. I find Asian women in general attractive, so I’m not surprised they often appear in my erotic dreams. Suffice to say they are not pursing me in real life. Sometimes I actually proceed to sex acts with these women, but usually it ends about the time penetration or oral sex begins, darn it.

I wish I could stay in these dreams, but unlike others like the bathroom dream where I can’t seem to get out of them, my consciousness usually quickly wakes me up with an “Oh, get real!” It’s either my consciousness or I’m tuning into my wife’s gentle snoring. In short, there is no way to actually achieve satiety in this dream. The perfect sexual experience, impossible in real life, is impossible for me in dreamland as well.

The reluctant protector

This one happened last night around four a.m. It sure was strange, so strange that I actually remembered it. I have a lot of dreams on similar themes: I am in situations I don’t particularly want to be in, and I struggle to get free but can’t quite make it free. The more I struggle, the worse it gets. This one involved kids and youth, which was weird. They were drawn to be because (a) I’m an adult (b) they see me as something like a knight in armor, i.e. a good man in a bad world. Meanwhile, all around them all sorts of bad things are happening which put them, but not me, in jeopardy. I’m not sure what these bad things are exactly, but they are pretty nasty and they need protection. So they huddle around me, latching on tightly with hands, legs, fingers, anything they can desperately, because they think I will save them. They cry out to me and drill me with their desperate and panicky eyes. And it becomes too much from me. I must get free from them so I push them off me as fast as I can, to their wailing, consternation and my feelings of guilt. Yet for everyone I manage to push off, two more latch on, so eventually there are kids five or six layers deep surrounding me, needing me, and expecting me to protect them. I simply cannot because I don’t have a free hand. All I really want is to be free of the burden and go rest somewhere, alone, in the quiet.

If there are any armchair psychologists, real or wannabees out there, feel free to tell me what these dreams mean. They must mean something as they generally recur frequently. I wish I could dream of something more entertaining for a change.

 
The Thinker

Review: Pump Up the Volume (1990)

Mark Hunter, a.k.a. Harry Hard-on, and played by Christian Slater, is a recent transplant to Arizona and Hubert H. Humphrey High School. He’s not exactly fitting in well with locals, or his teachers, or the students, or even his parents. He does go to school and does his best to keep his head down and to talk to no one. Mostly he pines for his friends back east, so much so that his father (the new superintendent of public schools) bought him a short wave radio to communicate with his friends back east. But his friends back east seem to have moved on.

In Pump Up the Volume, Mark Hunter earnestly wants to rebel but he can’t find the courage to do it in public, and certainly not with his parents, who he is pissed off at for making him move. So he holes himself in their basement as much as he can, and converts his shortwave radio into an illegal FM radio station. The mousy Mark becomes “Harry Hard-on” on his illegitimate radio station. At 10 p.m. he entertains using his underpowered transmitter to a narrow range of people who might be listening locally.

“Harry” is an irreverent DJ, that’s for sure. He laces his sentences with expletives and fills his shows with fake sequences wherein he pretends to masturbate on the air. Mom and Dad seem pretty clueless, but want to give him space. Mark simply wants to vent from the safety of his basement to what turns out to be a small but dedicated fan base of students at HHH high school. While the school is known to have the best SAT scores in the state, Mark channels the apathy and anger of its students who realize that their high school in many ways is run by Cruella de Vil.

If the plot seems kind of nuts in our modern day, you have to remember this is 1989. It’s a pre-Internet, or at least pre World Wide Web era, as evidenced by the TSR-80 in Mark’s basement along with his shortwave and stack of cassette tapes. Back then without smartphones, Facebook pages and text messages, this was what you worked with. Mark is nothing else if not audacious and even Howard Stern would not touch some of the topics in his broadcasts. Unquestionably though Mark has hit a nerve. Although he does not talk much with anyone at HHH High, they can relate to his brassy irreverence and his willingness to transgress all boundaries.

One of his biggest fans is Nora Diniro (Samantha Mathis), who tunes into every show and send him letters on red paper to his post office box (yes, this was before the days when most people had email accounts). Mark will call people who send him snail mail if they leave their phone number, and he will call people he shouldn’t, like the guidance counselor at HHH High. His illicit radio station consequently quickly attracts the attention of the school’s administration, particularly the iron-fisted redheaded school principle, Mrs. Creswood (Annie Ross). She has a reputation to maintain, and that is for academic excellence. It is achieved, we eventually learn, through some cruel and unorthodox techniques. Let’s just say the students at HHH have some legitimate grievances with their administration.

Harry Hard-on’s show goes viral at the school, to the point that his motto becomes a banner on the school’s bulletin boards. The show attracts the attention of the local TV station, which sends a reporter to cover the story. The only mystery is: who is Harry Hard-on? It takes his devoted fan Nora, meticulously recording key facts that he reveals in his show, to figure out who he is.

Meanwhile each show makes Mark more vulnerable to discovery while tensions grow to a boiling point at HHH. As the local TV station latches on to the story, it naturally attracts more attention, including the Federal Communications Commission, which sends some vans full of gear to locate the illicit antenna. It turns out that it is convenient to have Nora as a friend because she can drive his parents’ Jeep. Using its battery he is able to rig his shortwave, making for a portable radio station. You can guess that he can’t keep his identity a secret forever; otherwise there would be little plot here.

For a rebellious teen movie, this one is one of the better ones although it is clearly dated. “Harry” ends with a plea for everyone to set up illegitimate radio stations. That was so, like, 20th century! Anyone can do that now for free on the Internet, although it’s likely most of these “stations” have few if any listeners.

