Speechless

In that peculiar way scorched-earthers have, it has been decided the Toyota Prius is at the root of all they consider evil, and so must heap scorn and derision upon it lest there one day be a greenhouse gas shortage on planet Earth.

I mean, just imagine the lines, right?

The sour personality types who would feel this way about a car which lessens a problem as opposed to contributing to it are, among other things, tragically misguided. 

They are tools of the corporation, the pathetic byproduct of marketing campaigns which have succeeded beyond anyone's wildest expectations at embedding between our ears the idea that we are what we own.

Given a choice between life and lifestyle, they obediently and dutifully choose lifestyle. They embrace that which those of us with functioning brains realize is killing us. 

The most obstinate call themselves coal rollers, and modify their vehicle's fuel delivery system to oversupply the engine, resulting in clouds of thick, black exhaust they jokingly refer to as Prius Repellent.

Their desire to drive these vehicles is as juvenile as it is short-sighted.

But the acting out doesn't stop there. They must ridicule those actively participating in a better future. Social media is the obvious choice, and the comments are staggering in their ignorance.

One remark which stood out was the response to a guy who enjoyed the hushed responses of his hybrid, to which a (presumed) coal roller replied “Someone buy that dude a skirt.”

I ask you: could the most ardent, man-hating feminist trivialize men and masculinity so completely and so successfully?

Thanks, bro.

Sure, the fantasy of being behind the wheel of a powerful sports car as it zooms to one-hundred plus miles-per-hour is a powerful one. It is one that has admittedly possessed this car lover for decades.

Yet one has only to venture out onto our traffic-clogged streets to know it is just that—a fantasy. 

Where I live, it seems every resident is able to drive two or three cars simultaneously. The rage and frustration the ensuing congestion provokes isn't exactly conducive to good health or productivity.

Given this undeniable reality and the mountain of evidence supporting global warming, we are left with little choice but to accept the development and implementation of clean, autonomous cars if we are to have a future.

I'll admit the better-to-die-on-your-feet-than-live-on-your-knees dynamic has its applications. But is unswerving allegiance to the internal combustion engine really one of them?

This would be fine if the climate change deniers who brook this kind of thinking were only guaranteeing a world rich in CO2 for themselves, but they're not. 

By moving 'senseless' past any known definition, they not only wish to destroy their future—which is fine—but yours as well.

Selfish self-destructiveness has no place in a democracy.

The Grand Illusion

At this stage of the game, I’ve come to understand that retail is theater. It’s a dramatic production, complete with set, director, cast, crew and backstage theatrics.

It has a script. A set of words that, in addition to bringing uniformity to employee-customer exchanges, will hopefully distinguish this production from the others currently being staged.

But even as one production works to separate itself from another, they invariably end up being indistinguishable. They unfailingly adopt identical twists and wrinkles, like teen-agers embracing the same fad even as they seek to establish their individuality.

Case in point is the reluctance of business to write or speak any word or phrase which imparts the faintest inference of ‘no’.

I recently wrote a letter to a frozen pizza manufacturer, bemoaning the sudden disappearance of my favorite variety. Instead of receiving a simple confirmation, I received several paragraphs of public relations froth extolling the virtues of its replacement.

At no point was my query addressed, presumably because it meant acknowledging that my life was now bereft of my favorite frozen pizza, and they were to blame.

Despite my deep and abiding love of this pizza, I can promise with absolute certainty that life would have continued even had this company possessed the clarity and intestinal fortitude to address my question with a simple “We’re sorry. The pizza you inquired about didn’t meet sales projections, and as a result has been replaced by another variety. Thank you for your interest in Home Run Inn pizza.”

Then there was the live, in-person example I received at my place of underemployment.

A man had been waiting at our contractor’s desk. Manning the register nearest this desk, I approached and asked if I could help. After hearing the reason for his visit, I informed him the desk was closed weekends and was on the verge of directing him to the people who could help when our new store manager swooped in.

After informing me in tones an aggrieved teacher would use with an errant pupil that the desk is “never” closed, she escorted the customer to the department I was directing him to in the first place.

I stood and pondered our contractor’s desk. Despite it lacking any of the five employees who normally populated it and the attendant bustle of activity, I had obviously erred in assuming it was closed.

What was I thinking?

Exactly how does this deception benefit our customer? Then I realized the irreparable damage his psyche would have suffered as a result of hearing our contractor’s desk was, indeed, closed weekends.

So there’s that.

And then there’s the irreversible damage my employer could have suffered had this customer gone online and vented. It’s too horrible to even consider.

Write this down—customers must never hear the word ‘no’. It doesn’t exist. No never happens.

So yes, retail is theater. A carefully-packaged drama where reality is whatever the playwright says it is.

In addition to his more-obvious gifts, who knew Shakespeare’s declaration “All the world’s a stage” would presage twenty-first century business models?

You must excuse me now. I have a matinee at two.

Becoming Senator

The scene is a radio station in a medium-sized town. There, one of the station's hosts prepares to interview a new senatorial candidate. The candidate is nervously reviewing his notes while his campaign manager sits off to the side.

