My wife received a letter the other day with the title “MS” leading her name.  This caused me some confusion, since I can’t imagine anything leading my wife.  Also, she has been a Mrs. for many years.

As I spent time considering my initial reaction, with some assistance from my significant other, it occurred to me that this is the new millenium.  Women don’t want to be tagged as some mans’ wife…they want to have their own identity.  It is also true, I was assisted, that if you are writing a professional letter to a woman you do not know, how are you to determine if she is a Miss or a Mrs., huh?  Yes I pointed out, but then why not simply write the name without the title and besides, this particular letter came from a friend and she knows my wife is a Mrs.

Well, obviously this line of inquiry and curiosity was interesting only to me, so I thought perhaps I should research the topic at the library.  Besides, I had a couple of hours to kill since I felt I should stay away from the house for at least that long.

Where did the custom for use of the personal title arise?  What was the reason for it?  Maybe it was an early public relations strategy to soften up the receiver of the letter with a title of their very own:

“Dear Mister Tremaine:

The Hospital of Our Lady of Perpetual Income here in Paris is again conducting our annual medieval fund drive.  A donation from your most honorable, propriotous self would help us buy much needed new equipment such as stainless steel surgical saws and sterilized leeches.

As a most benevolent philanthropist in your own right, please consider helping us with a donation of 5, 10, 15 or more francs.  For your Christian consideration the Bishop has promised to place your name on St. Peters’ e-mail list.

Thankfully yours,

Fr. D’Chane

Hospital Administrator”

Or some such letter consistent with the era, which this one is not because obviously they didn’t have stainless steel in the middle ages.  Further study on my part proved this theory to be incorrect, however, because postal sucking-up is a fairly recent innovation.

I found, however, that the title “mister” is a variation of the root Germanic word meaning “master”.  The original definition of the word meant “tradesman” or “craftsman”.  If this follows, in the vernacular of today’s American youth, a “party-meister” would probably be a professional caterer of some sort…maybe.

As far back as the 13^th century the term “mister” was used as a prefix title of a man “not entitled to be addressed as ‘Sir’ or ‘Lord’.”  In this chain of respect, a “mister” ranks somewhere between a “squire” and a “butthead.”  Obviously society has come a long way in 700 years.  In todays’ equal opportunity environment these titles are not mutually exclusive of one another and a person can be a “sir”, a “mister” and a “butthead” all at the same time.

By comparison, all the prefix titles referring to women have spread from the same source.  “Miss”, “Mrs.” and “Ms” have all been derived from the word “mistress” whose original reference was to “a woman who rules or has control.”  As you can imagine, this term was used almost exclusively with married women.  An example of this would be the fact that I am writing this at the library.

The abbreviation “Mrs.” was actually an abbreviation of the word “mistress.”  The term “misses” was a vulgar mispronunciation of the abbreviation by the lower levels of society at the time; probably the “butthead” class.  During a period in history when everyone began falling into this class except the King and a few Duke and Lord-types, this pronunciation became accepted…much the same as “butthead” is today being accepted as a title preceding any member of Americas’ legislative or executive branches of government, as in “the Butthead Senator So and So”.

The term “Ms”, the most recent incarnation of the word, was developed in the United States in the 1970’s as a needed title for women regardless of marital states or (in the new millenium) regardless of gender.  The title itself is an enigma in language since it actually has no word associated with it – that is, the abbreviation came before the term.  The word since connected with it is pronounced “Mzzzzzzz”.  I don’t know why, nor will anybody tell me.

My research, overall, found that the usage of these numerous titles originated as a courtesy forwarded by people to classify others as to their status.   As society expanded new titles were added such esquire, lady, dame and baronvon (as in Baronvon Schmooteneven) and many others.

We as Americans, however, are not to be outdone by some previous, primitive culture.  In an effort to further classify, categorize and pigeonhole members of the modern citizenry to fit into a 9 digit Social Security number, we have developed several uniquely American usages…the ACRONYM and the INITIALISM.

The initialism is the abbreviation of any group of educational, professional or organizational names or titles, by their first letters, to identify the wearer.  Examples of these include; Ph.D. (Doctor of Philosophy), C.P.A. (Certified Public Accountant) and N.A.A.W.B. (National Association of Angle Worm Breeders).