Overall, the movie is surprisingly adult. It received an R rating, which meant that most who this movie was targeted at could not actually see it when it was playing in theaters. There is a semi-nude scene where Nora takes off her top, but curiously it’s easier for her to get half naked than for Nora and Mark to make the leap to their first kiss.

For a movie about teenage rebellion and angst, it’s perhaps equally a movie about how difficult it is to connect in any meaningful way when you are a teenager, or to be your authentic self when you are constantly hassled over grades and SAT scores. In public Mark acts a lot like Clark Kent, but he is no superman when he is broadcasting in his basement, just an upfront and confused teenager who quickly realizes his quirky “show” attracts a lot of other very confused teenagers that he attempts to awkwardly counsel.

If you can ignore the outdated technology and a rather predictable plot, the movie actually works quite well. Mark is easy to relate to and if you’ve been through adolescence you know his perspective is authentic. It’s not quite Rebel Without a Cause, but Mark kind of channels his spirit in a repressed late 1980s kind of way.

3.1 out of four-points.

Rating: ★★★☆ 

 
The Thinker

Progress through moderation, or why you should eat your vegetables

Do you want to know why so little is getting done in Washington, D.C.? In my humble opinion, it’s because of the absence of moderate legislators. Granted, this would not have been obvious to me a dozen years ago. But today, as I see the actual result of virtually totally polarized government, I am starting to understand that if anything meaningful is to happen in our government, it will require electing a lot of moderates.

DailyKos (where I guiltily hang out regularly) is a progressive on-line community and is all about electing what it calls “better” Democrats. Yes, we’ll vote for a moderate Democrat if there is no other choice. A moderate Democrat counts as well as a liberal Democrat when claiming a majority, and a majority holds the bulk of the power in a legislature. What they really want though are very liberal Democrats: the green tea drinking, carbon-neutral, gay-friendly, single-payer type of Democrat. The thinking goes that if we get enough of them elected, we’ll actually become a green country with marriage rights for all. Naturally, over at sites like Red State, they are recruiting the Ted Cruzes of the Republican Party. It seems like there is no logical end to how deeply conservative they want their candidates to be. Lately the litmus test includes repealing the amendment that allows for the direct election of senators.

I am all for green tea drinking, carbon-neutral, gay-friendly, single-payer Democrats, at least in the abstract. It’s when we actually get them to Congress and need them to legislate that it usually all goes to hell. This is because they are trying to legislate with the other side, which is also polarized. The more partisan you are, the less likely you are to accommodate suggestions from the other side. It’s my way or the highway. And so you get episodes like last October’s government shutdown, a costly and deeply counterproductive boondoggle. You get highly principled legislators so principled they cannot do what they were sent to Congress to do: legislate. Instead, they spend their time complaining.

Congress has given up on the deliberative process. Most committee chairmen spend their time promoting their party’s grievances with the other party, not working on legislation. Congress simply isn’t weighing the nation’s needs anymore. About all they can agree on, and only after a lot of warring, is to continue spending at about the same level we spent the year before. There is little in the way of direction to the agencies of government on how to spend money.

Unsurprisingly, when Congress refuses to do its job, the president gets antsy. We saw it on display at the State of the Union address. President Obama basically said that if Congress is going to sit on its hands, he will act. He’ll use the full measure of his executive powers to make change happen. This, of course, ticks off the Republicans in Congress, and leads to silly vitriol like the president is a Nazi or a dictator. This of course ignores that presidents of both parties have routinely pushed the boundaries of executive power. It was not that long ago when Democrats were complaining about President Bush’s many signing statements, basically saying which parts of a law he will choose to enforce. There is little evidence that President Obama has taken his executive authority to such absurd levels.

There is a solution to this problem: enacting real legislation. Real legislation is not the fiftieth vote by the House to repeal Obamacare, but it might be a reasonably bipartisan vote to change some unpopular aspects of it, perhaps the president’s not entirely true claim that if you like your health policy, you can keep it. That would reflect some debate and consensus. It would also acknowledge reality that the Affordable Care Act is here to stay, so we might as well amend it rather than foolishly think we can abolish it. To actually do this though you first have to acknowledge that you can’t always get what you want. You have to, like, compromise.

Democrats are no better. The people at DailyKos want a Congress full of senators like Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders. I like and admire both senators. But I also know if the Democratic-side of the Senate were nothing but Elizabeth Warrens and Bernie Sanders not a whole lot of legislation would get enacted into law. Our polarized Congress would just get more polarized.

There are exceptions of course. Great change can be made when one party seizes control of both the White House and the Congress. That’s how the imperfect Affordable Care Act got enacted. It’s how social security became law. It’s great for the party in charge when this happens, but it is invariably a fleeting experience. For the party out of power, these laws simply get their dander up. You can bet when they get power again, as happened to Republicans after the 2010 elections, their pent up resentment will be felt. In the case of House Republicans, it meant fifty fruitless votes to repeal Obamacare. More importantly, it also meant that they controlled the power of the purse, since appropriation legislation must originate in the House. And so we got fiscal cliffs, reduced stimuli and endless brinkmanship over debt ceilings, not to mention boatloads of Tea Partiers. We also got dysfunctional government. That was the price of Obamacare.

