Some people might say that this aversion of mine is un-American.
Yet another Super Bowl Sunday has come and gone, and I have a confession to make. I don’t know who played, or even where they played, and I definitely don’t know who won. I couldn’t possibly care less.
I don’t know why it almost feels like this is a shameful secret that I should do my best to keep to myself, but it always has. To hear most people tell it, a disinterest in sports is un-American. I’m already perceived as being weird, so I try to avoid adding more evidence to the steaming pile of strangeness.
Do I think of my football aversion as an autistic thing? Not really. No two autistic people are alike, just as no two neurotypicals are alike. I’m quite sure that there are plenty of fanatics on the spectrum. Surely there are also people out there like me who prefer not to throw away their time, money, and diets on a game that will never love us back.
This aversion does pair well with my autism, though. I don’t have to deal with crowds. I can skip parties. I get to avoid people who are drinking and behaving unpredictably. I don’t have to hear the roar of the crowd. I don’t have to eat stuff that I would not normally eat. I look at these little side benefits as the frosting on top of my sports-free cake.
So why do I dislike football so much? Well, I could trot out a bunch of fun facts, such as the fact that Thanksgiving is the only day of the year when Americans consume more calories than they do on that fateful Sunday. Or that sports, in general, is yet another opportunity to divide ourselves into “us” and “them” in an already polarized world. And if the January 6th insurrection taught us nothing else, it was that Americans don’t need any further excuse to get rowdy and destructive.
I could talk about the obscene amounts of money spent to prop up this industry that benefits only a few. I might mention that a certain percentage of our youth get irreversible brain injuries mainly because they want to be one of the popular kids on the football team or cheer leading squad, rather than be sidelined in their toxic pursuit of popularity.
I could say that Super Bowl Sunday shines a spotlight on American excess, entitlement, and self-indulgence. The average NFL football player makes 2.7 million dollars a year. According to this article, the average worker on this planet makes less than $18,000 a year. So this day that so many Americans look forward to is just another snotty American way of letting the world eat cake.
It has often been said that watching this violent sport, and mixing that with alcohol, goes hand in hand with an annual spike in domestic violence against women. But it would be impossible to know if that’s true, because most domestic violence goes unreported. And perhaps we should focus more on the fact that there should never be domestic violence on any day of the year. Never.
But here’s the whole truth: I don’t like football because I don’t like football. That is all that needs to be said. I shouldn’t have to justify my opinion by explaining that I find it boring or exhausting or whatever. I also don’t like lima beans, but no one seems to care about that.
I’m learning so much about myself lately. After what feels like a lifetime of seeking approval and attempting to justify my choices, the fact that I’m learning to embrace my many unique qualities is a refreshing change. So if you, too, are indifferent toward football, come sit by me. I’m that woman who just dove head first into the guacamole.
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I can’t speak for the rest of the world. At the rate this pandemic is going, I might never be able to travel internationally again, so I’m losing perspective. But I certainly have ample opportunity to observe my fellow Americans from my exclusive perch in the tower of my drawbridge, and I also read enough of the news to believe this to be true: Americans, in general, are getting increasingly cranky to the point of being really terrifying.
I get it. This pandemic has us worn out. The state of politics, especially since Trump came along, has our nerves shredded. And the way that we have all been forced to answer certain moral questions of late is revealing that a lot fewer of us are decent human beings than I previously imagined.
Even though this post is not strictly about masks and vaccines, I do have to say that it seems like a no-brainer to me: If I’m asked to do something that I’m not thrilled with, but that thing will potentially help to prevent someone from dying, I’m going to do that thing. I got vaccinated. I wear a mask. But there are people out there who genuinely believe that they should not be personally inconvenienced just so someone else might live. It astounds me. Public health isn’t about just you. If the golden rule means anything at all, it means, hey, maybe I shouldn’t have a hand in bringing about someone else’s demise.
The whole mask and vaccine thing is just the tippy top of a huge iceberg of cruelty that is becoming increasingly evident. I’m seeing more people shouting at each other from the bike lanes and out of car windows. More horns are blaring. The schizophrenics among our homeless people, who I view as the human equivalent of canaries in coal mines, are starting to rage even more as tensions increase. It’s like we are now in a constant state of full moon. All bets are off. It’s impossible to predict who will lose it next. All that you can do is hope that you’re not anywhere near ground zero when it happens.
