You need a philosophy

The people who are the most bigoted are the people who have no convictions at all.

-G. K. Chesterton

Ayn Rand, though a very entertaining author, has her philosophical flaws. But if she is right about anything, she is right about this so far as it goes: you must have a philosophy to live by or you will have no bearings for judging your actions. You will have no way of interpreting what to do or when to do it.

Too many people lack this. Set aside for the moment whether any given philosophy is right. That is surely the next question to ask, but it isn't my point just now. The thrust of today's commentary is that a framework is necessary for us to determine the value of our life's, in fact even of our daily, work. Certain frameworks will prove to be wrong; indeed I suggest that there can only be one right, basic set of guidelines when all is said and done. But again, I am veering from the issue at hand.

Rand says, if I remember her correctly, that if you do not discipline yourself towards thinking about things at the least within a context of ideas which you take as a given, you will eventually merely wander from day to day, from idea to idea, and find yourself eternally at the influence of other forces without regard for what you may actually want or need. You will discover, if the thought ever actually develops in your mind, that you have not become an individual of any value. You will be a sheep. The time of slaughter will one day consume you, and you will have no way of defending yourself from it.

Or something worse will happen. You will become a petty little dictator, self assured that all that you wish do is itself the standard of right and wrong. And why not? You would be at the point where whims and passing fancy will guide you, or, more correctly, you will be the flag proudly fluttering in the wind, too proud to know that it is the air which unfurls you and not your own knowledge or will. As the breeze fades and dies, so do you. And what will be seen of you as you are opened to the world?

So you need a philosophy. You need some way of determining whether the people and events around you are evolving into things useful or things destructive. You need coherency in your life. You need to, in the words of that old saw, stand for something lest you fall for anything. This approach may well leave you standing for the wrong things in the end. Still, it's better than nothing, and indeed your only chance of being found by the just and true lies in the firmness of your stance.

I feel jobbed by playoffs

The Major League Baseball Playoffs begin soon, and indeed it almost feels like they have already, and I don't feel that interested. Lest you think this is Marty backing away from his ardent support of America's Pastime, I will let you know that I haven't watched the last two Super Bowls (and little of the NFL Playoffs leading up to them) nor very much of the last three or four Stanley Cups. The older I get the more I can't help but feel that we, the fans, are getting jobbed by sports playoffs in all their forms.

With the exception of American Football, which is by its own tacit admission too brutal for such tests of endurance, we find long seasons which are supposed to be so important leading into a relative handful of games which actually determine champions. They're just something silly about that, if not downright ridiculous. Play all these games, and if you win a lot of them, well, you have to play just a few more to prove you're really that good. It's simply dumb, the more I think about it.

Make teams do it to show how they perform under pressure? All right, there's something to that. Maybe. But maybe also all it does is allow overall weaker teams to shorten their benches and appear stronger by what is little more than slight of hand. But that hardly strikes me as fair to the better overall teams. And if sports are supposed to be about the best man/woman/team winning, I think playoffs may in fact lead to situations less than ideal for such outcomes. Were the New York Giants really the better team than the New England Patriots the year the Pats went into the Super Bowl 17-0? Nope. Yet they were the NFL Champs.

I realize that without the allure of playoffs many teams and their fans might quit on the seasons without the promise of something more. And I get that, so far as it goes. But I also get that if you can't survive the trial you shouldn't earn a mulligan for it either. Further, a good team ought to be put on the field first if it wants support. It's really no different a concept than expecting a business to put out a good product or service before it merits patronage.

As we all know, it really just comes down to the money. Extended playoffs mean more cash for the games and the industries which surround them. I'll admit up front that there's nothing wrong with that per se. But I also think that an honest assessment of the situation should conclude that it is less than ideal for the integrity of our sports and games as sports and games. It teaches, whether it means to or not, that excitement is more important than the best team winning. Excitement on its own isn't wrong either of course. Yet I just can't help but feel that excitement when it comes more naturally is deeper and more thrilling than when it is manufactured by groups and persons who don't care about my allegiance so much as they do my money. That more than anything else is when I feel jobbed. I think sports fans in general should feel the same way.

To be sure, I'll watch some of the upcoming baseball games as the next few weeks pass. I admit as well that I will watch more ardently if and as the Detroit Tigers are involved. But my attention will only be half present as I do. Sparky Anderson said it best: the best team in baseball in a given year is the team with the best regular season record, not the World Series winner. He's spot on with that assessment, and I wish more sports fans would think so too.

Ben's layoff gamble

Since we're on the subject of Dad's favorite stories (we are still on that subject, aren't we?) I am reminded of one which centered around his friend Ben. Ben was from Alabama, and like many southerners during the 1940s and 50s had emigrated northward for jobs in the auto industry. He landed at Chrysler himself.

After a few years, there were extended layoffs; Ben was told his would be 3 or 4 months. He decided that, with that much time, he might as well take the family to Alabam for an extended visit. And off they went.