Electing “better” (i.e. more extreme) Republicans and Democrats simply ensures more of the same. So at some point a rational voter must ask themselves: is this really in my best interests? Is it really in the nation’s best interest? Does it really make sense to, say, not do anything serious about global climate change until my hypothetically green-friendly legislature is in power because the other side is being so unreasonable?

My answer is no. It’s in both my interest and the nation’s interest to do something about these issues, even if only half measures and imperfect. This is because time is our most precious commodity, and we are spending our future by doing nothing today. Hence, I need to be pragmatic about who I vote for.

I am not thrilled with Mark Warner as my senator. He’s a Democrat, but he’s very middle of the road and business-friendly, and arguably more than a little worker-hostile. However, he has crossover appeal. Even in this partisan climate he is working with Republican senators to try to move legislation, even though it seems impossible much of the time. The nation needs a lot more senators like Mark Warner, even though I do not agree with him on many issues.

The choice is like eating your vegetables instead of a slice of greasy pizza. I’d prefer the pizza any day, but I need to eat my vegetables instead. Ultimately, both I and my country will be better off if I put that clothespin on my nose and pull the lever to reelect Mark Warner. The logical part of my brain tells me I need to reelect him. The emotional side of me though wishes Elizabeth Warren would move to Virginia, so I could vote for her instead.

For the sake of my country, I’ve got to use my left brain.

 
The Thinker

If you care about the environment, choose your realtor with care

The Koch Brothers have been much in the news lately, at least if you follow political news. The two brothers own Koch Industries, which itself is a holding company for a lot of other companies it owns. The brothers are Charles and David Koch, but Koch Industries was actually built up by their father Fred, who long ago went to his reward.

Aside from their obscene wealth, the Koch Brothers have been known for their extremely conservative views. Moreover, they have not been afraid to put their money where their mouths are. Their money helped elect Scott Walker as Wisconsin’s governor. Together their political action committee, KochPAC, spent huge amounts of money on the 2012 elections, to little effect. As an investment, it was an unwise one, but its magnitude was stunning: over $400M. Their PACs alone spent nearly three times more in the 2012 election than the top ten labor unions combined.

Koch Industries is into lots of industries, principally industrial in nature. Their profits depend on getting natural resources cheaply to market. It’s not surprising then that Charles and David are premier anti-environmentalists, who vehemently deny that global warming is a problem and are trying to keep their industries from being impacted by pesky and costly pollution laws. Koch Carbon has created a lot of petroleum coke as a byproduct from refining oil shipped from Canadian tar sands. The product, called petcoke, has been piled up many stories high along parts of the Great Lakes. A huge noxious cloud of dust from a petcoke pile was captured on video last year. Its presence doesn’t bother the Koch Brothers, who don’t have to breathe the stuff, but it was of great concern to residents of Detroit and Windsor, Ontario, who were on the receiving end of these polluted dust clouds.

While primarily into industrial activities, the Koch Brothers have influence in some surprising areas. One thing the Koch Brothers do well is create PACs and network related companies to contribute toward these PACs to achieve common goals. For the Koch Brothers, this is principally electing conservatives with an anti-environmental bent.

Many parts of the country are controlled by a handful of national realtor firms. Ever hear of Realogy? I hadn’t. There is a good chance you have heard some of these real estate firm names: Coldwell Banker, Century 21, Southbys, ERA and Better Homes and Gardens RE. It just so happens that Realogy gives heavily to Koch Brothers-related PACs. And Koch Brothers PACs give money principally to candidates that are anti-environmental, not to mention anti-union.

Real estate commissions are quite profitable, typically six percent of a house’s purchase price. A house selling for $250,000 actually costs $265,000, when you add in the typical real estate commissions. (It’s more than that, of course, when you add in all those other fees that come with buying a house.) Often the fee is split between two realtors: the seller’s agent and the buyer’s agent. If you consider how many houses are sold across the country annually, you can see that real estate commissions amount to a huge amount of money. Of course the individual agents keep a lot of it: it amounts to their salary. However, they also kick back a lot of it to their companies. Companies like Coldwell Banker ship their profits back to Realogy. Realogy’s in turn uses some of those profits to fund Koch-related PACs. It helps explain why the Koch Brothers-related PACs can find more than $400M to spend influencing elections in 2012 alone. For a company this big, $400M amounts to the change found under the family’s sofa cushions.

Curiously, most of the agents who work for these companies have no idea where these profits go. It’s likely that many of them are like me: environmentalists. They would probably be aghast to learn a substantial amount of this money is spent to help elect politicians who will be anti-environmentalist. I’m not a realtor, but I am a likely home seller and buyer in the next year or so. I would have known none of this had I not spoken to a realtor, who shall remain anonymous, with progressive leanings, who gave me the inside dope on all this.

What this means for us home sellers and purchasers is that unless we are very careful we are indirectly contributing to the destruction of our planet. If next year when I expect to put our house on the market I choose a realtor who works for a company controlled by Realogy, I could be indirectly contributing to PACs controlled by the Koch brothers, which will go principally to electing people who will further harm the planet.

I am so glad to get this insider information. If you are an environmentalist and in the housing market, then you should be glad to be reading this post too. In fact, I hope you will take a moment to “like” it or hit one of the share buttons for this post, and broadcast it to your friends. Perhaps, before listing your house, you should choose a realtor firm not associated with Realogy. Among the national firms not part of Realogy are ReMax and Keller Williams. Perhaps, before hiring a buyer agent, you should do the same. That does not necessarily mean that ReMax and Keller Williams may not be channeling some of their profits into these anti-environmentalist causes. But it seems less likely that they are.