My friends who work in the medical field are being screamed at more often, and sometimes even assaulted. Here on my drawbridge, more pedestrians are refusing to cooperate every day. To hell with the 3000 gross ton gravel barge that’s bearing down on us. They have places to go and people to see. Screw the flashing lights and warning gongs.
More people are cutting in line in general. More people are blowing through red lights. The other day I saw two guys engaged in a fistfight on a street corner in broad daylight.
I can’t emphasize this enough: There is NO EXCUSE for yelling at and/or assaulting someone for doing their job. You may not like the policy they’re having to enforce, but they’re just trying to make a living. You want to shout, shout at the rich person who probably owns the company. Rich people should be shouted at a lot more often, if you ask me. They certainly deserve it more than cashiers or wait staff do.
It’s getting so I’m afraid to ask anyone a question, even one as innocent as, “How late are you open?” because responses to any type of question seem to be hostile these days. I spend a lot of time wondering what I’ve done to people. But it doesn’t just happen to me. Not that that’s any comfort.
I just read a fascinating opinion piece by Umair Haque, entitled, “Why America is the World’s Most Uniquely Cruel Society.” It really made me think about how America is set up to operate. It also made me think about how this country came to be the way it is.
In that article, the author posits the theory that we have a very unusual origin story, even for a colonial country that has been trained to utterly ignore the native people who were here first. Throughout colonial history, America has been colonized by people who were leaving home because on one level or another they were not wanted.
Everyone’s immigration story is different, of course, but we didn’t tend to attract the rich upper classes. Royalty wasn’t trying to move here. Some common reasons for coming to America included getting away from religious or political persecution, or avoiding violence at home, or desperate poverty and no opportunities in their homelands, or they were criminals. Let’s face it. There’s no need to pursue the American Dream unless you’re living a nightmare.
One thing that all desperate people have in common is the desire to no longer be at the bottom of society. They want to experience dignity, respect, and a sense of belonging. Who doesn’t? But in order for you to rise up in the hierarchy to the place where those things are obtainable, someone has to be below you, and that person doesn’t want to be there either, so it becomes a fight. And as more and more waves of immigrants washed up on these shores, more people had to get stepped on, and, the author suggests, this cruelty has since become a habit that has been passed down through the generations.
The English settlers hated the Native Americans. Then they had to hate all the people that came after them and threatened their place in the societal pyramid. So the English hated the French, the French hated the Germans, the Germans hated the Irish, who hated the Italians, and on and on. And of course, slaves got to be the scapegoats for everyone even though they never asked to be here in the first place. Then came the Asians who did the great service of also not looking like us, so they, too, were easy to spot and be cruel to. When we took the West from the Spanish-speaking people who had taken it from the Native Americans, we hated them too.
And through all of this, which is still ongoing, we have learned, consciously or unconsciously, that you have to be cruel to survive. You have to be violent to get ahead. You have to eat or be eaten.
Over the centuries, the cruelty has become institutionalized. Homeless? What a shame. Glad I’m not you. Less than desirable as a neighbor? Lock ‘em up and throw away the key. You don’t deserve universal health care. Higher education is only for those who can pay for it. Can’t get a job? Well, then, join the military and become cannon fodder or the good of the country.
We have one of the lowest life expectancies of any rich nation, and while that’s embarrassing, nothing need be done about it unless it starts impacting ME. We have the highest rate of mass shootings in the world, but hey, that helps decrease the surplus population. The only country that has a higher death rate per capita due to drug use is the Ukraine, and yet we put very little money into our substance abuse infrastructure. Let ‘em eat cake.
Based on this hierarchy of ours, the conservatives should encourage immigration, not attempt to squash it. Because if they are successful in their policies of exclusion, one day they may look around and realize that they no longer have anyone to step on, and it’s awfully lonely at the bottom.
We need to find a way to break this cycle of cruelty and hate. We need to lift each other up if we want this country to succeed. We need to realize that our current behavior is not serving us well.