The acronym is much the same except a word is formed by using the first letters of the name in question.  Often the word formed means something- at least to the people who make them up.  An example of this would be the National Institute of Mind Readers and Oracle Distributors (NIMROD).

As you can expect, the United States Government is the most A.B.O. (Acronym Bound Organization) on the face of the planet.  The government uses these verbal tools to the point that linguistics professional will get hopelessly lost during a two-minute conversation.  It should also come as no surprise that the largest manufacturer of acronyms and initialisms in the government is the U.S. military.  These people have come up with such abbreviations as S.A.C. (Strategic Air Command), A.S.A.P. (As Soon As Possible) and F.U.B.A.R. (Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition)[1].

These hideous inventions can be further used as even more titles to clarify a persons place in the world by showing his/her accomplishments or professional associations.  My wife’s’ desk plate, for example, has all sorts of things following her name like; R.N., B.S.N., N.O.W.A., S.T.A.T., or some such E.A.V. (Excess Abbreviated Verbiage).

I think these name appendages could be dangerously used to camouflage a persons true moniker, kinda’ like a moustache and beard for nomenclature.  Any wanted criminals trying to hide themselves from the law could cover his name with all these extra letters and he wouldn’t have to use an alias.  The police and the F.B.I. (government initialism for Finding Bad Individuals) would be looking for Bob (fictional) Jones and may not even notice Mr. Robert F. Jones, B.S., K.F., W.C.  (Mister Bob Jones, Bad Sort, Known Felon, Wanted Criminal).

You may think to yourself, “Self, he’s making this all up!”  But, NO!  I am not.  You yourself, should you voluntarily leave your home because of the misdirected anger of a loving spouse, could find all these interesting acronyms (well, most of them) in one book.  Actually three volumes of one book called the Acronyms, Initialisms and Abbreviations Dictionary (1994 ed.).  These ledgers of letterdom are chock full of interesting facts.  Did you know, for example, that there are 137 listings for the acronym A.C.E.?  They cover a wide range of topics from the American College of Ecology and the Association of Clandestine radio Enthusiasts to the Engineering Library, City of Calgary, Alberta (apparently the Canadians haven’t quite caught on to the fact that the words are supposed to be in order).

I believe there will eventually have to be laws as to how many of these titles can be tacked on to a name.  As it now stands, a persons’ business card could be completely filled with letters and it would require several appendices to decipher the code.  For instance, if this same Bob (fictional) Jones were an ordained minister and a surgeon who was a member of the state house of representatives, he could be referred to by many prefix titles.  Should he also be a manager of biomedical communications, an environmental activist, a resident at a specific hospital, a contributing editor of an international magazine, a talk-show host on an Amarillo, Texas radio station and a one-time child actor who once played Andy Griffiths’ son on television, he would be REALLY busy.  He could also truthfully be referred to as; the Honorable Reverend Doctor Robert F. Jones, A.B.C.D., E.F., G.H., I.J., K.L.M.N., O.P.[2].  Now, where’s the name in there?

So I think when people write a letter, they should address it without a title of any type…or I may be forced to do something like this again.  That is, if they let me back into the library after reading this.

[1] Certain paraphrasing has been done to keep this essay family oriented.

[2]Association of Biomedical Communications Directors, Earth First, General Hospital, International Journal, KLMN-FM radio, Amarillo, Texas, Opie Taylor

              A friend of mine comes from a farming/ranching family.  Like a lot of people who have this type of upbringing Nathan still has his hand in the business.  Actually, it would be more accurate to say he still has his back in it.  I am pretty sure he performs a good deal more physical labor at his “hobby” work than he does at his regular job…and that’s assuming he labors at his daily job, which is not necessarily true.  We will accept that as a fact, if only for purposes of literary flow.

              From what I understand, Nathan spends the bulk of his time helping his brother with the operation of the cattle business.  This is called “ranching” when performed in the “West,” which is anywhere this side of Ohio.  Granted, you can have a place like this in the “East” (which is made up of any state that touches the Atlantic Ocean) or the “Midwest” (this is still the “East” to everyone except the people in New England which has nothing to do with England except they speak English there – after a fashion…).  Anyway, you can call your place in the “East” a ranch, if you want, but everyone will just smile and shake their heads like they do when you have a bumper sticker on your Chevy Cavalier that says “MY OTHER CAR IS A GULL-WING MERCEDES BUT IT’S IN THE SHOP ‘CAUSE I CAN’T AFFORD THE AIR FOR THE TIRES.”