Interviewer: We’re here today with Jonathan Hinder, who has recently announced his intention to run for senator from the state of Abyssia. Good morning. And thank you for coming.

Jonathan Hinder: Thanks for having me.

I: So. Why senator? Why now?

JH: Well, why not? You know, I‘ve been unemployed for over a year, and I’ve got a family to feed. What else was I going to do? (Laughs)

I: Has finding campaign financing been a problem?

JH: It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was just sitting down with the more, um, influential members of my community and agreeing to, um, ugh…

At this point, JH turns and motions for the campaign manager to approach. The campaign manager does and whispers to JH.

JH: …pay special consideration to their concerns.

I: Does that bother you?

JH: Does what bother me?

I: Well, you give the appearance of having exchanged votes for financial backing.

JH: No. Absolutely not.

I: But…

The campaign manager again approaches JH and whispers in his ear.

JH: This is about meeting with constituents and discussing issues. Nothing more.

I: But…aren’t you supposed to represent all the people in your district?

JH: Of course. And I will be.

I: But if you won, haven’t you agreed to—in your words—give special consideration to those who contributed to your campaign?

JH: No.

I: You don’t see the conflict?

JH: The only conflict I see is a government soft on national security and dedicated to deficit spending.

JH turns to the campaign manager and whispers “Did I get that right?” The manager nods.

I: What made you decide to run as a Republican?

JH turns to the manager before speaking, as if for confirmation.

JH: At the end of the day, I decided it was disadvantageous to run as a Democrat.

I: Could you extrapolate on that?

JH: Here?

I: Yes.

Panicked, JH again summons the campaign manager. The manager whispers in his ear. Relieved, JH turns and resumes the interview.

JH: You had me worried there! That’s normally something I only do in front of my web cam! (Laughs) Oh shi…

The campaign manager explodes out of his chair and approaches the interviewer. After much gesturing and heated whispering, the interviewer reluctantly agrees to have the last comment edited from the broadcast. The interview continues.

I: What made you decide to run as a Republican?

JH: When you run as a Democrat, people expect you to have ideas and solutions. It’s different when you run as a Republican. I mean, when was the last time you heard a Republican being asked how he was going to end poverty? (Laughs) As a Republican, all you’re expected to do is keep things the way they are. It’s kind of like being a bookmark. People have different expectations of Republicans than they do of Democrats. I mean, look at Michele Bachmann. (Laughs) Wait. That came out wrong. Can we do it over?

I: No.

There is another prolonged meeting between JH and the campaign manager. JH resumes the interview with a new sense of confidence.

JH: No bail-outs for banks and big business. That’s the direction I’m taking this campaign in.

I: Do you support the Republican strategy of obstructionism?

JH: We’re the Party of No.

I: You’re not troubled by the consequences of congressional inaction?

JH: People know who we are, and what we stand for.

I: So it’s a good thing to be known as the Party of No?

JH: Yes.

I: Why?

JH turns and motions for the campaign manager to approach. They have yet-another extended conversation. The interviewer is clearly irritated.

I (Sarcastically): Do you need to phone a friend?

JH: No, no. Um, we know what the American people want. They’re tired of long, drawn-out debates. They’re tired of waiting. Americans don’t like politics. They don’t want to think about them—they just want to move on to the next thing. Americans want fast, easy answers. And we’re here to give that to them. It’s like Greyhound used to say: “Leave the driving to us”. That’s what America wants. It wants us to do the driving, and it just wants to curl up and not wake up until they reach L.A.

I: Interesting.

JH: Yep.

I: Finally, critics charge Republicans are indeed the party of no. No ideas, no direction and no clue. What is your response?

JH: We know what America wants to hear. And that’s all you need to know.

WTF?

It figures. No sooner do I lambaste John McCain and Orrin Hatch than I’m watching them spin yarns about Senator Edward Kennedy at his wake. And I am shocked.

Did you know John McCain could be LOL funny? I didn’t. Where was that McCain during the ’08 presidential campaign? (In my humble opinion, McCain paid for some really bad campaign advice last year.)

And then there’s Orrin Hatch. Did you know he had a warm and poignant setting?

Despite my cynical exterior, I’m a softie at heart. And Hatch’s reminiscence about the friendship that evolved between he and Kennedy (opposites if ever there were opposites) found me with a stupid smile on my face. It was disgusting.

Why was seeing these two ‘unplugged’ such a surprise? Because their public appearances are so tightly-scripted that they come to resemble one-dimensional cartoons. The real human being is boxed up for domestic use only.

It makes you wonder: in these divisive days, is this the extent to which congressional Democrats and Republicans also know each other?

I’m aware that John McCain and Orrin Hatch are very successful politicians, and that if they couldn’t evoke a laugh or a tear at a friend’s wake, they don’t belong in politics. That basically renders them incapable of selling ice-water in the Sahara.

But if it wasn’t before, politics has become a very carefully-choreographed stage show. And judging from this glimpse of actual human beings, and comparing it to what we will soon see again on and in our national media, it is one in dire need of fewer managers and spin-meisters, and more living, breathing, three-dimensional people.

Just a thought.