Sniggerlings: "'Battling Zimmermans' and 'Sparrow for Lunch'"

Sniggerlings(iii)

      1. The other day my wife told me she had watched a movie on Netflix that she’d been wanting to watch for weeks. It starred Sylvester Stallone, Dolph Lundgren, Chuck Norris, Bruce Willis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger. It was about mercenaries who have to be violent, seek revenge, get payback, use force, swear, and look good in their fatigues despite being old. She said the name of the movie was The Expandables 2. I said, "That’s The Expendables 2; the way you said it, it sounded like their biggest enemy was their waistlines.” Then she looked at my waistline as if to say, “Well, in their case, the good guys won.”Heehee

      2. A lot of publicity recently about the Trayvon Martin case in Florida. In that case, George Zimmerman was found not guilty of murder on all charges. This makes George Zimmerman the third most famous Zimmerman in history. Can you name the other two?

       Answer: (A)Arthur Zimmerman, foreign minister of Germany whose famous telegram in 1917 was one reason the U.S. got into World War 1. Zimmerman promised Mexico would receive Texas and the rest of the Southwest if it supported Germany(rumor is, Barak Obama has made the same offer recently.) (B) Robert Allen Zimmerman, better known as legendary singer/songwriter Bob Dylan*.

       *I was reminded of Bob Dylan’s real name in an episode of Simon and Simon from about 1983 in which the clue that unearthed the killer was “Highway 61” The murder victim was a rock ‘n’ roll DJ and the murderer was named “Zimmerman“. Pretty cool. Heehee

      3.  We were apartment hunting recently when a manager took us through the laundry room to see the pool.  A sparrow had become trapped in the room and was banging its beak and wings into the windows, trying to get out.  We were concerned and went to rescue the thing, but a maintenance man appeared and walked over to the bird to carefully scoop it up.  He carried it outside, then turned to the manager and told her he was going to have lunch.  I thought he said it ominously, and I feared he would have to pluck some feathers for lunch, but my wife said I was being silly.  I said, "Did you ever see him let the little bird go?"  She said no but still maintained I was silly.  I don't know; I remember "The Shining", and Ozzie Osbourne once ate the head off a bat!

"Gender Surrender: Bradley Manning Unmanned"

 Gender Surrender:  Bradley Manning Unmanned

      It was long thought back in the Middle Ages(the 20^th Century and before) that among the inherent weaknesses of women was the inability to keep a secret. It was a proud day for feminists everywhere, then, when Private First Class Bradley Manning turned out to be the source for “the biggest breach of classified documents in the nation’s history.” It was a male spilling the grand frijoles to Julian Assange and WikiLeaks, not a woman. Take that, Male swine of the Chauvin breed: Sus Scrofa Chauvinistica.(Wikipedia Aug. 22, 2013)

      But not so fast. We should not count our fowl before they are unfeathered. For espionage, Manning got thirty-five years in Leavenworth and lost his rank of Private First Class(he is no longer First Class.) By now you’ve read how Bradley Manning handled this conviction: He had blown his first twenty-five years as a 'he', so -- upon entering his new career as jailbird -- he has decided to spend the rest of his life as a ‘she’    Reuters reports today that, immediately after the judge pronounced sentence on him, No-longer-First-Class-Private Manning began to assert that he is a woman named Chelsea. It turns out that Bradley Manning, convicted masculine spy, is in the process of un-Manning himself in pursuit of wo-Manning up -- as alter ego Chelsea Manning. (Reuters Aug 22, 2013: “Wikileaker Manning wants to live as ’Chelsea’”)

      How did this come about? Initially, “A psychiatrist, Navy Reserve Captain David Moulton, testified during Manning’s trial that the soldier suffered from gender dysphoria, or wanting to be the opposite sex, as well as narcissism and obsessive-compulsive disorder”(nothing abnormal in the military about narcissism or that obsessive-compulsive thing.)   And Manning‘s lawyer, David Coombs, argued at trial that the Army was partly to blame for the release of the classified documents by virtue of ignoring the signals that Manning was troubled. Later, during the deliberation concerning his sentencing, it was revealed that the “soldier suffered from gender identity disorder”.(Reuters Aug 22, 2013: “Wikileaker Manning wants to live as ’Chelsea’”)

