Loose Ends, #5

High Tides and Report Cards

Call me shallow, but I have had two bits of good news this week.

The first was the emergency created by hurricane Sandy.  As I write, the rains and wind are still blowing leaves from our trees, bringing an abrupt end to what little remained of the fall leaf-viewing season.

Beyond the coincidental fact that skeletal trees work better for Halloween than leafy trees, however gorgeous, this leaf-drop is not necessarily good news. Sadly, the trees outside my workplace, which produce leaves of various vivid colors and patterns, are nearly bare now.

Sandy has also caused deaths and created enormous hardships for millions along the Atlantic seaboard.

On the other hand, for my narrower purposes, Sandy has brought with it a brief, though temporary, hiatus to the political windstorm that has raged for, well, for nearly four years. Any respite, clearly, is welcome, even if it is delivered via the costly disruption of a late season hurricane.

I live in a community that is largely Republican and in a county that likes to express its "conservatism." I registered as a Democrat when I moved here nearly thirty years ago, in part to refute the received wisdom that all God's people vote Republican. Most of the time I vote for the Democratic candidate, but not always.  Sometimes there is no Democrat on the ballot in this county. Once or twice I even voted for the Republican, perhaps as lesser evil.

More importantly, if I were registered Republican, I would count as one more undifferentiated statistic in the great political discussion that allows amateurs to masquerade as experts.

I like to maintain what we might call a "thinking posture" and attempt to reserve my vote for the better choice. I read history, for example. I am also among the shrinking number of those who still read the newspapers; and I watch several newscasts, beginning with the BBC. What I don't do is watch political talk shows, although they are hard to avoid.

One immediate benefit of my position is that I understand how some problems have a longer shelf life than four years.  Think "wars in the Middle East" here, for example. Or Roe v Wade. Or poverty in America. Or the persistence of race as an issue in a post-racial America.

Sadly, my "thinking posture" is not necessarily shared, a judgment I make based on the quality of lawn signs and TV ads that appear locally with increasing frequency as the election nears. Some apparently believe this is the most important election of their lifetime, as the urging usually goes, although it is not the most important election of my now considerable lifetime.

This brings me to my second bit of good news.  In the mail yesterday I received my first ever "Voter Report Card."  Guess what?  I not only received an "Excellent" for voting in the last five general elections, but more importantly I also scored better than my neighbors! Being a good neighbor is important, but being better than my neighbors is simply great!

Imagine my excitement when this Excellent Voter Report Card arrived on a day that the campaigns took the day off.

What has me a bit worried, however, is the sentence on my Report Card that indicates my rating is based on "public records for your current address only." I have lived in a number of places during my adult life.  What do you suppose a check of other addresses would turn up?  Voter fraud?

I am planning to vote for the President, as one might expect. Now that I have a streak going, I would be remiss to skip this election, wherever it ranks on the "important election" list. All in all, it's not actually a hard decision for me. I have a long memory.

More important than my personal choice, however, is this:  On Wednesday after the election, while all the things that annoy us are still fresh in our minds, let's start thinking about campaign reform.  We should start by limiting the political season -- not only to improve our quality of life, but also to allow elected officials time to concentrate on doing their jobs rather than campaigning.  Then we need to find a way to reign in campaign financing. The PAC system is frightening. Then, if anyone is left standing, let's tackle the tricky question of truth in advertising.

These are highly political issues, of course, so clearly we need a commission that is non-partisan rather than congressional.  But I think it can be done if we set aside the what's-in-it-for me and the I'm-a-victim positions that have come to characterize our political thinking.

Let's treat it as a problem to be solved, a problem that needs to be solved. That's what Americans are good at, right?

Loose Ends, Number Four

Snapple Facts -- 

Or Why I Hate American Politics

Several years ago I began collecting lids from the glass Snapple bottles. Each lid comes with an arcane "real fact" printed on the underside.

I don't collect all "real fact" lids, just the ones that fit a category that lies a tad beyond bizarre and decidedly to the vaccuus side of trivial. This is where the true genius of the "facts" themselves lies.