But most of all, I think we all need to take a deep breath, pause, and grow the f**k up.
During a recent commute, I was thinking about the fact that people from all over the world read this blog. I’m rather proud of that. I’d like to think that my random musings give people some insight into the fact that not all Americans fit into the current stereotype.
If you’ve never been to the United States, and formed your opinion about this country based on presidential tweets or the news cycle on any given day in the past several years, I’d be rather ashamed at the conclusions you might be drawing about us as people.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that all our news is fake. In fact, I think that most of it is not. But like news everywhere, it tends to focus on the extreme, the lunatic fringe, the dramatic, negative, headline-grabbing insanity that sells subscriptions and gains followers.
The first thing I’d like you to know is that we are not our politicians, just as you probably don’t always agree with your own political figures much of the time. The insanity that comes out of our capitol these days is not reflective of the vast majority of us.
Most of us actually believe that our current gun situation is insane and needs some form of regulation. Most of us believe that we incarcerate way, way, way too many people. Most of us really do know that global warming exists, and we desperately want to do something about it. Most of us think that our health care system is cruel and unjust. Most of us do not agree with the way we currently treat immigrants, the homeless, and the mentally ill in this country.
This nation’s political stance on all of the above is a source of shame and outrage. I wish I could say that our system was actually democratic and reflective of we, the people, but it is, in fact, rigged for the rich and powerful, and they have no one’s best interests at heart but their own. That’s a source of shame, too.
I wish there were some way you could get to know an individual American. Most of us would never think to chant, “lock her up” or “send her back”. The average American doesn’t have a violent bone in his or her body. 99.9999 percent of us would never use an automatic weapon in a school. While we are not perfect (who is?) we are, I truly believe, mostly very compassionate, and willing to help people in need, rather than hurt them or separate them from their families.
While we do have quite a bit of work to do in terms of racial bias, I sincerely believe that people who lead with hate do not represent the vast majority of us. We feel that selfishness is an ugly trait, as is greed. Just about everyone I know is entirely too busy trying to live his or her own life to interfere in the lives of others.
It’s true that there’s no such thing as a typical American, just as there’s no such thing as a typical Italian or a typical Nigerian or a typical Korean. We may come in all shapes and sizes and colors, but I think that most human beings have this in common: we struggle to take good care of our loved ones, and do the best that we can to be the best people that we can be.
So please don’t judge us too harshly. We have limited control over our country’s reputation, and that hurts us as much as it probably horrifies you. Just try to remember that on an individual basis, kindness and love still exist here. They really do.
They just rarely get tweeted about.
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Libraries weren’t always to wonderful democratic institutions that they are today.
Well, my goodness. I just read a fascinating and highly recommended article entitled A History of the American Public Library by Ariel Aberg-Riger, and I learned a great deal about libraries that I didn’t know previously. Some of the facts below are profoundly disappointing, but in an odd way, they give me hope. Because if our libraries can emerge from their dark past to become the amazing institutions that they are now, then perhaps there is hope for our government as well. Fingers crossed.
I’ve always known that one of the very first libraries in America was started by Ben Franklin in 1731. What I didn’t know was that this could hardly have been considered a public library. You had to pay an annual fee, so it was basically a collection for Franklin and his rich white male cronies. Women and African Americans weren’t welcome, and the working poor couldn’t afford a membership. This makes me think rather less of Ben. As enlightened as we’d like to think he is, without a doubt he was a product of his times.
In the wake of Ben’s library, I was pleased to see that women’s clubs cropped up as well, until I discovered that these, too, were exclusively for rich white women. They claimed to believe in the importance of having access to books, but they kept out Jewish, black, and working-class women.
So other libraries were established, each one every bit as exclusionary as the first. There were libraries for people of color, for example, and Jewish libraries. But women did seem to advocate public access to libraries long before men did. Funding was an issue, though, until Andrew Carnegie took up the torch and donated 60 million toward library construction.
It wasn’t really until the turn of the last century that libraries became truly public, but they still had to contend with segregation to a shocking degree. Many civil rights sit ins took place in libraries for that very reason.