Deciding who to hire as your realtor or buyer agent of course is a complex decision. Typically you are more interested in the agent than the company they are affiliated with, and his or her track record. If you are an environmentalist, you can look for good agents that simply aren’t associated with these firms. You can also choose small, local and independent realtor firms. These firms don’t have to send their profits to a national office. They can keep the money in their community instead. And that sounds environmentally friendly.

You can bet that before I sign a contract with a realtor, I’ll be assured that my money will not indirectly support any Koch Brothers PAC, or any anti-environmental cause. I hope you will do the same.

Updated 3/9/14 – I initially published this with some incorrect information. I had suggested that Realogy was owned by the Koch Empire. This is not true, however Realogy does give heavily to the Koch Brothers’ related and approved PACs. The full extent is hard to determine, since individuals working for Realogy can make contributions to any organization they choose under their own name. As for the official Realogy PAC, you can see how it spent its money here. As you can see, a lot of it went to the Madison PAC, whose Facebook page indicates its purpose is to get conservatives elected to Congress.

 
The Thinker

Value reprogramming our children

So many of us are raising our children mostly the way our parents raised us. It’s unclear why we do this. Perhaps we assume they did a great job, considering how awesome we turned out. Since we’re so awesome, we figure we’ll simply follow their formula and we’ll have awesome children too.

Or it could be we don’t want to suffer their wrath or disappointment. Parents can hurt us, even when we are in our middle years. Most likely, we don’t analyze our approach to parenting too much; we just do it reflexively. If we were raised Catholic, junior and his sister are raised Catholic. If we played Little League, our sons play in the Little League. If we went to Girl Scouts, our daughter goes to Girl Scouts.

Raising your kid differently than you were raised takes a certain amount of courage. Obviously, it takes less courage if you realize that you were raised wrong. If Dad beat you regularly with a belt, hopefully you won’t do that to your child, although chances are you will. Value programming seems to work this way. Both the good stuff and the bad stuff tend to get passed down from generation to generation. If your father beat up your mother, there’s a good chance if you are a male that you will beat your wife. Stranger still, if you were the daughter, there is a good chance you will be in a marriage where your spouse will beat you up. It’s unclear why this is, but it may be because we unconsciously seek out spouses that have characteristics of our parents. It happened to me: I married a gal from a poor family in Michigan, just like my father. At the time, this coincidence never occurred to me, but it was probably more than coincidence, particularly since my mother and I had issues.

Parenting comes with no rewind button. Instead, parenting is a continuous stream of events and choices applied to situations at the moment. From our children’s birth to our deaths it never really ends, but there is an unofficial end when our adult children finally move out of the house. (There is a good chance they will move back in some years later.) In retrospect, all of us parents wish we could have done some things differently. You do the best you can and try to forgive yourself for your parenting mistakes.

Parenting differently than the way you were parented takes reflection and mindfulness. My parents were not particularly physically affectionate. We got little in the way of hugs and kisses. They weren’t wholly absent; just that they were the exception rather than the rule. Unsurprisingly, I grew up feeling somewhat touch deprived. Also, my parents, although I am sure they loved each other, weren’t great at demonstrating affection with each other or really doing much together, other than dutifully raising us. Since I had about a decade as a bachelor, I had time to reflect on these concerns. I made up my mind that I would not replicate them with my daughter.

So I made a point to be lavish with hugs and kisses. I told her sincerely, and often, that I loved her. When near her I made sure to put an arm over her shoulder or around her waist. I wanted her to know that healthy human relationships should be naturally intimate, and that meant touching liberally. In short, I did not want to transmit what I considered to be a poor way of being raised. I wanted her to feel connection and intimacy. This meant more than words; it meant the constant pleasure and communication of touch. It’s delightful to see her as an adult being still so physically demonstrative with us.

My parents picked up something of a Puritan ethos common from their era. It meant the father made most of the major decisions, the mother’s role was to be supportive and children were supposed to quickly learn their place. It was generally understood that as children we were inexperienced and thus our parents knew best. We were told not just from them, but also from society in general, that our parents were our ultimate guides in life and to trust them implicitly. In general, the boys in our family learned that most emotions were better left bottled up, because we never saw dad cry or even get very upset.

Of course, society is a lot different now compared to then. The United States has more than doubled its population in my lifetime. Values have changed quite a bit as well. In the 1960s I did not know homosexuals existed. Today they have civil rights that were denied them including, increasingly, the right to marry. My country is much more ethnic in general too. I had to figure out how to put all this together in my parenting. It was not always easy and often it was lonely.

I had virtually no sex education, as was true of most of us Baby Boomers. I had to depend on factual books like Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex to get some rudimentary education. Reading about sex as opposed to experiencing it, of course, is quite different. Schools now generally teach sex education, but it is largely superficial. Certain topics are frequently off limits. Parents can teach their children sex education, but it is generally an awkward experience. It is better to come from an authoritative but independent source. Mostly, I didn’t want my daughter to start her sex life sexually ignorant. She needed a real grounding, both on the biological facts but on the physical and emotional issues of being a sexual person. I found such a program at my Unitarian Universalist Church: Our Whole Lives, wherein all these topics were discussed candidly but with trained facilitators. There is no question about it: sex is a big, complex and icky topic. But better to make sure she started with a firm foundation than to be ignorant and make the stupid mistakes I did when I became sexually awake.

