An Overlookiness Explained and Jerked Unsteadily

Relatives! Ya gotta love 'em.

After an intense week of war-of-the-gargantuas sibling rivalry, Da-da sat 5YO Bronko and 7YO Nagurski down to explain a concept necessary to life on this and every other planet -- that is,  forgiveness. They then asked a reasonable question.

"What's forgiveness?"

"Forgiveness" is an old word that has taken on more baggage than Ethel Merman on a TransAtlantic steamer, so Da-da used another word that means the same thing.

"'To Forgive' means, 'to overlook.' To fail to notice," Da-da explained. "To ignore something you might not like, especially in terms of other peoples' behavior..."

Da-da tries to overlook grandma working in the kitchen.

Da-da registered their blank looks.

"You think nothing of throwing a huge box of Legos down the stairs, right?"

"Right!" they both agreed and smiled. They could understand that quite well.

"You don't think you've done anything wrong," Da-da explained. "You're just interested in watching millions of multi-colored thingies cascade down the stairs."

"What's cascade?"

"Like a waterfall."

"Oh."

"You pretty much overlook the fact that you're not supposed to do this, like a lot of your own actions -- unless you think Santa's watching. But when your brother does this, with say that special space shuttle you spent all afternoon making, then you probably get mad. When your brother does something you don't like, as he often does 10,000 times a day, don't say he's stupid, or that he's the worst brother in the world, or hit him with the cat. Instead, you could try to imagine he's YOU. YOU just tossed the Lego space shuttle down the stairs. Now imagine that that kid on the playground who's hogging the monkey bars is YOU. You can watch YOU play with something for hours, right?"

Da-da saw that this tack was sticking in their craws.

"Ok, that might be too weird for you, seeing everyone around you as YOU -- which they are, by the way -- so instead, try imagining that everyone in the world is related to you. See them as members of your family... family you actually like."

"Like grandma and grandpa?"

"Sure. And your brother and your cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. See everyone as favorite members of your family and you won't get so mad at them when they take your favorite toy, or cut in line in front of you, or take the last piece of cinnamon toast. Instead, you see them do these things and you say to yourself, 'That Uncle Fred,' or 'That silly Bronko.' Then BOOM: it's out of your mind. You're not mad about whatever it was that might annoy you, because it's been done by someone you already know, by someone simply being themselves -- by someone you kinda love. Hate has no room when there's a little love in there somewhere."

"What about the cats barfing everywhere."

"That's why Da-da installed an airlock on the house, so we can just CHUCK them out..."

"Is that 'overlooking'?"

"No. That's efficiency. You see, even Da-da has to learn to overlook things, especially when it comes to anything he has to clean, again and again, like cat barf..."

"Why don't you overlook the cleaning?"

"Why don't you go play in the other room. Quietly. My overlookiness is getting strained."

Da-da of course tried to overlook the fact that 99.99% of his pearls are regularly devoured by adorable swine, as he jerked unsteadily away to be judged by complete strangers to whom he's undoubtedly related.

Intermission Riff: Da-da on the Edge of Forever

One last post before Da-da jumps into writing some new books, a serious post that Da-da doubts anyone will read with their phones, as Da-da's serious is far from vogue. But, if you've gone this far, perhaps you'll go a little farther. Or not.

Da-da has never been one for playing it safe, so he won't do it now. He's made hard decisions time and again, always taking what he saw as the high road -- that is, the hard road, even when the LOW road's been greased with dinero. And by taking the high road, Da-da's never gone unpunished. He's almost always suffered for it, despite it being the right thing to do. Doing that which is right is tough in this day and age, as only "whackos" seem to relish the truth. Never a traffic jam on the high road these days. Dada doesn't mean to wax sanctimonious here, but his integrity is at least still in one piece. Da-da can't stomach the alternative, and neither can the corporate world, apparently.

In this warped klieg light, Da-da -- acting as Old Man and the Internet Sea -- has one last shot to fire over the generational bow, one last school of fish to mayhaps spook into a whole new direction, or at least give food for thought. Alas, Da-da's too much of a realist to think anyone will listen. So.