      It seems that Manning, allergic to the discipline, routine, and masculine environment of a six year hitch in the Army, solved his problem by signing up for thirty-five years of discipline, routine, and masculine environment in Leavenworth, an all male prison. In fact, Manning has asserted he does not want to attend a woman’s prison, but does want to begin receiving female hormone therapy so that, presumably, he/she can be the only hairless 5’2” inmate with breasts in the exercise yard(Did he/she not see The Shawshank Redemption?!) Since he/she also doesn’t want any surgery with his/her hormones, it looks like he/she will be lacking the proper Government Issue equipment should a fellow male inmate prove amorous himself or attractive to Manning(That’s courage under fire.)

      How will he/she survive? We’ll see, but Manning will be the envy of the cellblock, the only inmate with two new hormone-inspired balloons to play with alone in his/her cell. Also, Manning’s lawyer is hoping for a pardon from President Obama.(Reuters Aug 22, 2013: “Wikileaker Manning wants to live as ’Chelsea’”)

      What’s going on here?

      Manning’s obviously very troubled. I agree with his/her lawyer: How did the Army miss the signs? What politically correct manual leaves blank the page on hurting, confused, disconnected Privates(pardon the pun.)  Is the Army unwilling or unable to identify the Mannings before they hurt themselves and others? In order to get the attention he/she desired and should have received, he/she betrayed her/his country. Now the convicted spy has gotten lots of attention.

      In essence, the former soldier bought into the logical extension of our current gender politics: if you’re unhappy as a boy, become a girl. And vice versa. It’s salvation by gender surrender. The Bradley or Chelsea Mannings of the world truly need help. Often they are crying out for it. It is a tragedy that the chain of command is so 'whipped' that it betrays the nation by its errors of omission, its refusal to perform according to its responsibilities, hoping that they will be covered up by ignorance or time. The fruit of that abrogation of duty is the Bradley/Chelsea Mannings of the world, who will be heard, one way or the other.  I hope Manning finally gets the help he needs.

      As an absurd post script, I can’t seem to get out of my mind the image of the Chinese general who has to explain to his superiors in the People’s Liberation Army about all the money he spent hiring, training, and supporting hackers until they broke into the classified computers in the Pentagon.  All the charismatic Assange had to do was convince some low-level schnook, connected to those same classified files, that the guy was an unappreciated and neglected ugly duckman destined to be transformed into a lovely swanette, like Luis in Kiss of the Spider Woman.  Under Assange's influence, Manning came to believe that he, a male schlemiel, was in reality a woman schlimazel who deserved so much more than the worthless poker hand Fate had dealt him/her.

      It reminds me of the story of the antigravity pen during the cold war race for space. NASA, so the story goes, spent millions designing a ballpoint that would write on specially prepared whiteboards at zero G. What they came up with was effective. The Russians also considered the problem. They decided to use pencil and paper. It worked just as well.
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"Key to Success: Find the Right Game"

Key to Success: Find the Right Game

      I taught Remedial Freshman Composition at Community Colleges in Southern California for twenty-two years before I retired in 2011. Now I spend my time not teaching Remedial Freshman Composition at Community Colleges in Southern California, and -- let me tell you -- it’s a full time job not grading papers for bi-weekly deadlines, not rushing to get my grades in, and not looking for a parking space in oversold parking lots. I can’t say I miss it.
 

      In many of those composition classes, I had my students read a short biography of Levi Strauss, the San Francisco Levi’s pants king of the turn of the century, who discovered a better way to cover the butts of miners and cowboys and today’s preteen narcissists-in-training. I found in his life several lessons to offer my students on how to be successful, as they wrote their essays: the benefits of hard work, Luck, taking advantage of opportunities, relying on family, moving to a place where you can be successful, stick-to-it-iveness, etc. The one I’m focusing on today is, Finding the Right Game.
 

