Life’s Simpler Things: Salvation or Swindle?

10/28/2013 by J. Nelson

We all have excuses for ignoring the simple things. Here are mine:

Here’s part one of an ongoing series in which our rationale for taking life’s simplicities for granted are admitted to – and mocked.

Sometimes, stopping to smell the roses is boring.

Let’s face it, some of life’s simpler things are real snooze-fests. Take nature watching, for example, or going for a walk. I’ve never been one to just up and stroll around aimlessly. I mean, I enjoy walking, but it makes a lot more sense to me when there’s a destination. Also, I like to look like I have a destination. It’s all good to get into your head, appreciate your surroundings, sit on a bench, or listen to birds, but I’d rather get something out of it, like the clarity needed to make hard decisions or work through tough problems. Call me tightly wound, but a mental payoff is required.

In the rare times I find myself walking on a beach, I always pick a point and head toward it. That way, on the return trip, I can at least relish a building sense of accomplishment and follow-through. I don’t need to stop and smell every rose or stand in awe beneath every majestic tree. I’m walkin’ here: they aren’t exactly whizzing by.

Breaking the Narcissist Richter Scale

10/20/2013 by J. Nelson 2 Comments

Goofing on cosmetic surgery martyrdom and Justin Bieber’s toolface

If I look like Justin Bieber, I’ll live like Justin Bieber, goes the thinking of a sick, dumb animal.

When humans are psychologically backed against a wall, they often do silly things reminiscent of the crazed stumble of mad cow disease. Narcissism is like mad cow, in that infected animals’ brains and spinal cords get wonky after eating too much of themselves.

At 33 years-old, “songwriter” Toby Sheldon is one such sick, dumb animal, thanks to his diseased missteps in pursuing the surgeried likeness of Justin Bieber’s pout. He may not have succeeded in turning his mug into a copy of The Bieber’s, but he has broken the Narcissist Richter Scale and become this month’s poster boy for GET CHARACTER OR BECOME ONE.

Perhaps it’s unfair for me to pick on one of God’s mixed up creatures, one whose likely next move is stumbling in a circle until it dies. But God commanded me to write this blog, and I can’t be blamed for self-poisoning narcissists who shudder, shake, and stagger madly before my oncoming truck.

Maybe the rule of thumb should be that, if you’re such a delusional cosmetic surgery pigeon that becoming a laughing stock is a minor consequence, you should be entitled to special insurance coverage or perhaps your own island residency. I favor the island, a zero-liability environment where you can immolate yourself with a can of gas, invent a chainsaw radio, or stagger delusionally off a cliff, all free from the legal or social judgments of others.

A False Image of Solid Parenting

10/16/2013 by J. Nelson

Taking responsibility for your children doesn’t work in silhouette

After 12-year-old Rebecca Sedwick threw herself off an abandoned concrete silo tower last month, her friends and schoolmates came forward in droves to tell police she’d essentially been bullied to death. Guadalupe Shaw, 14, and another girl (aged 12) were charged with felony aggravated stalking after Shaw posted a new message stating in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t care less that her cruelty had resulted in the girl’s death. Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd reacted to that arrogance swiftly. He has since been adamant in his intent to jail the two minors, and he’s not staying silent on the responsibility their parents should bear, either (“I’m aggravated that [they] aren’t doing what parents should…Responsible parents take disciplinary action”).

I won’t get into the particulars of the backstory since, for instance, the intimidating coercion by Shaw of one of Rebecca’s friends to join in the bullying is all over the Internet. But I will note that an examination of Rebecca’s computer revealed search queries for “What is overweight for a 13-year-old girl?” “How to get blades out of razors,” and “How many over-the-counter drugs do you take to die?” That’s a kicker that feels like it just hit your chest.