There are lots of things he'd like to comment on regarding the current crops of young humans taking new posts in the world, but what alarms Da-da most is everyone's fascination with small screens, often to the detriment of all else. Eyewitness examples leap to mind:

First, at a restaurant most recently, Da-da observed a twentysomething couple with their two young children: a seven-year-old girl and a baby boy. The twentysomethings completely ignored their kids and stared at their phones all night, texting and what-not throughout the entire meal, not saying a word to each other or their kids, while the little seven-year-old girl fed and took care of the baby. Talk about a new definition of co-dependency.

Second, at a recent dinner with friends, their 10- and 12-year-old sons kept rudely interrupting the social get-together to address their personal stream of texts while at-table. The parents chided their boys -- but the boys pushed back, surprisingly, just like teens. Sure, this is commonplace with nearly everyone these days, from ten to forty, but note that our ancestors would have been outraged at this kind of manner-fail/social fragmentation. Unbridled, "social networking" has become an untenable oxymoron when it comes to REAL face-to-face social networking. (Note that Da-da isn't criticizing the parents, here; this is more of an all-too-common society-wide event, that crosses demographics. While Da-da's boysare too young to have cellphones, he's definitely NOT going to be rectifying this perceived lack until they're in high school. There's simply too much medical data available that shows that developing brains and RF do NOT go together.)

Demographically speaking, teens of the past are now the pre-teens of today -- "tweens," as they're called by Madison Ave in yet another demographic denigration -- but, basically, these are kids we're talking about, the definition of which keeps getting pushed farther and farther out. Kids need instruction on how to become decent, responsible people; Da-da himself strives to one day be a decent, responsible person. And decent, responsible people pay attention to other people in LIVE social interactions, whether they like it or not. It's part of being in a family, part of being a decent person, a citizen, a friend. Jeez, look at this 20-something dufus who co-hosted the Academy Awards.

Dude, text AFTER the Academy Awards are over. How much are they paying you??
And how much for Steve Martin, again?

This kind of self-indulgent rudeness is all over the place, and is now de facto acceptable. But we as parents don't have to support this a-social behavior, esp. as we are the ones typically paying for these technological luxuries, luxuries that aren't that important, or constructive. If it causes pain to take them away, so be it. The title of "parent" doesn't come with any kind of popularity rating over absolute zero, not until they need something; as Da-da has said to his boys many many times: "I'm your father, not your friend." Da-da wants the best for his boys, just as he's sure you do for your own children, and that invariably comes with hard-ass unpopular choices that take an iron will and a heart of gold and a wallet of emptiness.

That said, let's center on the most egregious of the current social ills. Meals are one thing, but driving under the influence is another. The influence of what? you might ask. TEXTING WHILE DRIVING.

Driving in this world is dangerous enough. People drive way too fast in cars that go faster and faster -- often silently, with the new hybrids -- and fully half of these drivers are under the influence of smart phones, looking down at small screens while driving. All the teens, moms and cops in Da-da's town do this.

Folks, Da-da is here to tell you that NOTHING in the world is so goddamned important or compelling as to make you or your children stare at small screens when you're driving. You look at your so-called "smart phone," such an oxymoron when you see how it affects human behavior, and when you do so at 35-70 mph, you put every child in the world at risk, not to mention yourself and everyone else. This may make no sense to many of you, because you have no children, but when you eventually do, and your own child is mowed down by a driver who's watching a YouTube movie while driving, or reading some insipid 'SUP' text from their friends... well. It's your life that's SUP. You kill someone while texting and your life is over. Just like that. Dead. Like that mowed-down 50-lb. child you just mangled with your two-ton automobile. This just happened where Da-da lives, unfortunately -- and Da-da had to see the faces of the parents who lost their 10YO child. Alas, it happens all the time. It's real. Just like when armies kill kids for no reason, that kid's life is over, as so is yours. And for what? For absolutely nothing.

So, turn off your small screens when driving, when living. Look at the world. Use your senses. Go for a walk without the tunes, without the earbuds. (It's illegal to drive with earphones/headphones, btw.) Your life doesn't need a soundtrack. LISTEN TO THE WORLD. Smell it. Feel it. Know it, learn it, live it. Pay attention. Listen to people. Listen to your inner self. Unplug. Detune. Drop IN... and then you'll see the illusion for what it is. But until that realization, you'll always be a slave to it. Do you like being a slave?

