Deutsch’s Diatribe

I’m starting a new blog series that’s really an old one. It’s my “Things I’ve Learned in Life” series. In the previous version of this blog, the series was good, but it was inflexible. In other words, it left no room for growth. That’s because sometimes the things you learn in life change, or the things you thought you learned are really smaller parts of something bigger . . . or they’re something different altogether.

This time, the series will more accurately mirror life. That means changes and amendments might have to be made, topics could be revisited due to the occurrence of recent events, or a past installment may be elaborated upon. Learning is a never-ending process, especially if the subject matter is as all-encompassing as what I’m attempting to tackle (and chronicle).

Considering the nature of the series, it will probably be the longest-running one in this blog. In addition, I’ll be re-posting some of my previous installments, although most of them will be altered in some fashion. Other posts, of course, will be brand new. The cool part is that I have no idea where this series will go, mainly because I’m not in control of it—not entirely, anyway.

Most of the time in life, you don’t know you’re going to learn something before you learn it, and sometimes you don’t even realize you’re learning something while you’re in the process of learning it. Talk about a suck-fest. The true tragedy, though, is forgetting things you’ve already learned . . . and maybe even making the same mistakes twice.

Of course, that can be avoided if you have your own blog.

This one happened recently. (Keep in mind that my son just turned 12 years old and has yet to see the movie discussed in the following exchange.)

“Hey, dad?”

“Yes?”

“You know what scary movie probably wouldn’t be scary to me?”

“Which one?”

“Children of the Corn.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s about children killing adults. Why would that be scary to me? I’m a kid. I’d be safe.”

“So you’re saying that the movie would be more scary for me than it would be for you?”

“Sure.”

“And you’re also saying that the movie would be more scary for you once you become an adult than it would be for you right now?”

“Yep.”

“Actually, son, you know what scares me more than that movie?”

“What?”

“This conversation.”

If you have kids, you know they say the darndest things. I encourage you to share your stories, and of course, to check back for future installments in this series.

The names of products intrigue me. (As my most recent post about car names colorfully  illustrates.)

Take, for instance, jaw breakers. This is a type of candy. If you were to judge it solely by its name, does it sound appealing? Most certainly not. What are the makers of this candy implying? That their carefully labeled confection accurately simulates the experience of having your jaw broken? Count me out. Pass the Smarties.

And what if you didn’t even know what jaw breakers were and somebody offered them to you?

“Hey, buddy, want a jaw breaker?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“You don’t know what you’re missin’.”
“I’m fairly certain that I do.”

If companies want to sell candy by tying it to a specific experience, they should name the candy “Hot Sex.” My instincts tell me that name would conjur up more pleasing thoughts than if a person were to contemplate at length what it would feel like to have their jaw fractured, possibly in multiple places.

Upon further reflection, forget the Smarties. I’ll take a bag of ”Hot Sex” instead.

– — –

Think About This:

“There is wisdom in turning as often as possible from the familiar to the unfamiliar: it keeps the mind nimble, it kills prejudice, and it  fosters humor.”

George Santayana, philosopher (1863-1952)

I’m starting a new series in this blog.  (Because really, I don’t have enough of them going as it is, right?)

The names of certain cars befuddle me.  Specifically, I can’t understand the thought process behind the naming of these cars.  One such vehicle is the Ford Probe.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but what possible positive connation accompanies the word “probe”?  Is that a pleasant word?  If so, under what circumstances?  And if those circumstances do exist, should they serve as the basis for naming a car?

Whenever somebody mentions a “probe,” people usually make themselves scarce. It could be a congressional probe. It could be a financial probe. It could be a type of probe that will remain nameless in this family-friendly blog. Doesn’t matter. The mere mention of such things will clear out a room . . . or at the very least, make people rather uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, somebody at Ford thought that naming the company’s compact car “The Probe” was a good idea.  Why not call the car “The Inquest”?  How about “The Inquisition”? Or maybe “The Poker” or the “The Prodder”?

Unfortunately, the possibilities are endless.  The logic, on the other hand, is not.

– — –

Think About This:

“A sect or party is an elegant incognito devised to save a man from the vexation of thinking.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882)

I see what airlines are doing to squeeze money out of people, and I can’t help but think what other businesses might do to increase profits during these uncertain economic times. But first, this colorful airline illustration:

“Excuse me, stewardess, I’d like a pillow.”
“That will be $50, sir.”
“Uh, forget it then.”
“Just asking for a pillow costs $10, and then if you decide not to use one, that’s an additional $5 surcharge. So if you decide that you want the pillow after all, it will now cost $65.”
“No, I still don’t want one.”
“That will be another $5.”