              Oh, yes!  Ranching.  In most cases, farming is also involved in ranching, largely in the form of feed for the cattle since they can’t eat out all the time.  From here on in this article, any combination of farming and ranching will be referred to as hobby farming.

              The purpose of hobby farming is…well, in today’s society there is no really outstanding reason to have a hobby farm.  That’s why they call it a “hobby” – you do it because you enjoy it, or at least because you want to…for some reason.  The most predominant reason is that you make way too much money way too easily which causes you to have a compulsive need to engage in a labor intensive endeavor which is certain to result in a financial loss without the addition of government subsidies.  This allows you to psychologically ease your guilt about making all that money without actually doing anything.  This is not Nathan’s reason, trust me – I know where he works!  Oh, he could make a comfortable living with proper money management and less beer intake.  Instead, he spends most of his money on travel expenses to and from the ranch, and the business of ranching.  This entails breeding and raising cattle or, even more specialized in approach, buying feeder cattle from someone else and raising them.  This approach consists of buying young cows for, say $321, feeding them, growing them and caring for them and then selling them for $123…  That’s really not funny – farming is worse.

              Still, it’s a labor of love for those who cherish the way of life.  And it should be pointed out that some people do actually make money at it, though the odds are only slightly better than winning the Powerball jackpot. 

             Another quasi-agricultural endeavor for the hobby farmer is the pheasant farm.  Granted, telling people you operate a “pheasant ranch” sounds a bit self important, but the term “pheasant farmer” gives the impression that you plant the birds with a “bird seeder” run by the power-take-off on your John Deere tractor, or maybe wander through the fields like Johnny Pheasant Seed.  A more appropriate term would be “pheasant raiser,” but if you only HEAR the words, it sounds like you shave birds for a living – that’s not quite right, either.  Perhaps pheasant “grower” would be the best term.

             Anyway, whatever you want to call it, this is another enterprise that Nathan has tried out.  Granted, there is a market for pheasant, from the pheasant feathers to the pheasant flesh (that sounds more cruel and torturous than pheasant “meat”, but didn’t sound as phonetically fine in my head when I wrote it.)  The price of pheasant is higher than that of more common foul such as chicken or turkey, but the scarcity and eccentricity of the product allows a higher price and that’s useful, from a business point of view, to make up for the lack of people actually buying your stuff.  Or the government giving you money NOT to grow pheasants.

             In many areas, pheasant growers do so to supplement the wild population so they can release the fowl to increase the number of birds available for paying hunters.  This increases the value of their land in relation to other “outfitters” who don’t have as much game for their clients to bag.  Having more birds actually allows the customer to spend less time walking around and actually “hunting” and more time sitting in the bar telling their friends about their exciting hunting exploits.  These fellahs are “hunters” in the same way strip club customers are “gentlemen.”  In truth, to pick on these people here, in this article about…whatever this is about, is not fair.  So we’ll save that for another time.  And, yes, I mean both the “hunters” who have more money than time, AND the gentlemen’s club customers who have some serious issues, I would guess.

             And, with the emergence of the word “gentlemen,” we will end our look at hobby farming by looking at a final type of hobby farmer (you’re welcome) that Nathan is not:  the Gentleman Farmer.  Now this is not to say that Nathan is not a gentleman.  He isn’t, necessarily, but I wouldn’t say that.  According to the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, a gentleman farmer is “a man of independent means who farms chiefly for pleasure rather than income.”

              Let’s all understand this point:  Nathan is wanting the income.  Just like the pheasant, um, growing, if it doesn’t pay, it’s history. (Don’t read any dead pheasants into that!  No animals of any type were harmed in the writing of this article.)  Nathan, for love of the lifestyle and a total lack of the fear of accidentally doing any hard work, farms, ranches and labors not for any guilty feelings about having too much money or the need to have somewhere to wander with his patch-elbowed blazer and imported ebony walking stick while smoking his pipe.  No, Nathan does it to make some extra cash, to have a little more to invest after the ends are met and just because he likes it.

