hmmm, it might be--meaning the bulk of it. the more i think on it, it's what gets dumb ass dogs
into trouble [the unscocialized goofy ones] and people--not acknowledging hierarchy and protocol,
and countries--not quite understanding each other: bowing and looking into the eyes vs. not
looking into the eyes. firm hand shake vs. gentle one. the lists are endless and what is interpreted
as an out and out diss. could be chalked to a bit of dumb.
lakota's traditionally give the limp handshake, my big oaf german musician friend would equate that
with a man-on-man pass
i think i get it. half the reason i worry about my son is that his social
ques are amiss. my partner is a good looking person, who's suma whatever with honors at frickin'
univ. of chicago...but i swear to see her in social situations is painful. she wants to fit in but somehow
attracks the possies of mean girls ousting her. i see it a mile away and can't properly adress it without
hurting feelings.
i had friends growing up with the same. utterly bullseye picked on--males. i usually ended up their friends by default. at the end of the day, i was the only one not using/or bullying them. i reckon my
nature comes not out of philanthropy but rather having a macho version of that as a father--who regularly climbed to the top of some fame-driven ladder, only to pee in the punch bowl and shit on
the host. in the end, all had the same sort of, "brilliant man for a dickhead" reaction to him. social
ques are enormous. my dad even worked for ian flemming early on, and could well have used that as a little resume fluff--but at a dinner toast actually anounced, "you weren't born, you were scraped off a brothel sheet". proud of his drunken scott's temper, and his [the key point] own sense of weird values
uncompromised, he went through life climbing ladders, only to shit on the guys holding him steady at
the bottom. the metaphor,
"hold on guys, hold the ladder, a bit to the left...i'm counting on you...ready...wait for it...
PLOP PLOP PLOP"
like the parable of the scorpian who gets carried across the river by the monk--only to end in them
both drowning for the nature of the venomous one.
i'm more convinced now probably to just see it in print, but i've always suspected it and known what i'm looking at when i see it.
cool post.
scary to reflect. my life is a roadmap of examples i've surrounded myself by. i have a bit of it myself.
when i get close to selling my soul [otherwise known as bending], i keep thugs rather than gents--not
for the values they hold but rather for the idea that i'm aware they appreciate my acceptance of them,
and they make for better students. right up front, i accept the nutters and halfwitts, and in the end they are the only work-horses i've ever known. the balanced lot wont give enough of their intestinal fortitude.
they quite simply question too much. not necessarily a bad thing in general, but i'm not out to preach the gospel and touch people deeply, i'm more of a "just do it, for crissakes" intollerant oaf. a "you'll thank me later, don't make me say it twice shirley". and i suppose at the end of the day, my inner circle is noticibly small
dad:
http://www.wrmea.com/archives/March_2009/0903069.html
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