Politically Correct

My Dad was right. Age does give you the confidence that you can say almost anything without fear of reprisal. Much of the material or strong opinions expressed in my blogs come from stuff I've simply stolen from others. In that way I'm sort of the Milton Berle of bloggers.

This blog is no different - it's from an E-mail and it made me laugh. I hope you do also. I translated it into the first person.

It's time for me to finally become politically correct. I will no longer refer to Kentuckians, Tennesseans and West Virginians as "hillbillys". In all future communication they shall be recognized as "Appalachian- Americans".

But, I'm willing to go even further down this slippery slope: That woman I was dissing because I thought she was a dumb blonde has now become a "Light-Haired Detour Off The Super Highway".

No longer will I refer to someone's wife as a "nag". Now, she's just "Verbally Repetitive".

I will resist saying about some female that she "has been around". From now on she is "A Previously- Enjoyed Companion".

When I hear someone refer to a woman at a bar as a "Two-Bit Hooker" I will correct them and advise that she really is helping our economy as a "Low Cost Provider"

I will share my affinity for being politically correct in describing the male generation as well:

Those thought to have a "beer gut" will now be correctly referred to as a "Liquid Grain Storage Facility".

If I see one of my peers making fun of me on a dance floor I will remind him I am no longer to be considered "a bad dancer". Instead, I prefer to be thought of as being "Overly Caucasan".

While we have observed many young men who appear to be "balding" - my new sensitivity will alert me to describe them as being "In Follicle Regression".

The Eagles fan I met up at Firkin's & Fox as we were watching the Steelers/Bengal debacle will no longer have to suffer my insults and be referred to as a "Total Ass". Now I will tell others he has simply developed a case of "Rectal-Cranial Inversion".

Finally, when I see young impressionable adults titter and refer to seeing some guy's "crack" hanging out of his pants I will instruct them to forever think of it as "Trouser Cleavage".

Just think of me from now on as your personal "PC Dude".

At the risk of - - - - .

At the risk of looking like his PR guy I again recommend a visit to Harry's blog:
http:///www.harry2335.blogspot.com

His latest entry discusses something to which I can relate. It will also impact anybody who has lost someone as the result of a vehicle accident.

While I did not have the same accident experiences as Harry, I do remember climbing into many a wrecked car seeking documentation for a claim investigation and never getting used to the blood spatters on the broken windshield or the hair jammed into it's cracks.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons I become frustrated with people who slow down to view an accident scene which is surrounded by and attended to by much more qualified individuals that most of us. It puzzles me whether these people are seeking a thrill or just a story to tell.

Maybe these folks should also follow Harry's advice. It's just not kids I'm targetting here.

Before going any further it's important to make clear that I really do like kids and am impressed with so many that we meet when we go out to a restaurant or imbibe a little wine at Geckos on 70. Most of the servers are far more mature than I was at their age. and they do a great job attending to the whims and sometimes silly complaints of us seniors. Heck, they even laugh at our jokes.

But, some of the "youngins" still don't get it. So, this is for them.

I recently received an e-mail that was alleged to be from a speech given by Bill Gates to a high school class. I'd like to share the 11 rules contained in the speech:

Rule # 1: Life is not fair - get used to it.

Rule # 2: The world doesn't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule # 3: You will not make $60,000 right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a cellphone until you earn both.

Rule # 4: If you think your teacher is/was tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule # 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.

Rule # 6: If you mess up, it's not your parent's fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn
from them.

Rule # 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes, and listening to you talk about how cool you
thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's
generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule # 8: Your school may have done away with winner and losers, but life has NOT. In some schools they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This does not bear a resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule #9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule # 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule # 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Now, as a friend liked to say, "Before you get your knickers all tied up in knots" (OK, an o-l-d friend) and start getting defensive regarding the exceptions, please take the time to think about how many of these so-called "rules" really do make sense.

I truly love and am proud of my kids as well as those I inherited via marriage. However, I wish I had shared a few of these rules with them as they went through some of the same struggles we did in that cross over bridge to adulthood.

The rules suggest that maybe a few of them might even have even gotten through to my generation.

Of course, we were much too busy debating whether we were going to support the Whigs or the Tories in the next general election.

I've Got A Secret"? (Revised)

Years ago, in the late 50's or early 60's, my family enjoyed a game show called: "I've Got A Secret". It was fun and a lot more interesting than "Test Pattern", my kid's favorite.

The show's original premise was simple. A guest walked out and allegedly whispered his secret to the host before the secret was shown to the audience and the viewers at home. The panel then had an allotted time in which to discover the nature of the secret via careful questioning.

Of course, that's back when we still had secrets in this country. Today, two or more officials, speaking on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized, would have let the cat out of the bag and your secret would have been a no-brainer. You'd have to do 10 minutes of shadow pictures and sneak off the stage.

In this age of information overload it's tough to keep a secret. Information is power, and we've got a lot of insecure people walking around who are dying to know the latest scoop so they can reveal it to someone else - and maybe move up a couple of notches in the world's order.