Take movie theaters, for instance. What if they charged $8.50 to get in the door, but $2.50 to get near the door? Think of it as the price of “pre-admission.”

Or maybe it only costs $2 to get into the movie theater . . . but it costs $10 if you want to get out.

Or perhaps movie theaters will start to charge for parking. After all, it is their lot. You don’t have to park there if you don’t want to, but if you do . . . that’ll be five bucks.

It’s only a matter of time before stuff like this actually happens, and it won’t be just airlines and movie theaters, either. But look on the bright side.

This blog is still free.

For now.

– — –

Think About This:

“The most civilized people are as near to barbarism as the most polished steel is to rust. Nations, like metals, have only a superficial brilliancy.”

Antoine de Rivarol, epigrammatist (1753-1801)

I’ve decided that food is a form of drug.  If you eat certain types of food, they can create different feelings and moods.  If you eat “bad” food (i.e., fast food, processed food), it can harm you.  If you eat too much food at one sitting, it can make you sluggish and slow down your brain activity.

And if you eat too much food over an extended period of time—in other words, if you “overdose”—it can kill you. Or at the very least, you’ll die sooner than you would have otherwise.

With this in mind, I plan on using these drugs very, very carefully. After all, it’s not like I can just stop cold turkey.

– — –

Think About This:

“The fire which enlightens is the same fire which consumes.”

Henri Frederic Amiel, philosopher and writer (1821-1881)

I was putting gas in my car the other day when I noticed something.

There was a sticker on the pump, alongside of a button. The sticker read, “Push here to speak with attendant.”

Obviously, that button is for people who have questions regarding the pumping of their gas. However, the sticker doesn’t come right out and say that.  What if you just want to strike up some idle conversation? 

“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m on pump #8.”
“How may I help you?”
“How you doin’ today?”
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Just wanted to chat. Say, seen any good movies lately?”
“Sir, are you experiencing a problem with the gas pump?”
“Nope . . . What did you think of the new Transformers movie? Personally, I thought it fell victim to lazy writing and hollow characterization.”
“Sir—”
 
People need to be careful about the signs they put up. If it tells me to do something, I might just do it.

– — –

Quote of the Day:

“That some good can be derived from every event is a better proposition than that everything happens for the best, which it assuredly does not.”

James Kern Feibleman, philosopher and psychiatrist (1904-1987)

I picked my son up from school when he was in the first grade. He came out to greet me, and he was very excited.

“Daddy, we ate lunch in the bacteria today!”

Considering it was a school lunch, I believed this to be absolutely true.  Still . . . I had my doubts that it was 100% accurate. I was missing something.

“What?”

“We ate lunch in the bacteria!”

Hmmm . . . trying to connect the dots . . . almost there . . . wait for it . . . Aha!

“Do you mean you ate lunch in the cafeteria today?”

“That’s what I said.”

If you have kids, you know they say the darndest things. I encourage you to share your stories, and of course, to check back for future installments in this series.

Perspective is everything.

Take, for instance, the phrase, “Fifty is the new forty,” as in “Fifty years old is the new 40 years old.” I’d be willing to bet that phrase was first uttered by somebody who either 1.) just turned 50, or 2.) was about to turn 50.

Because for somebody who’s 18 years old, the difference between 40 and 50 is pretty much the difference between 100 and 101. Basically, there is no difference. They’re both older than dirt. Really, really old dirt.

So . . . does that mean “30 is the new 20″? Or that “20 is the new 10″?

“Well, son, you’re finally old enough. How about having a beer with your old man?”
“Dad, I’m 11.”
“Heck, that’s older than I was when I had my first beer. Drink up!”

I guess eventually they’ll be telling us that “dead is the new alive.” As it is, I’m past the point where I need to validate my existence with numbers. I should hope that my biggest goal is never to simply make it to my next birthday. I would mourn the day my life turns into a war of attrition.

I need a beer.

– — –

Think About This:

“You can tell the ideals of a nation by its advertisements.”

Norman Douglas, novelist (1868-1952)

I was driving to my mother’s house with my son when he was about five years old.  Once again, he asks a question from the backseat:

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Are we going to take a haircut to grandma’s?”

“What?”

“Are we going to take a haircut to grandma’s?”

“Do you want grandma to cut your hair?”

“No.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“Are we going to take a haircut to grandma’s?”

“Do you mean are we going to take a shortcut to grandma’s?”

“That’s what I said.”

If you have kids, you know they say the darndest things. I encourage you to share your stories, and of course, to check back for future installments in this series.