Is Science…wrong?

 

Having recently gone on a weekend trip with my family, I returned with a rather disconcerting possibility.  Could science be, well, you know…wrong? You know the part where they say that a human being’s brain hardens and molds itself into the ‘proper’ way of thinking for adulthood. Could the brainiacs have things backward?

              This whole disturbing way of thinking was triggered by several events that occurred during our weekend trip to a lake house. There we were all packed up and ready to go, got the dog, got the kid, all set, let’s go.  We rush to get into the car so we can be the first to be the 276^th car in the traffic on the interstate. Our little financial dependent was in the back staring out the window.  The 9 year old future participant in the human race asked, and was surprised by a negative answer to, ‘Are we there yet?’ The obvious answer is, of course, ‘Yes, we’re here, get out’ and to leave her stranded on the interstate, but law enforcement tends to take a rather negative outlook to such actions (the whole ‘child endangerment’ thing), so we simply say ‘No’ for the fourth time since we shut our garage.

              Lest you say ‘Aw, come on, kids will be kids’ or ‘she’s only 9, give her a break,’ I’ll fast forward to our first few minutes and we’re unpacking our things for the two night stay. She’s got her trusty IPad unpacked and plugged into the wall (well into the outlet in the wall, sticking it into the wall itself would be both destructive and pointless) and out of her mouth comes the question ‘Daddy, what’s the WiFi name and password so I can access my friend’s Minecraft world?’  So her mind was able to figure out the technical requirements to activate her Minecraft game, but lacked the cranial sophistication to acknowledge that we had not, in fact, arrived at our destination while being clearly stuck in traffic?

              Scientists claim that the human mind is superior to that of a chimpanzee, whale, dolphin, husband, rhinoceros, etc. because it has the ability of complex thought and rational decision-making. But maybe, just maybe, a children’s mind is at the pinnacle of evolution and we old people are losing their minds (literally) and our lack of ability to turn off and on our thinking abilities.  Perhaps a child’s ability to say something incomprehensibly stupid one moment and then follow it up with something demonstrating complex cognitive processing shows that they are, mentally, the superior entity.  

               There are so many other examples of this. “Honey, did you wash your hair? Did you clean your room? Flush the toilet?” Nope, too complex a task I suppose, but damn if she doesn’t know how to the invert the Y axis on the video game system, or configure the HDMI settings on all the HD inputs on our TV.  So maybe scientists really blew it this time. Maybe, like cells in our body, the mind starts to decay at birth, begin to decay at an accelerated rate when we go to college, and cease to work at all except for automatic functions once we get married. Perhaps we don’t climb the evolutionary ladder and instead take the elevator that just goes down. 

Your thoughts?

Be Good or…crap how does that go? I forget…oh yeah..Be Good At It!

These kids today

Remember when you were growing up and believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that your generation was, and forever will be, the smartest, hippest, and coolest generation in the history of mankind?  Well, it turns out we were right; only in a completely and utterly wrong sort of way.  These kids today (oh those words), including my daughter, are something completely outside the realm of historical mankind. I prefer to reference the generation as more Cyborg Magellans than the next advance into the human experience.   

             This is NOT a bad thing.  To date, mankind have devolved into a bunch of cavemen and cavewomen when put into a group begin bickering over labels, throwing bones of idiocy and salivating over buzzwords. I, and the others of my generation, are the absolute pinnacle of mankind’s evolution.  That’s it, we’ve reached the top. Yay…but there is one small thing…the Grand Architect has decided that our evolution took a wrong turn in Albuquerque and it’s been decided that they’re just going to scrap the first model and move onto a completely different prototype.  Enter the Cyborg Magellans.

             Named after the famed Portuguese explorer, these new have the inborn ability to communicate with computers and all electronic devices (perhaps toasters, too, but the data on that is, to date, inconclusive) to which they become exposed.  They no longer require actual human contact as they prefer bandwidth to brotherhood and being wireless rather than witty.  My nine year old daughter is a prime example of the Cyborg Magellan.

             I am a gamer (that’s an inclusive title for anyone who loves the hell out of video games).  Not a particularly good one, but a proud one nonetheless.  There I am, 38 years old and trying desperately to defeat a mighty 12 year old over the internet in a game of…ya know I don’t think I can mention the name of the game for fear of copyright infringement so I’ll just say that I used to ice skate and would FALL all the time…did I mention I like the Tennessee TITANs football team? Oh well, I digress. I start to get disgusted having died for the 8^th time in 45 seconds and I accidently drop my controller across the room. My Cyborg Magellan picks up the controller and scores multiple kills in 17 seconds. I have to be honest with you…I cried a little. 

              So as a proud representation of the end of the line generation for mankind, I say it’s all yours Cyborg Magellans.  Now I get to sit back and watch…should be one heck of a show!

Oh, and just in case one tries to pin me down as to who the Grand Architect is or if it’s part of a grand conspiracy, I can’t give you details because it’s a secret. 

Until Next Time, 10110111011011011 (binary for Be Good or Be Good At It!)

The Trash Whisperer

              In today’s modern society, where men and women can place fraudulent advertisements for themselves online using glamor shots and Photoshop all from the comfort of their sugar and alcohol filled dwellings, it should not come to anyone’s surprise that television has evolved.  There are, with very few exceptions, no TV shows that are ‘appointment TV’ phenomenon any more.  We just DVR a show (or if you’re as old as I am ‘tape’ a show) and watch it when one cannot sleep or has an extra half hour for broadband to wake up.  

              As I write more of these you’ll find that I’m quite content to be discontented. If I’m not complaining, I’m not living (to modify a modern saying).  In this case, however, I love and wholeheartedly approve of the DVR system.  But there has developed an unholy gift that my wife and I share, and a gift that I anticipate many of those reading this share as well: Trash Whispering.

              What is Trash Whispering you may ask (probably alone, which means you are talking to yourself and should get that checked out)?  The ability to immediately determine if a TV show lives or dies by only viewing said program for 26 seconds. See an awful sitcom on CBS, ABC or NBC and you’ll know it in an instant.  Even the actors themselves have this accepting form of acting as if to say “Look, I just don’t want to be waiting tables right now so I’m doing this…just to get some tape for the next audition…just bear with me.”  See any new Crime Drama’s lately? No you haven’t…that well’s run dry. Oh you may see new titles and new actors, but they’re all the same really.

              Hand and hand with Trash Whispering is the Love Curse…no not a sickening old Pat Benatar 1980’s song, but a real condition. My wife has it, actually. The moment she falls in love with a TV show…it’s done, cancelled, tapes of which are destroyed, actors and actresses shipped off to a deserted island, never to be seen again. I thought I had it…a long time ago, when I fell in love with a show called “Tales of the Golden Monkey” and then never saw it again…but that’s just me. Nope, my wife can have her heart broken, filleted and served up on a platter the moment she actually enjoys a show, and it’s quickly replaced with some dumb tripe like “Pooping with the Stars” or “Amish Celebrity Pawn Stars All Star Survivor Cooking Spectacular.” 

              I’m sure we’re not the only ones with this gift so I’d be interested in finding out if anyone else has had similar experiences.

Until Next Time, Be Good or Be Good At It!