Did you think that all of those people you see driving around with their cellphones held in a death grasp on their ear are merely checking to see if Mom wants anything from Walmart? Get real! These people are digging for information.

What makes it worse is they're convinced YOU will give it to them. Today, people will ask you the strangest things about your personal life. I met one guy who, once he knew the identity of the company from which I had retired, demanded to know how far up in the company I was.

Even though I had nothing to hide, telling this guy anything would have been like trusting Lucy Ricardo to keep a secret from Ethel.

Despite this awareness, too often we seem to persist in our own unrelenting, maybe unknowing, effort to obtain information and reveal it at any cost to someone we're trying to impress. We've become like The National Inquirer of our neighborhood. It's become nutty.

We watched a guy on I-75 the other day who was using the car's steering wheel as a fulcrum so he could drive and text with both hands. Let's get real here. Did you ever see Karl Wallenda stop midway across his tightrope, and put down his pole, so he could take a call?

You might reasonably ask, Bar, "How do you know about all this stuff?" Sorry, if I told you I'd have to kill you. Maybe when I'm anonymous.

Please don't call or text me. I'm watching Nic at Night. Sheriff Andy is at home, on the phone, and is just about to tell Barney something really important. I hope Aunt Bee ain't (sic) listening in on the party line. I'd be so disappointed. (TPFIC)

TIME TO BUY DIOGENES NEW SANDALS?

When I was a kid in junior high school, I recall reading about a Greek philosopher by the name of Diogenes who had a problem with dishonesty. I decided to look him up.

I found a site proclaiming "The Teachings of Diogenes". Here's one story: "On one bright clear day, Diogenes was walking up and down the market place, holding a lighted lantern high in front of him and peering around as if searching for something. When people gaped and asked what he was doing, he replied, 'I am looking for an honest man'.

I thought, "If the ole boy is still out on the hunt, maybe we need to take up a collection to purchase him some new sandals".

Did you ever hear, "If you could have dinner with any one person alive or dead, who would you choose?" I don't recall seeing or hearing Diogenes' name mentioned. Understandable. Who wants to sup with some wise guy who has a hangup on honesty?

One man I know might . That's my friend Harry who writes about such subjects and does so straight from the heart - with no qualifications. His blog can be viewed at http://www.harry2335.blogspot.com/.

Here's my two cents worth from todays USA Today. It seems that on 9/11/09, eight years to the day (9/11/01) and the intended attack on the Pentagon, the Coast Guard, apparently unbeknownst to any non-military person in the country, decided to have four Coast Guard boats run a drill in the Potomac River to practice repelling a waterborne attack. (Hey, timing is everything!)

The story continues: "Broadcasting on an open radio frequency, Coast Guard personnel barked, If you don't stop your vessel, you will be fired upon", then; "we have expended 10 rounds."

CNN, apprently not having anything to do until Larry King brought on his next group of "15 second Hall of Famers", was listening on a radio scanner (apparently, not a Big News day) and overheard the Coast Guard. They concluded the worst and went live with the bogus news.

The Coast Guard was unapologetic, saying it's drills were so routine that it didn't need to warn anyone. CNN was also unapologetic using the lame defense that the Coast Guard hadn't warned it away from the story. The Coast Guard's response may not have been too surprising. With our fine military protection today we also get an enormous ego.

But, by their response, CNN completely ignored that their job was to report the "truthful" news, not the "so-called news".

The code in medicine is "to do no harm". The rule in journalism has always been: "it's more important to be right than to be first."

It appears as if CNN was more interested in getting the scoop than making sure it was true and when they found out it wasn't, they simply chose to ignore their actions or take the blame. Why?

Answer: Maybe, they are convinced their response was not lying - but "spinning" - and in their minds that was perfectly acceptable in today's society. If so, are they right?

If you related the story to many in this great country, and asked what both The Coast Guard and CNN did wrong , I'm not sure they would be able to tell you. If they responded at all, they most likely would have shrugged and replied: "I really don't see the problem". That's not unusual when the "Ten Commandments" are viewed by many as "The Ten Suggestions".

If you don't believe me, or think I'm just some old f--t, try volunteering or responding to an invitation to be a speaker on the subject of Ethics at a breakfast, lunch, business seminar, or company workshop. I did so for a few years and heard some fascinating responses to my scenario questions, just as I did when I was editing a column on the same subject.

Honesty, and doing the right thing, start with simple acts of kindness, civility, and taking responsibility. They are as simple as what actions we choose to take when the phone rings at home. Do we say to our kids, "Tell them I'm not here?" (That wouldn't have worked in our house as the kids would have said, "Dad said to tell you he's not here.")

One of my favorite business scenarios was : "Is it OK to use the company copier to print off music for the church choir? The company has so much money and the church so little". Sometimes, we even got into the copyright issues.

I did like a co-workers answer when questioned about stealing off in the afternoon to get a haircut because the barber wasn't busy; "Hey, the hair grew on company time."

