Picasso was a terrible human being. I can’t look at his paintings or consider any of his allegedly important works without thinking of all the women he destroyed. The works that made him famous and allegedly important were done by being insanely cruel to women. He became rich in the process. At least two of his lovers ended themselves. He kidnapped one, and locked many unwilling ones in his studio. As he got older they got younger and younger. At one point, he adopted a very young girl to use in his nude sketches. She was returned to the convent from where she came when he was done with her. He enjoyed prostitutes, probably because his first experience was with one. Even if you do superficial searches, you will be shocked at how much information is out there. It’s not a secret. Yet, students are shown his work, visitors see his paintings in museums, and most of them are completely unaware that they are looking at a tapestry of sexual deviancy and exploitation.
Years ago when I attended NWACC, a professor really loved a complicated thing I drew that I titled “Elvis Angel.” It was an intricate and preposterous mess but very interesting. Another student said, “It’s like Picasso with pens and pencils.” She didn’t understand when I said, “Thank you. But I don’t know if it’s monstrously sexual enough for that comparison.” The professor asked me about my comment. She was a very engaging and educated professor who enjoyed my nonsense. Even though I didn’t know a lot about Picasso at the time, I told her that he was a monster. It shocked her because despite her education, she had never heard anything like that. After our conversation, she spent time looking it up, just as she had done when I pointed out something related to employment law that she was unaware of.
Even the painting in this post seems innocuous. But if you know what it really depicts, it’s difficult to look at it in the same way. And if you know the woman’s story, the one used in the painting, you can feel nothing except disgusted and sorry that her path intersected with Picasso.
I love history and trivia. This is not one of those cases wherein people take things out of context against the backdrop of history. This is one of those cases where the behavior of the person involved would be universally reviled if it were known.
This is not a post about reality TV per se. Reality TV fascinates me; not as a watcher, but more for the process of misdirection, drama creation, and constant familiar themes to provoke an emotional or shocked reaction. When I do watch reality TV, I spend an inordinate amount of time looking up the people and places to find out what really happened and how the writers and producers repackaged it for entertainment.
Again, this post isn’t about reality TV per se. It’s about the fact that a great number of people are exactly like reality TV. They aren’t living authentically, they don’t say what’s on their mind, emotional connection feels foreign to them, and honesty tends to be in short supply. We tend to be reactionary by nature. And even with legitimate reasons to react with frustration, anger, or emotion, our tendency is to bite our natural response to whatever is happening around us. We watch one another, evaluating what’s going behind the facade. It’s why memes caution us to remember that each of us has things going on that others don’t know about.
Turn off the TV. Surprise yourself and other people. As a self-admitted hypocrite, I can write these words without feeling like a fraud. I hate the disparity between who I am and how I communicate and behave in a lot of situations. All of this artifice we build up around us is a cage. The strange thing is is that we are our own guards. The key is in our pocket.
Dashiki shirts have a lot of history and symbolism. I realized that my new scrub tops were very similar to the style and cut of these shirts. So I got a colorful one. Of course. It’s extremely comfortable. I’m wondering why we don’t wear this type of garment way more often.
Since it is a cultural item, I will studiously avoid driving inside any small municipality around here. I won’t mention any of them by name.
Listen… People keep begging me to share more of my great ideas. And to use a LOT more words doing so. They complain that I keep things too short. And I think this is a really good one!
For comedy clubs, after the MC comes out and tells stale jokes laden with false enthusiasm, they should bring two people from the audience to the stage. The first one should be a volunteer. He or she has the opportunity to tell any joke they want. I think we would find some good comedians accidentally this way. I’ve known several people who would be phenomenal as comedians. They look at me like a three-headed armadillo when I point it out to them. The second person would be chosen randomly. They would be asked to tell a joke or do an ad-lib.
Both of these scenarios would drive audience participation and keep things interesting. It would also give all their friends and family an opportunity to witness most of them experience most people’s most fundamental fear: public speaking. Oh, and a really good photo-op.
Thank you for participating in my great ideas series.