Sex education is just one area where I deviated from the values I was taught. While many were the same (love, compassion, neighborliness, the importance of education) many were also different. I taught respect for people regardless of sex, race, religion or (the hard one) because they have different beliefs than me. I told her that I was a human being, not a god, and thus I make mistakes. I encouraged those values that helped me succeed, some that worked (reading, debate) and some that did not stick (striving for excellence, exercise and diet). In the end, like me, my daughter had a lot to absorb, analyze and figure out what was right for her.

At least she appreciates the complexity of our modern world. It is far more complex than it was when I was her age. No wonder then that today adolescence seems to extend well into their twenties. It’s quite a brain dump we give our children, and harder than ever for them to structure it in a way that will help them deal with their reality.

At the same time, my daring experience at value reprogramming has been satisfying. My parents did the best they could to set my values with the skills they had at the time. I did my best as well. I am glad I did not simply parrot the way I was raised, but trusted my own judgment instead. I used values that seemed to work (thriftiness, for example) and discarded what did not seem to work (religious orthodoxy).

My daughter says she won’t have a child, but she is toying with the idea of adopting a child when she is self sufficient enough. If that time comes, I hope she is smart enough to do what I did: and discard those things about the way we raised her that did not work, and substitute her own judgment of the modern world as she perceives it.

 
The Thinker

Craigslist casual encounters weirdness: March 2014 edition

At the start of the year I mentioned that the weather outside was frightful. It hadn’t seemed to cool the libidos of my fellow Northern Virginians, at least those that hang out on Craigslist Casual Encounters hoping against hope to score some kinky shenanigans despite the largely impassible roads and the single digit temperatures, not to mention the wan hopes of actually succeeding on scoring on Craigslist.

Two months later the weather outside is still frightful. The polar vortex does not want to leave the area. It’s snowing with a fresh accumulation of up to nine inches of snow predicted by later today. The temperature is in the teens, eighteen degrees to be specific. If there is to be a spring thaw at last, perhaps it will come from the unleashed heat of my fellow horny Northern Virginians.

But first a quick report from the statistics desk. Last month I neglected to give a report on my Craigslist casual encounters hits. I got at least 323 page views for this stuff in January, and at least 272 in February. I say “at least” because I can’t convince Google Analytics to show me more than the top ten pages with “Craigslist” in the title. Regardless, there remains plenty of public interest in these reports, so I feel an obligation to keep them, er, coming, so to speak. Bringing up the first page in my browser, I can see it is mostly men advertising for, well, anyone. There are 67 men looking for women, 25 men looking for men, just 1 woman looking for a man, 2 women looking for a woman, 1 couple looking for a man and 1 couple looking for a woman. So I’ll have to expand the scope beyond the first page to include a disproportionate number of women.

Warning: links may take you to sexually explicit content. Let’s dig into the snow and the posts in the Craigslist Casual Encounters area for Northern Virginia:

  • A 32-year-old guy from, well, it’s not clear exactly but he’s looking at a territory from Leesburg to Reston, wants to know why it’s so hard to find a good friend with benefits. This is not too “hard”. First, consider the fact that most women, even here on Craigslist, probably don’t want to see a picture of your hard dick when viewing your ad. News alert: most women probably won’t swoon at a dick picture. Based on the minimal postings by women, it’s also probably because no one is reading your ad except, well, me, and purely for the purpose of statistical sampling. And I can assure you that your ad does nothing for me other than make me chuckle and shake my head at your cluelessness.
  • Here’s a guy who has a solution on how to have sex in spite of the snow: make it virtual! He wants to do a web cam show with a woman featuring his hand stroking his penis. But what’s the point? There is nothing to discover. You can see his tight abs and his dick easily enough because he’s posted pictures of both. He says doesn’t care what you look like, which is good because you can’t tell who is viewing you anyhow, which suggests that his viewers will actually be men perhaps pretending to be women.
  • I’m still trying to figure out how a guy can have sex with another couple and still claim he is straight. Anyhow, that’s what this 42-year-old guy with, sigh, yet another dick picture wants to do, and he is hosting in his “upscale” Arlington hotel. Only, I’m not sure the Metro is running in this snow. He wants the couple to be between 45 and 60. I suspect he’ll be ordering a lot of room service and to the extent he gets off, it will be from watching naughty pay per view movies on TV instead.
  • Why don’t some men just say they are bisexual already? They can’t quite form the words. But when you are a man advertising you want to try the cuckold side of a relationship that probably means you get leftovers, quite literally, which suggests to me you are bisexual. Anyhow, this 38-year-old man from Burke has a picture to suggest what he has in mind in his supplicant role. Careful what you wish for, Burke guy.
  • Here’s a 52-year-old gay guy from my area looking for another guy. He isn’t going to let snow stop him from getting off. He’s got a four-wheel drive vehicle and he wants to drop by for whatever you want him to do to you. I assume there is no delivery charge.
  • You would think if you were 63 years old, you wouldn’t be too choosy. Not all 63-year-old men have gotten the message, because here’s such a guy looking for a transvestite, but not just any transvestite or transgender. You must be between the ages of 18-30, have very high heels, a revealing outfit and must pose and/or dance. Oh and you also need to be clean and personable. He does not mention anything about having a four-wheel drive vehicle to facilitate transportation in this snow but that doesn’t matter. He’s written an ad guaranteed to attract no one. Oh, and he’s also married. It’s unclear if his wife will be watching, but I’m guessing she is clueless and if not she is laughing her ass off and wondering how she ended up marrying such a dweeb.
  • When the title of your ad is “{{{==== cUm bEnd Me oVer My bEd===}}” there is a 99.9% chance that this “woman” is actually a troll or a spammer. Most likely if you click on this ad it will have been flagged for removal. Go ahead and test my theory. Expect to see at least a dozen more like this posted over the course of today.
  • Oh dear. Here’s a 38-year-old woman from nearby Chantilly that wants you to come by and basically beat her up, but with a strap. It’s something about being stressed out or something. She also wants oral sex and intercourse but as written it has to be done with your strap, not your mouth or penis, which I think is physically impossible. It’s okay to bring drugs too.
  • A 20-year-old voluptuous woman in Fairfax County is looking for what appears to be a first close encounter with her own gender. She has three selfies to show you what she is all about. I will say she has an impressive rack. Meanwhile, a sexy 33-year-old dominant Latina with impressive shades is also looking for her own gender. Since she wants someone younger, perhaps she should hook up with the former poster.
  • A 42-year-old biracial couple (woman white, man black) wants to add a woman. They want to play in the snow, although it’s unclear which kind of white powder they mean. Looks like they can go skiing either way.