One of the best ways to understand what the hell Da-da is talking about is to have kids yourself, and live firsthand the thrill and the horror of parenthood. But that's hard. It's difficult, and most people don't like difficult these days. Be sure to figure yourself out first before you have kids. It's no use making them pay for you being screwed up.

And before you get all mad and flame Da-da here, note that Da-da believes in telling the hardest truths first. Da-da's here to help. He's not buttering you up to get some advertising moolah, a slave to his hit-count. Da-da never works that way. No, Da-da sees ALL OF YOU as his sons and daughters and brothers and sisters and drunken slot-machine-addicted uncles, and he wants all of you to do better than Da-da. He wants to BOOST YOU UP.

So, do yourself this favor for the rest of the year and UNPLUG. Take an ontological, technological vacation. You might even save money on your phone bill. You'll definitely be happier, Da-da guarantees it.

That said, Da-da will now make a rare book recommendation, as you might want to delve into that TRUTH thing, once you take stand. And no, this isn't one of Da-da's books, but that of a writer-friend whom Da-da knows and respects. Note now that there are many paths, many roads that will get you where you will eventually go, but some paths are faster than others, and there are in fact shortcuts. This is a short cut. Anyway, good luck. We're all counting on you.

Link

Is that a unicorn up there? Or just the way she's holding the grapefruit?

Da-da Helps You Enter THE CRUCIBLE OF HORROR... er, PARENTHOOD

Not gonna find Enlightenment there, kid.

So. It's Monday. You're staring at your 3-D iPhone/Android/computerish device all the time, bored out of your mind, commuting without looking at anything but that little screen, "communicating" in a rather uncommunicative way, working without working, eating at trendy places, traveling the world without looking at it, wondering who you are, waiting for something to happen, feeling disconnected because there's no cultural lingua franca to pull everyone you know together save for that small screen YouTube fascination du jour. Then... for whatever reason... you start secretly wishing for a time machine to take you away from all this. IS THERE ONE?, you wonder. Well, Da-da is here to tell you that there IS.

It's called: PARENTHOOD. Yes, IT'S TIME TO HAVE KIDS! Imagine how fulfilled you'll be. You step into The Crucible of Parenthood and all that other stuff gets burned away. You won't look at your phone for months! Trendy restaurants will become dim memories that probably happened to someone else. And, "commuting"? Commuting will actually become something YOU RECALL FONDLY.

Then, before you know it, five years will have gone by, and the entire world will be so different that you won't realize where to jump back in -- and chances are you won't, 'cause it'll look so weird and alien, the new players such advanced aliens that you'll stand on the sidelines and watch the game flow past and wonder why you ever played in the first place. That's because you have a new game to play, an ULTIMATE GAME. Why is it the ULTIMATE GAME? It's the ULTIMATE GAME because YOU CAN NEVER WIN! You can only tie. You'll still be just as bored, but you'll spend your time trying to talk other people into... PARENTHOOD! It's the vicious circle that keeps on giving the whole year 'round.

BOO.

So, why is Da-da being so scary? BECAUSE IT'S ONLY 31 DAYS TILL HALLOWEEN. And everyone deserves a really good scare this month -- and parenthood is one of those scares that just gets scarier every time you turn your back on it. So, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!?

Dead Man's Email

Nothing funny here, citizen. If you're looking for funny, you might wanna move on to the next post.

Da-da's been spending time looking through his friend's email -- his best friend who relapsed back into booze for the last time, got mad at himself and took his own life rather than face the anger and guilt he felt at his all too human weakness... so, Da-da hacked his best friend's account looking for a last note, a letter to the editor, a final jeremiad about addiction or insanity or fluoridation... but there was nothing. Just job offers (Da-da's friend was eminently employable), a little father's day email to his dad (and to Da-da), and spam. Sad, really. There was no final note left to mark a life lived on the quiet edge of madness. No last thoughts on the whys and wherefores that were so severe that he decided to put a bullet in his brain. Yes. It's after midnight. And Da-da's in too truthful a mood. He tried to warn you off with his DO NOT ENTER sign, but you're still here in fascination of the abomination. Da-da did a whole novel about these midnight, living dead thoughts, but you don't know about that. So, what's this all about? Late night anger and upset? About a friend who took a wrong turn? Partly. It's that, and a friendly heads-up. It's also much more. Let's explore, shall we?