      I’m convinced there is at least one vocation or avocation at which each person excels. Everybody has his own game, wherein he can shoot like Michael Jordan or pitch like Babe Ruth. For example, Napoleon became famous because he was short, and brilliant and ruthless. And he hung in there when the battle was close and intense. He would have made a lousy cavalry officer as he sat ponies(not chargers) best and was not known for his horsemanship. But he made a small target and found his niche as an officer of artillery. As a result of his stature, he became known as The Little Corporal because he was often found at the front lines of a battle, directing the artillery placement and aim, like a corporal would have, when other generals customarily stayed away from the front to be safe. This boosted the morale of his men and gave him the best vantage from which to view the battle. Artillery was his game, and with artillery he first came to prominence by putting a bloody end to the mobs of Paris.
 

      George Washington, on the other hand, at almost 6’3” would have been a much bigger target, although some Indians and Frenchmen have testified that he was nevertheless hard to hit. Artillery was not his game. His game was Infantry and perseverance and strength of body and character, all of which made him fit as a commander who was chased from pillar to post by his enemy, until Washington put an end to them. One might venture the opinion that strength of character was a major difference between the two, where Washington was the Father of his country while Napoleon, for all his success, became a hated autocrat betrayed by his own people tired of war. A short autocrat, but an autocrat nonetheless.
 

      I resurrect these facts because I saw another example of Finding the Right Game a couple of weeks ago in a limbo contest at a luau put on by Hawaiians in our church. The limbo is a game where one tries to pass under a stick that is successively lowered until all contestants are eliminated but one, the winner. In this case, the winner was not the tallest of the competitors or the strongest or the loudest or even, presumably, the smartest. She was not even the shortest, but she was less than five feet tall(which helped) and very limber(in the limbo.) Also she had great balance and perseverance, and I could see she was going to be a favorite to win the contest from the beginning. She had found the right game.
 

      This brings us at some length to my favorite subject -- me. One day years ago, for a brief half hour I also found my game. It happened like this. I am heavy, about 22 stone( a stone is a British measurement weighing 14 pounds -- do the math.) This is usually a disadvantage. I can’t outrun anybody, so I had to learn to talk my way out of fights as a kid. I have no wind, so I suck at basketball, soccer, cross-country, blowing up balloons, etc. I can do some things. For example, I can float(I would have had a better-than-average chance of surviving the sinking of the Titanic, being round and boyant.) But one day I discovered I had a unique gift that set me up for my right game, and I was as surprised as anybody.
 

      My family and I went to Fiesta Village in Colton, California, for a while one Saturday afternoon to hit in the batting cages, eat cotton candy, and ride the cart races. I climbed into one, a gas-driven car that putted around a small course a short time for $5. I was heavy at the time, too, and my car was slower than the other cars that were driven by a couple of smart-aleck college kids, who kept whizzing past me. It wasn’t much fun.
 

      But then it began to rain. And now my disadvantage became my advantage! The smart-alecks began slipping and sliding on the rain-soaked course and kept spinning out around the turns. They were lightweights. I had found suddenly a secret weapon: my weight was now ballast! My cart hugged the surface and handled like a Porsche. Time after time, I raced near the inner rail, making tight turns inside the spinning youngsters and whizzing right past them. Hoo Boy! This was my game: cart racing in the rain. I enjoyed it until they got tired and left.
 

      Now, the same is true for you. Be on the lookout for your right game, and then show them how it’s done. I’m still waiting for another go at those wise guys(on a stormy day, of course), but I can wait. Perseverance is one of my talents, too. Move over, Levi, George, and Leon -- I‘m coming through.