I apologize in advance for my failure to write at least 11,256 words.
If I had a way to tell every young person in the world one of the best ways to be ahead of most people, it would be to be able to stay calm when everything is going to hell around you. Not in a trauma-response way. When I was growing up, I didn’t realize that I was often reacting to the violence and craziness In such a way that it would imprint a foolish cycle onto my adult life. It’s difficult to remain calm and fearless because we are biologically wired to be adrenaline filled. Our endocrine system is our enemy in this modern world. Much of our anxiety stems from a lack of control, both for the things that swirl around us and our response to it. Letting it flow around us without internalizing it is a superpower. If you’re observant and prone to introspection and overthinking, you will have a bad time. Anyone living in this modern mess has ample fodder to wonder if we’ve all lost our minds. We are supposed to be spirits, yet it’s more likely we’re collectors, feathering our own nests at the expense of whatever passes for the greater whole.
My friend Marjay might tell us to “look for the helpers” when things go to hell. It’s good advice as far as it goes. It also belies the fact that we need to be helpers. When you’re on a plane and trained to use the oxygen masks that fall during an emergency, you’re also told to ensure that your own mask is on first. Otherwise, you’re useless. And so it goes with the mundane yet herculean task of navigating your own day. Be your own helper. It’s not a reassuring feeling to know that after decades of witnessing the casual avalanche of surprises in life, that I’ve failed to be my own helper. I’m not being glib; I’m being honest in the acknowledgment and nod toward my own deficiency. It was easier to look back to my childhood and shift the blame to the people masquerading as adults. It’s not their fault. They were broken. Using them as a template for either blame or guidance is stupidity. I might stretch the comparison to include how we collectively manage our society.
Every few years, I watch the 1993 movie “Fearless.” I watched it Sunday. It always triggers a wild parade of ideas and emotions in me. It used to do so because of my own plane encounter a couple of years prior to the movie. As my life progresses, it increasingly morphs into an analogy about how I’ve responded to crisis as it comes along. The main character survives a plane crash, during which he experiences a zen-like moment of clarity that detaches him from worry. The obverse side of his coin is that while it gives him an almost supernatural ability to detach and help other people, it damn near destroys him in the process. Enlightenment is personal; living is a task that requires immersion into the craziness.
“If you are what you do, when you don’t, you aren’t.” A convoluted way for Wayne Dyer to remind us that we are what we do and think. He also said, “How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.”
The “Try That In A Small Town” controversy is fascinating. It seems like people are using it to defend their identities with it, on both sides of the spectrum. That such a song can be true for both polar opposites should remind us of the danger of ideology and certainty. On a side note, I laughed my ass off looking at all the memes on both sides of the argument. People are clever, and many used it to satirically make their point. Satire and snark are two of my favorite nutrients to deal with the world. For me, the song also brought back my childhood and one of my harshest criticisms of it. A small town or parochial lifeview can be a comfort. That same circumstance can also hide a lot of violence and misbehavior. Families, like communities, often rubberstamp things that would be better served with a dose of sunlight and scrutiny. A lot of children walk around in a world where God doesn’t rescue them from senselessness – and family members turn a blind eye or don’t get involved.
How you react to what’s around you is your decision. You either float peacefully on the river, or it sweeps you downstream. It’s the same river regardless. As with the protagonist of “Fearless,” you might find yourself on the edge of the roof, looking a mile below you. The danger remains, whether you’re on the high roof’s edge or standing on the street below. You are your own biggest danger.
This is a long post. It’s not funny. A few people might read it and take offense or exception to it. Such a defensive response only happens when someone is speaking the truth, usually one that isn’t favorable. I have hundreds of stories.
Last December, a woman was basically decapitated while cleaning pizza-making machinery. She was doing so without being able to lock out the machinery. It seems preposterous to most of us. But not to me. She had less protection than most because she was working as a temporary employee. Many of these facilities are operated and cleaned by employees who don’t have a lot of options, much less training. Even with both things being true, the financial pressure exerted to be efficient tends to overwhelm even common safety measures. This happens all across the United States every single day of the year. People are expected or required to work faster and to cut corners. Companies tend to say the right things when it comes to safety, but so many employees go to work every day knowing that they will have to cut corners to get the job done with the staffing and time allotted. It’s no secret that most companies cut labor costs. Fewer people are expected to do more while maintaining the quality of whatever they’re producing while simultaneously building a house of cards in regard to safety.