              So here’s to Nathan and hobby farmers everywhere.  Hope you get to be “gentlemen.”

Spontaneity.  That’s one of the keys to an enjoyable vacation.  Deciding off the cuff where to go.  Packing up and surprising your spouse:  “We’re going that way!”  Stopping where you want to stop, turning where you want to turn… feeling the freedom of the road.

In order for this type of vacation to work, however, it’s necessary to leave the kids at home.  Since this is not an option for responsible, loving parents and since it’s largely frowned upon by society and law enforcement officials everywhere, except maybe Chicago, it is suggested that you take them along… the kids, that is, not the law enforcement officials.  This option requires planning, patience and earplugs.  And do it now; before school starts.

In my view, planning a vacation is tantamount to deciding your own funeral arrangements – it’s nice to know that people are going to meet at a gathering in your honor, but it takes the fun out of it when you have to throw the party yourself.  (The dying part probably isn’t that great, either, but considering that aspect sort of screws up the analogy.)  Vacation organization is no different.  In order to have the event come off smoothly, more time should be spent in the planning stages than in the actual execution of the plan itself…kinda like a covert military operation:

“Okay!  At exactly 09:34, Honey, you break away from the group and run toward the ticket office.  Kids, you create a diversion while I scout for a parking spot.  Keep a sharp eye out for enemy souvenir vendors…and try not to draw attention to yourselves!”

Extreme planning of this sort will keep you from looking for a campsite in the dark or driving on to the next city for a motel because you hit town the same time as the 83^rd annual Mutton Appreciation Days and Sheep Sheering Festival.  It can also get you to your hotel at 1:30 in the afternoon with nothing to do the rest of the afternoon but let the kids swim in the pool and watch the Discovery Channel on television.  For times like these, it’s always preferable to stay at a motel with a lounge.

For camping, many places now offer campsite reservations.  While this may keep you from searching for a campsite, you generally don’t have any hand in choosing which site you’ll get.  Because of this you may find yourself with a site in an alternate drainage route on the side of a steep hill, thereby ruining a perfectly good camping vacation and forcing you to a motel…preferably with a lounge.

Deciding beforehand where you’re going to stay and how long you’re going to be there can help you in packing for your trip.  If you’re going to a motel with a pool, for example, you don’t want to forget the swimwear.  Things like the camcorder are necessary for capturing those special moments, since it takes better video than your phone.  That is, if your cousin Art can remember who he loaned it to after he borrowed it from you.

It may be a good idea to make a list of things you’ll need or don’t want to forget.  You may even want to make several lists so you have one nearby whenever you think of something.  Doing so reduces the frustration you have of knowing you thought of something and then forgot it, anyway.  Of course, if you get too carried away with lists you’ll have to make a list of all the lists you have so you don’t forget anything.

Anyway, knowing where you will be going will help you foresee what type of clothing and gear you will need.  One tip to remember, however, is that no matter how well you plan or how much time you spend thinking about it, you will invariably forget something.  The trick is to learn to improvise.  If you fail to bring enough clothing, you can make room in your schedule to stop at a laundromat or send them to the motel cleaners.  If you forget the kids’ stereos or little electronic games, you can teach them some of the songs and car games you used to pass the time when you were young.  If you forget your wallet, drivers license and credit cards you’ll have to go back – improvisation will take you only as far as the next gas station, after which you’ll need cash.

Once you have listed, organized and packed everything you feel you’ll need, including 30% things you probably won’t ever use and 4% things you’ve never seen before, you can begin stowing this material in your vehicle.  As you can see by comparing volume of space to volume of luggage, this will require a plan as well – or a new vehicle.  This is the reason you often see older travelers driving down the highway in those large Greyhound-size motor homes.  Over the years they have gathered so much material they feel is necessary that a continuously larger RV is needed until they finally have to purchase the model manufactured by Caterpillar.  I think formal classes in stackage and storage would be much more cost effective, not to mention fuel-efficient.