Now libraries are a source of reliable information, internet access, education, and community gathering places, and all these services are basically free to all. That’s why I love libraries so much. Knowledge is power.
So naturally, Trump is trying to cut federal funding for libraries. Because he’s a man of the people. Sigh. Please support your public libraries, folks. They’re the last truly democratic institutions that we have, and it was a long and winding road to get them to that place.
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Please forgive us, individually, even if you cannot forgive us collectively.
This post is for all of you who read my blog outside of the U.S. I am an American. I can’t speak for all Americans. No one can. Or at least no one should. But I can certainly speak for myself.
It breaks my heart that my country as a whole is being judged by the rest of the world based on what they see in the news. Most of us are not like the insane people who grab the headlines these days. Many of us are as appalled by what we read as you are. I don’t know if that will be a source of comfort or of increased anxiety for you, but there you have it: for many of us, that feeling of disgust does not stop outside our borders.
So let me tell you a little about who I am, so you can see that not all of us fit that stereotype that has been created by Washington D.C., our nation’s capitol, where you can’t sling a dead cat without hitting someone who is morally bankrupt, unforgivably selfish, and rotting from the inside by the sheer weight of his or her greed. Such blatant abuse of power is unconscionable.
First of all, I am horrified at my government’s total disdain for the environment. We are one of the most environmentally selfish nations on earth, and the least likely to do anything to turn this global warming situation around before it destroys us all. I’m so sorry for that. I wish I felt like I could do something about it. I mean, I vote. I speak out. I do the best I can to reduce my carbon footprint. But I feel like I’m not making an impact, and I know this negatively impacts you as well.
I also happen to think that my country’s stance on guns is absurd and dangerous. We have more mass shootings than anywhere else, and we can’t even agree that the average citizen has no legitimate need for semi-automatic weapons. It makes no sense.
And this damned border wall that Trump is so in love with? I don’t want it. No one I know really wants it. All this political maneuvering is an embarrassment. Honestly, how do these people even look themselves in the mirror?
I don’t think immigrants are a threat. In fact, I’m a second generation American myself. This country would be lost without immigrants. I’m not so greedy that I’m not willing to share the wealth. I actually like you unless you give me some personal reason to feel otherwise. I don’t believe in kidnapping your children at the border. I think the day we stop granting asylum to people in danger is the day when we lose the most vital part of what makes us decent human beings. Jesus wouldn’t turn you away, so how can a country that considers itself mainly Christian do so? I don’t understand this attitude of xenophobia. It makes me sick.
I am also profoundly sorry that we don’t step in to help nearly as often as we butt in to serve our own best interests. We have no right to do this. Clearly, we struggle to get ourselves right, so it’s the height of arrogance to think we can fix anyone else.
And we imprison people to a much higher degree than any other country. I can’t blame you if you think twice about visiting us. I’d be afraid to, if I were you. But I genuinely believe that we need you to come visit. We need our horizons expanded. It’s hard to think of someone as an enemy once we’ve broken bread with that person. Please, come break bread with us.
I guess I do sit squarely in one stereotype. I tend to forget the world doesn’t revolve around us. Perhaps you could care less about what my country says or does. Perhaps you have more important things on your mind than my pompous country. That’s a legitimate response, too, and I can hardly blame you for it.
I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry about all the destruction we cause. I just wanted you to know that somewhere here, in this unbelievable circus of a country, sits a woman in a bridge tower who is every bit as outraged as many of you are. And I know for a fact that I’m not alone. So, please forgive us, individually, even if you cannot bring yourselves to forgive us collectively.
Hello. I’m an American. Never in my life did I imagine that I would say this, but I am ashamed of the state of my country. I am embarrassed at the face we are currently showing to the world. This is not who we are.
Never again will I look at another country and assume that all its people agree with its government. Because I don’t. Never again will I think of the resident of another country as possessing a stereotypical characteristic based on that person’s place of birth. Because clearly, I no longer fit in here.