When I was very young, I was involved in an absolutely astounding case involving food safety that also dovetailed with personal safety. It had such a huge impact on my attitude. Working in a dairy removed any doubt as to the process of what goes into milk.
Later, although years ago, when I worked at a food manufacturing facility, I watched a lot of this happen. I had several near misses, a couple of which I still sometimes dream about. One of them could have easily ripped my head off, and only luck kept it from happening. The machine was a huge rapid cooling machine with interconnected mobile shelves connected to a dual elevator. It was -40° and 40 plus feet tall. A huge bank of powerful motors constantly roared to feed the gigantic cooling coils.
Prior to my introduction to the machinery, a maintenance person had almost been cut in half by the moving elevator portion of the apparatus. It was interesting hearing management’s perspective on this. The maintenance person survived but was severely impacted by the injuries for the rest of his life. It wasn’t until I became responsible for the machine on my shift that I realized just how pernicious the demands of efficiency were and how they constantly violated safety protocols.
I had subcutaneous frostbite on both knees from working on the incredibly cold surfaces. Getting shots behind one’s kneecaps is not something I recommend. When I’m about to do push-ups, I go through long periods where I have to use one knee to kneel. Otherwise, there’s a strange pain that has lingered through the years. I’m sure some of my hearing loss is attributable to those roaring fan systems.
Working in negative 40° environments required very specific and expensive protective footwear. Many employees, especially those from staffing agencies, were not given proper footwear and often had to work in this environment with rubber boots. I know it sounds like I’m exaggerating. There was more than one occasion when I took the employee and bought him boots, using my own money, that would protect him. And even those weren’t up to the expected standard demanded of the machine. On one occasion, my middle manager threatened to write me up or fire me if I bought boots for another employee again. He was angry that it made him look bad. Shame would have been a better response. Had Jesus been in the room, someone would have been smitten.
When management would decide it was time to defrost the system, the engineers who developed it indicated it needed at least 3 days without use simply to defrost it to the correct temperature. Of course, management allotted less than a day. Even though it cost millions of dollars to construct the immense machine on an insulated pad, It was no surprise that huge cracks formed in the foundation constantly. The powerful drive shafts constantly failed as the junction boxes warped. Metal shelves weighing hundreds of pounds fell or got hung constantly.
At one point, I fell about 20 ft from the elevator platform. My padded freezer suit helped lessen the fall. I didn’t break anything but was impossibly sore for several weeks. A co-worker was on the platform with me at the time. He later said he was certain that he was witnessing a death. In some ways, I was a much different person back then. Had the wrong thing been said to me about this incident or ignorant questions about safety protocols implemented at the time, I would have handed them a list of several hundred contributing factors that had not been addressed. Everyone knew we were running the operation under the “wink” system. Just remember the Manhattan Project and the first nuclear bomb if you’re not sure what the “wink” system is. While the scientists were certain that the first nuclear bomb would not ignite the entire planet, the people authorizing the project would have proceeded anyway. They wanted a bomb and a test to prove its viability. The infinitesimally small risk of setting the entire planet ablaze wasn’t much of a concern.
Despite the fact that there were very rigid protocols on paper for correcting mechanical issues, the truth is that there was enormous pressure from management to do whatever had to be done to keep the machine operating. Half of the plant’s food production required the use of the machine for chilling or freezing. Some of this is also why I shake my head at our alleged USDA inspection system. The truth is that companies producing food are given too much leeway to monitor their processes. Time and time again, food-borne illnesses prove that processes can’t be trusted. Trust God but keep your powder dry.