There are some guidelines to remember when packing your vehicle.  Place the largest, heaviest items in the bottom and pack everything you may need during the trip on the top.  As an example, don’t put the Minnesota map in the largest suitcase, which will go way up in the front of the trunk below and behind everything except the tool kit and the emergency flares.

If you’re planning to tie things to the top of the vehicle, use the space for large luggage or coolers.  Smaller items are more likely to fly off without warning you they’re leaving by bouncing off the exterior of the vehicle.  It’s also a good idea to use older luggage for topside placement and a Boy Scout knot handbook also does wonders for the success of cartop luggage carrying.  Those large plastic top carriers are very helpful as well, since you can lock them.  This is useful because you only have to chase one item when it separates from your vehicle like a used up stage of a Saturn 5 rocket.

One more thing about packing the car.  After you’ve removed everything for the purpose of strategic storage and placement, don’t forget to put everything back in the trunk.  Extreme anxiety can arise after you’ve scattered the entire contents of the trunk in a deserted section of road in order to retrieve the spare tire, only to remember exactly where the jack is sitting in the garage.

Anyway, once you have everything packed, you’re ready to go.  You need only round up the kids and you’re off.  It’s necessary at this point, as a parent, to double-check the bathroom status.  Doing so will accomplish nothing because midway between your home and the next town or rest area someone will have to go to the bathroom.  The main reason to bring it up is so everyone else is well aware that you were right in asking.  It’s also handy to point out to everyone, while you’re looking for somewhere to stop:

“Didn’t I tell you to go before we left?!”

For what it’s worth, the mood is set and you are now on your way.  This is when you realize that the planning is the best part of the vacation.  While dreaming about it in the organizational stage you tended to leave out untimely bathroom stops, “I’m thirsty”s, “I don’t want to eat there!”s and “DAD, HE’S ON MY SIDE!”s.

Now is when you drive with your eye on the end of the day…on a motel with a nice bed and a pool for the kids.

Preferably, one with a lounge.

Yesterday I was driving through the country on my way back to town.  I should point out that regardless of your affiliation, rural or urban, the most direct way back to town is still through the country.  Anyway, as I was driving along past vehicles going the other direction, I got the finger.  Not just once – nearly half the people I passed gave me the sign.  Oh, not the way you’re thinking.  No, this finger is the universal rural vehicular sign of greeting and acknowledgement.  It’s a very relaxed and informal action, relating the nature of the people who live in the area.

Here’s how it’s done.  You need to relax back in the drivers’ seat…kinda’ like you’re there all the time.  Just pretend the windshield is a television screen and you’ve pretty much got it…unless you have a tendency to fall asleep in front of the television, in which case you might want to just relax.  Soon you’ll be slouching into a laid back, comfortable position, your left elbow on the door armrest with one or two fingers hooked over one of the steering wheel spokes.  Your right hand will be on the wheel somewhere near the top.  This allows easy control and quick response, if necessary.

Now you’re ready.  As another vehicle approaches and you can see the outline of the person (gender identification is unnecessary), raise the index finger of your right hand to a vertical position.  Eye contact is not required, nor is it recommended at highway speeds.

You have just greeted the person who passed you.  Don’t worry if you didn’t see the return wave.  The recipient of your wave may not be unfriendly – they may simply have slow reflexes and waved back as they were even with your rear bumper.

So why is it people use this motion instead of a simple wave?  Perhaps they’re lazy and don’t wish to expend the energy for a complete wave.  Maybe people only wave to others they really like, which in itself could explain a lot.

The actual (possible) reason people use the one-fingered wave can be traced back to the early days of automobile driving itself.  You see, before the widespread use of asphalt and concrete, the roads were all composed of complex chains of road paving chemicals, which basically formed dirt.  These roads became quite rutted from repeated and continuous use, particularly when wet.   In addition to the poor road conditions, the steering systems engineered in the cars of the day also left something to be desired, at least by current standards.  In order to enhance vehicle control, the automobile utilized a steering wheel that was, oh, maybe a yard across.  It was necessary to keep both hands clamped firmly on the wheel just to stay on the road.  Releasing a hand for the purpose of waving could cause the driver to bounce off the road and into a tree, a creek or any number of natural-type things which everyone knows were all over the place back then.  It’s from these origins that the simple raised finger became a greeting…I think.