Case in point is Real Fact" #880, "A Venus flytrap can eat a whole cheeseburger."

The cheeseburger fact is empty but compelling,. It is a bit like the accident you can see happening but can't turn away from. The information itself is beyond useless.  There is no way to verify the truth of the statement should you even want to -- unless you had a Venus flytrap and were willing to sacrifice it to the cheeseburger experiment.  I am dead certain that the cheeseburger would kill the little vegetable meat-eater.

Perhaps there are Venus flytrap researchers out there who might also supply the data for us, but I don't have the ambition to track one down.

Apparently there are hundreds of these "real facts" out there waiting to be encountered.  The highest numbered "real fact" I have is #917, which says that "The average lead pencil can draw a line 35 miles long or write roughly 50,000 English words."

Consider that: over 900 facts that have no use and no value, but are, nevertheless, genuine curiosities, real brain grabbers.

Fact #917 appears reasonable, by the way, although I have no idea how close it is to being true. As with the flytrap - cheeseburger question, I am not motivated to find out. For all I know, a pencil researcher just "did the math" and never drew any lines at all. A smart mathematician could devise the formula, couldn't she?  At least that is what mathematicians always claim -- math can explain everything.

I keep my "real fact" lids in a metal can that was once filled with mint balls.  Uncle Joe's Mint Balls, to be precise, made in Wigan, England, according to the can; they are made of cane sugar, oil of peppermint, cream of tartar, and NO artificial additives.

The can also claims they are "PURE" and "GOOD," although I can't attest to either. I ate the last one decades ago.

This is, I suppose, a strange subject for meditation, although I am seized with an odd conviction that may give it a certain rationale. A few days ago I came across a Snapple lid that gave the real name for Barbie, of Barbie-doll fame. Amazing.  I mean, I had no idea! Barbara Millicent Roberts. A tad pretentious, perhaps, but good to know.

What really struck me about this Barbie "fact' is that my immediate reaction was to connect it to Sarah Palin, for some reason.  Huge cognitive shift here: I remember how relieved I was to be in London during the off-year election in 2010 since the London papers generally ignored the political noise and nonsense from back home.

I was asked once at a men's prayer breakfast to explain the American fascination with Sarah Palin as potential national candidate. These good Christian men were hoping for some insight.

Sadly, I was no help, being mystified myself.

My confusion got me a few laughs. The English, apparently, find us amusing when we are not trying to be too impressed with ourselves.

Now, after what seems like eternal presidential campaigning, during which a little other-worldly wisdom from Sarah Palin might be amusing, I would be in favor of exchanging campaign seasons for this: have each candidate write on a 3X5 card why I should vote for him and publish it in the newspaper every day for the first week of November.

This brief foray into the political realm reminds me of a few more "real facts" I am strangely fond of.
Number 893, fitting for October, reads, "Jack-O-Lanterns were originally made out of turnips."

I want very much to believe jack-o-lanterns were originally made of turnips, as it suggests simpler times, when politicians were public servants, men of substance. Still, I am finding it hard to believe anyone would go to all the work of hollowing enough space in a turnip for a lit candle.

Another favorite falls into the campaign promise kind of category.  Real Fact # 823, "Sailors once thought wearing gold earrings improved eyesight."  This one, far-fetched as it appears, sounds about right.  Because, why not? Sailors have not always been the brightest stars in the sky.

My actual point here is that much of what we call political rhetoric is largely of the same order, curiously fascinating but essentially pointless. And even should we think it true, it's hard to judge the actual value of the information.

"Real Fact" 795: "Hawaii is moving toward Japan at the rate of almost 4 inches per year."

Should we be worried?  Is the key word here "almost"? Or is 4 inches likely to create international issues during my children's lifetime?

My all time favorite "Real Fact" is the lid that got me started in the first place,  # 786: The brain operates on the same amount of power as a 10-watt bulb.

Kind of makes you wonder doesn't it, what that says about those of us who can't get enough of the political talk?