When I read restaurant inspections, all of the swirls in my head. The people who own restaurants have a complete list of requirements. They are a part of doing business. Yet, when inspected, a wild variety of problems get noted. And most of these have been going on for a while when they are caught. Again, some of it is due to improper behavior by employees. Noting that, however, never negates the obligation of the people in charge of the restaurant to ensure that things are done correctly. It is their job to hire, train, and keep people functioning safely. The blame always falls on the people whose job is to ensure standards adherence.
When I worked at the food facility, I wasn’t proud that I ducked participating in the alleged defrosting and cleaning of the system. There were a lot of accidents during these shenanigans. I’m not sure how to characterize what we were supposed to be doing versus the objective. There was no correlation in reality. I can say that most of the motivation for doing it was to satisfy the perception that we were cleaning and maintaining the machine properly. A couple of times, I probably should have been fired for not participating. I expected to come back to the immense department to a vertical crack in the machine platform, similar to after an earthquake.
Everything about it was handled improperly. Both from a food safety perspective and its mechanical operation. People who had no knowledge of the apparatus were constantly making outrageous decisions about every facet of its operation. Were the department and machine mine, I would have required lengthy training for everyone associated with the machine. But we were constantly tasked with doing whatever we had to to keep it running, with people walking in off the street or from staffing agencies. The language barrier wasn’t a problem for me because I speak Spanish. But none of the operational or safety literature was provided in other languages. Even if it were, we were never going to be allotted sufficient personnel or time to train people. Most days, we felt exactly like Lucy as she attempted to eat all the chocolates as they went past her.
There were a couple of other operators whom I trusted with my life with that machine. (Because I was trusting them with my life.) We were often in the machine while it was operational. It was during one of those occasions when I was inside, and one of the operators I trusted was attempting to keep the machine operational in order to keep the plant moving. The sweep arm moving product was behind me as I observed the mechanical arms in conjunction with the photo sensors. It hung up and dropped just as I stepped away. It caught me across the back of the neck and shoulders and began pulling me. I realized immediately that I had to act fast. So I fell to the floor a couple feet ahead of the horizontal shelving. Had I not done so, I would have lost my head.
One afternoon, I was lying on the conveyor system, attempting to keep the output window functional. I’d been in there several minutes, and my nose was running freely. It’s important to remember that the huge banks of fans were blowing hundreds of horsepower of wind through the machine while I was in it. You learn to ignore a runny nose or wait until it freezes on your face. Once it freezes, you forget about it. My face mask had hardened too much, so I pulled it up to be able to breathe. Since the system was running, I rolled over to avoid getting pushed out of the narrow output window. On each side was a stainless steel gear case encompassing the conveyor system gears. As I rolled over, my face made contact with the stainless steel that was around -40°. My face stuck instantly to the metal. Because the product was coming out at my feet, I rolled again, and as I did so, the mucus from my nose that had instantly froze stuck to the metal gearbox. It took me several minutes to realize I lost the skin across the side of my nose and above my lip. That’s what that kind of extreme cold will do.
I don’t dream about that machine much anymore. I tend to have them if I have a fever. Most involve injury or metal platforms falling off the elevator system from 40 feet in the air.
When I see news stories, especially ones that have marked similarities to what I experienced, I get irritated again. Because I know that more people will get injured or die. It’s true that some of these cases are a result of the employee being negligent through their own fault. Is it a secret that we can be stupid? It’s equally true that another portion of these are the consequence of employees being required to do things unsafely or too quickly in order to get the job done. People who are not familiar with such industries or jobs object and say that the solution is for the employees to simply refuse. The work world does not work that way for most of us. Most of the things you enjoy, from your chicken sandwich to your phone, get produced through the efforts of countless people who are risking their safety constantly.