In recent months I’ve been seeing a great deal of ugliness. I’ve seen Americans spewing hate. I’ve seen selfishness and greed and intolerance. I’ve seen ignorance deified and intelligence vilified. I’ve seen science discounted and fantasy encouraged. I’ve seen violence. I’ve seen misogyny. I’ve seen fraud. I see more and more lies every day.
I am so sorry that things have gotten this way. I didn’t vote for Trump. I wouldn’t have approved any of his cabinet members or his choices for the Supreme Court. There is not a single thing that this man has done that I agree with. Not one.
I’m particularly mortified that his immigration policies are making so many people live in fear. This is not acceptable to me. I am a second generation American, and the vast majority of the people who live here are descended from immigrants. We have absolutely no right to do what we are currently doing.
We also have no right to treat the Native Americans the way that we do. If anyone should have moral currency with regard to how we treat the land here, it should be them. They should not be beaten down for wanting water that is safe to drink. Shame on us.
We, of all people, should not have the right to negatively impact women’s health at home or abroad. We should also appreciate the good work that other members of the United Nations do every single day. We should be good stewards of our environment, because what we do affects the entire planet.
I just want you to know that many Americans still believe in human rights, freedom, justice, the environment, freedom of speech, science, peace, and respect for all people who do good in this world. I want you to know that those of us who feel this way will not remain silent. We will speak out for the values that we all strive to maintain. Our voices might get drowned out by those in power, but please don’t stop listening for us. We are here.
Because what you’re seeing now is not who we are.
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I’m feeling particularly patriotic today, because marriage equality was recently made the law of the land here in the United States. Every once in a while, for all its flaws, this country gets it right. That makes me feel good.
So, one of my traditions on Independence Day is that I take some time to contemplate what independence means to me, as a woman, as an American, as a human being on this planet. And I’m not just talking independence from England, which is what this holiday was originally about.
Every day, all over the world, people experience varying levels of freedom. I happen to think that on that particular bell curve, I’m one of the luckier ones. But even on this day of flag waving and euphoria, I’m not going to say we get everything right. Some of my freedoms have been rolled back over time, and others are constantly being chipped away at. Independence isn’t some final destination. It’s not like you can sit back and rest once you’ve arrived. It takes work to maintain.
Here are a few things that I value highly, whether I have them or not:
Coming and going as I please.
Marrying whomever I want, divorcing if I choose, or never marrying at all.
Education.
The right to decide what I can and cannot do with my own body.
Access to health care.
Having no one else dictate what clothes I wear.
Being able to drive a car.
Freely stating my opinions in this blog.
Pursuing my own spiritual path.
Owning my own property.
Voting.
Protesting and debating.
Living alone, or with whomever I choose.
Celebrating differences.
Traveling freely.
Choosing my own career path, or in fact working at all.
Feeling safe.
All of these things, and so many more, are what independence means to me. If you have these things, you are very fortunate indeed. Don’t take them for granted. Today, and every other day of the year, we should appreciate what we have and maintain it, and strive for these basic human rights for all.
Travel is my reason for being. Due to finances, I haven’t been able to leave the country in several years, but I have been to 19 other countries, and these experiences have been the high points in my life.
I strongly encourage everyone to travel. It’s the only way you can truly have an open mind. It’s the only way you’ll learn that “our” way isn’t the only way and in fact it may not even be the best way. Until everyone truly understands that concept, there is no chance for any type of peace on earth.
Having said that, as people become more financially desperate, the world is becoming an increasingly scary place, with kidnappings, incarcerations and crime on the rise. And Americans are becoming, if anything, more hated by segments of the international community.
Does that mean we should stop travelling altogether? On the contrary. Now, more than ever, we need to eschew isolation and make more of an effort to be part of the global community. Not only to spread our wealth around a bit, but also to foster as much good will as we can.
But it is very important to travel intelligently. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that it might be a good idea to avoid war zones. But it’s also important to understand the human rights philosophy of the government in question. When making travel plans, my first stop is always the State Department website, where you can read up to date reports on travel advisability and news for each country. Many countries are safe to travel in, but contain regions to avoid, and this is always good information to have. And if you fall into a particular minority group, you may want to extend your research even further afield.