About eight weeks after they had left he was informed his layoff was over. He was to report the next Monday. So he and his wife packed the kids up, and early Saturday morning began the return to Detroit. You must remember that at the time, with no freeways, it was a long two day drive from northern Alabama to Detroit.

They got in late Sunday, and Monday morning Ben reported to the Chrysler plant where he had worked. He was told by a suit to wait a few minutes, and he'd be back with his exact assignment.

A few minutes passed, which became an hour, then two, and finally four. Eventually the suit returned with a new layoff notice for Ben.

Ben proceeded to tell the suit, in marvelously colorful language, that he did not appreciate being called in all the way from Alabama and having put his family through that trauma only to be laid off again right away. He then went to that guy's supervisor and told him in no uncertain terms what he thought of the deal, then to that guy's superior, and finally to one more suit above him. He wanted to make absolutely sure Chrysler understood the depths of his anger.

"Bill,' he said to Pops as he brought his tale to a close, "By the time I was done I was laid off, paid off, told off, and run off!"

But I bet it was worth every word.

Preachers and sewers

"Your men were drinking on the job," the man explained from the other end of the phone. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Waall," drawled the business owner in his West Virginia twang, a plumber who specialized in drain cleaning, "Did they do a good job?"

"Well, yes," answered the customer.

Jim, the plumber, continued, "Did they clean up after themselves?"

The man responded that they did, and very thoroughly.

"Did they cuss yer wife or children? Did they sass you at all?"

"No, no, none of that," the man replied. "I just thought you'd want to know your guys were drinking on the job, that's all."

"Waall," Jim began again, "That's the trouble with the sewer business. I can't get preachers to clean sewers."

I've never really been sure what to think of this story. It's a true tale (I remember fondly the plumber in question myself) and one of Dad's favorites. It's even vaguely charming, in its folksy way. But I do admit a certain sympathy for the caller as it is.

Ah well; there it is for you. Pops liked it, so it's all right by me.

It's a catastastroke

"Don't have a catastastroke." I think it was one of Grandpa Joe's favorite phrases. Yet I'm sure your interest is in the term 'catastastroke' It's so unique that I'm not sure how to spell the word. But Joe used it a lot.

That's kinda ironic really. Those who still remember him no matter how fondly also remember how he could stir up a honest's nest on a dime. He got mad quickly, and often, it seemed, without significant provocation. But when the time was right, he was the first to caution against that catastastroke.

I think I get what he meant. Maybe he didn't live his own words as well as he could have but that can't make his point wrong. We're all hypocrites to one degree or another yet that doesn't condemn the good we do or the best things we say. I think what Grandpa meant was actually fairly simple. Don't make things more than they are, and when things get tough, just relax and deal with it.

So go out there today and deal with your work or your chores or what have you. And if things go poorly, well, deal with it. Don't have a catastastroke.

What do you mean?

There are many things which no one seems to oppose. We're all for peace, correct? Education? The environment? Observing the Golden Rule, perhaps, if such references are not too religious? Yet so often these claims ring hollow. They must, you see: for peace and education are just words. By themselves, they really mean nothing.

It is critically important that we bring up and discuss the questions which must necessarily follow these words if our actions are to mean anything; indeed, if the words themselves are at some point to be of value, of good use. We must ask: peace under what circumstances? Peace for whom? Because of course peace in the sense of a lack of war was very useful for Hitler and Stalin yet was a rather poor mantra for Austria or the Communist Bloc.

Simply put, the next time someone asks you if you are for peace, or education, or the environment, ask them relevant questions before you answer. Ask them, peace under what conditions? Education to what purpose and in what manner? The environment for whom and how? Before these issues are addressed we have nothing but a shallow and insipid pool of vacuous semi-thought. Yet afterwards, we may actually accomplish things.

What's in a name?

As we descend (and I mean descend) into the mire of hyper hype that is American Football, there is that one issue which will surely creep back into the radar. It is the question of offensive team names. It will be centered on tribal names of Native Americans, and generally brought up by non-Native Americans.

I wonder who is actually being offensive on such an issue. Catholics do not appear offended by the San Diego Padres logo of a goofy looking monk swinging a baseball bat. Why should they be? It's all in good fun. Are Irish Americans bothered by Notre Dame's Fighting Irish and that mean looking two-fisted leprechaun image with which they proudly adorn themselves? It doesn't seem to be the case. It's not meant to provoke the Irish, and indeed they might rather like the idea that their ancestors from the old sod are seen as rough and tough.

So why should Native Americans be offended by Chiefs or Hurons or Chippewas or Braves or even Indians? I'll wager that a good many aren't, in fact; they may actually like the references along the lines of the Irish and the Catholics. We will concede something on Redskins, to be honest, as that moniker does seem to cross the line in crudity. But then, I'm not saying that all's fair either. Do we really think that a group of citizens are so thin skinned that they can't appreciate a powerful or even playful nod towards their culture? If they are, I humbly suggest, then, that that's their problem.

In short, don't insult or use overtly racist slurs in naming teams and institutions. But don't be a stick in the mud either. It's supposed to be fun, remember?

Or does our increasingly politically correct society wish to ban that too?