A friend of mine from the city is actually amazed at this open show of amiability.  According to him, if you were lying injured on the sidewalk, folks here would likely stop to help, whereas people in his city would stop to shove you out of the way…and those are the friendly ones.  He assures me, however, that there are many helpful people in the city, as well.  They would help themselves to your cash, credit cards and any jewelry you might have.  It’s probably just the neighborhood.

I believe there are several reasons for these differences in the human attitude.  The first is the presence of the crowd.  If there are 10,000 people walking on a given street, all packed close enough to catch the same cold virus (not the same type of cold virus – I’m talking the exact, same virus cell) they not only know each of the others are there, they expect the others to be there.  In this case acknowledgement isn’t necessary and they are likely to bump into one another without so much as a grunt in greeting.

On the other hand, if two of these same people are walking in opposite directions across an open field a quarter-mile apart, they will most likely wave to each other simply in recognition not as individuals, but as people.  The important fact here is they are among the few who carry this soil on their shoes.  They may have other things in common, such as occupation or underwear (the same brand, not the same, exact underwear), but the brief bond they share stems from their unique timing and location.

You’ll also find that, in general, people “out here” will just be a bit friendlier, anyway.  They don’t feel they have to worry about the motivation of other folks – partly because people are friendlier and partly because a large percentage of vehicles have gun racks in them; a questionable, but nonetheless effective deterrent to unfriendly behavior and activities.

So the next time you’re driving through rural America and someone gives you the finger, check again.  It’s a similar motion and we don’t want any misinterpretations.

It’s probably just the Dakota Wave.

One and two and three and four… and left and right and back and front… bend and stretch for the remote control!

Oh, hey!  Get some loose clothing and join me in some exercise.  Aaaand bend and sit and stretch those legs and reach and stretch and… put your feet on that stool over there and grab a beer.  We’re not actually doing any exercise, we’re just talking about it right now.

We Americans are in generally poor shape, and by Americans, I mean our culture as a whole.  And by that I mean the people you see when you go to work and to the mall and to the myriad other places you go in the course of your daily life… although you shouldn’t necessarily go to myriad places because I’m sure your mother told you about the kind of people you’ll find there and that you could go blind or your face could freeze that way or some such thing.

“Aha!” you’re thinking; “There’s the book of matches on which I had written the phone number of the guy who had the used nuclear reactor parts for sale.”

Okay, but please pay attention from now on.  The other person reading this is thinking: “What about those people on TV?  They’re not in poor shape.”  This is true, but those people are not Americans, they are actors who are playing Americans on TV.  Now this does not mean that some or all of them are not Americans but they do not generally represent the cross-section of the American public we are talking about.  You know, regular people.

Try this simple experiment.  Take a random sampling of television programs.  This means watch your favorite shows.  While doing so, count the people in the program and see how many of them are obviously out of shape.  Next go to a public place and count the same ratio at, say, the supermarket or Walmart.  And check the whole store, not just the candy aisles or the extra-large clothing section.  You’re likely to find that on television the ratio is maybe 2 out of shape people in 73, whereas in actual American culture the ratio will be as high as…a lot.

Why is this?  Have people throughout American history always been so out of shape?  Well, how should I know?  How old do you think I am?  Historical Americanologists, sociologists and scientists, in conjunction with other professional “ist” groups tell us that past generations of Americans were in generally better physical condition than we are today and would still be today had they not usually died at such young ages.  This is because previously the greatest majority of Americans had to dig and hammer and run and shuck, or in some form or other actually work.  They were required to engage in continuous movement that metabolized the foods they were eating, which in their case were rough breads, meats and eggs, with a generous dripping of lard – if they were well-off.  Of course, they dropped dead at an amazing rate simply because they didn’t wash their hands or couldn’t take two aspirin for a fever – but they died in generally better shape.

Today, however, a majority of us have traded the scythe and the hammer for the free election ballot so we can… wait, that’s a political ideological metaphor.  My point is that we have traded the hand tools and hard work, in most cases,for an office or a piece of automated equipment and shorter hours in the workplace.  To get to the workplace we normally drive and for recreation we watch someone else play a game.  We have come to a point where we have trouble metabolizing a diet soda, lettuce salad and fat-free dressing much less a third pound bacon cheeseburger with fries and a beer.