More next month.

 
The Thinker

Mt. Gox: more evidence of why BitCoin is best avoided

Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz learned from Glinda that if she clicked her ruby slippers, closed her eyes and kept repeating “there’s no place like home” that she would magically return to Kansas. So simple! BitCoin adherents are a lot like Dorothy. Dorothy at least made it home from her fantastical journey. True believers in BitCoin, the libertarian currency, got a splash of cold water across their faces this week instead. Mt. Gox, the Tokyo-based BitCoin exchange, has gone belly up, along with about $300M in BitCoins. Most likely someone stole those BitCoins, either someone inside the firm or some shadowy hackers. By any standard, this was quite a heist. Looking at history, you’d have a hard time finding any instance of a similar theft inside what amounts to a bank.

In any case, sorry you BitCoin suckers. Real banks and exchanges still have vaults, but they don’t carry much of their assets in cash. Much of it is commercial paper, bonds, mortgage deeds, promissory notes and Federal Reserve Notes. Whether in paper, assets on an electronic register somewhere, or gold bars in a vault, these assets are quite tangible. Someone with a car loan who defaults on their payments is likely to find their car repossessed. Those who defaulted on home loans during the Great Recession found their houses foreclosed and if they had ready cash assets, they were put under legal assault. BitCoin owners with their BitCoins in Mt. Gox now have nothing and the police just aren’t interested in serving them justice.

This was not supposed to happen to this libertarian currency. Freed of its tie to governments, it was supposed to soar above inflation and always retain a finite empirical value. It was all secure and such through the power of math. After all, exchanging a BitCoin involves keeping a record of who its next owner is. Unless, of course, it just disappears. Undoubtedly these stolen BitCoins were converted into a real currency, just unbeknownst to its owners, and perhaps with the help of some money laundering exchange, perhaps Mt. Gox itself. BitCoin is after all the preferred currency of drug dealers, at least until their fingerprints have disappeared and they can convert the digital money into something more tangible and fungible, like U.S. dollars.

I keep my cash in a couple of credit unions and a bank. It’s unlikely that a credit union like Pentagon Federal, where I have a couple of accounts, is going to go under like Mt. Gox. In the unlikely event that it does, I’ll get my money back because it is backed up by what amounts to the full faith and credit of the United States. Mt. Gox was backed up by the full faith and credit of, well, Mt. Gox. It’s like asking the fox to guard the henhouse.

And there’s the rub with BitCoin exchanges. When you create a currency detached from a government that will assert and protect its value, there is no one to complain to when your BitCoin bank goes bust. The government of Japan is looking into the event, but it is mostly hands off. It never promised to underwrite Mt. Gox, and Mt. Gox never asked it to. In any event, Japan underwrites its Yen, not BitCoins. Japan has a vested interest in keeping its currency solvent. It has no such interest in keeping another currency, particularly one it cannot control, solvent.

An exchange like Mt. Gox could of course seek out local governments for underwriting of their exchanges. Those BitCoin exchanges and banks that want to remain viable are going to have to do something just like this. Good luck with that. In doing so though they are of course defeating the whole purpose of BitCoin. BitCoin is about a libertarian ideal; it’s about money having a value independent of government apron strings. Affiliate the BitCoin currency in a BitCoin exchange with a government, and you tacitly admit that BitCoin is not a libertarian currency after all. In short, you have to give up the notion that money can be decoupled from government control.

It’s unlikely that many governments will be willing to protect BitCoin exchanges. It is reasonable to protect assets that you can actually control: your national currency. For a government to protect a BitCoin currency, it is reasonable to expect that they would also be able to control the amount of BitCoins in circulation and set rules for their use and misuse. They can’t do that, which means that they would be asked to put the good faith and credit of their country against an erratic currency that could prove digitally worthless at any time. This strikes me as a foolish thing to do, but there may be entrepreneurial countries out there, say, the Cayman Islands, that will take the plunge. The risk might be worth the rewards.

I don’t think you have to worry about governments like Germany, England, Japan, China and the United States doing something this foolish. If there is any organization that might see profit in this, it will probably be the Mafia, or other criminal syndicates, many of who are already using BitCoins as a mechanism for money laundering.

Doubtless other BitCoin exchanges will work real hard to sell trust that is now deservedly absent from these exchanges. As I pointed out in an earlier post, it’s going to be a hard sell given that BitCoin’s value is essentially based on faith in its mathematics and algorithms.

