Some things are not specific to a single nation, although many with limited horizon might think so. The below photo, although taken in 2015 in Germany, could depict a scene from several countries over the past century.
It is obvious that the egg came before the coloring, but the origin is unknown. Maybe Wikipedia knows, but that's too many clicks and reading and writing.
Just enjoy the picture and imagine the joy of small children...
This year marks the 90th anniversary of The New Yorker. Of course, this is significant only to readers of the magazine; the rest of the population is not interested, oblivious, or ignorant. The magazine’s audience has often been labeled “liberal and white”, but I am sure the magazine is more broadly read. Even dumbass conservatives occasionally attempt to check on the competition, to widen a horizon or two, or to discover good writing.
I have been reading The New Yorker for decades: most of my life. I do not remember when I discovered this weekly magazine. I do recall sitting in a chair on winter nights in my college dormitory and enjoying the company of the latest issue. I recall collecting boxes of the magazine over the years to rest in the attic of my house, saved for re-reading at an unknown later date. I have always liked the look and feel of the magazine; I even read the small ads. For as long as I can remember, I have lusted after fruit from Harry & David, but have yet to taste their wares. My interest in advertising developed over the years with flipping through the pages each week, like an odorless gas seeping inexorably and unnoticed into a room, until it has had an effect.
I tend to read most articles, even if I have no interest in the subject. One learns a great deal that way. That said, I am not interested in pieces on dance, arts, or theater, which go unread. The fiction must grab me in the first few lines, or it goes unread. The cartoons are usually a treat, although I find them becoming less so.
I can let an issue lie around for weeks, because none of the pieces are time sensitive. I have been known to save many issues for vacation reading, because I do not mind sand, sun lotion, or water tarnishing the pages as I read. Of course, none of these make it into a box on the attic, but they do stimulate my mind during lazy days in the sun.
I discovered today that I am an idiot.
Some might think that already, when applying the modern definition of the word. But, I’m talking about the original Greek meaning, which I learned from an article in The Guardian. The ancient Greek word idiotes means “somebody who does not participate in public life”. That’s me. I like to stay home. I am happy with my own company and the occasional company of immediate family and a few friends. I want to avoid all those that fall into the category described by the modern usage of idiot.
I have noticed a news items about a phenomenon in some parts of the United States, which I find disturbing and do not understand. This has to do with something called “unattended children”. From what I gather, children are no longer permitted to play outside without adult supervision. Children are “arrested” and parents are charged, if a child is found playing or walking down the street.
I cannot imagine the life of a child being so restricted. Growing up, adult supervision was not a feature in my life. That would have been hell. I needed the freedom to roam and explore and play. I climbed trees and got wet in a swamp. (Of course, these days, a child would be shot doing the things I did!). My mother might complain about me returning home wet, after playing in the nearby swamp, but she would never want to “supervise” me. How will these kids end up as adults? Children need to develop and that requires a degree of independence. I would be arrested daily and my mother would be in jail.
We all know how worthless royalty is. But, even more ridiculous is honoring long-dead royalty. To show how idiotic the British are, one merely has to read a headline announcing that a king has been buried in a big ceremony. But, this guy has been dead for centuries, and this is his second burial. The first was under a parking lot. Why did he need another pompous ceremony? Perhaps to avoid paying a parking fine, which is another feature of British life. Actually, I can’t answer that question. The only reason is for supporters of the “royal” family needing to firm up support for a worthless institution.
In the original meaning of the word:
Talk about tail wagging the dog…
Too many people place too much emphasis on the importance of social media. I just saw a report about the election in the United Kingdom, which focussed on 37,000 Twitter comments. That is less than .01% of the population. Why are these comments—some worthless—so important? In my opinion, it is statistically impossible to form any conclusions about an election from such a small percentage. This is a sign of desperation on the part of traditional media, scared of a phantom in the dark.
Social media might be partially significant in countries where traditional media are restricted, but I would focus more on the body of the dog, if the media would pay attention to that bark.
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.