“Hey!”, you say, “I’ve seen really old portraits of out of shape people like the one hanging in the bank where they turned down my loan application to buy the used nuclear reactor parts!”

Sure, it’s true that the pictorial record of history, particularly in portraits, shows a large percentage of overweight people.  At that time in American history this was a sign of affluence.  Think about it… these were bank presidents and company founders and large business owners who would get up in the morning and sit in their offices all day, except for lunch.  They spent their recreational time coming up with games that others could play so they could watch without having to do anything.  They were also wealthy enough to have their portraits painted.  You can see that we have been building a society of pseudo-affluent people.  Today even the poorest of us can dine on bug-part-laden hot dogs and grease saturated chips while spending our increased recreational time watching some truly affluent people play a game on television.

How can we change this?

Well, education is the easiest way.  Education of people about proper modern diet.  Education about exersize and healthy lifestyle choices.  If it’s an effective program, this should help, oh, maybe 2 1/2% of the people in America today.  And half of those people are probably in okay shape to begin with.

What we need, then, is a plan to reach the largest part of the American public; a schematic which will benefit even those who do not wish to take part; an innovative and unique proposal from an innovative and unique mind…and, naturally, using the vast resources at my disposal I have developed a plan:

Aerobically Generated Televisions!

Think about it!  What does todays’ American culture have and revere more than any previous or foreign culture in the world?  No, not multi-level parking!  And not high priced sport shoes or frozen yogurt, either!

Television!  TV!  The boob tube…the idiot box…the zombie screen…the…well, you get the idea.  As a culture, we sit in front of the television more than anyone else in the world.  Our ancestors naturally didn’t spend all of this time sitting in front of the television because they only had a couple of channels so they could find out in 12 seconds that there was nothing on so they’d grab their swords and go out to fight the crusades or something.  This type of activity was exceptionally good exercise provided you could make it through the day with all of your parts still connected and operating within normal parameters.

So, if we’re going to be watching television anyway, we simply disconnect it from the wall outlet and design it to function only off an electrical generator wired to an exercise bike!  Oh, you could use other physically motivated equipment, as well.  TV by NordicTrac or Home Entertainment by Schwinn.  The point is, you want to watch, you’ve got to get the heart going.  Kinda’ does away with falling asleep in front of the TV, don’t it?

Sure, you say, people are going to watch less TV if they have to work at it.  Yes!  Perhaps they’ll go out and take part in a game themselves instead of watching one on television.  Maybe they’ll build a desk or possibly just clean the garage or talk to their neighbor.  Many people may actually even turn to reading!  Imagine that.

Yes, okay, it’s kind of extreme but it would benefit the people watching TV and would help those who weren’t simply by making them aware of other activities or even their children:

“Who are you?”

“I’m Mike, Dad.  I’m your son – I live here.”

“Oh, yeah.  You’re the kid who finds the remote control.  Go get me a

book, will ya’, Mike?”

Over all, it would be beneficial for nearly all people.  American families would be in better condition by watching TV as families since they’d be pedaling in shifts.  Those people who didn’t want to exercise would be staying in shape by becoming involved in some other activity, possibly one which involved exercise.  Others may become creative and make or build things.  The rest would likely take to reading, so while they sat about in an inactive state they would be gaining knowledge.

Everybody wins!

Besides, it would be easy to spot really smart individuals.

“Mr. Snassly, there’s a man out front looking for a pair of the wool blend dress slacks with a 46 inch waist and a 34 inch inseam.  What should I tell him?”

“Tell him we’ll be happy to help him with those…and ask him if he knows anything about stain resistant chemical impregnation of blended fabric fibers.”

My friend, Todd, and I were engaged in some work the other day.  Well, we thought of it as work…someone paid us to do it and we would much rather have been somewhere else, so regardless of the effort exerted, it can be considered work.  Some of the labor we engaged in involved dangerous work with heavy machinery at great heights.