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"Sniggerlings"(ii)

Sniggerlings(ii)

      I love a good, funny line. I find them all over the place. Because I believe in God, I’m convinced that the Good Lord scatters them around for me to find like Easter eggs. From my basket I make some of my “Sniggerlings.” “Sniggerlings” is about fun and can be made up of good lines as well as short essays. For example, many things that make me laugh are puns. I’ve heard it said that a pun is the lowest form of humor, but I think people who say that have the lowest form of sense of humor. A good pun challenges us to see the world differently. Instead of the idea being the father of the word, a good pun becomes the illegitimate rogue of an Irish stepfather to the idea(a stepfather who‘s had just enough whiskey to make him fun.) Good puns often throw one thing up against another to see if they mate and to imagine what comes from their intercourse. The result can be a laugh out loud. A bad pun -- well, let’s leave bad puns to those who bottom feed in the realm in which is found the “lowest form[s] of humor”.

      The following is an example of how imagination explodes when we mix a business proposal with an over-the-counter cold medicine:

      Chuckleworthy?
      This is from a kids’ TV series in the Sixties that I grew up on. From Rocky and Bullwinkle. Boris Badenov is an evil villain from Pottsylvania, an otherwise unidentified Eastern European nation, at that time (during the Cold War) behind the Iron Curtain. Boris has offered to buy all of Bullwinkle the Moose’s paintings, which are white on white(for example, a white cow in a blinding snowstorm, or a nude figure of an albino Napoleon made of white chocolate, in a glass of milk.) Badenov knows -- and Bullwinkle does not -- that Bullwinkle has painted over priceless masterpieces that Boris previously stole.

      Boris offers him the huge sum of $50 apiece, and Bullwinkle is impressed. Bullwinkle says, “Now, that’s an antihistamine offer: not to be sneezed at.”

      Heehee

      Stay tuned for more on this page.

      Chuckleworthy?

      Question: Can you imagine the scene in a Video Game called Mr. Whiz: Archaic Superhero? Three people encircled by a flash brush fire: two young people -- Eleanor and Gunther -- and an old geezer nicknamed ‘Mr. Whiz‘, who has high blood pressure. They have to break through a weak spot in the waist-high flames to get to safety in a small stream. They have only two cell phones and a single bottle of beer among them. What is their plan?

      Answer: Eleanor and Gunther can skype one another to discuss their situation, but that would take too long.  How about Mr. Whiz?  Yes.  While one bottle of beer is not enough to put out the flames, even if Rodney King size, Mr. Whiz has a secret superpower. That’s right: Give the old man the beer to chug-a-lug. He takes two kinds of diuretics daily. He’ll save the day. He isn’t called “Mr. Whiz’ for nothing.

Heehee

The End

"What's in a Name?"

What’s in a Name?

      I had an urge recently to riff on Anthony Weiner, the former congressman who resigned after a sexting scandal and is now running for mayor of New York. Then I saw on Yahoo!news that he was taking his eighteen-month-old son out for a walk, and I changed my mind. I’ll leave that to plenty of others even though I know I’m being manipulated by the Democratic party Big Apple spin doctors.

      Instead, I thought I’d reverse course and maybe show a little sympathy for an innocent toddler who’s going to have to live with this scandal, too. I’m going to suggest that part of congressman Weiner’s problem is his unfortunate name. I thought I’d counterattack from the far, far left(out) by investigating the subject of unfortunate names.

      For example, my name is Marcus Mauldin. In college at the University of Denver, my freshman dorm, fellow wise guys nicknamed me “Mucous Membrane“(Snot.) While I hated that moniker, I had to admit(to myself) it was sort of clever. Because congressman Weiner and I have had a similar problem with our names, I looked up the meaning of his names. I found out that “Anthony” means “praiseworthy”(www.she knows.com) and that “Weiner” comes from the Latin “Vinea“, an intimate term of endearment heard before the 5^th century A.D.. It actually means ‘sweet wine‘”(surnamed.com). As in, “Hey there, sweet wine!” His wife, Huma Abedin, might say such a thing to him in a private moment, although probably not lately(I couldn’t resist.)