Sorry, ladies and gents, I'm convinced brussel sprouts, regardless of what a TV chef calls them, or what sauce he puts on them, are still brussel sprouts and will never taste good.

For a change wouldn't you like to hear this response from a public figure, celebrity, or business entity, when asked about a perceived lack of judgement?: "I'm sorry. I (we) just screwed up. There is no excuse. Hopefully, I (we) have learned from my (our) action(s) and will take the proper course of action in the future."

Chances are, you won't. Some smart attorney will counsel them and advise that it would be a valid and harmful part of Discovery in the trial; that he/she assures you is bound to follow.

Now to be "perfectly" honest (sort of like being "almost pregnant"), if you run into that old Greek , walking down your street, carrying his lantern , still wearing his torn and tattered sandals- as he distained all forms of luxury - he would be much more qualified to discuss the subject of honesty than this writer. But, what the heck. It's a start and might get me into heaven.

Please don't stare at Diogenes' sandals. No need to add "peer pressure" to all the other things he's wrestling with these days.

ALL GROWN UP?

When I was a kid my dad decided that to toughen me up he would take me with him to funeral homes for the viewing of friends parents, family members, etc, most of whom I had never heard of.

Most times the other visitors consisted of people who knew Dad when he was younger. They would revel in telling stories about his athletic prowess - particularly as a basketball player. At that point Dad would say, "Barry also plays basketball.", thus resulting in the familiar question, "Are you as good or as tough as your Dad was?".

Not sure I ever came up with the right answer, but, back to the point of my story.

The Funeral home trips were similar in nature to other "therapies" he devised: removing the rats from the traps he had set in our basements, sticking my finger down my throat to induce vomiting when I was sick, and insisting that I end a hot shower with a cold one, to supposedly, "close the pores".

Actually, I didn't much care about the status of my pores; however, I feared if I told him so, he might start throwing me out in the Pittsburgh snow at the conclusion of a shower. Yeah, that would have toughened me up for sure, Dad.

I'm sure the worst "man-up" exercise was the funeral home visits wherein Dad insisted I had to touch the hand of the corpse. Those were some cold dudes, but I admit, it was the last thing I did at more than a few viewings, particularly of those folks with whom I was particularly close.

Now, I'm not sure any of these routines really toughened me up but somehow, I knew better than to ask for a doll at Christmas.

Like most people I know, I am not a fan of attending funeral homes. Nor, do I find solace in knowing a hospital is a needed part of life. Having watched my Dad, a former father-in-law, and a grandson spend their last moments in a hospital has done little to enhance my attraction to them. In the first two instances I was the last one to see these folks alive.

One old memory of attempting to visit my Dad in a hospital rehab facility, not being able to find him, and finally discovering him in a narrow hallway, slumped over in a undersized wheelchair, facing a wall, left me with more than a few emotional scars.

I should note that both my wife and I have gone through a couple of back operations so I'm not ignorant of the improving quality of care one receives in hospitals nowadays. However, going to visit someone in a hospital has always been a little bit of a challenge. I guess one doesn't have to be Sigmund Freud to understand why.

That is, until recently, when God decided it was time for me to venture forth in "the world of tough guys."

A neighbor friend of ours, Hank - in his mid 80's - called me for some assistance one morning a month ago. He said he was having trouble walking and asked if I could come down to assist him in getting out of the house and climbing into his daughter's van when she picked him up to go to the ER. He refused to have an ambulance pick him up in front of his home.

I was happy to assist and decided due to his frailty to accompany them to the hospital. I stayed until the x-rays came back and revealed he would become an in-patient as he needed a hip replacement. His hip gave out that morning for reasons that were unclear.

When they operated on him they discovered his natural hip had disintegrated, the result of extreme arthritis. As it turned out, Hank needed two operations on the same hip in 12 days, as the first one didn't take.

We were all concerned and, my wife and I, along with all of his friends, neighbors, and family members, threw up a lot of prayers due to his extreme breathing difficulties that required him to be on oxygen constantly. There was a question whether or not he could survive a ventilator post-surgery.

He's a tough old goat and pulled through well. We might not have been so surprised at the results, including his tolerance for rehab, had we possessed some prior information.

We learned that the pain he had before the operations was constant and severe. He never complained to anybody. After the revelation as to the condition of the hip we were all amazed as to the resilience and high pain threshold of this old farm boy.

On the way home, today, we asked him about this and he responded by saying, "I guess I was just too dumb to know how bad the pain was."

At those times I was there with him at the hospital, I was impressed by the type of care he was receiving and the many acts of kindness extended to him by the employees, physical therapists, breathing coordinators, etc. I loved the good communication skills demonstrated by everyone as well as their honest concern for Hank's well being.

From everything we experience in life we gain wisdom. I now have a better feeling about hospitals and the quality of treatment administered to the aging.

It almost wipes out the memory of visiting my Dad in that hospital way back when.

Maybe I'm tougher now.

Sometime, I'll have to ask Hank what his Dad's toughening exercises were like.

Probably didn't need them.