Absent from the minds of BitCoin true believers is an understanding that money must be tied to a governmental entity to be real money. It’s tied to governments for many reasons, but primarily because governments are required to govern, and this includes having the ability to enforce its laws and to collect taxes. Money is based on the idea that entities can force everyone to play by the same rules, including using the same currency as a means of exchange within the country for lawful debts. The truth is, there are no rules with BitCoin other than its math. It is a lawless currency. That Mt. Gox’s treasury of BitCoins can be plundered with impunity proves it.

Libertarianism is built on the idea of caveat emptor: let the buyer beware. No warranties are expressed or implied, but even if they are expressed they depend on the trust of the seller. No one can force the seller to do squat. The best a buyer can hope for is to track the thief down and take justice with his fists or a gun. That’s no way to run an economy, which is why libertarianism is an ideology that simply does not work in the real world.

Again, a word to the wise: just say no to BitCoins.

 
The Thinker

Going to the dogs

It was a brief moment today. I was driving to work through a residential neighborhood. As I often do on Tuesdays, I had to wend my way past the trash truck. I give these guys a brake and wait for them to say it’s okay to pass them. Today though the guys on the trash truck were oblivious to me. They were petting a dog.

One of the homeowners had her dog on a leash and was doing walkies along the sidewalk. This dog, like most dogs, is a friendly dog, as was evident by its wagging tail. I didn’t quite catch the breed, but it was smaller than most, and black. The guys hauling the trash, unsurprisingly I am sorry to say, were also black. There were two in the back and one in the cab. The two in the back normally gather trashcans from both sides of the street at once, and the guy in the cab drives.

Today though the crew had gone to the dogs, er, dog. Both of them had stopped the hauling and were petting the dog that was happily making their acquaintance and straining at his leash as if he wanted to sit on their nonexistent laps. The lady at the other end of the leash was laughing. The guys on the street were laughing as they petted the dog. The guy in the cab smiled through his side view mirror at the encounter. I pulled around them cautiously and made my way to work, smiling as well.

That one dog provided a lot of happiness. Moreover, like most dogs, this was a colorblind dog, both physically and metaphorically. Dogs, bless them, have no sense of social class. One friendly human is as good as another to them. Black face, white face, brown face, red face – it just doesn’t matter to them. All that matters is their sense of you and how you relate to them. Everyone in this encounter appeared to be a dog lover, at least for that moment. No one cared if a minute or two of productivity was lost. There was a friendly dog that wanted some attention and was glad to give some attention. At least until that encounter ended, social class simply did not matter. The dog had brought together people who would probably never talk to each other otherwise.

In the gospels we learn that Jesus was a man from Galilee, he was definitely human and that he was also a holy man who many believe was God in human form. Jesus of course spent some years in Galilee and Judea preaching about love and inclusiveness. It’s hard to know where Jesus was in the social class of Judea at the time. If he was truly a carpenter’s son, he could probably be considered middle class for those generally impoverished times. For a while he developed quite a following, at least according to the Gospels, but he also developed enemies. The priests in the temple did not like him because he was so different and because people called him a rabbi. The Romans put him to death. And it appears he drew the scorn of many because he hung out with losers like Mary Magdalene, a common prostitute in the eyes of many, as well as lepers, the homeless and general miscreants. Our understanding of Jesus is of course imperfect. We have only the legend of Jesus, as there is no scrap of evidence that he actually lived, and the original gospels have long ago returned to dust. But Jesus as he is depicted certainly believed in transcending class, and in universal love, and in recognizing our common humanity.

Jesus, in other words, was a man who had gone to the dogs. It would not have surprised me if his family had a dog. For if you have to learn about love and have no other guide, in most cases you can get it courtesy of the family or neighborhood mutt.

I am a cat person more than a dog person, simply because my wife introduced me to cats and I had no pets to speak of growing up except for a family parakeet. I have spent enough time though with dogs to know they are fundamentally different than cats. Cats are Republicans. They want to know what’s in it for them and it’s almost always me first. In general, they will only return affection when they first get some. They may rub at your heels for attention, but their attention tends to be fleeting. If you ignore them for a few weeks, you will probably lose any affection they had for you.

Dogs, on the other hand, are Democrats. Certainly not all dogs are friendly, and many will be affectionate only with their master. But once you have earned their trust, and it usually takes nothing more than a chew toy, snack or just a scritch of their heads, you are part of their tribe. It may be fleeting or it may be permanent. Dogs are all about finding joy in life and in getting in touch with the feelings of creatures around them. Class means nothing to them. Most of the time they will radiate love, particularly with their owner, but often with anyone in their locality. If you don’t look happy they will sense this and come over to you, and darn well try to make you happy. It’s their nature.

Christians are still waiting for the second coming of Christ. Many believe he will descend from heaven through the clouds, with his radiance pouring down across the earth. Then the saved will be saved and the damned will be damned. As for me, today’s encounter makes me think that Christ has already returned. In fact, he’s been here for a long time and you can find him nearby. Just seek out your family or neighborhood dog. Feel their love, feel their radiance, feel the cares of the world recede when you are with them or, as I saw today, see class barriers momentarily disappear. If you want to be more Christ-like, perhaps you could just imitate your mutt more. Be friendly, be open, be loving by nature and if you sense someone is hurting go over and say you want to help them feel better.

We should all go to the dogs.