Actually, I guess it wasn’t really machinery, but it did have moving parts (hinges) and it was heavy, from a relative point of view, when lifted by one person.  Also, the height we were working at was only 7 or 8 feet, but I once read an article containing statistics that proved a good probability of breaking your ankle by falling off of a pair of platform shoes (obviously, this study was done in the ‘70s, the decade which saw the creation of the science of “fashion forensics”).  Now, the extent of the danger of working at this height can be computed by determining the ratio of a fall off of the 4 inch shoe soles to a height of 8 feet.  If you are conservative and assume that a fall of four inches will break only one of the bones in the ankle, you can divide the 96 inches in 8 feet by that distance, you can see that a plummet from this pinnacle could break 24 bones.  This amount of injury could be fatal, and that’s not even considering the geometric cumulative effects of the force of gravity which increases at a rate of 32 feet per second, per second until the object stops or reaches “terminal velocity”.[1]  If you calculate those figures, you’ll see that a fall from 8 feet will cause you to reach the ground moving at somewhere under, er, 1800 miles an hour.

Anyway, as we were working, Todd slipped and momentarily teetered on the edge of destruction, a fated moment between life and death – or at least life and a 500 dollar medical deductible.  Fighting to regain his balance, he hung there for, oh, maybe 6 or 7 microseconds…long enough for me to think, “*!?”

Using razor sharp instincts, cool thinking and years of experience as a person who usually remains upright while walking, Todd shifted his gaze from left to right, capturing his footing by counterbalancing with the mere weight of his eyeballs.  A veritable disaster, as well as the remainder of the day off, was averted.

Because of my intense curiosity, my desire to relate these facts to you, the reader, and the fact that we were getting paid by the hour, I questioned him relentlessly about his thoughts and feelings in that instant.  Amazingly, Todd was relatively unaffected by his brush with death.

“Did your life pass before your eyes?”, I asked.  “Did any regrets creep into the corners of your mind?”

No, Todd told me, he didn’t really feel he was going to die so his life didn’t pass before his eyes.  He did feel he might be injured so he saw the last, oh, month and a half, but not his whole life.  The only regret he felt was a momentary reminder that he had allowed his medical insurance to lapse.

So much for my investigation into the near death experience.  I suppose I could ask around, but I don’t really know anyone who lives a life wrought with dangerous experiences.  Most of the people I know feel they run an extreme risk by stopping for a beer after work without calling home and telling their spouse.  In extreme cases this may be a hazardous endeavor, but for the most part it’s merely an act of consideration…meaning the person will consider how much grief she will receive from her spouse and his nagging about it and decide it’s worth the quarter it costs to call home.

I would think that everyone will, at one time or another, have an experience they personally feel is dangerous or life threatening.  These experiences are largely relative to each individual; that is, the danger they are exposed to is high in comparison to other things they have done, but not necessarily high compared to the activities of others.

For example, a person is surely partaking in a dangerous activity by smoking two packs of filterless Camels in, say, forty-eight minutes.  While you may see thing as a bit fuzzy for a time, the immediacy of the danger is somewhat less than that of a person who feels the obsession to inspect the hood ornament of high speed White Freightliners.  When a person is lying in a hospital in “serious”, “critical” or “severely damaged:  awaiting replacement parts on back order” condition, the argument as to the relative danger of the activity involved is largely done away with.  I suppose I could hang around the critical care unit and ask these people how they felt, but there’s a certain morbidity to that, not to mention severe boredom and possibly actual work.  Besides, I don’t like hospitals.

Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to draw on my own dangerous experiences, the worst of which could be relegated to near hangnail status.  When I was younger I did experience some moments which were high in danger, but during the activity I didn’t think much about it since I was really busy being involved in a dangerous situation.  My guess is, if you choose a time like this to start thinking about death, these situations become more dangerous because you’re obviously not paying attention to what you’re doing.

As I matured and became more responsible (read:  grew older) these types of things happened with much less frequency and severity.  Nowadays a severe occurrence has pretty much been downgraded to a near-injury experience.  This is largely due to the advent of safety features such a seat belts, personal floatation devices, bright, reflective clothing and Kevlar body armor.  The use of equipment of this nature greatly reduces the odds that a person will come to an untimely end while watching television at home.

[1] This is the maximum velocity an object can reach powered only by the force of gravity, although if you were approaching the ground at this speed the words “terminal velocity” would take on a whole new definition.