As sad as it makes me to say this, I know that there are certain countries which I realistically will never visit. North Korea, for example. But also, as an outspoken woman who refuses to be treated as a second class citizen, I don’t see myself ever visiting Saudi Arabia, either. While I’m willing to respect customs related to clothing, no one will ever tell me I can’t drive. Full stop. Sadly, as a woman traveling alone, there are many parts of the world I should think twice about visiting.
My nephew has reached an age where he’s looking forward to exploring the planet, and I’m thrilled for him. I remember what that’s like, that feeling that you have endless possibilities for adventure. I love him to pieces, so it nearly killed me to have to ever-so-slightly rain on his parade.
He was talking about going to Egypt, and that’s someplace that I’ve always wanted to see myself. But I had to tell him that as the laws stand in that country at the present time, he can be incarcerated simply for being gay. He told me he didn’t plan on doing “gay things” while there, and while, yes, that would greatly reduce his risk, it doesn’t eliminate it entirely, and this is a young man who, try as he might, would not be able to “fake it”. Unfortunately there are many countries in the world that would pose a risk for him. That breaks my heart, but it’s a fact.
Americans seem to be under the impression that they have some sort of immunity when traveling abroad. They think that if arrested, they will simply be able to call their embassy and be set free. Au contraire. All the embassy can or will do for you in the vast majority of cases is make sure your relatives are notified, deliver your mail, and give you the occasional red cross package. So the best thing to do is be aware of the laws of the country in which you travel, and strictly adhere to them. I’ve never found that to be particularly hard, but apparently some people do. If you plan to go somewhere with several kilos of cocaine taped to your inner thigh, well then, you deserve what you get.
So travel, yes, but do your homework first. Knowledge is power. Bon voyage.
I had a lovely visit with my niece and her husband, and got to meet my grand nephews for the very first time. My nephew also stopped by. It was good to see them all.
And then I was off yet again. Miles and miles of miles and miles. I find myself intentionally hitting the rumble strips on the sides of the road to make sure the dogs are still alive and also to break my hypnosis. My boyfriend Chuck used to have an interesting theory about rumble strips. If you could place the ridges at specific points, as in a record, you should be able to have it make a sound, like a voice. So when you roll over them, they could say, “Waaaaaaake uppppp stupppppid…”
I saw a Wrangler billboard in Northern Missouri: “Where the heck does the trail end?” Good question. Very good question. I never thought I’d be on this trail, that’s for sure.
I’m having to get used to very long stretches between exits, and even longer stretches between gas stations. If I don’t time this right, it could be a disaster. So I’ll time it right.
Several new states for me today. I crossed a bit of Nebraska, and a whole lot of Iowa. Gorgeous rolling hills and lots of corn fields and other crops that I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t identify. At one point my GPS had me on some remote country roads. My GPS sometimes has a cruel sense of humor, so I began to wonder if I was lost. Another strange thing about my GPS is that it pronounces Sioux correctly, but Des Moines sounds like “Desmons” and Missouri becomes “Misery”.
When I wound up here, I really started to wonder, but surprisingly enough, I was still where I was supposed to be. Huh.
I passed a Cattle Yard south of Sioux City that really made me contemplate vegetarianism. The stench went on for miles. I imagine there’s a whole host of disease associated with that smell. Meat production is a disgusting business. I wish I didn’t love hamburger so much.
I followed the same white ford for 150 miles. We were the only ones on the highway. I hope I wasn’t giving them the creeps. It did seem like a really badly written suspense movie for a while there. But then they turned off in Sioux City, and I suddenly felt a little lonely. But then I passed the Kum and Go convenience store and got a case of the adolescent giggles. Who thought that name was a good idea?
I started seeing billboards for Wall Drug today. It reminds me of the South of the Border billboards you see in the Carolinas. After a while, there are just so many of them that you know you’re going to stop, knowing full well it’s going to be a tourist trap. The curiosity just gets the better of you. So I will stop tomorrow.
I also saw a billboard that said, “Eat steak, wear fur, keep your guns, it’s the American way!” Well, I eat steak, anyway. So am I an American?
Crossing into South Dakota, the highway turned pink. I love that there are still a few pink highways out there. I thought historic Route 66 was the last.