If you’ve never stood on a production line needing to go to the bathroom but can’t, or you’ve realized that the only reason your job exists is because that machine can’t do it, you’re lucky. You can say that a particular person can get another job. That’s true. But our production machinery requires someone to do these jobs. If it’s not you, it must be someone. A lot of ‘someones.’ Not that it’s related to this post, but in part, this is why I get so annoyed at those who object to the idea of a living wage. If we expect people to be in those jobs, those jobs exist because we expect the result to be available to us. Whether it’s a hamburger or our car washed. Anyone performing a job that we require through our choices should be able to pay their bills based on that exchange of time for money. As for whether someone who unclogs a toilet deserves to make as much as someone providing healthcare, the answer is that it’s complicated. I certainly expect my sewage to disappear and don’t need to wonder too long about what happens if it doesn’t. That result is valuable. We need brain surgeons. But go a week without a working toilet and see how quickly you dream of working pipes.
There’s a whole hidden world of production and service around us. If you’ve never seen it, you might see the story I mentioned at the beginning of this post and easily shake your head at the stupidity of the person who was injured or killed. I have the opposite perspective. I know that in most cases, that employee was put into a position most of the time where reality imposed a different set of rules. She came to a job with minimal training, a language barrier and quickly saw how other employees got the job done. She did not have a lot of options regarding work. I am certain she was glad to be employed in order to live and provide for her family.
We need our world of workers. It’s easy to fall into the trap of failing to respect that they are assuming a risk each day they work. The very people who need our support the most often get scorn for the jobs they’re doing.
There’s much more I could say, even though you might look at the length of this post and wonder how that’s possible. I’m pragmatic about work. Most of us are. Even when I’m loving my job, I often think of the hundreds of thousands of people doing more with less for less money. I might not be at risk of literally losing my head while doing my job, but somewhere, someone is. X
Fireworks. I love them. I still love setting them off up close and personal but I haven’t done it in a while. As I got older, it’s sunk in how much they affect some animals and some people. If you’ve ever known anybody with PTSD, it’s hard to enjoy them knowing that there are people out there that are terrified. And that some people have to take extraordinary pains and caution to minimize the effects on themselves on their animals.
On a local board, someone caught hell for asking people to respect the lawful parameters of using fireworks. Obviously, fireworks are a good example of an occasion when people are going to ignore the law. And that’s okay.
I have a couple of skills. And one of those skills is finding people. It’s very tempting to make a list of those belittling other people for asking their neighbors to be reasonable.
It would be hilarious and educational to go buy a huge quantity of discounted fireworks. And bide my time. Wait until Sunday night at midnight and light an apocalyptic amount outside their window. A 10,000 string of firecrackers, for example. How could they complain?
It’s no more illegal to set them off on Sunday night than it was last night at 2:00 a.m.
I have this weird feeling that such people who previously belittled others for asking for reasonableness would suddenly start arguing the other side of the consequences if they were awakened at midnight with 6 minutes of firecrackers.
In my younger days, I would have taken great delight in doing this sort of thing. To see if people would recognize their hypocrisy, even as they shouted in anger at the audacity of someone setting off fireworks outside their house.
You never know when the last picture of you might be taken. Hopefully, it’s not 5 minutes after you awaken and amble out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from your mouth, and gravity working its inevitable magic on your body. But if it is, someone would cherish it because that’s the way they see you every day. (Or from an episode of Cops.) Recently, I was given an undeveloped roll of 35 mm film from 1977. I sent it off for processing. It’s impossible to know what’s on there. I love that uncertainty! What if it is the first picture of someone as a newborn? Or someone’s sibling or parent posing goofily, unaware that it may be the last picture ever taken of them? What value can you put on that sort of picture? What value did you ascribe to your day today? Was it just another Friday, one marking the end of a work week? Time is short. As Redd Foxx said, “…diamonds are forever and so are the payments.” Recently, my cousin inquired and quipped about the possibility of someone taking my picture or writing about an interaction, thus turning the tables on me. I photobombed someone at the store today as they snapped a picture of their manager, who was angry at a subordinate who had texted to say they would not be at work this afternoon. I smiled like an idiot as she snapped the picture. I realized that I wasn’t even impersonating an idiot, given my qualifications. My smile didn’t originate with the anger of the manager. Instead, it’s because I resisted the urge to say, “But did you die!?” Even though it’s a humorous cliché, it does have an inherent philosophical observation. Love, X .
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 