      But Tony and I are not the only ones with unfortunate names. For example, I looked up the name of the current Pope. He has a real problem with his name: Nobody knows it. Now, even I knew that the new Pope is from Argentina, but I googled “current Pope” and the first twenty sites(including Wikipedia -- Hey, Vatican, appoint some Cardinal to update Wikipedia, please -- and CNN) insisted the current Pope’s name is Joseph Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI. I found out that Benedict XVI resigned as Pope and is now Pope Emeritus. This is Latin for an infection of the emer. Maybe that’s why he quit.

      And what a surname Cardinal Ratzinger has as Pope, all capital letters, “XVI”. Anyone who adopted “XVI” as his Papal surname certainly has a problem, too. If he were a Black Muslim, I could understand ‘Benedict X’, but with a name like Benedict XVI, his last name is nearly unpronounceable, like Rumpelstilts-whatever. They use x’s in Chinese, so maybe "XVI" is pronounced something like “Zhvee“, Benedict Zhvee. Or maybe not. On the other hand, he replaced “Ratzinger” with “Zhvee“, a move up. I’m reminded of the words of Prince John in Robin Hood: Men in Tights, who, upon finding out that the witch named Latrine had originally come from a family named Sheethaus, said “Good change, Good change!”

      But I digress. Finally, I located a source that knew that the current Pope is actually Francis( formerly known as Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, named after one of the Mario Brothers.) His new name was taken from a Francis who lived a long time ago and was a sissy. So our predicament -- Tony’s and mine -- is not so unusual, having names that are a problem for us. We can take heart. Here are some other examples: No one knows if “Al” in Al Qaeda is short for Albert or Alan or Allehu Akbar, but Al always seems like the name of a regular guy. Years ago Texas Governor Jim Hogg had a daughter Ima but not one named Ura(an urban legend.)(Wikipedia)

      New Jersey Governor Chris Christie is often called “Cris Crispy” by news anchors. Being confused with a donut hasn't stopped him.  Imminent Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter, if you translate his name, comes out Happy Hotdog. Is there any name more lacking in charisma, charm, or pizzazz than “Donald Duck”, a featureless name for a forgettable fowl(Mr. Duck, fortunately, brings to the big screen a great deal of personality.)

      What about Hillary Clinton? If she lived in ancient Rome, she would have been known as Hilarius if she were a boy and Hilaria if a girl. I don’t know which is funnier. What about the President of China, Hu Jintao. If he’s not careful, someone might think he’s a big man in a Buddhist sect(Huge in Tao) or a high roller in a Nevado Lake casino(Huge in Tahoe), or both(I wonder if someone is teaching Zen secrets for Texas Hold 'em in a monastery in Tibet.).  And he certainly suffers from the compulsion many people feel when they hear his name and want to know, “Who’s on first -- at the Chinese Communist Party Talent Show?”

      “Hu’s on first.“

      “What are you asking me for?“

      “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you: Hu is on first!”

      “Look, all I want to know is, what’s the name of the guy on first, at the Chinese Communist Party 'Shanghai Has Talent' Competition?"

      “No, Wat was not invited. He’s a lower ranking official. We’re not talking about him.”

      “So who is on first?“

      “Right.“

      “Who is?“

      “Well, that’s the man’s name.”

      “Who’s name?”

      “Yes.”

      “Look, all I’m asking you is, what’s the name of the guy on first?”

      “No, Wat’s not here.”

      “I’m not asking you, who’s here.”

      “Well, yes, Hu’s here, and he’s on first.”

      “Who is?”

      “Correct.”

       I also read that Mr. Hu was replaced in the Chinese Communist party by a fellow named Xi Whiz, “Whiz” being a nickname. Finally, no youngster on the Texas Gulf Coast where I grew up, would ever want to be caught in a conversation like this:

      “Who is that Russian President fellow your mama’s talking to over there?”

      “He’s Vladimir Putin.“

      “Just pretend you don't notice. Vladimir probably didn’t know the chili would be so spicy.”

      So Mr. Weiner and I are not alone in having been challenged to rise above difficult names. But, as you see, many people equally handicapped as he and I have done great things. I wish him all the luck in the world.
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