Another stop that I had to make out of pure curiosity was the Corn Palace in Mitchell. I didn’t go inside because of the dogs, but the outside was impressive enough.
I would have loved to stop at the home of Laura Ingalls Wilder and the South Dakota Tractor Museum, too, but the nation is suffering from the heat wave from hell, and I just couldn’t justify leaving the dogs in the car.
The local radio informed me that Pro Choice people are so anxious to kill babies that they’ll do anything at any cost to do so. That, in a nutshell, is a blatant and ignorant misunderstanding of the issue. It also makes me glad I’m heading toward a more liberal and enlightened Seattle.
But I have to say I’m loving these wide open spaces. A person can breathe out here. It’s funny. I get a great deal of comfort from being in the mountains because I feel all cozy and safe as if the land is embracing me. But out here in the wide open, there’s a certain comfort, too. The land is saying to me, “I’m bigger than you are. I’m solid. I’m here.” I like that a lot. And I’m not even in big sky country yet. I’m feeling oddly patriotic today.
Tonight I’m staying at A Bridge View Inn in Chamberlain, South Dakota. This charming little place deserves a blog entry all to itself, and I’ll do that at a future date.
When I was young I couldn’t stand British humor. I just didn’t get it. That left me feeling as if I were not in on the joke, and naturally I didn’t enjoy that. I avoided British humor for years.
About a decade ago, though, I decided to give it another try, and now I love it. The difference between British and American humor, I often find, is that British humor assumes you’re intelligent and goes from there. American humor often seems to assume you’re stupid, and therefore goes for the lowest common denominator. British humor forces you to think, and American humor spoon feeds you as if you were a baby in a high chair. (Of course there are exceptions.) I think that says a lot about our respective cultures and our general expectations in life.
Last night I was introduced to, of all things, Finnish humor, in the form of a movie called Ariel, by Aki Kaurismäki. Many Americans might not view this as a comedy, because no one in it laughs or even smiles. Not once. But once you get used to that, you realize that in actual fact the film is hysterical. All these strange and, frankly, tragic things keep happening to the main character, and everyone, including him, seems to take it as commonplace. It’s life, you know? What are you gonna do? No, this film did not make me laugh out loud, but inside I was ROFLMAO. And in the end, I came away still smiling. You can’t say that about many experiences these days. I highly recommend this movie.
This got me thinking about the many forms of humor that are out there. I absolutely despise humor at the expense of others. If the only thing that makes you laugh is humiliating someone else, then I think there’s something seriously wrong with you. I don’t particularly enjoy practical jokes for that same reason. It takes sophistication to toe that line without lapsing into cruelty, and most people aren’t that sophisticated.
I once saw a viral video that everyone seemed to find hilarious. This guy unscrews the railing on his stairs, greases the top step, and piles pillows up at the bottom. He then does something to his sleeping wife (I can’t remember what because I was so horrified by the aftermath) that causes her to leap out of bed and chase him down the stairs, and sure enough, she flies down the stairs and winds up in a heap at the bottom. She’s clearly hurt, and he’s clearly remorseful. But she’s lucky she wasn’t killed, and could very well be in some form of pain for the rest of her life. That’s funny? Here’s a useful rule of thumb: if when setting up a practical joke you say to yourself, “What could possibly go wrong?” Don’t do it. Just… don’t.
Puns, on the other hand, generally don’t hurt anyone. I love a really, really bad pun. I think they appeal to me because they poke fun at my favorite thing on earth, the spoken word.
My favorite form of humor by far is the self-deprecating kind. I think it takes a very confident person to be able to poke fun at himself, and I find that to be extremely attractive. But again, this requires a certain level of sophistication. I dated someone many years ago who lacked the necessary amount of subtlety. He would insult himself brutally, thinking people would find this funny. In fact, it made people uncomfortable, and caused them to pity him. It’s one of the many reasons we broke up. Frankly, people felt he was weird, and it’s hard to remain in a relationship with someone you feel sorry for.
Humor comes in all shapes and sizes. Over the years I’ve learned to appreciate a wider swath of the spectrum. You gotta love variety.
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The View from a Drawbridge 