We all come to that dark place, sometimes. You know the place. That spot within ourselves where we question nearly everything and wonder why we're here, wonder whether we have value, whether we should indeed go on living. For many, it comes right down to an instant, a moment. Da-da has been here awhile and has years of experience and actual old fashioned mystical knowledge, not the least of which is memory of sitting on the brink of this madness -- read, HE'S BEEN THERE... and consciously stepping back from it, unlike his tragic friend, so allow him to speak to that real being inside you a moment.

You aren't what you think you are. You're actually a part of something so grand, so majestic, so INFINITE, that... well, words are cheap. Words aren't even a real part of us (they're our invention, so we can talk to ourselves), so let's chuck that and go on gut. Whether you like it or not, you are part of something huge and intractable. Immutable. Immortal. You cannot be destroyed, no matter what you do. Blow your brains out, take poison, jump off a bridge, put asps to your breast... it's not going to do a single solitary thing, EXCEPT make you come back and do this all over again. If you're indeed on this brink, or know someone who is, read/send them this post.

Fact is, this world is not real, and suicide will do nothing but prolong the inevitable. It'll make it worse, in fact, because you'll have to recover from what you think you've done -- and what you did to yourself because of it. Guilt guilt guilt. Fear fear fear. Ridiculous. "Reality," as you know it, is not reality at all, only perception. The real "reality" of you, of me -- we're the same being, you see -- is that We Are. No amount of violence you do to yourself will change that. Do yourself in and you'll still have to face the fact that you're part of a larger Something that doesn't judge, and that you've never done anything wrong and you never could even if you wanted to. Read that again. YOU are harder on you than any concept of a Supreme Being, silly lake of fire or otherwise. Would a Supreme Being want you punished for whatever you think you've done? Not One Da-da wants wearing the Royal Sweatpants of Eternity. We Are, brother, and we're part of something tremendous, something that has a name that you can't pronounce (literally a vibration), and it's something you need not be afraid of, something that loves us so much that even the worst is forgiven. This is hard to fathom for some, as the world you're used to is about sexy bodies and guilt and blame and fear and revenge. But Da-da's here to tell you that you should step away from the brink and join in the George Bailey Dimension.

Huh?

Yes. George Bailey. The guy from, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE. The man who asked never to have been born. What's this got to do with anything and why? Because, doofus, by committing suicide, you are asking just that: to have never been born. But if you could see your life, no matter how hideous, if you could see what part that life might play, you might see the positive impact, the baby steps, no matter how small, the impact of your silly life has on others. Just as Stephen King wrote in, "The Shawshank Redemption," you have two choices: "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin." But you don't. Not only is this terrible advice, Da-da's here to tell you that there is no such choice. You might ex-out this body for a time, because you think you can't take it any more... but you'll be back, eventually, with that same fucking choice staring you in the face. And until you let go and let something else... whatever you wanna call it, Big Juju, a Higher Power... until you let It choose for you, until you let It take that fey compass from your hand and say, GO THIS WAY YOU BONEHEAD, you will be doomed to The Pottersville Dimension. Not indefintely, but for a time.

Time is an illusion most subscribe to, but it's not real. It exists only to give you a finite class length. You're a Supreme Being in your own right, part of one anyway, and you're in school, here to learn. Look away from the hourglass pain of the clock, brother, and choose to learn. Learn what? Let go and find out. Take the lessons, no matter how hard. Get through it. And get better. We'd be lying if we said we weren't counting on you. So... get busy lettin' go. Wait for the path to materialize, because it always does, and then follow it. When the student is ready, the teacher materializes. In the meantime, don't take things so seriously. And stick around. You'll be glad you did. We will, too. We're all in this together. And if you can't follow any of these ramblings, just go watch that Jimmy Stewart movie again. And pay attention this time.