 
The Thinker

Review: The Graduate (1967)

There are a lot of things on my bucket list. Some of them include movies I never got around to seeing. In some exceptional cases, like The Graduate (1967), it was because I was too young to see it. When I was old enough, well, I never quite found a reason to rent it. Forty-seven years after its release I finally got around to it.

Looking at it so many years later, you have to wonder what all the fuss was about. The movie gets 8.1 out of ten stars on imdb.com but I ask myself why. There’s not much to this movie, and it fails to satisfy on so many levels. However, if you can wind your mind way back to 1967, and I sort of can as I was 10 at the time, I can understand why it attracted controversy. First there was the subject of infidelity, a hot button topic in the movies back then. Second was the issue of women being sexual creatures at all. Women were allowed to have a sex drive in 1967, but not publicly, and women were never portrayed as being aggressive toward men, particularly younger men. And then Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft) shows up and seduces poor 21-year-old Ben Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), who actually tries quite hard not to fall into her trap. But he’s 21, he’s full of hormones, and men his age will screw any woman they are lucky enough to seduce. When the woman does the pursing, even if she is twenty plus years ahead of you (but hot), you just can’t say no to that persistent erection.

Ben is back home in California after earning his bachelor’s degree from a prestigious eastern college, but mostly he wants to hide in his old bedroom. His parents want to show him off because he won all sorts of academic awards, and his dad (William Daniels) in particular doesn’t want him loafing around too long. He wants him in graduate school. The last thing Ben wants to do is to be shown off to friends of his moneyed parents. Ben is nice, but conflicted. He has been busy getting his ticket punched all of his life, and is the perfect gentleman with a clear complexion and perfectly cut hair. He even gets to drive a foreign sports car, a gift from his affluent parents, who like to give pool parties. To the extent Ben gets out of his bedroom, it is to hang out in the family’s pool where underwater he can try to clear his mind and figure out just who the hell he is.

He doesn’t get a chance for much reflection, because Mrs. Robinson swiftly reenters his life, senses his vulnerability and goes right for his jugular. She does a masterful job of seducing him without appearing to seduce him. Before Ben can summon his inner resources he is helping unbutton her dress. Within a day they are screwing at a local high-class hotel. Behind the counter is Buck Henry but the hotel is actually full of staff that have developed the ability to look the other way. Ben awkwardly has to learn the art of infidelity, although technically he is not guilty, being unmarried. Before long he and Mrs. Robinson are boinking every night at the hotel.

It must be great sex but this is 1967, so we don’t see any of it, although we do get to see Anne Bancroft in a bra and in one famous scene taking off her stockings and putting them back on again. The illicit affair helps drain Ben of testosterone but it also feels emotionally empty. Just who is Mrs. Robinson? She’s really hard to figure out. She is someone he has known all his life but never intimately until now. What little he can figure out is not flattering. She’s an alcoholic and a smoker.

When he tries awkwardly to move them to something that might approach emotional intimacy, he keeps hitting a brick wall. About all he can get from her is that she and her husband sleep in separate bedrooms, that their daughter Elaine (Katharine Ross) was a premarital mistake and that although everyone else wants Ben and Elaine to date, Mrs. Robinson does not. She has claimed Ben as her gigolo. Moreover, for a woman with compromised moral standards, she sure knows how to wield a host of psychological tools over befuddled Ben. Ben can’t say no, is not happy, gets his rocks off every night without fail, and really wants to take her daughter Elaine out on a date. The mere suggestion has Mrs. Robinson ready to pounce on him like a cobra.

In short, Ben is way over his emotional head and does not begin to have the skills to deal with the emotional mess he is in, for which he is largely not at fault. All his naughty affair does is screw him up even more inside. And then Mrs. Robinson’s daughter Elaine enters the picture and just one date, which begins uncomfortably in a strip club, has him falling hopelessly in love with her. However, Elaine is at least emotionally perceptive, and quickly figures out that he is involved with someone else. Unsurprisingly, this house of cards must eventually fall. Ben eventually follows Elaine surreptitiously to her university and tries to convince her to marry her. Given his relationship with her mother, it doesn’t sound like their relationship will end up very healthy. Ben pursues Elaine anyhow.

With the now infamous soundtrack by Simon and Garfunkel frequently in the background, we spend ninety minutes or so watching Ben mostly getting buffeted around by events bigger than he can master. His love for Elaine makes no sense, and we don’t see enough of their relationship develop to get any understanding why she should marry him, but that’s all he wants. Elaine tries to stay emotionally distant, but she finds Ben cute for his perseverance.

This movie has become something of a classic, but it largely does not deserve its status other than perhaps being the first movie to tackle previously taboo subjects. This is Hoffman’s first movie of note, and he plays Ben’s befuddlement honestly. Anne Bancroft deservedly won an academy award for her MILFy acting in a time when the acronym MILF was unknown. Mostly the movie feels more surreal than real, which was probably director Mike Nichols’s intent.

Even all these years later, it is an uncomfortable movie to watch. Its appeal at the time was likely in its taboo-breaking. It’s no wonder that Ben is befuddled given the plastic people that surround him and the plastic way he grew up. To escape will require a lot of metaphors that are hard to miss at the movie’s conclusion. Ben and Elaine’s escape together is wholly ludicrous. It suggests that they have traded in one confused life to start another one. I just hope Ben stays far away from Elaine’s mother. She is one messed up woman.

I’ll leave this classic movie unrated, but I do think with modern eyes it is overrated. I am glad I finally saw it to discover that all the fuss was about, well, not that much. I guess you just had to be there in 1967.

 

 

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